Comanche Woman

by Joan Johnston

  “Settle down! Stop that howling. What’s the matter with you?”

  At the sound of a human voice, Bay stopped screaming and opened her eyes. “Long Quiet? Long Quiet!” She threw her arms around him, strangling him with her grasp. “I thought there was something crawling on me.”

  “I was touching your face.”

  “Oh.” Bay could feel Long Quiet’s warm breath at her temple and was suddenly aware of her breasts flattened against his hard, smooth chest, of his arms wrapped around her, holding her snug against him, of his strong hands caressing her. She could feel the tension building in his body as his muscles flexed and tautened beneath her hands.

  “Why are you here, Bay?”

  “I had to talk to you.” Bay knew she sounded desperate and tried to calm her voice. “You haven’t bought the land from Cruz Guerrero yet, have you?”

  “Yes, I have.”

  “Oh, no!” Bay hid her face against Long Quiet’s chest.

  He pried her arms from around his neck and pulled her away so he could see her face. Bay tried, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes. He tipped her chin up, but she kept her gaze lowered.

  “Look at me, Bay.”

  “I can’t.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Bay took a deep breath and blurted, “I’ve decided to marry Jonas Harper.” She felt the muscles in Long Quiet’s arms turn to rock beneath her fingertips. When he said nothing, she finally looked up at his face. His eyes were cold. His jaw jutted and his nostrils flared. He had never looked so much the noble savage.

  “Why?” he said in a dangerously quiet voice.

  “I . . . I . . .” Bay knew that if she was going to convince Long Quiet to let her go through with this, she’d have to convince him she loved Jonas Harper. But the words just wouldn’t come.

  “Do you love him?”

  Bay breathed a sigh of relief that Long Quiet had made it easy for her. “Yes.”

  He didn’t bother to contradict her. He simply lowered his mouth and captured hers, stunning her with his quick possession. She could feel his anger in the taunting kiss. His lips teased. His tongue coaxed. Bay felt herself melting like a wax candle in the Texas sun. His fingers thrust through her hair, tugging her backward until she was lying flat on the bed. His body covered hers, and while his mouth pillaged, his hands plundered. In moments Bay was writhing in pleasure beneath him.

  His breath came in gasps as his mouth left hers and sojourned across her face and down her throat. His hands likewise journeyed from her breasts to her belly, stopping short of the place where she wanted them. Abruptly, he sat up, and while she watched he stood and unbuckled the chaparejos, similar to leather pants, that covered his trousers and let them fall in a heap on the floor. Heavy boots with large rowled Mexican spurs came off next, followed by buckskin trousers, until he was standing gloriously, starkly naked in front of her.

  Bay hadn’t taken her eyes off him. Shivering with desire, she reached out her arms, inviting him to join her. Instead of accepting her invitation, he pulled her upright to stand across from him. Slowly, he loosened the buttons on the short gown she wore, then drew it off her shoulders, leaving her in a lacy white chemise. Instead of taking off her trousers, he thrust his bent leg between her thighs and pulled her forward so she was riding it. With one hand he grabbed a handful of her auburn hair and pulled her head back to expose her throat to his mouth, while his other hand teased the peaked nipple that could be seen beneath the thin chemise.

  “I love you, Bay,” he murmured against her throat. “I think I’ve loved you forever.”

  Tears squeezed from Bay’s eyes. “I . . . love you too.”

  “If you love me, you’ll be my wife.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement of possession.

  “I . . . can’t,” Bay choked out.

  Long Quiet raised his head so he could meet her gaze. “Jonas can never love you as much as I do.”

  “It’s not that . . . it’s . . .”

  “It’s the money, isn’t it?” Long Quiet rasped, his voice flat. “And the respectability. Your father told me as much, but I wouldn’t believe him.”

  He waited for her to deny it.

  But she didn’t.

  “Can Jonas love you like this, Bay?” he demanded as his hands sent tremors of pleasure racing through her body.

