Diablo

by Potter, Patricia;

  She was silent for a moment, the silence a communion between them, a sweetness that beggared the first fresh smell of flowers in spring. She was so warm, huddled against him. He felt raw, unable to guard himself.

  Finally she said, “You weren’t going to say good-bye.”

  “No,” he said. He was glad it was too dark for her to see his eyes. She might see altogether too much. “I don’t like good-byes.”

  Her breath hit his throat, soft and tempting, coming in short, soft sighs. Her hand was touching his face. She had started trembling again lightly, but he didn’t want to think it had to do with fear. He wanted to make her safe, forever. His arms tightened around her, and her body melded into his. Her breasts were almost bare, and he felt their softness against his chest. His hand went down to one. He thought maybe she would shy away, especially after Hildebrand’s rough handling, and he made his touch tender as he felt her nipple swell and grow taut.

  Her hands went around his neck, played with his hair with an intimate possessiveness that stirred him. The ache in his lower regions grew stronger. Don’t, he told himself. Run like hell. But her mouth was reaching toward him, and he couldn’t move away. He lowered his head slightly, and his lips touched hers, and then the fire exploded between them.

  There were remnants of fear in her. He sensed it. It should have cooled him, but it didn’t. He wanted to wipe away every memory of any man’s touch but his own.

  She had said she wanted to remember this place as being full of magic and wonder. He wanted to give both to her. Yet he feared he would also rob her of both.

  “I love you,” Nicky whispered.

  The words were like a sword through his gut. Yet another part of him rejoiced in them. He had never been loved before. Exquisite agony filled him, and his hands became tentative, uncertain. He knew what he should do. He wasn’t sure he could.

  “Don’t go away,” she said. “I need you.”

  He knew instantly that she wasn’t referring to his leaving tomorrow. She meant now. But what about tomorrow? And next week? Next month? Damn it to hell, he would work out something with Masters. He had to. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, give Nicky up.

  “Oh God, Nicole,” he said. “I need you, too.” He meant everything the word meant. He’d said it to her a week ago, but then he’d tried to deny that the need was anything but physical. Now he knew how deep it ran.

  Her hands touched his face again, but really they were touching his heart. And his heart was woefully in need. He wanted to give her everything she was giving to him.

  His kiss deepened as his hands fumbled at her trousers, and then they were loose. Seconds later, his were also off. She lay on the grass, waiting for him. So open. So exquisite. He lowered himself over her, letting his manhood tease her until she cried out, and then he went into her. He felt her arms around him, and then her legs. She knew what to expect now, and any shyness was gone. She was as honest in her passion as she was in all else.

  He filled her and felt the tremors, the great shocks of desire rolling through him, but more than that he felt the two of them joining in every way.

  I love you. The words rolled over and over in his consciousness. I love you, too. But the words stayed locked within him because he didn’t have the right to speak them. Still, he tried to convey his love in every other way.

  Nicky was drowning in a sea of sensations. Kane had been infinitely gentle until he entered her. And then they both were savage in their needs, in taking and giving. He pushed deep inside her, filling her, and her body moved instinctively in rhythmic circles until they were lost in a primitive dance that was wild and fierce and free. Tremors of ecstasy shook her universe. He was her universe. She didn’t know anything else except the oneness with him, the incredible expectations that throbbed through her body. His hands moved up and down her hips as his lips devoured hers.

  She soared to the heavens and beyond, lost in a sea of emotions and feelings and sensations that tumbled her over and over. And then the heavens exploded, and she felt like a shooting star streaking across the sky, glowing, radiant, free.

  She felt his body collapse on her, the sweat that suddenly chilled with the night, the lovely perfume of love-making. She felt all that, and painted it into her mind for all time.

  He stilled, and they both lay there, afraid to pierce the quiet and beauty of the night with words—to tarnish the last few seconds with a reality that neither wanted. He was leaving the next morning.

