Autumn Lover

by Elizabeth Lowell

  She loved the masculine texture of the stubble that lay beneath his freshly shaved skin. Her pleasure showed in her lingering touch, in her face, in her blue-green eyes searching his.

  Hunter took a breath that was almost as jerky as Elyssa’s.

  “You screamed,” he said hoarsely.

  “I—fell. Knocked—the wind—right out.”

  “You don’t hurt anywhere?”

  She shook her head. “Just—here.”

  Hunter followed the line of Elyssa’s fingers to a point right below her breasts.

  “Here?” he asked.

  He brushed the back of his fingers over Elyssa’s breastbone.

  Her quickly indrawn breath owed nothing to pain and everything to the memory of Hunter’s mouth caressing her breasts.

  “Hunter,” Elyssa whispered. “I—”

  With a throttled sound, Hunter lowered his mouth and took her trembling lips in a kiss that he meant to be comforting.

  And it would have been, if she hadn’t moaned and shivered at the first touch of his lips. The kiss changed in an instant, becoming hard rather than gentle, demanding rather than comforting.

  Elyssa didn’t care. She put her arms around Hunter’s neck and lifted herself into his embrace. The feel of his body against hers made her moan again. The adrenaline of fear flashed into another kind of response.

  Wildfire raced through Elyssa, burning her until she moaned once more.

  It was no different for Hunter, wildfire consuming him, making him forget all the reasons why he must control himself.

  Wrong girl.

  Wrong time.

  Wrong everything.

  Yet Hunter let himself be pulled down on top of Elyssa. Then he fitted himself to her until he lay between her legs. Every swift, hard movement of his hips told of his arousal, and every movement of his tongue was a blunt statement of his intent.

  Hunter’s hand swept up between Elyssa’s legs until he held the hot center of her in his palm. His hand flexed and she gasped, arching up into the unexpected caress.

  Even through layers of clothing, Elyssa’s heat shocked Hunter, delighted him, made him shudder with raw need. He cursed as he searched for a way through her clothes.

  And as he searched, he caressed.

  “Hunter,” Elyssa said brokenly. “Oh, Hunter, what are you doing to me?”

  “What does it feel like?” he asked, his voice thick.

  “Heaven.”

  Hunter shuddered as a bolt of desire went through him, a pleasure just short of pain.

  Elyssa twisted slowly against Hunter’s hand, increasing the sensuous pressure of his palm between her legs.

  “Pure…wild…heaven,” she said.

  Hunter took Elyssa’s mouth again, grinding against her, desperate for her. The ragged sounds of pleasure she made drove him like a whip.

  Sanity returned in the form of three spaced rifle shots.

  With an effort that left him shaken and furious with both of them, Hunter pushed away from Elyssa.

  Blindly she reached for him. He grabbed her hands.

  “Stop it!” he hissed.

  At first Elyssa didn’t understand.

  “What?” she asked, dazed.

  “Stop chasing after me,” Hunter said in a raw voice.

  “But—”

  “Unless you want a roll in the hay,” he said, ignoring Elyssa’s attempt to speak.

  “What?”

  “This!”

  Hunter slid Elyssa’s hands down his own body until they caressed the rigid, hot flesh she so easily aroused in him.

  Elyssa’s eyes flew open.

  “If you want a fast roll,” Hunter said with deadly contempt, “I’m ready, willing, and by-God able to oblige. But that’s all it will be, Sassy. Fast sex.”

  Hunter thrust Elyssa’s hands away and went to Bugle Boy. He pulled his rifle from the scabbard. An instant later he fired three rounds into the air.

  “Get up,” Hunter said.

  “What?”

  “Get up! I’m warning you, Sassy. If you push me into touching you right now, I’ll take you where you lie on the ground and to hell with whoever rides up.”

  Elyssa scrambled to her feet with more speed than grace. She was shaking with a combination of anger, hunger, and the aftermath of fear.

  “You wanted me as much as I wanted you!” she snapped.

  “Not quite. I stopped. You wouldn’t have. Next time I won’t, Sassy. I’ll give you what you’re begging for. Count on it.”

