Montana Surrender

by Simmons, Trana Mae

  When Jessica bucked against him, he tightened his thigh muscles around her and back-handed her across the face. Her head hit the raised fireplace hearth and she valiantly fought the pain shooting through it. Her eyelids fluttered open and she tried to focus on the shape of his face over her, but could only make out blond hair glinting in the firelight. He turned his head to the side before she could see his features.

  "Nice bed over there," he muttered, "but I don't think we'll need it tonight." He grabbed a fistful of Jessica's hair, yanking her head around to fix her eyes on the fireplace.

  Renewed tears of pain blurred her eyes and Jessica struggled frantically to free her arms. His muffled laughter sounded in the room and he pressed his erection into her tender stomach. Nausea boiled up in her throat.

  "I'll kill you!" she hissed, her mind too drugged by the sick feeling spreading through her to realize she could scream now.

  He struck her full force on the mouth again and Jessica felt her lip split. Warm blood trickled down her chin and she recoiled in horror when he bent and licked at it with his tongue. Vainly she tried again to make out his features in the dim light, but he rolled to her side, his body shadowing the light from the fire. In some vague corner of her mind, Jessica heard the bedsprings squeak.

  The man hovering over her bent down and grabbed the nipple of one breast in his sharp teeth. He growled and bit harder, worrying the nipple like a dog with a bone.

  Jessica groaned in agony and suddenly the pain was gone. And the man, too. A thud echoed through the room and she opened her eyes in time to see the man's body slide down the side of the rock fireplace. A stream of darkness stained the rocks in the wake of his falling head and she quickly shut her eyes again.

  An instant later someone pulled her from the floor and gathered her into a warm embrace. Storm. Only Storm smelled like that. She wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her head on his chest.

  "Oh, God, Jessica," he whispered. "Are you all right?"

  She nodded her head against his chest, refusing to relinquish her grasp on him. She gulped furiously, but the sobs in her throat wouldn't abate. After one final shudder, they burst free and she sobbed hysterically.

  Storm tightened his grasp and cradled her in his arms. Bending his head, he laid his cheek on her sable curls and whispered frantically to her.

  "Jessica. God, Jessica, I'm sorry for what happened. But please, you've got to pull yourself together. I've got to get out of here."

  Jessica gulped back her sobs and nodded her head as she reluctantly loosened her hold on him. Though it felt so good having him hold her, he was right. They couldn't wait for Ned now.

  "I'm ready," she said as she swiped at a lingering tear on her cheek. "The horses are saddled and waiting."

  "No, pretty lady," Storm said with a shake of his head. "You can't go with me."

  Jessica's eyes widened in astonishment. "You mean, you're going to let me stay here and hang for killing Mr. Baker? That's who it is, isn't it? I couldn't see him very well, but...."

  "Jessica, for God's sake. They'll believe you when you tell them...."

  "Sure they will! Here I am in Baker's Valley, where Mr. Baker owns the bank, and the store, and the hotel, and the law...."

  Storm gently clamped a hand over her lips. "Jessica, I don't think he's dead. And damn it, you can't...."

  "Mr. Baker!" A pair of high heels tapped down the hallway and the feminine voice penetrated through the door.

  Sassy! Jessica immediately recognized the voice of the one other woman she had met in Idalee's house. Sassy — who Idalee had told her liked to talk so much.

  "Mr. Baker?" Sassy called again. "Are you up here? Mr. Baker, you know Idalee doesn't allow her guests upstairs."

  By the time the heel taps stopped outside the door, Storm and Jessica were slipping into the tunnel. The click of the tunnel door sliding shut sounded simultaneously with the click of the bedroom door opening. They managed to tiptoe quietly halfway down the top flight of stairs before the first scream split the air. They made the other two flights in record time, their own clattering footsteps covered up by the sounds of slamming doors and feet running through the house inside.

  Scuttling clouds covered the light of the waning moon above them and Jessica shivered in the night breeze. She had to trust to Cinnabar's sure footedness, since she could barely make out the rear of the paint in front of her. Only Storm seemed to know where they were headed.