  A cool breeze swept over them, drying the dampness of their bodies, and he very carefully rolled away from her and handed her shirt to her. She put it on but didn’t button it. Instead, she snuggled down in the crook of his arm and let her fingers crawl over his chest and the dark arrow of hair that led downward. It was fine, that chest. Hard and supple at the same time. She leaned over and trailed her tongue along the outlined muscles, feeling his body tense again.

  “Nicole,” he said warningly, but she ignored it.

  She couldn’t get enough of him. Not now. Not ever. There was still so much exploring to do. “You taste good,” she said.

  He chuckled, and she loved the feel of his body rumbling. He didn’t chuckle enough. He didn’t smile enough. He never laughed. She suddenly wanted to hear him laugh and, feeling inspired, she started playing with the tufts of hair on his chest, tickling, exciting.

  “Nicole,” he warned again, but his chest was rumbling even more—and something else was happening a bit lower. She watched with fascination. She had felt him grow hard before, but she’d never actually watched it happen. The wisps of clouds had passed the moon again, leaving her enough dim light to see, and she reached out her hand and touched, feeling the strength of his arousal.

  “It’s very interesting,” she said, her hand exploring.

  He groaned. “Interesting?”

  “Splendid,” she amended.

  “That’s better,” he said, and there was definitely laughter in his voice.

  “Better than splendid,” she said. “What makes it grow?”

  “You do,” he said mirthfully. No wariness now, no sarcasm, no caution.

  She was encouraged. “Why?”

  “You have to ask God,” he said.

  “Do you believe in God?”

  “Sometimes,” he said. “Especially when someone asks a question like that one.”

  She pondered his answer. “I don’t know much about God.”

  Kane didn’t suppose she did, growing up as she had. Well, he hadn’t known much himself until he went to live with Davy’s family. His own father’s God was a vengeful, hateful one who wreaked destruction on all who sinned, and even those who didn’t. The Carsons’ God was a gentler one, of whom one asked for blessings. He hadn’t thought about either God in a long time, not since he went to war. It had been hard to believe in any but a vengeful God during those years of blood and destruction.

  But now, with Nicky in his arms, he wondered. He wondered how such sweetness and passion had come to him, wondered if there was indeed a God that blessed.

  Or was his vengeful God merely setting him up for a long, hard fall?

  And would Nicky fall with him?

  He wanted to protect her always. He wanted to hold her like this, and feel her wonder and innocence. He wanted to build something with her, like Davy and Martha had built a family, and he wanted to believe in happy ever after. He didn’t want to think about Masters, or the death sentence hanging over his head, or Davy sitting in prison. He groaned, his arm tightening around her as if he could close out the rest of the world. If only he could.

  She was still watching the progress of his erection, her fingers tracing the small veins on his manhood, cradling its smooth tip until he thought he was going to explode.

  “How big does it get?” she asked.

  It was about as big as it could get. He was literally vibrating with need. And she was rolling onto him, spurred apparently by curiosity and instinct. “Sit up,” he said and guided her body until she sat
astride him, and he felt himself swelling even larger as he went into her.

  “Oh,” she gasped. “Oh, oh.”

  And suddenly she was riding him, and he felt a joyous rapture he’d never known in lovemaking. She sheathed him tightly, moving in ways that made his blood boil and every nerve tingle. And all the time, great rolling waves of sensation washed through him. He heard her whimper. He exploded in her, and she cried out, low and throaty.

  She leaned down and kissed him, long and savoring, and then she collapsed on him.

  “Hell’s bells,” she sighed.

  As exhausted as he was, he felt his chest rumbling again, and a smile form on his lips.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Reality did not return to Kane until they started to dress. His departure was hanging between them like a curtain, creating a certain awkwardness. Kane knew that Nicky had no idea how thick the curtain was, but awareness keep picking at his mind like a steady current of water eating away banks of a river bed.

  “It won’t be long,” she said, touching his face with such gentleness that he wanted to take her up on his horse and ride away, away from Sanctuary, away from obligations and lies and death.

  “You look so sad,” she said.

