She might as well have been lying naked beside Luke, so preternaturally aware of him was she. Although they touched nowhere, it was as if they touched everywhere.
Inside her gloves, her fingers remembered the scratchy feel of his chin. Her face glowed with the memory of his lips, his mustache brushing across her cheek. Restless she turned, trying to find a position of comfort.
Her hand brushed against Luke's arm.
As if in reaction, he turned and draped the arm across her body. It lay there, heavy, relaxed, and she knew he still slept deeply.
Katie lay very still. If she moved, she would be lost. Breathe, she told herself, when she grew dizzy from a lack of air.
Luke's arm lay across her midriff, just below her breasts. The longer it lay there, the more sensitive they became, until they seemed swollen and aching. She knew her nipples were tight, as they became when she dressed in winter-chilled rooms.
So this was desire. For a long time she'd wondered about the powerful excitement that seemed to betray a person's principles, undermine her beliefs, and lead her into a swamp of emotional quicksand.
Well, now she knew. It was a ravenous hunger of the body that only a man could satisfy. Only a man like Luke.
Last year at Seminary she and several of her friends had talked often about men and sex and marriage. They all knew--or had thought they knew--what happened between a man and a woman. Several of them had already discovered passion, although only one admitted to having taken it to its inevitable conclusion. She'd insisted it was terribly overrated.
After much discussion the group had agreed that marriage was a trap, but one which must be entered for the sake of children. Babies, they had had agreed, were bait many women found impossible to resist.
Katie's best friend, a compassionate, driven young woman destined to devote her life to bettering the lot of slum children, had vowed never to marry. "I shall take lovers," she'd said airily, "whenever the drive to mate becomes too strong to resist. After all, isn't that what all men do? Why should standards for women be any different?"
"But what if you become pregnant?" one asked.
"Pooh! There are means to prevent it." But when asked, she admitted she had no idea what they were.
Neither did Katie. At the time she hadn't cared. Now she wondered if she should have. All the other reasons she'd been given for protecting her virtue didn't seem terribly important right now.
What would happen if she turned into Luke's embrace? Would he wake?
Did she really want him to?
As she pondered, she became aware that the train had slowed, but did not seem to be stopping. They had taken on water just a little while ago. Surely it was too soon to do so again.
They began moving faster again, but only briefly. Again the train slowed, then shuddered to a stop. Outside she could hear shouts, as trainmen attempted to be heard over the wind.
A jerk, and they were moving backwards. They backed for several minutes, then stopped, started forward. This time the train put on speed rapidly. Accelerating, it swayed and rattled.
Then it slowed abruptly, eliciting a bray from one of the donkeys and a snorting complaint from the mule. Luke's arm tightened, pulling her solidly against him.
"Water stop?" he mumbled.
"I don't think so. There may have been something wrong with the train. Whatever it was, it seems to be fixed now."
"Good." Apparently just noticing how closely entangled they were, Luke nuzzled her cheek. "Hmmm." His nose was cold, but his breath was hot.
"Luke?"
"You smell so good." His lips moved over her cheek, never quite reaching her mouth.
Katie shivered. Not from the cold.
"You taste so good, too."
As his tongue lightly touched her cheek, the corner of her mouth, all Katie's strength and will power seemed to trickle out of her. "Luke...please...ahhh."
"And you're so soft." His hand was inside the collar of her coat, cool against her throat. Slowly his fingers crept to the back of her neck.
He drew her down.
She could no more have resisted his consuming kiss than she could have flown.
Chapter Eleven
With every touch of Luke's mouth on her face, desire blazed through Katie. She turned her head, trying to catch his lips with hers, but he evaded her attempts. Nipping, tasting, kissing her cheeks and chin, her forehead and throat, he brought hot blood to her skin and stole the breath from her mouth. She gasped when his teeth fastened gently on her lower lip, panted when his tongue stroked across her cheek, leaving a trail of burning, icy wet.
