A faint, elusive fragrance of lilac teased his nose and he remembered.
For a while he just lay there, enjoying the feel of Katie in his arms, the warmth of her against him. Gradually he became aware of wanting her, a quiet need unlike the raw hunger that usually drove his infrequent sexual encounters.
Holding her like this was almost enough.
She stirred. "Luke?"
He kissed her earlobe, his nose twitching when her hair tickled across it. "Yeah, it's me."
"How do you feel? Are you still in pain?"
What a question to ask the man you're in bed with! "Only in places, sweetheart," he whispered.
"Where...oh!" She laughed softly.
Holding her, at peace with the world, Luke realized that the night was dead silent. The noise from town, a deep, bone-shaking rumble, was lacking. Even the wind, which had blown ever since they'd come down from the hills, seemed to have stilled.
"It's so quiet," Katie said against his neck, the movement of her lips sending surges of desire through him. "Like there's no world out there."
Unbidden a phrase popped into his mind: the silence of the grave. Luke shuddered and cast the thought away. He was alive and so was Katie. It was up to him to see that they stayed that way.
With a bone-deep sense of rightness, he knew there was only one way to affirm that they lived.
"Katie," he whispered into her hair, "I want to love you."
She went totally still, then seemed to melt into his embrace. "Yes," she breathed. "Oh, yes, Luke. Now!"
There was no hurry. The night could not end until they had drunk their fill of each other. With tormenting slowness, he sought the woman buried in layers of wool, cotton and silk. She had slept under her coat, with the tattered red shawl wrapped loosely about her upper body. He laid it open, pressed his mouth against the fabric of her dress. Her heart pounded against his lips, as his pounded in his ears.
Buttons that had once given him trouble now slipped free with his slightest touch, despite his swollen, stiff fingers. On each inch of her skin that was bared, he lavished kisses, and when he reached the lace of her camisole, he nuzzled against it, mouthing her breasts through the fabric, finding their engorged peaks. His suckling made him aware of a lacerated tongue, bruised lips, but they didn't matter. Katie was in his arms.
Her hands clasped his head, held it tightly against her breasts. "Ah, Luke, you make me so hungry for you. But let me, please--" She pushed him away, reached for his belt buckle. "I want to touch you."
Luke hesitated. The last time she'd laid hands on him, he'd disgraced himself. Oh, maybe Katie hadn't seen it that way, but he'd been mortified. Need overcame embarrassment. "Go ahead." He reached for his britches buttons.
"No, let me." Her fingers were nimble and quick. Before he knew it, they daintily touched the skin of his belly, dancing across his skin. She stroked across the silk wrappings around his ribs and to his bare shoulders, her touch sending lightning bolts of desire deep into his aching groin. When Luke groaned, she slipped her arms around his shoulders and nuzzled his neck.
"Careful," he warned, his voice hoarse and gasping.
"I know," she said with a trace of laughter. Her hands left him, her mouth retreated. Luke reached out.
"Be patient," Katie told him, opening the last two buttons of her bodice. Quickly she disposed of the dress, then the petticoats. Slipping out of her drawers was a second's work, and she was naked. "Brrr!" she said, slipping back under the blankets. "Make me warm, Luke!"
"Oh, God," he groaned. With hands sure and strong, he pulled her close against him, stroked her back, cupped her breasts and lifted them, one at a time to a mouth that ravaged, laved, suckled, and brought her perilously close to that precipice of excitement she yearned for.
But his movements were clumsy as he rose over her and Katie remembered how carefully he had moved yesterday. How he had slid bonelessly from Sheba's back last night. Strong Luke. Noble Luke. "You brave, wonderful man," she whispered. "Let me."
She gently pushed him onto his back and rose on her elbow beside him. "There now. Don't move a muscle unless I tell you." With one finger, she traced around his navel, wishing she could see him as more than a faint, pale shape in the stygian darkness. His belly retreated, as if her touch burned him. And when she delved into the thick hair--red as that on his head, she recalled--whence his sex jutted high and proud, a shudder convulsed him.
