Comanche Eagle

by Sara Orwig

  She followed his lead, her tongue thrusting against his, lights dancing behind her closed eyes, blood pounding in her veins. For whatever reason he had said no, it was not because he found her odious or repulsive. And never again would she entertain such a notion. His hands, his kisses, his body, his maleness—all indicated he wanted her and wanted her badly. She felt as if he would devour her and she wanted him to. Her thoughts spun away as she was caught up in feeling, sensations bombarding her.

  Travis bent over her, kissing her, feeling her come apart in his arms. Her hips thrust against his, her arms locked tightly around him, and her fingers wound in his hair. She moaned and trembled, and he felt as if he were standing in the center of the blazing logs in the fireplace. He wanted her as much as he had ever wanted a woman. He wanted to peel her out of the gown and wrapper and kiss and touch and stroke every inch of her beautiful body. His hand slid to her breast and she moaned again. He felt the tremor that shook her; felt the taut bud beneath his fingers, the soft breast that he cupped in his hand.

  They were going too far, too fast. Far ahead of logical thought and cool wisdom. In a few more minutes he would be so ensnared, he could never say no. Never. Did he want to say no now? Torn by conflicting emotions, he knew what he should do.

  He stepped away, gasping for breath, his heart pounding.

  “Crystal—”

  His voice was a rasp that grated in his ears. His pulse still roared and he hurt. He ached for the woman. He wanted to carry her to bed and lose himself in her. To come back to life fully and completely. Yet to come back to life and love meant pain and vulnerability and loss. All those things were part of living.

  He wound his hands tightly in her hair. Her lashes raised. Her gaze was sensual, her mouth swollen from his kisses. Fires of hungry desire danced in her green eyes, mirroring what he felt. The woman wanted to be loved.

  “Crystal,” he began again, his voice a rasp. “I don’t ever want to go through that pain again. You know I want you. But if we become truly a husband and wife, you’ll have a baby. I can’t lose another wife. I can’t survive it again.”

  The dazed, sensual look in her eyes changed as his words registered. She blinked, and her brows drew together in a frown. “That’s why you said no? You’re—afraid of living?”

  “I won’t go through that pain.”

  “I won’t die.”

  He inhaled, his chest expanding. In one more minute he would be lost to words and argument. His gaze raked over her. Her open gown revealed the curve of her high breasts, and her wrapper had been pushed away. He could see she was aroused, the taut peaks of her nipples thrusting against her soft nightgown. He moved away from her: he could not resist her much longer.

  “You can’t promise that. Elizabeth never expected to die.”

  He crossed the room, pulling his coat tightly around him and reaching for his hat.

  “Look at me,” she cried, forcing him to turn around. His pulse still pounded. She stood with the fire behind her, her hair like flames around her head, her big green eyes on him, and he wanted to go right back and haul her into his arms. He remembered her naked, and he could barely get his breath. He ached to love her.

  “I’m not Elizabeth. There’s nothing dainty or delicate about me! I’m almost as tall as you. I’m strong. Not all women die in childbirth or you and I wouldn’t be standing here talking.”

  “I won’t run that risk. It hurt beyond hell.” He yanked open the door and stormed into the cold, slamming the door behind him as if the devil were on his heels.

  Only it was no devil. It was a desirable woman, a woman who had more facets to her than the most intricately cut diamond. A woman he admired and was beginning to like. And he wanted her to an extent he would never have believed possible. He had been wildly in love with Elizabeth, yet he had never desired her any more than he did Crystal right now. And if he bedded Crystal, he would fall in love with her. And then he would run all the risks of hurt that he had run before. “Never!” he exclaimed aloud. He had promised himself he would not open himself to that pain of loss again.

  Propelled by his seething emotions, he stormed through the dark across the open ground, going away from the house, putting distance between himself and temptation. A fiery-tressed temptation that he could barely resist.

  Visions of Crystal emerging from her bath danced in his mind and he ground his teeth and swore. “Dammit to hell.”