"God, Katie," he whispered, biting at her earlobe, "I want to--" At last he kissed her. His tongue stroked the inside of her lips, delved under hers, sparred and retreated. She moaned with the relentless force of the inferno he ignited within her.
"Luke?" she gasped, catching his tongue as it slipped between her teeth, sucking, holding him within her. With both hands, she cupped his cheeks, loving their prickly feel. "Luke, please...tell--"
He rolled atop her, his hard body pressing her into the yielding hay. Even through all their clothing, she felt the hard ridge of his desire, pressing against her lower belly.
"What?" she demanded again. "What do you want?" She writhed beneath him, wanting him closer. Wanting more. Her skirts were wrapped around her legs, holding them tightly together.
"Wait," he breathed against her mouth. "Let me." His hand stroked along her side, molding the heavy wool close to her body. When he reached her breast, she arched against his hand. Luke slipped his fingers inside the bulky wool coat, found a nipple already swollen and tender with need. A deep stab of desire singed through her and she sobbed, knowing that only more of his touch could assuage the ache within her.
His hand found her buttons, flat little disks of pearl, and fumbled. "Tarnation!" he muttered.
"Let me--"
"No. Let me." Removing his hand, he pulled her coat closed and stroked again the length of her torso, down her thigh.
She felt him tug at the coat, felt it being slid upwards, and then his hand was on her skirt, drawing it higher as well. A draft crossed her ankles as Luke pulled again, pulling both her outer wool petticoat and the inner batiste one away from her calves. She kicked gently, trying to free her legs from the folds and twists of fabric.
A bit more pulling and Luke's hand came to rest on Katie's knee, scorching her through the thin wool of her pantalets.
He rolled to his side and reared up on his elbow. Even in the dark, she could feel his gaze on her face. "Tarnation, Katie, how many layers have you got on, anyhow?"
The tension that had been building in Katie snapped, like a rope stretched beyond its strength. She giggled.
"What the he...heck!"
Biting her lip, Katie did her best to contain the giggles. She hated them, hated the impression they gave to others. "I can't...can't help it," she gasped, between paroxysms. With a hand as steady as an aspen leaf in the wind, she clutched at his coat, wanting him to hold her again, to soothe her until she was calm. "Honest...Luke, I...I'm not laughing...at you...not laughing...." She took a deep, gulping breath. Held it. Let it out slowly and took another, this one more even.
After a few more breaths, she was in control, but still weak and shaken. Helplessly she patted at his face, wanting to tell him...to tell him what?
With each breath, common sense had returned in greater strength. She had been ready to give herself to Luke.
Let's not beat around the bush, Katie girl, an inner voice told her. You weren't giving anything away. You were stepping right up there and taking what you wanted.
"You mind telling me what you thought was so funny?" There was none of the lover in his voice now. Only a cold, hard anger.
Katie sought the right words. How could she explain that she'd been scared and excited and...and a little bit daring. "It's hard to explain," she said, hoping he'd just leave it there.
"Ahuh! I guess you were havin' so much fun
, you just had to laugh?"
"No. No, I wasn't laughing. Not at you."
"You could have fooled me." He moved away from her and she heard the scrape of his boots on the wood floor.
"Please, Luke. Let me expl..."
A great shudder shook the railcar, causing the animals to cry out, and rolling Katie from the mound of hay. She heard, as from a distance, Luke's curse, but the noise from outside was so great that even Lafayette's loud bray was drowned out.
The railcar continued to shake and jerk, as a series of shocks took it. Katie rolled herself into a ball, hands on the back of her neck. And like a ball, she was bounced across the floor and into the side of a stall.
"Katie!" Luke's yell barely penetrated the noise from outside. "...all right?"
One more great shudder tried to roll her away from the stall. "Yes," she called, clinging to an upright post. "Yes, I'm all right." Her last few words, shouted, filled a sudden silence.
"Stay still," Luke said again, in a more normal tone, "don't move."
