Savage Thunder ww-2

by Johanna Lindsey

  “I don’t think so,” he said softly and drew her closer instead.

  Intimidation had gotten him nowhere. And he recognized that stubborn streak of hers when he saw it.

  He could throttle her and she wouldn’t tell him another thing. But he had to know — one way or the other.

  “What the devil are you doing?” she demanded when she felt his lips on her neck.

  “All that talk of wanting and you have to ask?”

  “But—”

  “But what, Duchess?” His lips moved toward her ear while his arms tightened around her until there was no space left between their bodies. “That had to be a powerful need you had to make you give up your virginity to satisfy it. Something that powerful doesn’t just go away… or does it?”

  “No… it doesn’t,” she heard herself saying, to her surprise and his.

  But it was true, obviously, since she had felt it the moment he put his arms around her, and it was growing stronger by the moment. He smelled of earth and sweat and man, and she wanted him again, just like before, regardless that she had no reason to indulge the desire this time other than for the sheer pleasure she now knew it would bring her.

  His lips had left her skin when she answered him, and his wet hair was dripping on her shoulder and neck, making her shiver. Or was it his breath, which she could still feel warming the sensitive area around her ear?

  “Why’d you get rid of it?”

  She pressed closer at the sound of his voice. “What? Oh, please, no more questions,” she groaned.

  “Kiss me.”

  He did, but teasingly, nibbling at her lips, drawing back when she strained to meld their mourns together.

  He kept it up until she was ready to do anything to bring his mouth crushing down on hers.

  “Colt!”

  “Why’d you get rid of it?”

  Despite the maelstrom of her emotions, it seemed easier to answer. “It was a hindrance.”

  “Why?” his voice persisted, a husky whisper, while his hands moved all over her.

  “It prevented me from. from remarrying if I found someone. who would suit.”

  “Why?”

  “The duke’s affliction mustn’t be known.”

  “But it didn’t matter if I learned of it?”

  “You didn’t know him. were never likely to meet anyone who did.”

  She was suddenly shoved back, his warmth gone, leaving her so frustrated she could have screamed—

  until she heard him swear. “Son of a bitch! I had to be right, didn’t I? Just this once I couldn’t be wrong?”

  “About what?” she asked, reaching for him, but he knocked her hand aside.

  “You used me!”

  Jocelyn blinked, jolted out of her confusion, enough to realize what he’d done to her. He’d used her passion against her — just as she had done to him that night. She noted the irony, even supposed she deserved it. But there was a glaring difference in their tactics that caused the outrage now taking over her languor, blinding her to his own. She hadn’t withdrawn the moment she got what she wanted, as he just did. She hadn’t left him in need.

  “So this is what your foul temper has been about these past days?” she demanded furiously. “You feel insulted because I wanted you?”

  “Used, woman,” he corrected coldly. “Any man would have served for what you wanted. “

  “And you didn’t use me? I wasn’t there that night, beneath you, filled with your flesh?”

  He wanted to hit her for that, for making him burn to get inside her again with the vivid image her words created in his mind, even more than he already burned from holding her. And she wasn’t finished.

  “Is that what you’re trying to tell me, Thunder? That you found no pleasure in my bed?”

  “Shut up, damn you!”

  “Then what exactly do you resent? That I chose you to be my first lover? Or that I took advantage of your moment of weakness?” And then she went for blood. “That’s what’s really bothering you, isn’t it? I know you didn’t want me. You made that abundantly clear every time I got near you. But I managed to seduce you into losing control anyway, and you can’t stand that, can you?”

  He drew back his hand, but when she didn’t flinch from it, he clenched his fist and lowered it. “Answer me one question, Duchess. When did you decide to use me, before or after you forced this damn job down my throat?” When she didn’t answer him immediately, he sneered, “Just as I thought. When a man buys a whore, he makes sure he gets his money’s worth. Did you?”