  He clenched his fists as he strode, wishing it were light enough to work because he would never sleep tonight.

  She wanted a baby! Their baby. The shock was as great as the other emotions tearing at him. Crystal wanted another baby.

  Everything in him cried out no! He couldn’t go through another dreadful childbirth. If something happened to Crystal …

  At the same time, all the maleness in him urged him to turn around and go back to the house and take her to bed … to bury himself in her softness, burn himself away in her warmth. She wanted his baby. This beautiful, desirable, capable woman wanted him to give her a baby. He could barely breathe. Crystal was more responsive than any woman he had known. Maybe it was her deep-rooted honesty. There was nothing coy about her. Or maybe she was starved for love. Whatever it was, the woman had responded instantly and wildly.

  She was strong, passionate, fiery. He tried to conjure up another image, because thinking about Crystal just kept him hard and hot. Oblivious of the cold, sweeping wind, he strode through the night. His long legs carried him swiftly away. He was over two miles from the house when he finally felt a chill from the cold wind buffeting him. Tiny flakes of snow were flying through the air.

  How could he sleep this winter with her? And damned if he wanted to sleep in the barn during the cold months. He stood on the barren, wind-swept high plains with the dark bulk of the mountains beyond his land. The wind howled over the open space and bits of straw and snow blew through the air. He could see for miles, and he could see his house and the light in the window. She was inside … hurting, wanting, sleep as lost to her as it was to him.

  “Dammit!” He swung his fist through the air. He wanted to howl like a wolf. He would not risk her life with a baby. He couldn’t bear to. Yet he was going to hurt her so damn badly that he felt her pain as well.

  He hunched over, striding back to the house. He was unarmed and he shouldn’t be out walking alone in the dark. Crystal wanted a baby.

  And she thought men didn’t like her. Some fool had rejected her in Baltimore. Travis reminded himself of his own perceptions when he’d met her. Dressed in her judge’s robes or her high-necked, long-sleeved plain dresses with her hair wrapped around her head, she looked stern and plain. She had had an air of primness that he could no longer associate with her. Most of the men in town hated that she was the justice of the peace, so that made them see her in a poor manner to begin with.

  No, he had to admit, that day he’d proposed, he probably had added to her feelings of rejection, telling her so emphatically that he would never want her body. She had been rejected, maybe left at the altar in Baltimore. Now he understood why she’d left and didn’t yearn to go back. Didn’t she realize Zachary was in awe of her? Tonight the boy had been senseless, his mouth dropping open when he walked in and saw her with her hair down. He couldn’t put a coherent sentence together for ten minutes. And he couldn’t stop staring at her all evening. Even Turtle River had briefly lost his stoic composure. Travis had seen the shock on his face and the few minutes of his unabashed staring at Crystal and the absolute appreciation in his eyes.

  And she probably had no idea the effect she’d had on any of them.

  For his own sake and hers, Travis shouldn’t have kissed her, but he had been no more able to resist than he could resist breathing.

  And it had just compounded the tension between them. She wanted a baby. He swung his fist through the air again. “No!”

  His shout was carried away by the wind. He hunched over again, walking, looking at the light in the house in t
he distance and imagining her curled by the fire in her gown and wrapper. She had been warm, so soft, curves and softness in his arms, eager. She smelled like roses and tasted like honey. And was as fiery as the blaze on the hearth. He remembered her throwing the skillet and a cup at him. A dish had smashed. The lady had strong feelings about life and she didn’t hesitate to show them. And she wouldn’t hesitate in bed either. He thought about her long legs, imagining them wrapped around him. With a groan he shoved the image out of his mind.

  “Damnation.” Would he go through the torment of hell now? Whatever he did, he was doomed. If he made love to her, got her with child, then he might lose her. If he didn’t, he would be in agony and she would hate him.

