The thought was at first humiliating, yet again, the thought of him touching her out of desire brought a terrible rush of passion. Her cheeks burned to think of it, and she felt like a fool thinking she could ever totally please such a man, so big and wild and different from anyone or anything she had ever known. She reminded herself she was out here to marry someone else, but the thought of Wade leaving her at the fort, of never seeing him again made her heart ache.
She managed to get to her feet, keeping a blanket wrapped around herself. She felt a little wobbly at first, and realized she had not eaten for over twenty-four hours, and even then she had not eaten much. She put a hand to her head and stumbled away from the camp site, heading for a small stand of scraggly bushes near the creek. She vaguely remembered that first night here, when Wade had washed her hair and combed it.
Again she tried to remember how many days had gone by. This was surely at least the third day since the raid. It was likely that by now Sergeant Enders was out looking for her. Perhaps he would show up soon with some men. If so, the time left with Wade was preciously short.
She noticed there was no water left in the creek, only damp earth. How strange this country was—flooded one day and dried out the next. She moved toward the bushes when she heard Wade’s voice behind her. “You need any help?”
She felt her cheeks going hot again, and she kept her back to him, wondering how long he had been awake and watching her. “No,” she said quietly. “I can manage.” She started forward again when he told her to wait. A moment later a pair of bloomers came across her shoulder, held by a big, familiar hand. Still she kept her back to him.
“You might feel better with these on. If I have to check your wound this time I can just push one leg up.”
She took them, saying nothing. She moved behind the bushes, thinking that if anything more happened to her clothes, she wouldn’t have a thing left to wear when she reached the fort. She was glad her best dress, a mint green silk dress with a lace yoke, was still undamaged. She decided that today she would put the gray cotton dress back on, then remembered Wade putting it on her the day before, removing it again, both times his big hands coming daringly close to her breasts.
She moved behind the bushes to relieve herself, then pulled on the clean bloomers. She wished she could bathe again, but there was not enough water here, and now there were these new, awkward feelings around Wade. She wrapped the blanket around herself and took a deep breath, realizing she had to face the man sooner or later. She limped back to the campsite, where Wade was rekindling the fire. He said nothing at first, as he watched the flames begin to reawaken.
“I’m sorry about last night,” he finally spoke up. “I said some things I had no business saying.”
So did I, she wanted to reply. But she knew it would be a lie, and she was tired of lying, tired of living by the unwritten rule that Wade Morrow was forbidden to women like herself, forbidden to love and be loved, allowed into the white man’s world only to do business but forbidden to become emotionally or socially involved.
Her heart pounded wildly as she drummed up the courage to say what must be said. She didn’t care if he hit her or laughed at her or refused to talk to her for the rest of the journey. She was not going to let Wade Morrow go out of her life with these hurt feelings.
“I’m not sorry about any of it,” she answered, also watching the fire. She was standing not far from him, and he remained in a stooped position, poking at the coals. “I’m only sorry for getting angry and saying those cruel things when I first woke up. But I’m not sorry for the rest. You can think and do what you want, Wade Morrow; and you can think of me as…as too bold and too forward…maybe even bad, because I’m supposed to get married when I reach the fort. But right now all I can think about is you.” The tears started to come then, which made her angry. She didn’t want to cry, not right now. “I love you,” she said then, surprised herself that she had managed to get the words out.
She swallowed back a lump in her throat and quickly wiped at her eyes. “There,” she added. “I wanted to say it and now I have.” She sniffed, then breathed deeply to control her tears. “I don’t believe…in all these unwritten rules you talk about, Wade. Others out here can think and act however they want, but…nobody can make me do or say anything I don’t want. That’s why…I left St. Louis and…Uncle John…to make my own choices. You have that right, too, Wade. You shouldn’t…let anyone tell you otherwise. And right or wrong…I love you. Let them hang me for it, if it’s such a terrible crime. At least I’d die knowing I did what I knew in my heart was right.”
She turned away and grimaced as she lowered herself to her bedroll. Her face felt so hot she worried she could have a fever again, but she knew it had nothing to do with that. She put a cool but shaking hand to her cheek, waiting for an angry response, or perhaps a cruel laugh; wondering if she would get the most dreaded response—total silence or a look of disgust and ridicule.
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he said then, his voice directly behind her. She almost jumped at the words, realizing he had walked up to her without her even knowing it, another sign of the Indian in him. “You’re just feeling grateful—”
“I know exactly what I’m saying,” she boldly interrupted. She awkwardly tried to get to her feet without losing her blanket, and he was compelled to take her arm and help her. His touch made her feel almost dizzy with love and desire. He immediately let go of her when she had her balance, and she raised her eyes to meet his, seeing a look of near sorrow in his own blue eyes.
“It doesn’t have anything to do with being grateful,” she told him, sensing the redness in her face but not caring. “Don’t you think I’m old enough and intelligent enough to know the difference? Do you think I’d fall in love with just anybody who came along to help me?”