Katie amused herself for a while, just exploring him with her fingertips, her palms. He was hot to her touch, and so hard, so strong. She tasted him, causing deep shudders to wrack his body, an agonized groan to break from his lips. Much as she would like to bring him to the same mind-shattering culmination as he had once given her, she pulled back. Another time, she promised herself, refusing to recognize that any future for them was precarious.
Above its silken wrappings, his chest was smooth and sculpted from a lifetime's hard work. His thighs rippled with muscle, his arms as well. Across one shoulder she found a thick ridge of scar tissue. Her fingers traced it, from juncture of neck and shoulder nearly to his armpit. "What is it?" she whispered, almost weeping at the thought of his pain when it was inflicted.
"Saber cut," he said. "My first battle."
"Oh, Luke. How it must have hurt."
"Not anywhere near as bad as I'm hurting now, Katie girl." His hands found her face, framed it, and with gentle but inexorable force, pulled her down across him. Without hesitation his mouth found hers.
Minutes or hours later Luke lifted his mouth. "We've got to get going soon. Dawn can't be far off."
Katie glanced at the sky, lightening now through the cedars sheltering branches. "Then let's not waste any time." She rose to her knees, swung her leg across him. "You can move now," she said as she hovered above him.
He became still as a stone statue. Silence, then, "Are you sure?"
"Anything could happen today, Luke. I want to be able to face it without regret."
His hands locked around her waist and he guided her down upon himself. Katie gasped as the thick shaft of his sex penetrated her, with pleasure and just a little pain. He was awfully big.
Then her body adjusted, became slick and wet, and he slid farther inside her. Such a remarkable sensation, stretching and swelling and yielding and....He pulled her down hard against him, filling her completely.
"Oh!" The sharp sense of being torn in half was gone almost as quickly as it had come. Katie let Luke hold her still, feeling her body become reconciled to his invasion. At last he lifted her, just a little, and heat rose from her belly to suffuse her torso, her arms and legs, even her face.
"Oh, my!"
"It'll get better in a minute," Luke said, his voice sounding strained, as if he was lifting something enormously heavy.
"I don't see how it could," she said, moving experimentally. As she lowered herself slightly, she felt the slick friction of him within her. She moved, this time retreating a little more, then swiftly took all of him again into herself.
"Katie." A warning.
"But it feels so good."
"I'll show you good," he growled. Hands like iron grasped her waist and held her in place. His pelvis slammed up against her, burying his shaft so deeply she felt its tip against her womb.
Again and again he thrust against her, until her whole being was focused on the building fire within. Higher and higher it rose, until it seemed it could grow no more, yet still it built. One last time Luke thrust against her with a shout of triumph. And then the imprisoned fire burst free, filling Katie with mindless, all-consuming rapture.
A long time later, she felt Luke draw her down against his side, knew his lips were softly touching her temple, relaxed even more under the stroke of his hands against her spine. "I love you," she breathed.
In her mind, she heard his reply. I love you, Katie.
But her ears heard, "Let's move," as he clumsily rolled away and groped for his clothing.
* * * *
"Sur
e wish we could follow the railroad," Luke muttered, the fourth or fifth time they crossed a rocky draw. His legs somehow didn't want to tighten around Sheba's barrel and he felt in constant danger of falling off. They weren't making any time at all, either. Fortunately the wind hadn't picked up yet this morning. He hoped it would hold off until they reached Evanston. If the snow in those clouds decided to fall, wind would only make their travel more difficult.
Katie edged Salome closer to him. "What did you say?"
The cranky ass tried to bite him on the knee. But at least she was letting herself be ridden without complaint. "Just wishing we could be closer to the railroad. If it starts snowing, we could miss Evanston altogether."
"I don't see why we can't now follow it now. We're a long way from Bear River City."
"Yeah, well, don't forget the Breedloves are still out there."
"I can't believe they'd bother with us. Besides, Whitney's their prisoner, so they've probably forgotten about us."
Luke looked across at her. She had the tattered red shawl wrapped around her head and shoulders and the color brought out the color in her cheeks. He didn't reckon he'd ever seen a prettier sight. He stared, imprinting the vision on his mind, saving it up for days when all they'd had together seemed like a fading dream. "My pa always said not to believe a rattlesnake couldn't bite until you'd cut off its head," was all he replied.