Outside shouts echoed in the cold night air. Inside, all four animals complained loudly of the treatment they'd received, their brays drowning out the noise from outside. Katie pulled herself to her feet and felt her way along the stall until she reached the gate.
"I told you to sit still," Luke said, as her hand landed on his arm.
"You'll need help," she said, close to his ear. Both donkeys were still braying loudly, but the mule had fallen silent. The sorrel gelding was moving restlessly but not protesting the ill treatment. Slipping inside the first stall, she found the donkey's muzzle and cupped her hand across its mouth. "Hush, Sheba. Let's see if you're hurt."
She ran her hands over the donkey's legs, but found no evidence of damage. The animal was quiet now, but her small body still trembled. Katie stroked her, murmuring nonsense syllables.
"Hold still, damn you," Luke said, from somewhere in the dark railcar. "I can't get you untangled if you keep trying to step on me, you fleabait."
"Can I help?"
"Nope. Lafayette's got his feet wound up in some rope, but he's all right. How's Salome?"
Reluctantly Katie left Sheba and went to the stall holding the other donkey. To her great surprise, the animal stood quietly while she ran her hands down its legs, along its barrel. Only when she tried to lay a hand on Salome's nuzzle did the donkey's usual bad temper become evident. Her bite would have taken skin if Katie's arm had not been protected by the heavy coat. Katie caught the rope dangling from Salome's halter and held her head down while she finished checking for injury. I thought Luke tied them together. He must have changed his mind.
She squeezed past Salome and into the next stall. Quickly she checked the sorrel, wondering where its owner was.
The train was no longer moving. Shouts still sounded outside, curiously muffled. The notes of panic and fright she'd heard earlier were gone. "I wonder what happened."
She went to the door, unlocked it carefully, and slid it open a few inches.
Outside was a solid wall of snow, so close she could reach out and touch it.
No wonder the voices had sounded muffled. They still did, although she could hear more clearly than before. Katie strained to hear individual words. She cupped her hand around her ear, leaned farther out, until she was almost propped against the wall of snow.
"You trying to fall out?" Luke said, just behind her. His hand wrapped around her arm and he pulled her back inside.
"Not a chance," she told him, gesturing. For the first time since they had entered the stock car, she could see his face. Starlight reflected from the snow, and she realized that the sky had cleared. The air was colder too, or was that her imagination?
Luke leaned out and looked both ways. He had turned his head, as if to speak to her, when there was a loud thump on the roof of the stock car. Quickly he pulled back inside and eased the door almost shut. One hand gestured her to silence.
A series of thumps moved from the back of the roof toward the center and Katie realized that someone was walking there. They continued to the front. A scrape, and then a less audible thud. The walker had jumped the gap between cars and was continuing to the front of the train.
"I'm going to see what happened," Luke said with his mouth close to Katie's ear. "You stay here."
"But I want--"
"Stay here," he repeated. "And get our gear together. We may have to clear out of here. We could be in a hurry." He opened the door just far enough to accommodate his body and jumped down. "Close it," he said quietly from where he stood in the narrow gap between train and snow.
"Men!" Katie said with disgust at being left behind like a helpless child. After a few minutes of feeling her way about the car, trying to account for all their belongings, she admitted that Luke was far more suited for sneaking about than she was. His longer legs alone gave him an advantage. His clothing gave another. Not for the first time she regretted the loss of her satchel. Among its other contents had been a pair of sturdy woolen trousers.
Luke looked both ways but could see no farther than the ends of the stock car. He eased his way along its side, shoving through where the snow lay hard against the car's side. When he reached the coupling, he groped upwards until his hands found the lowest rail of the ladder leading to the roof. He pulled himself up, rung by rung, until his feet could find purchase on the ladder.
Carefully he eased his head above the roof, peering along it. Although there were moving lights in both directions, he saw no sign of anyone nearby.
Damn this snow! If he stood and ran along the roof, he would be visible for a hundred yards, easily. Then he realized that the men he could see were simply shapes in the night. There was no possibility of recognition. He pulled himself the rest of the way up and got to his feet.