  She was furious enough to reply, “Of course. You are, after all, a prime specimen of manhood, quite the most handsome I’ve ever encountered.” There was enough sarcasm in her tone to make him doubt there was any truth in her words. And then she added just for spite, “But it was a trifling sum, if you must know. So you needn’t worry that you cost me dearly. You didn’t. Besides, you have so many other uses, I really did make a splendid bargain, didn’t I?”

  His answer was to snarl, “I suspected you were a spoiled bitch!”

  “And I knew you were an arrogant bastard. So what does that prove? How blind lust can be?”

  It was the last taunt Colt could stand without giving in to his urges, and at the moment his greatest urge was to cut out that razor-sharp tongue of hers. The only other thing he could do was leave, which he did.

  She misunderstood, however, and shouted after him, “Don’t mistake me, Thunder! I have no intention of releasing you from my service until you’ve finished the job you agreed to. Do you hear me? Don’t you dare quit on me!”

  He stopped, but only after putting enough distance between them. With the brightly lit camp behind him, she could only see his silhouette, which was just as well, since his expression was now murderous.

  “I don’t quit, but I give you fair warning, woman. For the last time, stay the hell away from me.”

  “With pleasure!” she retorted, but his long strides had already increased the distance between them, so she wasn’t sure he’d heard her.

  She watched until he disappeared behind one of the wagons, then turned about to stare blindly at the far-off mountains. For her ears only she mumbled, “Hateful beast,” and then promptly burst into tears.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Jocelyn set her plate aside and then stretched before leaning back against the pillows scattered under the silken lean-to, which was set up for her luncheon each day. It was one of the luxuries she wouldn’t need much longer. With the days as cool as they now were in late November, a shaded area in which to eat the noon meal wasn’t necessary anymore, was only still being erected at Vanessa’s insistence, since she was of the old school that believed a lady’s skin should never be touched by the sun, even if it was a cold sun. She clucked her tongue disapprovingly over the slight golden tan Jocelyn had acquired by riding every day now that the torrid southern heat was bowing to winter.

  Two weeks had passed since leaving Silver City. They’d dipped south briefly to get around the southern mountains, then ridden almost straight east, until they crossed the Rio Grande River and turned to follow it north. It was much easier traveling after that because they encountered the ancient El Camino Real, or Royal Highway, that stretched from Santa Fe, which they were heading toward, clear down to Mexico City. In fact, they could have used this old road, which had first served as a trade route more than three hundred years ago, if they hadn’t originally planned on going to California.

  According to Billy, the El Camino Real met up with the Santa Fe Trail, another old trade route. It had been established only some sixty years ago and would lead them out of the mountains, east again, and straight onto the Great Plains, which were the flat grasslands that reached clear into Canada. They’d also found out from Billy just how far away this Wyoming was. If they had known to begin with that it would take nearly two months to reach. but that was a moot point now, considering how far they had already come-.

  T
he road, however, made for a less bumpy ride, and the scenery was lovely, with the San Andres Mountains on the right, the river on the left with more mountain ranges beyond it, trees now in abundance in magnificent fall colors, and even, for several days, the wideopen Jornada del Muerto valley to exercise the horses in.

  The desertlike quality of the land had not disappeared entirely, however. There was still cactus to be seen, white and purple sage and creosote bushes, long stretches of parched ground or even white sands, and very little grass other than grama, but they were accustomed to such after traveling so long in these southern regions.

  Now, as they neared the Rocky Mountains and Santa Fe, which was only three days away, there were even more ranges on every side, and more lovely valleys to explore. But Jocelyn didn’t feel like exploring today. Her sigh must have suggested the same to Vanessa.

  “It’s not the heat, and the lunch was light enough,” the countess remarked beside her. “Didn’t you sleep well last night?”

  “As well as usual,” Jocelyn replied, which wasn’t admitting much, since Vanessa was unaware of the many bad nights she’d been having recently.

