by Becky Lower
“Are you all right? Except for your hair, I mean. You were under for a long time.” His hand wrapped around her face and he gazed into her blue eyes, which were thankfully clear. “Scared me to death.”
“I’m fine, James.” She patted his cheek. “Miigwich. Thank you for your help. Now, untangle my hair.”
He finally could smile. “That’s all I get? Words? You should be more grateful. After all, I did just save your life.”
She stared at him and brushed her long wet hair back, the parts that weren’t hopelessly enmeshed in the netting, anyway. Then she wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and delivered a quick peck on the cheek she had just patted. He took full advantage of her imprisonment and repositioned his face so he could feast on her lips. She tasted of the dirty, murky Mississippi, but he savored her, nonetheless. Savored the fact she was alive. She’d begun their time together in a precarious state and now once again she was in an untenable situation, although the reasons were as varied as this trip had been.
“You’re right. Saving one’s life does deserve at least a decent kiss. Now, could you untangle me?” She ran her hand down his cheek and her voice purred.
He finally drew out his pocketknife. “It’d be easier to cut away the bits that are tangled. If I have to work with a strand at a time, we’ll be here all day. And as you mentioned just this morning, time is of the essence.”
She recoiled from him. “An Indian woman only cuts her hair when she’s in mourning. I won’t allow it.”
“All right, then.” James’s hands fisted as he barely controlled his anger. “If you wish to be vain rather than surviving, you can stay here and untangle yourself. I’m going to find something to eat, and maybe another means of getting us to New Orleans since we just lost our transportation.”
He stalked off, leaving Elise and her hopelessly tangled hair on the shore, with the muddy Mississippi lapping at her heels, which she beat furiously on the ground. It might have been all her talk about her Indian brothers but her beating heels sounded to him like an Indian drum.
An hour later he returned to find Elise still caught in the netting of the coop. She’d kicked apart the structure and lightened the load, but still, her waist-length ebony hair could not be freed. James had tracked down one of the chickens that started this whole mess, fortunately already dead from drowning. Just as Elise almost had been.
James used his time alone to get his emotions under control. Even those times when his veil of secrecy during the war had almost unraveled, he’d never been so frightened as he had been when Elise disappeared under the water and didn’t resurface. So he’d found a chicken and some firewood, but no means of transportation.
He had no idea where they were, but the river had started receding to its normal level, so they’d either flag down someone or, if they got lucky, they’d find an abandoned canoe in the morning.
He shot her a glance as he dropped the firewood. “Are you going to be confined all evening, plotting your departure? I had hoped you’d cook for me tonight.”
“Very funny, Slick. Seems to me you’ve said words similar to those before. But the circumstances were a bit different then.” She tossed her head, then winced as the tendrils didn’t follow. She grabbed a fistful of the imprisoned hair. “You win. Cut my hair so I can finally get up.”
James tugged out his knife and latched onto the tangled strands. “I’m going to have to cut this quite short. Are you sure this is what you want?”
“None of this entire adventure has been what I want. So becoming bald as we wind down the trip is about all I could ask for.” She squinted at the knife. Then she shifted her squint to him. Took a deep breath. “Save as much as you can, please.”
James’s gut clenched as the tears Elise had been holding back streaked down her cheeks. He brushed the hot moisture away and raised her face to him. He grazed her lips softly. Such a strong woman in all aspects of her life. She hadn’t cried once during their entire trip and she’d had every right to do so. But the thought of losing her lovely hair had been her undoing. He’d need a strong woman by his side to help tame the west. His thoughts fluttered briefly to Madeline, to her tender nature, unable to picture her holding her own if far from the comforts of home. She couldn’t even saddle a horse by herself, much less start a fire. He could love a strong woman. He could love this woman. In actual fact, he already did. Her near-death experience proved the depth of his feelings. Now, all he had to do was to convince her their meeting had been destined from the start and meant to change both their lives.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
James had locked his gaze on her and grazed her lips again before he started cutting her hair. Her tears had truly affected him. He didn’t care for what he had to do any more than she did. She took a deep breath. Maybe she had cause for hope after all. The churning water only a few feet away matched her insides.
James had positioned the knife close to her ear and was concentrating on his work when her tears began again. James tugged his handkerchief from his pocket and leaned forward to dry her cheeks.
She covered his hand with hers as he caressed her face. She drew his hand away and plucked the handkerchief from him. The one he’d carried during the entire Civil War. The one with the entwined letters, J and M. The one he reminded her of whenever he wanted to get her riled up. Madeline’s hanky. And he’d used it on her. There was definitely hope for the man.
Elise glanced up at him through her eyelashes. She didn’t want to make too much of the gesture. She returned the square of cloth to him. “Thank you. Take back your precious hanky. It’s silly of me to be crying over some strands of hair.”
Crouching beside her, he took the cloth, ran his fingers over the embroidered initials and shook his head. “This old thing?” Elise's stomach tightened as she witnessed him caress the initials. Then, she gasped as he heaved the hanky into the churning waters of the Mississippi.
“Did...did you mean to do that?” She sputtered.