The roof was ice-coated in places. Carefully he walked toward the rear of the train, for that was where most of the activity seemed concentrated.
As he approached the back of the last boxcar, Luke saw several men enter the passenger coach. Four remained in the deep snow beside the caboose. They seemed to be arguing. Even as he watched, one stepped back and gestured violently.
He climbed down. The space between the wall of snow and the side of the passenger car was wide enough for him to walk comfortably. Stepping carefully, he crept along, ready to dodge under the railcar if needed. With any luck, no one would see him. One of the voices he'd heard spoke in a familiar accent.
Any closer and they'd hear his footsteps. The snow was so cold it squeaked.
He still couldn't hear the words spoken by the fellow with the deep voice. They sounded final, though.
"Maybe in the morning," another said. Luke thought it might be the conductor.
"I demand that you send word back to the nearest telegraph office immediately. This is intolerable. I shall write to General Dodge myself."
Whitney, all right. Luke had been afraid of that.
"You go right ahead," the deep-voiced man said. "And when we get unstuck, you can mail it. That might be morning." He raised his hat and scratched his head. "Sometime tomorrow, anyhow. If we're lucky."
"Insolent wretch!" Whitney gestured to the fourth man who'd been standing quietly behind him. "Muldoon. Come with me!" He stalked toward the passenger car. Luke dodged back and went to ground. He ducked behind the wheels, careful not to bang his head. Footsteps approached, and paused.
"She must be inside," Whitney said. "Find her."
Luke risked a peek. Whitney's henchman was the big bruiser who'd held him at knifepoint. Luke's fingers itched to teach the bastard a lesson.
He sat perfectly still.
"What'll I do if she's there. I can't just pick her up and carry her out."
"Don't be an imbecile. Of course you can. I shall tell everyone she is my runaway wife."
"If that cowboy's still with her--" the words grew indistinct as the man mounted into the railcar.
First checking to make sure they were both aboard the train, Luke eased hi
mself upright. Well, hell! He eyed the sky overhead. Mostly clear, although there were a few scattered clouds. He sure wished he knew what that meant. If it was going to clear off, it'd get cold enough to freeze whiskey in hell. If the clouds moved back in, it might snow, but it'd be tolerable for travel.
As long as it didn't snow too much.
He climbed onto the narrow platform at the rear of the caboose and leaned against the glass at the top of the door. He could hear voices, but no words. Damn it anyhow. He hadn't wanted to remind anyone he and Katie were still aboard.
On the other hand, the conductor had been a helpful sort. And he'd sure seemed to take Whitney's demands poorly. Luke tapped on the door.
When he saw who it was, the conductor slipped outside. "I guess you don't want to advertise where you are," he said. "Or does it matter?"
"If it were up to me," Luke said, "I'd deal with whatever came along. But it's the lady's problem, not mine. That fellow--" He jerked his chin, indicating the passenger coach. "The Boston swell. He's got a mind to marry the lady and doesn't care whether she wants to or not. He's followed her all the way from Boston."
"I see." The conductor pulled out his watch, consulted it. "Last stop I got a wire from Piedmont. They got more snow than this there, and it's pilin' up pretty fast. We were bound to try to make it that far tonight, but..." He shrugged. "As you can see, we didn't."
"So it's snowin' up ahead?"
"Was the last I heard. Evanston reported snow, too. So it probably won't stop anytime soon." His expression was gloomy as he went on, "Matter of fact, we could be stuck here for a day or two, 'less it warms in the morning and we can back out."
They both looked at the sky. The clouds Luke had noted before seemed to be coalescing and growing. The wind had picked up again, too. "We'll stay in the stock car," he told the conductor. "Warmer there."
"Just a minute." The conductor stepped inside. When he emerged, he handed Luke a lantern. "Long as you take care of your stock and don't trouble the baggage master any, I figure you ought to have this. Just don't set the hay on fire."
The lantern, when shaken, seemed full. "Obliged," Luke said. "I'll check back with you in the morning."
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