"I wonder what happened to the other one. The cousin."
"Malachi?"
"Yes. He was different from the two who have Whitney. More of a gentleman--if a shootist can be a gentleman."
"Shootist or not, if Malachi had any sense, he'd be long gone by now."
"I suppose you're right. Still, I wonder..." Her voice trailed off.
They climbed one low hill after another. Each time they approached a crest, Luke insisted on dismounting and creeping up to peer over. He never saw a living soul, but felt better for looking. The sounds from Bear River City faded with distance until only the thud and scrape of the animals' feet marred the stillness. The next time they crossed a trail, he turned Sheba onto it. This far off the main road to Evanston, they were probably safe enough.
If he'd been in a saddle instead of riding bareback, Luke would have dozed as they rode along the faint, winding trail that seemed to lead in the direction they were headed. Suddenly an explosion shattered the silence, echoing and re-echoing between the hills. "What was that?" Katie said, turning to look behind them.
"Sounds to me like they used the Dynamite."
Katie stared at him. Was he laughing? "You were going to tell me how you knew where the Dynamite was."
"Remember those big crates we leaned against in that shed under the windmill? The ones stacked against the wall?"
"What about them--oh, no! Luke, they weren't--"
Now he could laugh about it--and did. "Yep. Plumb full of Dynamite. That's what we did after you went back to the hotel. I took the fellas from town to it so they could fight them who wanted to keep Bear River City wide open and lawless."
Her voice was small and weak-sounding. "And you knew it was Dynamite? While we were sleeping right there beside it?"
"Not until we were about to leave. I didn't want to scare you, so I kept quiet."
"That was kind of you. Oh, God! We even had a fire in there."
"And we're still here to talk about it. No harm done."
"You're right, but still...I get goose bumps just thinking about it."
Luke opened his mouth to tease her, but closed it again when rapid hoof beats sounded from behind them. He turned Sheba sideways on the trail before he pulled the shotgun from its makeshift sheath at his knee and held it ready. There was no place to hide, so the next best thing was to face up to whatever came. "Stay behind me," he told Katie.
To his surprise, she obeyed without protest.
Three horses trotted into sight. Luke recognized the riders. He made sure the shotgun was plainly visible.
"Howdy, boys," he said.
They pulled up, the two Breedlove brothers and, mounted on a led horse, Hamilton Steens Whitney III. Hatless, his overcoat dusty, a tear in the knee of his wool britches, he looked anything but a rich Eastern dude.
"Fancy meeting you here, Savage," Moses said.
"I reckon we're headed the same place," he replied. "What I can't figure is why you ain't got there yet."
"Don't see it's any of your business, but we shacked up at a ranch." Kiah rubbed his belly. "Hated to leave. The old woman was a fine cook." He looked beyond Luke and nodded. "Mornin', gal." His eyes gleamed hungrily as he stared at Katie. "You figure you're safe with this here pilgrim?"
Luke's finger tightened involuntarily on the shotgun trigger.
"I am indeed, Mr. Breedlove. And I'd appreciate it if you'd just ride on about your business. Mr. Savage has engaged to guide me to meet my father in Evanston."
"You sure you're up to takin' care of this lady, Savage?" Moses said. "She's a right handful for a man crippled up like you."
Luke opened his mouth to answer when Whitney shouted, "Put up your hands, all of you!"
Dirty hands slapped an empty holster. "Dammit, he swiped my gun!" Kiah cried.
Whitney held the big Colt with both hands. It was aimed in Katie's direction. Luke slipped the shotgun into its makeshift scabbard and raised his hands. "For God's sake, do what he says, boys. He's crazy as a hoot-owl."
A bullet seared across Luke's upper arm. "Don't call me crazy!" Whitney screamed. Instantly he pointed the gun back at Katie. "Throw your guns on the ground. All of them! Or I'll kill her."
"Drop your guns, Kiah," Moses said, doing as he was told. "Don't rile him."
Kiah complied. Both of his pistols thudded into the sand.