In answer, he wrapped her cheeks with his hands and drew her in for a kiss. “I should have thrown it away years ago. Now, keep still and allow me to free you.”
She placed one hand over his. “What if I don’t want to be free?” Elise had hoped to be a part of James’s future, whatever his future may be, even before he tossed Madeline’s hanky. Now, she really needed to gauge his sincerity, to have him admit how his future plans had altered. If indeed they had.
He kissed her again and returned to his task of cutting her hair. “I can’t picture you any other way then the wild and free woman you are. Your strength of character is only one of the things I love about you.”
He said the words she’d been longing to hear, even before she discovered his part in the war effort. Even before he’d tossed Madeline’s hanky into the drink. Energy zapped through her body in reaction to his tender words, making her toes curl in their boots.
“What else do you love about me?” She kept her voice light, hoping he wouldn’t sense the waver in her tone. “Why don’t you rattle off all my attributes, keep me occupied so I don’t dwell on how my hair will look after you're done.”
His gaze bounced from the coop to her face and back again. “Your hair will grow again and if cutting it short means your survival, so be it. I nearly lost you.”
Elise took a deep breath, her heart pounding. “So, you’re saying you’ll still care for me if I resemble a boy?”
He chopped the final strands of hair that had been holding her captive. “What I’m saying is even with short hair, one would never mistake you for a boy.” He wove his fingers through her short locks. “In fact, I’m thinking we should shorten it all around, since the shorter hair highlights your beautiful cheekbones. You’ll probably start a new fashion trend.” He picked up a tendril from the as-yet long side and cocked a brow. She nodded, ever so slightly, and he caught the way her breath left her. Not wanting to prolong her agony, he quickly finished the job.
He brushed his hand over her cheek b
efore he wound it around her neck, tugging her to him for another kiss, long and slow. Elise leaned back on the ground, welcoming James as he sidled alongside her, touching her in all the right places. She didn’t need to see her reflection, to cry over her lost hair again. All she cared about was this man, and if he loved her, she didn’t care what the rest of the world thought about her appearance.
His hands worked the buttons on her sodden blouse, tugging the tail out of her gauchos. She had unwound her whip earlier, as she desperately attempted to free herself, using it to help tear apart the cage. Not that it had done any good. Without James, she would still be hopelessly trapped by the chicken coop, and would be at the bottom of the river. Even a strong woman needed to be saved every now and again. Her blouse got tossed aside, as did her dirty chemise. Her breasts prickled with gooseflesh as the night air hit them. Except for that way-too-quick bath at the fort, she hadn’t been out of her clothes in days, and relished the coolness.
Then, her breath caught in her throat as James heated her breasts with his touch, his tongue, his breath. His lips scorched a path over her bosom, dipping into the cleft between them as his mouth performed magic on her. She lost the ability to speak, could only moan and grunt as she held his head to her trembling breast.
She needed to feel his skin, to run her hands down the fine coating of hair on his chest. He’d already removed his jacket before he started freeing her, but she undid the shiny black buttons of his vest and stripped it off him. Still, he had a shirt between her and him. She stared up into his blue eyes.
“I need to touch my barber’s skin, if you don’t mind.” She tugged his face to hers again and kissed him.
His fingers worked his shirt off himself without breaking the kiss. When he flung it away, he murmured, “As you wish, sweetheart.”
Elise’s hands roamed over his naked chest and back. So much smooth skin. She needed to taste him. Her lips slid down his chest. Despite their dip into the muddy river, his body tasted of salt, with a dash of his unique aura. She’d be able to place him in any situation if she could taste his skin. She feasted on his body, her tongue gliding over his nipples, enjoying the little gasps of pleasure she teased from him. Her lips slid downward, and her tongue delved into the depression of his belly button. Still not satisfied. She undid the buttons of his trousers, grazed her hand over his hard shaft. He stilled her hand as he gasped for air.
“Sweetheart, give a man a break,” he wheezed. “I won’t be able to hold back if you continue to torture me.”
She rose up, plastering herself on top of James’s body. “What if I don’t want you to hold back?” She wiggled her hips against his mid-section, making his organ swell even more.
His hands captured her face and he wove his fingers into her chin-length hair as he groaned. “Are you certain?”
“Did you not just express words of love to me?” She stared into his blue eyes.
He nodded, but still held on.
“And by tossing the handkerchief you’ve carried for years, am I reading it right that you’ve also tossed away any idea of having Madeline in your life again?” She held her breath, waiting for his answer.
James smiled, but his face grew solemn. “Madeline pales by comparison, sweetheart, and not only in her coloring. Once we get to New Orleans and I meet your family, will you marry me?”
“Is that the best proposal you can give me?” Her lips curved upward and she wiggled her hips again.
His infamous smirk returned. “It’s a bit hard to kneel while you have me pinned down, but yes, I am proposing. You’re the most exciting, exotic, enticing creature I’ve ever met, and a lifetime with you won’t be long enough. Will you marry me and come with me to San Francisco?”
Words failed her. She kept gulping for air and put a hand to her throat. Tears threatened again, but she blinked them away. She was done with tears. James Garnett, the riverboat gambler, Union spy and expert tracker had expressed his wish to marry her and take her with him on his next adventure. Should she take the gamble? She glanced at him, the smug expression still in place on his face.