  She knew the cause, though that did nothing to alleviate the problem. She was simply suffering a long-drawn-out case of severe embarrassment over her conduct during the last encounter with Colt.

  That blasted fight. She couldn’t get it out of her mind, even two weeks later.

  The very next day she had begun her monthly time, which she had eagerly used to excuse her uncalled-for tears that night, as well as her horrid behavior. But she still burned with shame every time she recalled how she had allowed Colt to reduce her to the role of a screaming shrew, complete with spite, derision, and malice. She hadn’t known she had it in her. Well, how could she have, when she had never in her life acted like that before? But it would never happen again, by God. That she had promised herself, a promise she would keep no matter what that heartless man did to provoke her — if he ever talked to her again.

  She had seen him no more than twice in all this time, and then only from a distance when she was exercising Sir George. He had stopped coming into camp at all, not even to sleep. Where he bedded down at night was anyone’s guess, though she suspected it wasn’t that far away, since Billy rode out before dawn to meet him each morning to confer on the arrangements for the day, and he was never gone long.

  She had missed Vanessa’s next question. “What?”

  “I asked if you were too tired for your ride today. I believe Sir George has already been saddled.”

  Jocelyn didn’t budge from the pillow, nor did she open her eyes to answer. “Not too tired, Vana, but I don’t really feel like it. One of the grooms can take him out.”

  “And what about Miles? You know how much he enjoys your rides together.”

  With a prickle of irritation, Jocelyn wondered when her friend was going to stop matchmaking. It simply wasn’t working.

  A very short while ago Jocelyn’s interest would have been quite snared by such a man. In personality and looks he outshone Charles Abington, and she had seriously considered marrying Charles. But now there was another man she couldn’t help comparing Miles Dryden with, and in her doing so, Miles wasn’t quite as fascinating. He became too pale, too charming, too ingratiating. Even his misfortune could be picked apart to reveal a touch of cowardice. Colt wouldn’t have run from failure to start over somewhere else. He wouldn’t have stranded himself in a town, either, because of a close touch with death. And she couldn’t imagine Colt standing by and doing nothing while someone robbed him. Indeed, no.

  Devil take it, she had to stop thinking of that man, but she still didn’t feel like riding, even for the diversion. “One day isn’t going to crush him, Vana.”

  “I wouldn’t be too sure. I believe he is quite smitten. Maura thinks so, and who would know better than his sister, whom he is most likely to confide in.”

  Jocelyn nearly snorted. The pair were as thick as thieves. If the man was smitten with anyone, it was with his sultry sister. She leaned up to see them walking together near the clifflike banks of the river, deep in conversation.

  Glancing at the countess, she said, “I suppose she told you that?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t believe everything that girl tells you. IVe already caught her in one lie.”

  “What?”

  “The other day she told me that her father had owned some of the finest racers in the eastern states, and that she so regretted their loss when everything had to be sold, even though she doesn’t care to ride herself.”

  “So?”

  “So the first time I allowed Miles to try Sir George, he remarked that he’d always wanted to own a Thoroughbred, but that his family had only kept carriage horses, which were all that was necessary in the city.”

  Vanessa found that merely amusing, if her chuckle was any indication. “It’s very common to want to impress someone of your stature, my dear. You should know that by now. The girl is merely a bit prideful and envious. That’s nothing to be concerned over.”

  “I wasn’t concerned. I just wouldn’t accept everything she says as the literal truth.”

  “Very well. But in this instance, concerning Miles’ affections, I’m inclined to agree with her. I’ve seen the way he dotes on you myself, after all. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if you don’t get a proposal long before we reach the railroad that will take them back East.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised either.”

  Vanessa frowned. “So, you do know he’s smitten. Whyever have we been arguing about it, then?”

  Jocelyn grinned. “I wouldn’t call this discussion an argument, Vana. And I didn’t agree he’s smitten.”

  “But you said—”

  “That I wouldn’t be surprised if he proposes. How many proposals have I had in the past three years?”