  “Fancy man, I wasn’t begging for anything!”

  “The hell you weren’t. You were twisting and crying and—”

  The sound of a horse galloping closer cut off Hunter’s incautious words.

  He was grateful. The memory of just how hot Elyssa had been was bad enough. Talking about it made him ache to his back teeth.

  “Can you ride?” Hunter said through clenched teeth.

  As an answer, Elyssa turned her back on him and walked to Leopard.

  Hunter let out a quiet sound of relief when he saw that she didn’t limp.

  So help me God, next time I’ll take what she’s offering, Hunter vowed.

  It’s not like she’s a virgin looking for a husband. She’s an experienced little flirt who is no better than she has to be.

  And in bed, she would be damned good.

  “I’m going to check on something,” Hunter said. “Mount up, but stay here.”

  Elyssa didn’t respond.

  “Morgan will be along in a few minutes,” Hunter said. “Wait for him.”

  Silence.

  “Do you need help mounting?” Hunter asked reluctantly.

  Without a word Elyssa positioned Leopard on the downhill side of her. She got into the saddle with less than usual grace, but she got on alone.

  “You better be over your sulk when I get back,” Hunter said, swinging on board Bugle Boy. “I can’t abide sulking.”

  “Fancy man, when I have something to say to you, you’ll be the first to know.”

  Hunter’s mouth flattened. He reined Bugle Boy around and headed up the far side of the ravine. Soon he was out of sight among the boulders and piñons.

  He quickly found what he had hoped not to find—signs that another rider had waited at the lip of the ravine. After a quick reconnoiter to be certain the man was gone, Hunter went back to the place where the rider had waited.

  Dismounting, Hunter sat on his heels as the other rider had. The boot tracks the man had left were quite plain, as were the tracks of the man’s mount grazing aimlessly at the top of the ravine. Hunter had seen those horse tracks before, in the ravine where Bedamned had been before he burst out and tried to gore Elyssa.

  There were marks along the rim of the ravine. The man had pried at a group of bounders on the unstable rim of the ravine. Then he had stood back and watched while boulders, brush, and earth hurtled down toward Elyssa.

  That murderous son of a bitch, Hunter thought.

  Rage ran through Hunter, a rage as great as the day when he learned how his children had died.

  And why.

  Grimly Hunter mounted and backtracked far enough to assure himself that the rider had left the scene in one hell of a hurry. Eyes narrowed, Hunter judged the direction the rider had taken.

  Hunter wanted to follow, but he needed to be certain Elyssa was safe. With a searing curse, he reined Bugle Boy back down the ravine.

  Morgan came riding up the gully at a canter.

  “Yo!” Hunter called.

  “Got something to show you, suh,” Morgan shouted. “Next ravine to the north.”

  “I’ll meet you there.”

  With eyes that glittered like blue-green gems, Elyssa watched Hunter vanish back into the piñons. The man could set fire to her body—and her temper—with maddening ease.

  But I’m getting to you, too, you stubborn son of a Missouri mule, Elyssa told herself with satisfaction. You get on your high horse and get all insulting and then you igno
re me, but I know better.

  I’ve felt how much you want me.

  The memory of how Hunter had felt beneath her hands made Elyssa’s breath shorten and her cheeks flame.

  Morgan reined in beside Leopard.

  “Is something wrong?” Elyssa asked him.

  “Nothing you need to worry about, ma’am. Just a contrary critter.”

  “That’s Hunter, all right.”

  A smile flashed on Morgan’s face. He turned his horse around. With Leopard following, Morgan took the easy way out of the ravine.

  “Have you found some cows?” Elyssa asked hopefully.

  “None to speak of, Miss Elyssa.”

  “But these gullies are usually full of cattle.”

  “I can see the signs all around,” Morgan said quietly. “But signs are all there are. No beeves. Just an old barren cow or two.”

  Elyssa tried not to show the cold that settled in the pit of her stomach at Morgan’s words. Despite the lush grass and clean seeps pooling in the gully, there were few cattle around. Of those, none had been what the cowboys called “beeves”—steers at least four years old.

  There should have been more. Many more.

