First Love Wild Love

by Janelle Taylor

  “Then why did you rescue me?” she asked foolishly.

  “Que demonios! I might not know you well, Cal, but I do know enough to realize you wouldn’t be tangled up with Deavers,” he said, shaking his tawny head in exasperation.

  “Why did you slip this ring on my finger?” she pressed to see if her conclusions had been accurate, gazing at the golden circle.

  “That’s the only reason he relented. I’ve had it a long time; a man who owed me money used it as payment for a job. It’s been like a good-luck charm. I knew Clint would think twice before fighting over another man’s wife, especially mine. You see, Cal, sometimes a colorful image is valuable,” he teased light-heartedly.

  “What if he finds out you tricked him?” Cal fretted aloud.

  “I don’t want to alarm you, Callie, but this didn’t end it with Deavers. He’ll seek another time and place to get to me, and you. A man like Deavers doesn’t give up something he wants that easily, and he wants you and my notch on his reputation. As soon as I send that telegram in the morning, we’ll head for home,” he announced.

  “Will we get there before Rankin?” she ventured quizzically.

  “I doubt it. He’ll probably think you took off to look for a job.”

  “That isn’t true; I couldn’t lie to him,” she protested.

  “Don’t worry about it tonight, Cal; I’ll take care of everything. If he isn’t home, I’ll leave him a message. I’ve got to get to Junction before I lose this job and my boss’s respect. Let’s turn in; I’m exhausted.” Lynx walked to the chair and began to undress.

  Cal gaped at him. “You can’t sleep in here. What will people say?” she argued his bold intentions, suspense washing over her body.

  “Are you forgetting about Deavers? Wouldn’t it look suspicious if a husband didn’t sleep with his wife? I’d like to get out of Lampasas without more trouble. Nobody knows the truth about us.”

  “What about when they discover we aren’t married?”

  “Doesn’t matter what they think or say,” he stated casually.

  “It does to me!” Cal snapped. Having a secret affair was one thing, but flaunting it was another. “Are you sure you didn’t lure me here so you could play around again?” she hinted saucily to ease her tension.

  “Sounds like a crafty idea, but I’ll have to disappoint you. I never expected to find you in my path. You had me worried, Cal. If I’d had the time, I would have hunted you down and strangled you.”

  “It does seem odd that we keep running in to each other.”

  “You’re right about that. You sure you aren’t pursuing me? Was there a letter, Cal? How do you keep track of me and set up these meetings?”

  She laughed, relaxing as time passed and his nearness assailed her senses. She played along with his joke. “It isn’t easy, but I’m doing fairly well so far. But this time I outsmarted myself; I didn’t plan on exposing us to Rankin. If he beats me home, the game is up.”

  “I hope not. I’m enjoying the chase,” Lynx replied, pulling her into his arms. She laid her face against his thudding heart. “Ready to turn in?” he murmured, his lips against her hair.

  Her gaze turned serious. The moment she had dreaded, yet fiercely craved, had arrived. She yearned to taste and share his beguiling tenderness and torrid passion; yet, she feared another flight of mindless ecstasy. When he caressed her body and stole her breath and reason with intoxicating kisses, she was as eager and pliant as clay in a gentle sculptor’s hands. He controlled and designed her responses as deftly as a treasured piece of earthenware in a master potter’s grasp.

  When Calinda didn’t verbally respond, Lynx gazed down at her, reading the unspoken submission in her eyes. His tawny gaze studied her indecision. His hands slipped into sunny red hair on either side of her head and tilted her face upwards. Her lips were parted as if to speak, but no words came forth. She didn’t want to say no, but neither could she boldly say yes. Her dreamy green eyes locked with his, as two emeralds sinking leisurely into a tranquil pool of amber liquid. Mentally poised on the edge of a shadowy region, she feared to wave aside the obscuring veil to seek what her body and heart desired.