A smile wanted to come to his lips, but the gravity of the situation prevented it. “I suppose not.” How he wanted to hold her, to touch her soft skin and secret places he was sure only he had set eyes on. Now he didn’t want anyone else to ever see or touch those places. He didn’t want to just wash and comb her hair, or wrap her wounds and bathe her fevers. He wanted to ravish her, to wrap his hands in that hair while he tasted her mouth and moved inside her virgin body. But she seemed too good and sweet and innocent to put up with the kind of life she would lead being married to a half-breed.
It was only then he had thought of the word married. Such a thing was ridiculous to think about this soon, impossible to dream it could ever be, even if he had known her much longer than these few days. He was letting his feelings run away with him, and he wondered just when he had lost control of himself like a stupid young boy. Was it when she had first got off the coach at San Antonio?
He turned away, running a hand through his hair, unable to look into those green eyes any longer without falling into them, never to return to his logical, practical self. “I never should have let on last night about how I felt,” he told her. “I’m sorry about all of it. You’re out here to marry someone else. It’s probably just…just being thrown together like this…what we’ve been through and all—”
“It isn’t just that, and you know it,” she replied, braver now that she had spilled out her feelings. As long as she had gone this far, she was not going to let him lie his way out of it, just because he thought it was best for her. “You feel the same way I do. I know it.”
“You don’t know anything,” he answered, now sounding angry again. He whirled, his eyes nearly blazing. “What the hell do you know—an eighteen-year-old, pampered city girl who up to now has never known anything but a sheltered life with a doting aunt! How many men have you dated, Jenny? What do you really know about men?”
He stepped closer, hating himself, his heart torn at the sad, pouting look on her face. It was obvious she was about ready to cry again. Good! Maybe he could shake her dangerous feelings. “And how do you know I don’t find all white women fascinating? How do you know you aren�
�t just one of many? Maybe it’s like Buck said, little girl. Maybe men like me just pant after any woman with light skin and red or yellow hair! Maybe I did take advantage of things yesterday. God knows I could have, and you would have hardly known the difference!”
She drew in her breath, refusing to take her eyes off his, refusing to look frightened or to let him browbeat her into backing off. Her face felt on fire, but the thought of losing him outweighed any inhibitions. “I imagine I would have known the difference, all right,” she answered, shocking him with her bold reply. “I’ve never been with a man, and I never even wanted to be with one till now. And you’re a rotten liar, Wade Morrow. I’m the first woman with light skin you’ve ever had special feelings for since Rebecca—except maybe the kind of women a man pays for favors. I know about those things. I know more than you think. My Aunt Esther told me a lot of things, and one thing I’ve always been sure of is that when the right man came along, I’d know it. Up to now I figured running away from Uncle John would mean I’d never have that free choice; but I’m thinking maybe I still do. I love you, and you can’t lie me out of it or bully me out of it!”
She finally dropped her eyes. “Right now I don’t think I can stand on this leg another minute.” She slowly lowered herself, and he reached out when she wavered, helping her the rest of the way to the ground.
She met his eyes then, seeing tears in them. “Damn you,” he whispered. In the next moment he met her mouth in a crushing kiss that sent her senses reeling. She moved her arms from under the blanket and wrapped them around his neck, the blanket falling away from her. His kiss lingered, hot and penetrating, as he sank down beside her, drawing her onto his lap, his left hand digging into her hair, his other hand moving up under her chemise, gently rubbing at her bare back while his tongue slaked into her mouth in a kiss that was leaving her breathless.
He finally left her mouth, moving his lips over her eyes, whispering her name, tasting hungrily at her lips again before trailing his own down over her throat while his right hand moved around to the front of her chemise, up over the gauze that still wrapped her ribs, his thumb rubbing daringly at the base of one breast, bringing a whimper of desire from her lips.
He could not resist the open invitation to take greater pleasures, and he met her mouth in another burning kiss while his thumb gently rubbed over a taut, virgin nipple.
Jennifer thought she might faint with ecstasy. In her wildest dreams she never thought she could enjoy such things so much, that she could really want a man to touch her, taste her, make a woman of her. Now she could not imagine that man being anyone but Wade Morrow.
He left her mouth, bending his head to kiss at the whites of her breasts. She was sure he would pull the chemise off her breast and taste the nipple that lay erect and waiting just under the soft cotton garment; but suddenly he drew his hand from under the chemise and simply pulled her into his arms, kissing her hair while she lay nestled in his arms.
“We’ve got to slow down, Jenny,” he said, his voice husky with repressed desires. “We’ve got to think about this.”
“There’s nothing to think about,” she said, her own voice weak. “I love you, and you love me. Tell me you don’t love me, Wade.”
He let out a long, shuddering sigh. “You know I love you,” he groaned. “That’s the hell of it.” She kissed at his neck. “There’s nothing hellish about it. It’s right, Wade, I know it is.” Her eyes teared. “You were right—about me not knowing much about men. But I know this feeling I have for you is real—and I know now how it feels to want a man and not be afraid of it. I always thought I would be, but I wouldn’t be afraid with you.”