  Damn that slice of moon. He swallowed. Whatever he said would be a lie. His life was a lie. He’d even lied to himself. It had been easy with her in his arms. He’d sought justification for loving her, and it had come easily when his blood was hot. He’d told himself everything would be all right, that Masters would give him time; but now that the wind was cooling him, and common sense was returning, he knew it had been nothing more than wishful thinking.

  Masters wasn’t going to let him off the hook, and Nicky would discover his perfidy. He had used her as Masters was using him. His breath caught in his throat. What in the hell was he doing? To her? To himself?

  “Kane?”

  He looked down at her. Her face was turned upward toward his. He took her in his arms and held her, one hand soothing that short, curly hair. “Always know I cared,” he said.

  Her body stiffened, and he knew he’d made a mistake. Cared. Not care. His words sounded like a good-bye—and most likely were exactly that.

  “You are coming back?” she asked, her voice uncertain.

  “I’m going to try,” he said. A long silence passed. He had said that before, but there was a warning now that hadn’t been there before.

  He knew she heard it as he watched her bite her lip, her body sliding closer to his. “Promise you’ll be back.”

  “I can’t,” he replied.

  “Why?”

  “There’s a price on my head, remember?”

  “Then don’t go. And don’t go with Sam Hildebrand.”

  “I won’t leave him here with you.”

  “My uncle will take care of him.”

  He shook his head. “The other men here, your ‘guests,’ didn’t like Yancy being ejected. Hildebrand’s respected. Your uncle would be asking for trouble if he killed Hildebrand now.”

  “Mitch …?”

  “Nicky, you have a powder keg here,” he said. “Your uncle has been able to control it through sheer will, but that will isn’t so strong anymore, and the others suspect it.”

  “What’s so important that you have to leave?”

  “A friend,” he said simply. “The best friend I ever had. I owe him everything, including my life. Remember that, Nicole, if I can’t return. Nothing else could make me leave you.”

  She was shivering. He needed to let her go before he said more, before he forgot his other obligation, the one pledge he’d made in his life, and meant to keep.

  He laid his cheek on her head for a moment. “If for some reason I don’t return in three weeks,” he finally said, “get yourself out of here. As soon as you can. And take Robin. I have some money. I’ll leave it with Andy in the morning.”

  “My … uncle.”

  “Listen to me—you will have done everything you could for him. You’ve paid back any debt you might have owed him. If not for your own sake, leave for Robin’s.”

  “It’s not a debt,” she protested. “I love him.”

  Kane closed his eyes for a moment against a new onslaught of pain. “I know,” he finally said softly. “But he wants you and Robin safe. That’s why he invited me to stay. You won’t be doing him any favors by endangering yourself. Go, if I’m not back in three weeks. Promise me.”

  “You expect trouble,” she said hesitantly. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

  Damn her intuition.

  “No,” he lied. “I just think it’s time for you to leave Sanctuary. For good. It’s too dangerous. They smell blood, damn it.”

  “When you come back …”

  “Even if I do return,” he said, “and, God help me, I’ll try, Sanctuary is still no place for you or Robin.”

  “I won’t go without you.”

  “What about Robin? What about his future?”

  She hesitated, obviously torn. “Can’t we go somewhere with you?”

  “I don’t have any place to go, Nicky.”

  “Why …?” Her question trailed off. Then a minute later, she said simply, “I would go anyplace with you. I love you.”

  His jaw clenched. He didn’t want her to love him. He didn’t want to be the cause of her destruction, as he had been the cause of Davy’s. Hell, he’d never been good for anyone.

  “Don’t,” he ordered.

  “I can’t help it,” Nicky said. “It just happened.”

  “I can’t marry,” he said. “I’m a convicted murderer. There’s a rope with my name on it. I’ve been disaster for everyone I’ve ever cared about, and I’m not adding you to that list.” Or had he already?

  “Have you ever been in love?” she asked.

  He knew he should say yes, knew he should scare her away. “No,” he said. Not before Nicky.