  Bay knew she was on the verge of admitting the real reason why she was marrying Jonas Harper. But there was nothing Long Quiet could do to help, and she couldn’t afford to give him the chance to change her mind. She was already too aware of what she was giving up to save Three Oaks.

  She laughed, a bitter, harsh sound, and said, “Why would I choose to live in a hovel like this, cooking and scrubbing like some Comanche squaw, when I can be waited on by servants, dining on china and drinking from crystal, if I marry Jonas?”

  Long Quiet shoved her away from him as though she’d suddenly become a buzzing rattler, and she hit the adobe wall beside the bed hard enough to knock the breath from her. She couldn’t speak for a moment, which was fortunate, because she might have taken everything back, so tortured was the expression on Long Quiet’s face. By the time she could breathe again, he’d recovered his composure and his face revealed nothing of what her words had meant to him.

  “Why did you come here today, Bay?”

  “To say good-bye,” she murmured. She gazed at him with all the love she felt, knowing that after what she’d just told him, he wouldn’t want to touch her again. “And to tell you I’ll never forget you.”

  As she watched, anger flared and then was banked, smoldering in Long Quiet’s gray eyes. “Then I suppose I should give you something worth remembering,” he said.

  Bay flattened herself against the rough adobe wall and held her hands out in front of her as he started walking toward her. “Stop, Long Quiet, please . . .” When he kept coming, she gauged the distance between herself and the door. Just before he reached her she lunged, scrambling across the bed.

  She was only halfway across the huge expanse when he grabbed her chemise. It ripped down the back and fell away in two pieces, freeing her breasts but hampering her arms. She kept on crawling, but this time he caught her by an ankle. She whirled around, hands curled into claws, and reached out to scratch him. “Let me go!”

  He used his hold on her ankle to get a better grip on her calf with the other hand. His weight held her legs down while he worked his way up her body. Bay grabbed a handful of his thick, curly hair and yanked. “Let go!” she shrieked.

  He caught one of her wrists, but her other hand still clutched his hair. His head dropped suddenly and his mouth came down on hers. She bit at him. She bucked against him. She pulled his hair so hard she cried with the pain she knew she was causing him. But the more she tried to hurt him, the gentler he became.

  “Yes, love. Be mine, love. Easy, love,” he murmured.

  The hand in his hair loosened, then drove through the wet curls again, only this time with urgent need, pulling his head down so his lips could meet hers. She thrust her tongue into his mouth in an erotic imitation of the way she wanted his body joined to hers. His hand released hers to find her breast while she sought out the flesh of his shoulder, then slid her fingers down his slick back to his hard, taut buttocks. Bay moaned.

  “I’m yours, love. All of me. Whatever you want. Tell me what you want,” he entreated.

  She did. With her hands, with her mouth, with her heart. She wanted them together. Once again. Just one more time. She tugged at her trousers and drawers and he helped her pull them off along with her boots and then they were back together, flesh to seeking flesh. He made them one, confirming that they belonged together, promising that nothing could keep them apart.

  Long Quiet could hardly catch his breath, but he wanted the words spoken now, while she was still in his thrall.

  “Do money and respectability mean more to you than the love we share?”

  Bay forced herself to meet his eyes and was ag
onized by the fierce need she saw there. Somehow she must make him give up the idea of having her for his wife. Somehow she must make him believe she would only marry Jonas Harper. “I love you, but there are other things besides love that have to be considered.”

  “Things like china and silver?” he snarled.

  “Yes! You’ll never be able to give me the things Jonas can. You’re starting with nothing. Jonas has everything.”

  “I can get things too, if that’s what you want.”

  “I can’t wait—I won’t wait to have the things Jonas can give me now.”

  He opened his mouth to speak and snapped it shut. He wouldn’t bargain for her love. Their skin, bound by lovers’ sweat, resisted parting as he tore himself off of her. His eyes were dark, burning hellholes. Proud. Angry. Empty.

  How could she profess to love him yet say what she’d just said? She wasn’t even choosing another man over him. She was choosing the things the other man had to offer her. He looked at her, her eyes wide and vulnerable, hinting of tears. She was obviously confused and didn’t know what she wanted. It was all he could do not to pull her back into his arms and make it all very clear for her. He picked up her clothes and threw them into her lap.