  Vanessa sighed, “Too many to count. So you mink he’s just another fortune hunter?”

  “I’m afraid I do.”

  “You could be wrong, you know. Look at the attention he lavishes on you. And he’s so deucedly handsome — and civilized, I might add.”

  That stung, so Jocelyn retorted, “He isn’t likely to ignore me with my fortune on his mind.”

  “But what makes you so sure, my dear?”

  “His eyes.”

  “His eyes?”

  “Yes, the way he looks at me. There’s nothing there, Vana, not even the tiniest spark of interest. Oh, he says all the right words, but his eyes belie every one of them. He’s simply not attracted to me. But then few men are.”

  “More fools they,” the countess said in her behalf. “It doesn’t matter, dear. We weren’t considering him for a husband, merely as an entertaining diversion, so don’t let it bother you.”

  Jocelyn had to force down a smile. “I won’t.”

  But Vanessa was having a hard time letting the idea go. “You’re positive?” she asked after a moment.

  This time Jocelyn did smile. “Vana!” And laugh. “He looks at you with much more warmth than he does me.” At the countess’s blush, she added, “Ah, you have noticed that, at least?”

  “Well, I assumed you were receiving even more admiring looks,” Vanessa said defensively.

  “Now you know better. But don’t fret about it. He has been entertaining, and quite amusing, which was partly what you hoped for, wasn’t it?”

  Again Vanessa blushed. “I meant well, my dear.”

  Jocelyn leaned over to hug her. “I know, and I love you for it. And you needn’t worry about our mean-tempered guide anymore. If you haven’t noticed, he’s been avoiding me like the plague. It’s quite over.”

  “Is it really?”

  She didn’t want to explain about the argument, not at this late date, so she said simply, “Yes.” But knowing Vanessa wouldn’t leave it at that, would start to pick it apart for her own assurance, she cowardly added, “I think I’ll have that ride after all.”

&
nbsp; Chapter Thirty

  They rode east toward the Manzano Mountains. The fast gallop brought them to the lower foothills in little time, though Jocelyn was far ahead as usual. She dismounted to wait for Miles to catch up, walking Sir George beneath the golden aspen and ponderosa pines that dotted the area.

  She was warm after the ride, but the cold wind kept her from removing her fur-trimmed riding jacket.

  They had had to dig out some of their winter clothing from the trunks with the recent weather change, a fortunate inclusion since they were likely to see snow before reaching their destination. They were also fortunate that with so many people, there had been only a few minor colds and sniffles to date.

  Miles slowed his borrowed mount as he approached the duchess. He was dreading this, but Maura had been after him to get it over with, and she was right, of course. They were running out of time with the railroads close now, and without some definite encouragement from the lady, they had no excuse to continue on with her. And his other option wouldn’t wait around indefinitely either.

  They had assumed there would be more time, that they would all be taking the train from Santa Fe. They had since learned otherwise. The duchess’s party would have to split up to “transport so many vehicles on the rails, if the new Santa Fe line even had plat-form cars to accommodate them. Jocelyn had already decided to wait until the larger depots in Denver were reached before traveling the railroads, if even then, since that half-breed had assured her she could reach Wyoming via the flatlands of the plains.

  For the first time, Miles was lacking the confidence so necessary to this scheme, because he had been unable to predetermine the duchess’s feelings toward him. Her direct gazes unnerved him, but gave nothing away other than a sense of amusement. He sometimes even imagined that she was laughing at him rather than with him, that she saw right through his cam-paign to win her.

  Of course, his heart hadn’t really been in this en-deavor from the start. The old broads of the past had been easy prey, susceptible, lonely, gullible, easily won and managed. But this young one lacked all the basic ingredients for a quick and effortless courtship. She also left him cold, despite her youth, which was what was really causing his dread of today’s meeting. No matter how much she was worth, he almost hoped she would turn him down.