  Unhappily Elyssa looked around, probing shadows and creases for cattle. She found nothing but the land itself.

  The meadows and flats near the marsh were dry, with tall grass standing cured in the sun. Cattle could do very well on the dried grass, but they preferred the tender green variety.

  Because of the small springs and seeps welling up from the land, many of the ragged gullies were thick with growing grass. Cattle came to those ravines like chunks of iron to a big magnet.

  Cattle had been here. Elyssa could see the hoofprints and manure piles, the meandering trails and the muddy seeps where hooves cut deeply.

  Yet, despite the signs, there were no cattle now.

  It was as though somebody had been here before the Ladder S hands. Someone who knew all the creases and grassy ravines where cows ruminated in the cool shade.

  Someone who had rounded up all the cows before their rightful owner could.

  The chill in Elyssa’s stomach increased. It was a feeling that had become more familiar each day…a growing fear whenever she thought about the future of the Ladder S.

  Don’t think about it, she told herself. Fretting until your stomach churns won’t help anything.

  Elyssa took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then another. Then one more.

  Hunter is doing everything anyone could, she reminded herself.

  She took another long breath, thinking of Hunter. He was skilled, hardworking, intelligent, a born leader of men. Whatever could be done for the Ladder S, Hunter would do.

  Hunter must have been a fine officer. The younger boys all but worship him, and the men respect him.

  The few who don’t respect anything are smart enough to fear Hunter.

  Even Mickey.

  A delicate shiver went through Elyssa as she remembered her dress caught on a nail and her breasts resting against Hunter’s strong forearm.

  Another memory cascaded through her in a glittering stream of sensation. Hunter’s face in the moonlight, his lashes dark against his cheeks, his tongue hungry on her breast, his whole body hard with the intensity of his desire.

  Then today, when she had measured the extent of his hunger with her own hands.

  He can deny it until he’s blue in the face, Elyssa told herself, but he’s as involved as I am.

  Another shiver overtook Elyssa. If she hadn’t believed that Hunter was fighting an equally strong attraction to her, she would have been afraid.

  Never had she been drawn to a man as she was to Hunter.

  Her eyes followed him everywhere. She walked across the room to stand close to him. She asked him about the state of the land and the cattle and the men, anything to hear him talk, to be close enough to see the texture of his mustache and the movements of his lips.

  I’ll keep prying beneath his reserve, Elyssa promised herself. I’ll get to the gentleness and the laughter.

  And the passion.

  Dear God, the passion.

  The sound of a horse coming down the draw toward Elyssa made her breath catch. Bugle Boy was cantering toward her. Elyssa’s face flushed and her heartbeat quickened.

  Hunter didn’t even look at her.

  “Why did you fire the shots?” he asked Morgan.

  “Found a branding fire.”

  “Show me.”

  Morgan kicked his tough little mustang into a canter. Hunter and Elyssa followed Morgan to the head of another draw. This one was part of a rumpled network of ravines and hillocks that unraveled into Wind Gap, which led to Bill’s small ranch.

  Hunter and Morgan dismounted. Hunter stalked along the tracks that went from Ladder S land to the Bar B. In addition to the tracks there were the scattered remains of a small fire.

  The kind that was used for unofficial branding.

  “If I was a sporting man,” Morgan said, “I’d bet a Ladder S beef laid down here and got up as a Slash River beef.”

  “Too bad we weren’t riding by here early this morning,” Hunter said. “We could have cooked the rustler over his own fire.”

  Without another word both men mounted. Hunter shot Elyssa a hard glance.

  “Where are the dogs?” he asked her.

  “Don’t glare at me. Last time I saw them, they were chasing steers for you.”

  Hunter started to whistle up the dogs, only to be stopped by a curt motion from Morgan.

  Between the fitful gusts of wind came the clear sound of a horse running hard.

  Hunter looked at Morgan.

  “No, suh,” Morgan said. “I sent the men off south looking for mustangs and Ladder S ponies, like you said they should.”

  “Get back into the ravine,” Hunter said to Elyssa. “We’ll be right on your heels. Move.”