  One concern he would never have—she would never turn to another man for a child. In spite of her speech about wishing women could be as free as men, he knew that no matter how much she wanted a baby, she would be true to her vows. She was unyielding on her principles and as honest as nature.

  He kept looking at the house as he drew closer, the light both a beacon and a temptation. A dark figure emerged from the shadows of the shed and barn and walked to meet him … Turtle River.

  The Cheyenne fell into step beside Travis. “She is a beautiful woman.”

  “Yes, she is.”

  They walked back toward the house. “We get snow tonight, but it will blow away,” Turtle River said. “It will not hurt the animals.”

  “We can work in the barn tomorrow if we aren’t busy breaking ice or taking care of cows.”

  They reached the house and Travis kept going, heading toward the barn. They walked in silence until they reached the barn and Travis glanced at his friend. “Thanks for waiting. I left without my Colt.”

  “It’s best to be armed if you roam the night.” Turtle River lightly touched his side and Travis knew he carried his revolver.

  He nodded to Turtle River and went inside the barn, bedding down in the straw, chilled, yet knowing wherever he lay his head, he would not sleep. He put his hands behind his head, staring into the darkness, hearing the horses moving, and knowing that if he wanted he could be in bed with Crystal in his arms.

  What kind of bargain had he sealed himself into with this marriage? When he’d asked her, she’d seemed the solution to his dilemma. A perfect mother for Jacob. She was in need. He was in need. Travis had never thought he would want to bed the woman or desire her or be torn between reason and want. And he knew she hadn’t foreseen her future either. When she’d agreed to marry, she had been as desperate as he.

  He needed her and he could never ask for a better mother for Jacob. What was he to do?

  She should understand what he was telling her. She had hurt enough over the loss of her brother to halfway understand why he didn’t want to lose another wife. Was he fighting the inevitable or bringing only grief to both of them? And depriving little Jacob of a brother or sister. He thought of Brett and how close they had been when growing up. Jacob would like a brother or sister. Crystal wanted another baby. Should he take a risk on life again?

  Crystal sat rocking in front of the fire. Her body tingled; her mouth still felt the imprint of Travis’s kisses. She stared at the dancing flames that he had built, knowing he had built more flames than that inside her. A high wind had caught her and tumbled her across the earth and then dumped her down. Impressions and memories fell through her mind like raindrops spilling over glass.

  His kisses had shattered the notion that he found her less than appealing. That was the most dazzling discovery. He had kissed her in a manner that could mean nothing else but that the man wanted her. And wanted her with his whole being.

  She rocked steadily, trying to fathom her discovery, relishing it, mulling it over and over. Travis Black Eagle desired her. She would never doubt that again. Not when the man had kissed her the way he had tonight… as is if he had waited a lifetime for those kisses.

  She had waited a lifetime for them, and it had been worth the wait. Never again would she look back at Harvey Goodwill with anything but a deep thankfulness that he had kept them both out of a loveless marriage. For the first time in her life, she truly felt like a desirable woman.

  Yet Travis did not want another baby. She understood his hurt, understood his reluctance and fear. But if he desired her—even if there were no love in his heart—if he desired her, he might succumb to his need. And if all that stood between them was his fear of another loss, she could deal with that. She was not delicate and dainty like his Elizabeth and she had reminded him of the fact. He would think about it. She was a tall woman and a hardy one. The world was full of people delivered by women who got through childbirth and survived to raise their children.

  Patience, patience, she told herself. He loved Jacob, had been close to his brother. He would see the need to give Jacob a brother or sister.

  She must be patient. And in the meantime …

  A delicious heat filled her that came from memories rather than the fire. His kisses had been headier than the bubbling champagne she had had at Baltimore parties. Always she would remember him pulling her into his arms, pressing her against him, his maleness so hard against her. He wanted her. That knowledge was magic, changing the night, making everything vivid, unforgettable.

  The high plains were no longer windswept and lonesome, but filled with hope and a future. The dark night no longer held unknown terrors, but the promise of consummation, completion.