  Mesmerized by his powerful gaze, Cal did not move or resist when Lynx undressed her, nor when his admiring gaze wandered over the creamy flesh before it. His hands went to her shoulders, then lazily slipped down her arms and over to her waist. He leaned forward to tantalize her warring senses with moist kisses on her breasts. She stiffened and inhaled as the blissful sensation attacked her spinning mind. His lips came up to fasten hungrily to hers.

  Like an artist’s tools, his lips and hands moved lightly over her body, preparing and honing and creating a prize worth possessing. When he leaned backward to look into her passion-gazed face, Calinda’s arms around his waist shifted to withdraw his shirt from his pants. Longing to make contact with his virile frame, she shamelessly unbuttoned it with quivering fingers, then eased it over his broad shoulders and allowed it to float to the wooden floor. Her palms flattened against his coppery flesh and drifted from his throat down a hard chest covered with curling hair down to a flat stomach, only to begin her stirring journey upward again, this time to ease over darkly tanned arms with their smooth and powerful muscles.

  Lynx shuddered as he tightly controlled his rising passion which strained at the crotch of his pants. He caught her hands and brought them to his lips, placing kisses on each finger tip and in each palm. “I want you, Cal,” he murmured in a tight voice, recalling her last rejection, dreading another one.

  “I want you, too,” she promptly concurred, quivering.

  Lynx swept her into his arms and deposited her on the bed. He hastily removed the rest of his clothes and his boots, then reclined beside her. His mouth seared over hers, branding it his. Her head dug into the pillow as his lips continued down her neck to place his mark of ownership on every inch they encountered. Ever so lightly his fingers moved over one breast point as his lips drew magical nectar from the other one, to later shift from one to the other driving her wild with pleasure. Even if this was wrong, Calinda didn’t care.

  Soft moans of urgency escaped her lips as his exploratory mouth sensuously travelled down her chest to tease at her navel as his seeking hands mapped out the silky territory along her thighs and most private region. As his hands climbed a small peak located there to travel back and forth with stimulating resolve, she sighed in tormenting ecstasy and clung to him, pleading for this hunger to be sated. When Lynx had her straining against him with a fiery intensity which matched his own, he dared to enter her.

  Each time Lynx partially withdrew and briefly hesitated to cool his rampant flesh, Cal groaned as if fearing the feverish object would never again plunge into her receptive and entreating body. Her body was a savage blending of ecstasy and torment. As she fervidly matched her pace to his, he huskily cautioned her to master her ardor.

  His warnings were futile. Cal writhed beneath him, tightening her grip around his body, twisting her mouth into his. “Don’t, love,” he pleaded hoarsely. “I’m barely restraining myself. You’re driving me wild, Callie. I can’t hold out much longer. Be still a minute.”

  “It doesn’t matter, my love. Take me now. Now, Lynx,” she sobbed passionately into his mouth.

  As love’s music played over their minds and bodies, its tempo increased in pace and volume. Blood pounded in their ears as urgency consumed them. Faster and louder the strains filled the room, until a powerful crescendo thundered in her ears. Their fused bodies worked in perfect unison as love’s strings yielded the sweet chords of a pleasure beyond words. Never had love’s tender passion sent forth such romantic and stirring notes, such a harmonious blending of spirits.

  Contented and sated, they nestled together in spite of the heat and their damp bodies. The mood demanded a silent touching and sharing. Safe and happy, they gradually surrendered to slumber’s arms.

  After dressing and eating the next morning, Lynx began preparations to leave. “You st
ay here with the door locked until I return,” he ordered softly. “Don’t open it to anyone but me. I’ll be ready to pull out after I get you a horse and send that telegram. Keep this in case you need it,” he commanded, giving her one of his pistols.

  Lynx headed for the stable to make a deal. Once the purchase of a sleek sorrel was completed, he told the man to have both horses ready to leave in fifteen minutes. He handed him the saddle purchased on the way to the stable, then left.