  “Get dressed and get out, before I do something I’ll regret.”

  Bay dressed hurriedly, knowing Long Quiet watched her the whole time with condemnation in his eyes. How could she bear to hurt him? How could she bear to have him think her so heartless? If only she could explain. Would he still let her marry Jonas? She took one look at the proud, ferocious man standing across from her and thought it was more likely he’d skin Jonas alive. Without clothes to cover his naked strength, he looked much more like a savage Comanche than a civilized Texan.

  “Long Quiet, I don’t know what to say.”

  “Don’t say anything. Just go. Get out!”

  With a cry of anguish, she fled the room.

  Bay rose from her seat at the desk and knew the moment she was upright that she’d moved too fast. Her body swayed, trying to find its equilibrium. Everything was out of kilter. The same thing had happened several times in the past week. She knew she hadn’t been eating the way she should, but between making plans for her wedding and trying to find out whether Long Quiet was going back to Comanchería, she’d been too upset to eat. Besides, nothing seemed to sit well in her stomach. The dizziness got worse. She grabbed at the edge of the desk and missed, sending the crystal inkwell crashing to the floor. Aghast at the mess caused in Rip’s office by the spilled India ink, Bay burst into tears.

  Sloan heard the glass breaking in Rip’s office and came to find out what had happened. She found Bay slumped in the chair at the desk, sobbing. Sloan knelt down beside her sister. “What happened? Are you all right?”

  “No, I’m not all right! I’m exhausted and I feel like crying all the time. I can’t seem to eat anything without getting sick. And lately, every time I stand up from the desk, I get so dizzy I think I’m going to faint. Oh, Sloan, I don’t know what’s the matter with me!”

  Hearing the list of symptoms, Sloan stood up, shaking her head in distress. “I would have thought you’d have learned something from my experience and gotten married before you got yourself pregnant.”

  “Got myself . . . pregnant?” Bay quickly calculated and realized she hadn’t had her monthly miseries since she’d first met Long Quiet. Her eyes flashed upward to meet Sloan’s stark gaze. “Oh, my.”

  “At least you and Jonas can move up the wedding date so his child can have his name.”

  “It isn’t Jonas’s baby.”

  “Not Jonas’s? Oh damn! Is Jonas going to be willing to keep a child that isn’t his?”

  “I’ll never give up my child!” Bay was immediately sorry for her outburst. “I’m sorry, Sloan. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

  “I suppose I deserved it.” Sloan turned away and brushed aside a tendril of hair from her face. When she turned back to Bay, the only emotion on her face was concern. “What is Jonas going to think, Bay, when you tell him about this?”

  “He’ll understand.”

  “Will he? I hope so, Bay.” She put a hand on Bay’s shoulder. “I do hope so.” But somehow she doubted he would.

  While Bay waited for Jonas in the parlor that afternoon, dressed in the most attractive day dress she owned, a pretty lilac-and-white-flower pattern piped with lilac, her thoughts were about how pleased and proud Long Quiet would be if he knew about their child. This was the child they’d vowed would bridge two worlds. All the plans they’d made. All the hopes they’d had. How could she even consider marrying Jonas now?

  Because she had no choice. Because nothing, really, had changed. Three Oaks was still at risk. And now at least she would have a part of Long Quiet to love through the long years ahead with Jonas.

  She’d spoken confidently to Sloan, but she really wasn’t sure Jonas would still want to marry her. She shuddered to think what would happen to Three Oaks if he didn’t. She’d always thought Jonas a generous man. She hoped she could convince him to show some of that giving spirit now. But how would he feel about becoming the father of another man’s child? And what would she say when he asked who that other man was?

  “Darling, you look beautiful,” Jonas said, his hands outstretched as always. Only this time, when they touched, he drew her forward until he could kiss her lightly on the lips. “What could possibly be so troubling to a woman that she’d willingly wrinkle her lovely brow?”