Luke kept his hands high, hoping Whitney wouldn't notice the half-hidden shotgun stock. Hot blood ran sluggishly down his arm and dripped off his elbow. He didn't reckon the wound amounted to much, but it could slow him down some.
Eyes shifting rapidly back and forth, Whitney guided his horse past Luke and close to Katie. "Very good. Now, Miss Lachlan, you will pick up the guns these cretins dropped and bring them to me."
When she hesitated, he said, "Afoot, if you please. Immediately."
Katie stared back at him, wondering why she hadn't stood up to him long ago. "I think you'd better kill me. If you're man enough."
"Come here, I said. You must obey me!"
"I don't know why I should," she said, hoping the derringer in her offside pocket was loaded and primed. Why hadn't she checked it? "I'd rather die than submit to you."
"Don't be ridiculous. I want you for my wife. You will have every luxury your heart desires. You will have social position, second only to my mother. I shall cherish you, pamper you beyond your wildest dreams."
Slowly she drew the small pistol free of her skirt. "I am fully sensible of the honor you do me, Mr. Whitney, but I find I must respectfully decline." With her last word, she aimed as best she could and fired. At once she reached into the other pocket for the gun's twin.
"You bitch! How dare you!" Whitney raised the gun he held to shoulder level and aimed carefully.
Katie could see his finger tightening on the trigger as she raised her second derringer. Throwing herself to one side, she fired in the same instant that Whitney did.
"I love you, Luke Savage!" she cried as she fell.
Chapter Twenty-eight
The shotgun blast drowned out Luke's bellow of rage. He triggered the second barrel, even as he saw Whitney fall from the saddle. Then he dove for the pistols the Breedloves had dropped. One he stuffed under his belt, another he kept in his hand.
Hooves thudded all around him, too close for comfort.
He rolled, saw that Moses was still in the saddle, but the other two horses were riderless. Kiah! Where the hell--
A few feet from him, Katie lay prone, unmoving. She had dropped like a discarded rag doll. Now she sprawled as limp as a half-empty empty grain sack. And just beyond her Kiah Bree
dlove knelt, a long, heavy knife in his hand.
"Stay away from her, Kiah," Luke warned, rolling to his feet.
"You want to fight me for her?" Kiah also stood, stepped closer to Katie. "Just us two. Winner takes the woman." He licked his lips. "Pretty little gal. Strong, too. Bet she'd last me a while."
Luke shot him.
He emptied the gun into Kiah's body, firing until the hammer came down on an empty chamber. Then he spun, pulling the other gun from his waistband.
With a tight grip on the reins, Moses stared back at Luke. His horse was white-eyed, still spooked. "You killed him." His hand went to an empty holster. "You killed my brother."
Luke said nothing, only waited. The queasy sickness in his gut seemed unimportant, beside his worry over Katie. She still hadn't moved.
"Somebody ought to have done it a long time ago. Kiah was a bad man." The voice came from behind Luke. He kept his eyes and his gun on Moses.
"Malachi!"
"What happened here?" Malachi Breedlove walked into Luke's sight. His guns were holstered, his hands swinging easy beside them.
Without looking away from Moses, Luke said, "Whitney got a gun, threatened to kill Kat--Miss Lachlan if she wouldn't go with him."
"She's his wife."
"She ain't, but I don't reckon it matters any more," Luke told him, gesturing at where Whitney's body lay twisted on the frozen mud of the trail.
"You shot him, too?"
"Yes."
"No, I did." The voice trembled, broke. "Is he dead?"
Luke forgot everything else. "Katie? Oh, God, girl, how bad are you shot?"
"I...I don't know. Not bad, I think. My arm--"
He knelt beside her, scared to touch her, afraid not to, and laid a tentative hand on her shoulder. "Where, sweetheart? Where are you shot?"
She lifted her head to show him a dusty, tear-stained face. "Actually, I don't think I am. But I fell on my arm, and it hurts like the dickens."
"He couldn't have missed, not at that range!"
"Believe me, I felt that bullet whiz by my ear closer than I liked. But he missed." One hand came up to cup his cheek. "Honest, Luke. I'm all in one piece. But I really need a kiss."
Noble Savage Page 28