  The solitary enigma of Travis Black Eagle held a tantalizing hope of his becoming her man. Her man.

  She loved him. He might never love her back, but he wanted her and he was good to her. And they could enjoy each other’s company. That was more than she had ever dared hope for.

  And the Mandeville’s party was coming up. For the first time she could remember, Crystal looked forward to a party. She slipped behind the curtain Travis had strung up to give her privacy and examined the dresses hanging on hooks along the wall. Beneath cotton, gingham, and calico; beneath her black woolens were three silks she had brought from Baltimore. She touched them—a red, a deep blue, and a brilliant green. She ran her hand along the green. That was the one to wear to the party. She had green ribbons and she would have to practice doing her hair.

  She went back the fire, pausing beside Jacob’s bed to stroke his rosy cheek, tenderly taking in his black curls and the thick black lashes above his fat little cheek. His hands were doubled in fists and he smelled soapy and sweet.

  “You will have your brother or sister, my sweet baby. I promise you.”

  She moved back to the rocker, too excited to sleep. Tonight had changed her life forever. Never again would she be the same woman or think of herself in the same manner as she had before.

  Embarrassment flooded her again at her appalling lack of control. Hating that anger had overtaken her reason, she glanced at the pan now hanging innocently on its hook on the wall, embarrassed all over again that she had thrown it at him. And she had broken a plate. She would have to replace it at the general store when she went to town. Occasionally in her life she had lost command of her emotions, suffering afterwards, lecturing herself that she should use more restraint, try to keep a level head.

  Yet how could she keep a level head around someone as volatile as Travis? The man was mercury, changing, forceful.

  Her thoughts jumped right back to standing in his arms and kissing him. When the wind shook the house, she wondered how he fared in the cold barn. She hoped he was freezing. All he had to do to get warm was walk the short distance back to the house, into her arms.

  He would be back. Life would settle into its routine, and now, it would be different when he slept in his own bed. Just as she would never forget his kisses, she knew he was not going to forget this night either.

  Crystal finally scooted down on the floor in front of the dying fire, warming and growing drowsy, a smile hovering on her face and in her heart. After an hour she put out the lamp and climbed into bed, wriggling down under the covers, runnin
g her hand over Travis’s pillow. Wrapping herself in memories of his kisses, she drifted to sleep.

  A light sprinkling of snow lay across the land in the early hours, but the morning sun melted it away. The wind blew fiercely and the temperature dropped, but the day was bright and clear. Crystal fed and played with Jacob and did chores in a rosy haze, going over and over the past night in her mind.

  While Jacob napped, Crystal bathed and dressed carefully in a pale-blue woolen dress that she had not worn before for Travis. She parted her hair in the middle, catching it up on either side of her head with blue bows, letting the back fall free. As she worked, she sang and tried to concentrate on the roast she was cooking for dinner, hoping to keep it from burning or being as tough as the floorboards.

  That night Travis came in with the others. He shed his heavy coat, hanging it on a hook by the door. His blue chambray shirt pulled across his broad shoulders as he stretched out his arm to drop his hat on the piano. Aware of her hair and how she looked, she tingled from head to toe. She was oblivious of the other men except to give them a smile and a greeting. Travis turned around.

  “Evening, Crystal.” His dark eyes rested on her briefly. It was impossible to read what was in their depths. His attention shifted to Jacob, who laughed with glee at seeing his father.

  “Crystal, let me help you,” Zachary said, taking a knife from her hands. “Is this ready?”

  She nodded, taking the lid off a pan of potatoes. He lifted the roasted meat to a platter.

  “You look pretty, Crystal,” he said shyly, and she smiled at him.

  “Thank you.” She spooned the whipped potatoes into a bowl and set them on the table. She had labored over biscuits and she checked on them once again. They were golden brown, not as fluffy as she would like, but at least they weren’t burnt.

  “Let’s sit down to eat,” she announced, pleased that the bowls of food still steamed. She was doing better. Not wonderful, but better.