  At first, despite the danger of pursuit, he insisted they travel the road, mixing their hoofprints with the multitude of others. At a small bridge crossing the road, he urged the paint down the bank into a stream.

  Cinnabar followed the paint willingly enough, as long as Jessica kept him far enough back not to antagonize the other stallion. Once she let her reins go slack as she adjusted the torn blouse over her bodice and Cinnabar reached out to nip at the paint. Both horses reared and plunged as they sought to assert one's dominance over the other, and only Jessica's and Storm's expert riding brought them under control.

  But the effort must have taken its toll on Storm. When a cloud momentarily cleared the moon, Jessica saw him slumped in the saddle.

  "Storm," she called. "Storm, are you all right? How much farther are we going?"

  Storm straightened in his saddle with an effort and pulled the paint over to the side of the trail. He motioned with one hand for Jessica to ride up beside him.

  Keeping Cinnabar under firm control, Jessica brought him dancing sideways down the trail. When the stallion tried once again to reach his head out, she pulled firmly on the reins and pinned his head against his chest. She spoke sternly to him, and gratefully saw Cinnabar's ears flicker up from their flat position on his head as he quieted.

  "Storm, do you know where we're going?"

  "There's a place," Storm said through grim lips. "It's near where I first saw you and your men."

  "Are you going to be able to make it? It's going to rain in a minute and, if that's where we're headed, it must be another half hour's ride."

  "More like fifteen minutes, if we get moving. I'll make it, Jessica. The shoulder's not that bad."

  "Then why are you in such pain? Has the bleeding started again?"

  "Damn it, Jessica, it's not the pain in my shoulder! It's what I've been thinking about. Do you have any idea what you've gotten yourself into by coming with me?"

  "Not completely," Jessica fired back at him. "But I'll tell you one thing, Mr. Storm whoever you are. When we get in out of this weather, I want some answers from you!"

  A fat raindrop hit Jessica squarely on the nose and she sputtered when the water ran down over her lips. She heard Storm give an exasperated sigh beside her and a second later she urged Cinnabar again after the paint's rump. The deluge broke a few moments later, making her think longingly of the rain cloak in her saddle pack, but when Storm kicked the paint into a gallop, she leaned down on Cinnabar's neck to follow.

  Flashes of lightning lit their way when they galloped across the familiar camp site. Though Jessica's hair hung in sodden tresses, the turbulent wind blew it around her face. Rumbling thunder echoed constantly over the hilltops and just as they reached the other side of the camp site, a bolt of lightning split a tree on the hillside above them, filling the air with smells of ozone and smoke.

  Both horses reared in terror until the riders pulled them down to earth. Storm slowed his pace as he urged the paint up the hillside trail, past the boulder where he had first held Jessica in his arms. Despite the pouring rain, he allowed his eyes to linger on it for a second.

  When Cinnabar stopped, Jessica raised her head to see the blank cliff face in front of her. The rain streamed down over her face and she blinked her eyes to clear them. She still couldn't see Storm anywhere and her heart sped up in fear.

  "Jessica, come on!"

  Cinnabar's ears pricked up again and, with no urging from Jessica, the horse tentatively made his way around the outcropping that had been shadowed by the dark ni
ght. An instant later, Jessica found herself in complete blackness and she pulled the stallion to a halt.

  "S...Storm?"

  "Just a moment," his disembodied voice came back. "I'm getting a torch lit."

  The welcome light of a match flaring briefly illuminated the cave and an instant later she saw Storm hold the torch up over his head.

  "Come on," he said as he turned to lead the paint forward. "It's just a little ways back here now."

  Jessica allowed Cinnabar to pick his own way across a rubble littered floor and follow Storm around a sharp angle in the cave wall. When Storm placed the torch in a crack in the stone face, Jessica looked around her and gasped in awe.

  It could almost be someone's living room. Pine boughs covered the floor instead of carpet, but a comfortable looking stuffed chair sat beside a hole carved out on the far wall. Dry wood lay in the hole waiting to be lit into a fire. A small, rather rickety table abutted the other side of the fireplace, with a lone chair sitting beside it.