  Bay shoved back her irritation at Jonas’s insinuation that a woman was unlikely to be troubled by momentous matters. “I do have a few things bothering me, Jonas,” she said calmly. “I thought perhaps we could go for a ride this afternoon and I could discuss them with you.”

  “Of course, sweetheart. I’d be delighted to help. And it’s a perfect day for a ride. The air’s cool, crisp, as close to a fall day as I understand this part of Texas ever gets.”

  Jonas seemed to forget Bay’s problem as he regaled her with a story of the good price he’d managed to get for some property he’d recently sold in Shelby County. Bay let him talk because, from past experience, she knew he didn’t like to be interrupted. Jonas drove them to a shady spot along the Brazos River where they’d come in the past to picnic. When they arrived, he stepped down and secured the horses before coming around the carriage to help her down.

  “Now, what’s this problem that’s been troubling you, sweetheart? Don’t know what kind of flowers you’d like to have for the wedding? Can’t decide on a menu for the midnight supper?”

  “It isn’t anything like that,” Bay said.

  “Oh? Then what is it?”

  “Do you want to have children?” she blurted.

  Jonas smiled. “Oh, darling.” He walked the two steps that separated them and folded her in his arms. “Is that what’s worrying you? Of course I want children. I told you that in the picture of us I’ve always carried in my mind, we’re surrounded by our beautiful children. But you mustn’t be frightened. I’ll find a good doctor—the best.”

  Bay tore herself from Jonas’s arms. “I’m not afraid. That’s not the problem.”

  He frowned, perplexed and more than a little annoyed. “Then what is it, Bay? I must admit I’m finding all this a little bit confusing. Why did you ask if I want to have children?”

  Bay turned and faced him. “You’ve always been a friend to me, Jonas. In Boston I always knew I could count on you to cheer me up when I was sad or comfort me if I was feeling lonely. And if I had a problem, you were always ready to solve it for me. I think that’s why I loved you so much.”

  Bay didn’t realize she’d used the past tense, loved, until it was already out, but Jonas hadn’t seemed to notice, so she took a deep breath and kept talking. “Now I need you to show all that understanding and thoughtfulness. Jonas, during the time we were separated, I was . . . I was . . . intimate with another man.”

  Jonas hissed in a breath of air. He took off his hat, then l
oosened his tie and collar and spat. His face ran the gamut of emotions from disbelief to fury and back again before he huffed out the breath of air and said through gritted teeth, “I’ve always believed a woman should save herself for her husband. But as you said, I am a forgiving man.”

  “There’s more, Jonas.”

  “More?”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  Jonas turned beet red. His mouth worked, but nothing came out except, “I thought . . . I had no idea . . .”

  Bay stepped forward and put a hand on Jonas’s arm. “Please, Jonas, listen to me. I’ll be a good wife to you. You’ll be the baby’s father.”

  “No!”

  “Does that mean you don’t want to marry me anymore?”

  Jonas grasped Bay’s arms and pulled her close so they stood nose to nose. Bay looked down to avoid having to peer cross-eyed at Jonas.

  “I’m not giving up my dream simply because of this . . . this obstacle,” he said. “I love you, Bay, and I intend to marry you. We’ll go away somewhere so you can have the child, and then we’ll put it in a home for orphans—”

  “Jonas, I—”

  “—where it will be well cared for. But this will mean we’ll have to be married right away.”

  “Jonas, I can’t give up my baby.”

  “Nonsense. What can this child mean to you? The father can’t have been . . . Who is the father, Bay?”

  “It doesn’t matter, does it?”

  “Some Italian count? Some English lord? Some . . .” His face slowly flushed as he realized. “My God! Of course. It’s that man from the party, that Walker Coburn! Isn’t it?”

  Jonas was shaking Bay, trying to get an answer from her, but he didn’t need words. The stricken look on Bay’s face was enough to tell him the truth.

  “I’ll kill him!”

  “No, Jonas!”

  “That son of a bitch isn’t going to win. This isn’t going to change things between us, Bay. You’ll still be my wife. But you’ll get rid of his brat!”