Finally, her body unfroze and she flung herself into his arms. “Yes, yes, yes. Now, seal the deal and make love to me.”
He needed no further encouragement. Boots were yanked off and flung about the riverbank. Trousers and gauchos were shed and within minutes Elise and James lay naked in each other’s arms. The cool evening breeze cascaded over their bodies, a welcome relief after the stress of the day. Elise shuddered as her near-drowning played out in her head.
“What is it, sweetheart?” James noticed her tremor.
“Every time I close my eyes, all I see is me going under the water, tangled in the chicken coop.” She stretched her neck and her teeth grazed James’s bottom lip. “I need something to distract me.”
He propped himself on an elbow and stared at her. “The first time for a woman usually is painful.”
“I’m up for it,” Elise replied with a grin. “That is, if you are.” Her hand shifted from his shoulder to his groin, where she stroked him, teased him.
He growled. “I’m more than ready. Have been for days.” He caught her lips again, their tongues dueling. His hands slid down her body, to the apex of her legs. The ache that had been at her core for days intensified. Her little nub of sensation throbbed as she waited for James’s wicked fingers to find her sweet spot. Perhaps he needed direction. Closing her eyes, she placed her hand over his and led him to her mound.
“A bit eager, are you?” She didn’t need to open her eyes. The smirk was evident by the lilt of his voice.
“I’ve seen horses, with their impressive equipment, doing it, so I’m well versed in what comes next. Let’s get on with it.” She gasped in delight as his thumb massaged her.
“But have you noticed that even horses toy with each other for a few minutes before they get to the actual act?” He nuzzled her neck, dipped his tongue into the indentation between her collarbones, then grazed the sensitive spot behind her ear. She shuddered again, this time for a different reason. A more delightful one.
He dribbled kisses down her neck, stopped at her breasts to feast on them, the whole while toying with her sex, making her body jump and quiver. She gulped in air, as if she were a marooned fish. When James replaced his fingers with his tongue, she stopped breathing altogether.
He lapped up her juices, his chin coated with her moisture as he raised his head to stare at her. “You’re so wet. And ready for me now. I’ll go slowly, at least to begin with, but I may get carried away.”
She laughed and her arms encircled his neck as he placed himself between her legs, tasting her own moisture on his lips. “You’d better get carried away, Slick.”
“I’d say you’re the slick one, now.” He positioned his manhood, bumping up against her. He entered her slowly, an inch at a time, staring at her. She experienced a tightness, a sharp bolt of pain, and heard his grunt as he embedded himself completely and ceased his movement. She stared at him. “That’s what you call getting carried away? I’m disappointed.”
His grin returned. “Ah, sweetheart, we’re just getting started.”
He then proceeded to show her exactly what he meant. He not only got carried away once, and took her along with him, but he did so twice more before they fell into an exhausted sleep. Any doubts she had about this man evaporated. A lifetime of adventure with him awaited. And it would never be long enough.
• ♥ •
The next morning, James woke with a start as a foot connected painfully with his ribs. He stared up and into the face of a muscular, angry, Indian man.
“What have you done with our sister? What have you done to our sister?” The man’s furious voice rang out as he kicked James’s hip. James winced in pain and leapt to his feet, in an attempt to put himself on equal footing with the man, but he found it hard to do, since he had no clothes on. And Elise was not in sight. Their clothes and boots lay strewn around the matted-down area where they’d sp
ent the night, evidence of how they’d spent their evening.
He grabbed his trousers and hopping on one foot at a time, managed to tug them on. Even barefoot and bare-chested, he at least could stand tall against this brother if his intimate male parts were covered. Whichever brother he was. James stared the man down. Dark, reddish skin, black hair, much like Elise’s, deep brown eyes sparkling with fury. This had to be either Raoul or Joseph. He held out his hand.
“I’m James Garnett, and I’ve been attempting to get your sister back to you for days now.” The man simply stared at his outstretched palm. James lowered his hand. “Are you Raoul?”
“If you’ve been trying to return her, where is she? And what have you done to her?” The Indian waved his hand at what had been their love nest and James glanced around. Any fool could see what he’d done to her, and James could tell he wasn’t dealing with a fool.
“She must have gone further into the woods for a moment. Her clothes are still here.” The damaging words tumbled from his mouth, as the enormity of the situation took hold in his fuzzy brain. He was in deep trouble and he could read murder in her brother’s eyes as he stepped toward James.
“Raoul!” Elise's voice rang out from the shrubs surrounding them. “Leave the man be and turn your back while I put my clothes on.”
James drew in a deep, measured breath. Saved in the nick of time.
“Are you all right, Little Bird?” Raoul called out to the bushes.
“I’m fine, only without my clothes. Face the river, both of you.” Raoul’s gaze slid over James, whose skin crawled. An Indian on the warpath had not been what he had hoped to wake up to this morning. Both men did as requested, and stared out at the river, which once again had leveled off and flowed within its banks. James could hear Elise as she dashed from the shrubbery and grabbed her gaucho pants and her blouse.