  While Storm lit two lanterns to add to the light of the torch, Jessica slid down from Cinnabar and watched the rest of the small room come into view. In one corner a mattress lay, a down filled comforter over it. Why, there were even pictures on the walls. No matter that they were drawings from men long forgotten on earth — they suited the decor exactly.

  "Why, Storm," she said. "This is nice."

  "It's not Baker's Hotel," he said with a grunt as he leaned down to touch a match to the kindling under the fire. "But it does all right for now."

  He stood up and Jessica saw him frown at Cinnabar.

  "I...I'll take Cinnabar back up...."

  "No, Jessica," Storm said. "I've got a place fixed on the other side of this cave for Spirit."

  "Th...there's spirits in here? My men thought you were a ghost when they saw you."

  "Not ghost spirits, Jessica," Storm said with a chuckle. "Spirit's my horse."

  "Oh. Well, the name suits him."

  "I'm afraid we're going to have to tie the horses, though, instead of leaving them loose in the enclosure. Spirit's not long off the range. He was leading a herd of mustang mares when I caught him again."

  "You've had him before?"

  "Yes," Storm replied, but though Jessica waited, he didn't continue his explanation. "You keep your stallion there until I get Spirit tied. I'll fill the feed troughs for them and maybe they'll settle down when they get their stomachs full."

  Jessica watched Storm pick up one of the lanterns and lead Spirit into the darkness on the other side of the cave. As soon as he disappeared, she again stared around her.

  A shelf stacked with supplies, held up by pegs stuck into another crack above the table, ran along one wall. Her eyes travelled somewhat fearfully overhead to the ceiling. Bats sometimes lived in caves, but she saw only a smooth blankness over her.

  Jessica shivered slightly as a breeze filtered in behind her. Dropping Cinnabar's reins to ground tie him, she crossed to the fire, knowing the stallion wouldn't move until ordered to.

  She held her hands out to the fire and shivered again in the soaked blouse. The leaping flames warmed the front of her quickly, but she would have to change if she wanted to get dry any faster. At least she could put some more wood on the fire.

  A pile of dry logs lay beside the fireplace and she knelt to pick up one. Something caught her eye behind the chair and she glanced over to see a familiar object on a small table. After tossing the wood onto the fire, she moved around the chair to investigate.

  What looked like the mouth of a horn emerged from the top of the box — the box that held the horn in place. A lever stuck out from the side and Jessica stared at the contraption in mystification. What was it doing here?

  "It's a gramophone," Storm said, making Jessica jump.

  "I...I didn't hear you come back."

  "Obviously," Storm said. "Let me get the horses settled and I'll show you how it works."

  "For heaven's sake, I know how it works. Do you think I'm stupid or something?"

  When Jessica rose to her feet and glared at him, Storm's mouth suddenly went dry. The wet blouse clung to her shapely shoulders, though the front of it had dried somewhat. She had tied the ends together just under her breasts, since the buttons had been ripped off. Above the knot, the blouse gaped open, allowing him a clear view of her collar bones and the rounded mounds of the tops of her breasts. Nipples pebbled against the front were clearly outlined by the still damp material.

  Her nipples. That bastard had been biting on one when Storm's eyes flew open. Despite their relationship, he hoped he had killed the son of a bitch. How much had he hurt her?

  Storm's hand came out and he gently traced a path around Jessica's nipple.

  "Does it still hurt, pretty lady?" he murmured.

  "A...a l...li...little." Suddenly Jessica found her teeth chattering. It couldn't be from the cold, because a swift heat raced over her body.

  Storm slowly untied the knot on her blouse to bare her breasts. He growled softly in his throat when he saw an indentation made from a tooth mark beside the rosy aureola. Tenderly he cupped his hand under her breast and smoothed his thumb over the mark.

  "I should have made sure that bastard was dead!"

  "No. Oh, Storm, no." Jessica reached up to place her hand on his cheek, her movement thrusting the breast more fully into his hand. She ought to pull away, but it felt so wonderful having his hand on her.