  She spun Leopard on his hocks and shot back into the mouth of the damp, brushy ravine. As Hunter had promised, they were crowding the spotted stallion’s heels every step of the way. Very quickly the three horses were under cover.

  Before Elyssa realized what Hunter was doing, he turned Bugle Boy in to Leopard. The motion pressed Leopard back even farther into the shelter of a tall willow thicket.

  “Get off,” Hunter said tersely. “You’ll show above the brush.”

  While Hunter spoke, he kicked free of the stirrups and dropped to the ground. His repeating rifle was in his hands.

  With no fuss at all Hunter went up the steep side of the ravine until he merged into the shadows of a piñon. The muted yet unmistakable sound of a shell being levered into the firing chamber came back down the ravine.

  On an impulse Elyssa reached into Bugle Boy’s saddlebag and pulled out the spyglass.

  “Don’t turn that in to the sun,” Morgan warned in a low voice. “Glass can flash like a beacon. Give us away sure as sin.”

  She nodded, put the glass to her eye, and looked back down the ravine. The same willow, brush, and piñon that concealed the horses also kept her from seeing anything useful.

  Elyssa turned and put the glass on Hunter. It brought him so close it was as though she was standing at arm’s length. The midnight shine of his hair and mustache intrigued her, as did the shape of his lips and the winter glint of his eyes.

  As she watched, Hunter’s expression changed from alertness to a leashed savagery that chilled her. Smoothly he raised his rifle and sighted down the barrel.

  Whoever the approaching rider was, he was known to Hunter.

  And hated by him.

  The sound of more horses approaching at a gallop came on the wind.

  Slowly, reluctantly, Hunter lowered the rifle.

  “Watch that stud, ma’am,” Morgan said. “He catches scent of a lot of horses, he’s likely to whinny.”

  Elyssa closed the spyglass, shoved it into Bugle Boy’s saddlebag, and went to Leopard’s head. She put one hand on the bit. The other settled on the hor
se’s nose. She murmured to him in a low voice.

  “What about Bugle Boy?” Elyssa asked quietly.

  “He knows better. So does my pony.”

  Through the screen of willows Elyssa watched four horsemen ride by. They were perhaps three hundred feet away. They were joined by a fifth man, who was riding on a big sorrel mule.

  Morgan took one look at the mule and began to speak so softly that Elyssa couldn’t hear individual words. The expression on Morgan’s face left no doubt that he was cursing.

  Leopard’s barrel swelled as he sucked in air, preparing to whinny a challenge to the intruders.

  Elyssa’s fingers clamped firmly down on the stud’s flaring nostrils. He shook his head. Her fingers stayed in place. Leopard settled back into silence.

  After a few moments the five men rode off in the direction of Wind Gap.

  Not until the last faint sound of hoofbeats faded did Hunter leave his vantage point and return to the bottom of the ravine.

  “Culpepper,” Morgan said.

  Hunter nodded curtly.

  “Gaylord?” Morgan offered.

  “No. Ab.”

  The quality of Hunter’s voice chilled Elyssa.

  “Ab,” Morgan muttered. “The head devil hisself.”

  Hunter grunted.

  “Well,” Morgan said, smiling coldly, “we’re getting close, then. A week, maybe two. Ab ain’t a patient kind of man.”

  “Wonder where he’s been,” Hunter said.

  Morgan shrugged. “Back and forth between here and the Spanish Trail, last I heard. Some of his kin was with him.”

  “Which ones?”

  Morgan shrugged again. “Don’t matter. You won’t need to worry about them. They’re chasing Spanish treasure. Digging for it, so I hear.”

  Hunter shook his head at such foolishness.

  “Ab don’t have much patience with anything like work,” Morgan said, “so he comes north every few weeks. Beau and his bunch are on the way, too.”

  “Beau, Clim, Darcy, and Floyd won’t be joining Ab,” Hunter said with satisfaction.

  “Heard something like that. Colorado, wasn’t it?”

  Hunter nodded.

  “Lot of Yankee dollars on those boys’ heads,” Morgan said to no one in particular.

  “The folks who earned the reward money didn’t want it,” Hunter said.

  Morgan looked surprised.