  A brief pause, then: “Andy said there are layers and layers to you.”

  Layers and layers of deceit, of lies. The blacksmith was too perceptive.

  “I’ll take you home,” he said, letting the implied question die.

  “I don’t want to go yet.”

  His hand touched her hair, ran through the silky curls. “It’s late, and I’m leaving at dawn. I won’t leave you here alone.” He heard the hollowness of his own voice, and he hoped she didn’t detect the anguish filling him.

  Her hand caught his and brought it to her lips. “Come back to me,” she said. “To Robin and me.” His hand trembled.

  “If anything happens, if I don’t come back,” he said, “don’t mourn me. Just take the money and go to San Antonio. I have friends there. A blacksmith named Harry Clayton. He’ll see to it that you’re all right.”

  She didn’t say anything, just held his hand.

  “Promise me,” he said.

  “I can’t,” Nicky replied. “Not until I can get Uncle Nat to a doctor.”

  “It might be too late,” Kane said, feeling her body stiffen. “And if he goes, you won’t be safe. Promise me. If I’m not back in three weeks, swear you’ll leave. For Robin.” He knew nothing else would work.

  “Yes,” she finally whispered in surrender.

  He sighed. He’d won one battle. One small battle. If only he could win the larger one with Masters and get two more months of time, maybe even three.…

  “Let’s go back,” he said, leading her to her horse and helping her mount.

  But she hesitated. “Be careful.”

  He felt himself smiling. “I will. I don’t think anyone will recognize me through the beard.”

  “Except Sam Hildebrand.”

  “I can take care of him.”

  She finally allowed him to help her mount. She didn’t say good-bye, and he was grateful. He didn’t think his crumbling defenses could stand it.

  Nicky stalked the confines of her room as dawn approached. She kept returning to the window until she saw the silhouettes of three men on hor
seback, moving slowly from the livery. She recognized Kane’s back. She would recognize him anywhere. Kane. Hildebrand. Calico. She watched until they were out of sight, a sense of foreboding filling her. Though her body was sated and tired from his lovemaking, her mind was restless, seeking answers that kept evading her.

  A friend. He was going back for a friend. But who was it? And what was the debt that Kane owed this person? Was it really so strong that he had to leave the relative safety of Sanctuary to honor it? Clearly, the answer was yes, and she hated not knowing more.

  What she did know was that terrifying finality in Kane’s tone and demeanor, an anguish that went beyond the mere words of his explanations, such as they were.

  Are you coming back? she’d asked. And he’d replied, I’m going to try. She believed he would. But she also believed he didn’t feel he had a hope in the world that he would succeed.

  And then there was Hildebrand. Nicky thought about telling her uncle what had happened. He would probably wonder why Hildebrand had chosen to leave so abruptly. But she couldn’t bother her uncle now, not when he was feeling so poorly. She worried that Kane might not be able to control him, but surely he and Calico, together, could.

  Unable to stay in the room another moment, Nicky found her small derringer, slipped out of the house and headed toward the livery stable. She would give Molly a few oats. Maybe that would give her a respite from the worries building like blocks, one upon the other, in her mind.

  The door to the barn opened easily. Theft was not a problem in Sanctuary. No one dared, knowing there was no way out other than through a gauntlet of guards.

  She went inside, knowing that Kane had been here moments earlier, remembering his face only a few hours before when they’d unsaddled their horses together. He had touched her face with such tenderness, with such a melancholy sadness etched into his features, that she’d been sure he was saying good-bye forever. She shuddered once, then wiped the thought away.

  Molly caught her scent and whinnied from her stall. Nicky grabbed a handful of oats and allowed the mare to nibble from her fingers. The other hand twisted in the horse’s mane. A moment later, she heard a noise—and the sound of voices. Hunkering down in the corner of the stall, she wished Andy were here. A month ago, she wouldn’t have been frightened, but things had changed. Her own home was no longer safe. She recalled Kane’s words. They smell blood.