  Storm's eyes went to her face as he continued to soothe her breast. Her breath feathered over his own face, drawing his gaze to her mouth. Though the rain had washed the blood away, he noticed the dark bruise on her cheek and the inch long cut in the corner of her mouth.

  His other hand came up and he caressed Jessica's full lower lip. "He hit you. We need to get some cool cloths on that bruise."

  "The rain cooled it enough, Storm," Jessica found herself whispering as she stroked her index finger down his jaw bone. "I think it needs some warmth now. Won't you kiss it and make it better?"

  Storm groaned and licked his dry lips. "I...I don't think I better."

  Jessica stood on tiptoe and tilted her head back. Her breast settled securely between them.

  "Please, Storm?" she whispered. "Make the pain better for me and I'll do all I can to make it better for you."

  Invisible wires tugged Storm's head downward and he found it impossible to resist their pull. He tried. Oh, how he tried. His traitorous heart pounded at the thought of finally having Jessica in a safe place where he could show her how much he was coming to love her. But his mind shouted silently to him that this happiness, too, would be fleeting.

  The mind lost when Jessica slipped her hands around his neck and added her urging to the wires. Just one taste. One taste to make her feel better and let his heart have a few seconds surcease from the constant pain.

  Mindful of her injuries, he caught her lips gently, clingingly, before he pulled slightly away. Just once more. His mind joined his renegade heart. The kiss lasted longer this time, though he steeled himself to keep from crushing her against him.

  Jessica's fingers crawled up into his hair and she refused to relinquish her hold when he pulled back again. Her lips only moved far enough away for her to whisper, "Does it make it better, Storm? It makes it better for me."

  "It makes it better, pretty lady," Storm breathed back. "You don't know how much better."

  "Show me, Storm. Show me how much better it can be."

  She covered his mouth with her own and her lips opened willingly when he forgot his caution and plunged his tongue inside her mouth. She felt her breast surge fuller in his hand and his answering massage that spiraled the rapture filling her even higher. She fit herself against the length of him, arms clinging and soft thighs pressed against the perfectly counteracting hard ones.

  He drew his head back and kissed the split on the side of her mouth. The bruise on her cheek he licked gently. His tongue pushed back the damp hair and dried the rain from her ear, leaving behind
instead the moisture from his mouth.

  When Jessica tilted her head, Storm pushed aside the damp hair from the back of her neck. He spent several long seconds kissing and laving the area when he heard her purr with pleasure at his attention to the sensitive spot. Somehow he found her blouse in his hand and he dropped it to the floor before he kissed a path across her shoulder and down to the breast his hand had neglected.

  Jessica gasped and arched against him when he sucked her nipple into his mouth. Oh God, it felt good having him holding her, kissing her, stroking her. She ran her hands across his shoulders and worked them in between them to his shirt buttons. Then back up the corded chest, making sure she didn't touch his injury as she slipped the shirt from his shoulders. She knew that skin — almost every inch of it. It felt so much different under her stroking fingers now — almost silky hot. She stroked the ripples his muscles made as he shrugged his arms free of the shirt.

  His arms didn't go back around her again. Instead, he bent slightly and placed one behind her knees, the other around her waist.

  "Storm, your shoulder!" she gasped when he pulled her feet from the floor.

  Storm ignored her protest. In two quick strides he found the mattress and laid her down on the comforter. His lips covered hers again and he stretched out close to her.

  Storm cupped her face and drew back slightly. "Pretty lady, you make me forget everything. We have to stop."

  "Why, Storm? Why can't we have this one night? It can't hurt anyone."

  "You don't know what you're asking for."

  "No." Jessica shook her head slightly as she gazed into the black pools of his eyes. "I don't. But I want to know."

  The lantern light lit the pain again filling his eyes and Jessica felt her heart lurch. She leaned over and kissed each eye shut, then each cheek, each side of his mouth. Her lips yearned to feel his fully on them again, and she satisfied their yearning. And the yearning of her breasts to nestle against the corded chest muscles and the thick mat of hair that caressed them.