“Don’t talk like that, Jenny. You have no idea what that kind of talk does to a man, and we can’t—” He threw his head back, breathing deeply. He gently scooted her off his lap then and rose turning away from her, walking around the other side of the fire as though in pain. She thought about things her aunt had explained to her, and for a brief moment she did feel a note of apprehension. But she reasoned that when a woman felt about a man the way she felt about Wade Morrow, it couldn’t be as humiliating and mechanical as she sometimes had imagined it must be. When she had been in his arms, letting him touch her had seemed like the most natural thing in the world. Surely making love would be beautiful with someone like Wade.
“We can’t let ourselves get carried away, Jenny.” He finally finished what he started to say when he tore himself away from her.
“I already am carried away,” she answered, afraid he would turn around and find an excuse to deny his feelings again. She drew the blanket back around her shoulders, on fire at the memory of his hand touching her breast, his lips branding her mouth. She touched her lips. “And so are you,” she added quietly. He had touched her, kissed her! There was no going back as far as she was concerned, no changing this feeling.
He walked farther away, his hands on his hips, his hawk-like eyes scanning the horizon. “We have a lot of things to talk about,” he said then. “For one thing, I’m still determined to find this Wild Horse and see if I can find out something about my past.”
“Do what you have to do. It won’t stop me from loving you.”
He wanted her so bad he wondered if he would explode into a hundred pieces. He wished he could talk to his father about this. He had let it happen again. After eight years he had fallen for another white woman. But this one was free to love him back—except for the fact that she was on her way to Fort Stockton to marry someone else. He had no choice but to take her there. She still needed help and rest. Besides, he didn’t have time to take her someplace else. By now her Sergeant Enders would realize something had happened to the coach and he would come searching. They could be found any time now. She could go on to some other town once they reached the fort and things were settled between her and the sergeant, but to let her go on from there alone or even escorted was too dangerous. Apparently the only thing keeping her alive was the fact that she was with him, and for some reason the Comanche had chosen to leave him unharmed.
He finally turned and met her eyes again, passion ripping through him at the sight of her sitting there, so small and pretty and trusting, the blanket wrapped around her temptingly, for they both knew that if he touched her again he would rip it away, and more. Never had he had to summon more self-restraint than this moment. He had to think of what was best for her.
“Jenny, I want you to listen to me,” he said then, coming back to the fire. “By now the soldiers know something is wrong. There’s probably a patrol out right now looking for the coach, and I don’t doubt your Sergeant Enders is with them.”
“He’s not my Sergeant Enders.”
“You know what I mean. The first thing I want you to remember when we’re found is to treat me the way those men would expect you to treat me.”
“You mean insult you—act as though I’m repulsed by you and I’m overjoyed that they came along?” She scowled. “I won’t do it! I told you I’d never behave that way again! I love you, and if I—”
“Damn it, Jenny, listen to me,” he interrupted. He came closer, grasping her arms and shaking her slightly. “It’s just for a little while, and you’d be doing it for me, as much as for yourself.”
Her eyes teared again. “Why? I don’t care any more, Wade. Let them think what they want.”
He closed his eyes and sighed, as though he was about to throw his hands in the air and give up. He sat down beside her but facing her, taking her hands. “Jenny, I’m not trying to get out of these feelings. They’re there and we’ve both admitted it. When the time is right, we’ll let others know. All I’m doing is buying both of us some time.”
She searched his eyes. All she wanted was for him to kiss her again. “I don’t understand,” she answered.
He squeezed her hands. “Jenny, we aren’t equipped to try to run away from this. You’ve got to get some bed rest and get your strength back. The closest place for that is the fort, and we’re going to be fo
und—maybe today, maybe tomorrow—but we will be found. And until we can both get away from that fort, those soldiers have to think there was nothing between us but a woman in trouble and an experienced scout helping and protecting her. Just finding us together and knowing I fixed that leg is going to be enough to live down. They’re going to think and suggest all kinds of things. I want to set them straight right off, and you can help me if you behave the way I tell you. I’m going to have to leave you at that fort for a while, and I want you treated right while you’re there.”
“But what could they do, even if they knew? I don’t mind insults, Wade.”
He squeezed her hands tighter. “Jenny, please pay attention and do what I say. Damn it, those men are hungry enough for a woman as it is. The only way you’ll be safe is to do like I say—and to let Sergeant Enders think you’re at least considering marriage. If they think for one minute there is anything between us, they won’t think of you as any better than the women who camp out around those forts to accept money for favors—the kind of women you mentioned yourself. I don’t have to tell you what kind of danger that could mean for you.”
She blushed and dropped her eyes, wondering how often he had visited such women, jealous of all of them. She realized what he was trying to tell her, what could happen to her if the men lost their respect for her. “They’d treat me like Buck did,” she said quietly.
He put a hand to her hair and drew her head against his chest. “There is no doubt in my mind.”
“What can we do? What about Sergeant Enders?”
He stroked her hair. “At first you’ll have the excuse of your injuries. You’ll tell him you want to be completely healed before marrying him. Then you can tell him you need more time, that you want to get to know him better—that the journey out here was so horrifying that you’re very shaken and confused, and you’re just not ready to marry. Hold him off for two or three weeks. By that time I should be back.”
Comanche Sunset Page 20