  At the telegraph office, Lynx wrote out his message to Major Jones in Dallas and told the agent to send it out while he waited. Knowing the code, he always made certain his messages went out exactly as worded. He listened to the clicking noises of the metal key as the words formed in his mind:

  Advise Clark of three-day delay. Trouble in Lampasas. Calinda lured by foe. In danger. Rescued. Returning her to ranch. Will head out from there. Hold her message for me. Excuse delay. Will explain later. L.X.

  “Miss Braxton didn’t receive any answer to her telegram to Jones?” Lynx questioned, furtively watching the apprehensive agent.

  “No sir. I guess he didn’t get it yet. I was supposed to give it to the sheriff and he was to take it to her.” The man fidgeted.

  “What did Clint Deavers say about her telegram when he read it?” Lynx queried astutely, reading the man’s alarm.

  The pudgy man went pale and quivered. “I can’t allow anybody to read other people’s telegrams. It ain’t legal.”

  “I’m in a big hurry, so I’ll only ask this once more,” Lynx sought to intimidate the man into a confession. It was doubtful Clint hadn’t either demanded the telegram or its contents, not after the way he had been chasing and frightening her. “Did he stop you from sending it? Or just read it later?” Lynx had pulled out his Bowie knife and was carefully passing his finger over the sharp blade.

  “Her telegram went out; I swear it, Mister…”

  “Lynx Cardone,” he nonchalantly ended the man’s ignorance, but birthed his mounting panic.

  The man sank into his chair, growing paler if possible. He stammered, “I…sent it…out while the sher…sheriff was still here. You can…ask him.”

  “But Deavers did force you to let him read it? I know he’s a dangerous man; I don’t blame you for giving in to his demands,” Lynx cunningly reasoned with the terrified agent. “I can assure you, I’m more dangerous than he is if I’m crossed. This baby can peel a man’s hide as skillfully as an Apache. Calinda’s my wife, and I want to know if Deavers saw her message.”

  “He’ll kill me,” the man blurted out in unleashed fear.

  “I won’t tell him you confessed. I’ll be leaving town as soon as you speak. I like to know when to guard my backside. You know this Deavers has been after her. I want to get her out of town before he presses me. I’ll deal with him the next time we meet, when my wife’s safely at home. Speak up, my good man.”

  The agent jerked open a drawer and pulled out the copy of her telegram. “Here, this is what he read. He threatened to kill me if I didn’t give him the response when it came in. But it hasn’t; I swear it.”

  “I’m sure of that; Jones is in Dallas, not Waco.” Lynx skimmed the contents of her urgent message. Evidently she had told the truth, most of it. He tossed it back to the agent. It fluttered before Slim could seize it, then it noisily crackled in his sweaty grip.

  Lynx took a pen and paper from the counter, then scribbled another message on it. He held it out for the agent and ordered, “Burn the first one. If Deavers comes in to check on mine, give him this one.”

  “Burn it?” the man echoed. “But that’s against the rules.”

  “Burn it right now,” Lynx demanded, then watched the man hastily comply. “Do as you’re told, and Deavers won’t suspect a thing. If he’s planning on calling my hand after we ride out, that should send him in the wrong direction. He’ll figure I tricked him, not you.”

  The nervous agent read the message:

  Found Calinda. Lured to Lampasas. Both safe. Returning her to ranch. Swinging by Waco. Seeking Jones’ help. Will discuss trouble. Must solve plot. Arrive ranch four days. Lynx.

  The phony telegram was addressed to Rankin Cardone near Fort Worth. The man glanced up at the towering and cunning Lynx. He grinned and nodded. “I’ll handle it, Mister Cardone.” Slim wondered if he should tell Cardone about another telegram, but quickly decided he didn’t want to get involved in a conflict between two famed gunslingers.

  “I’m sure you will. I’d hate to swing by here again soon.” His implication was clear. Lynx smiled to calm the man, turned and left.

  Before returning to Calinda’s room, Lynx made a call on the sheriff and the hotel clerk. He let them know how furious he was with their actions. He informed both men the Rangers would receive a full report on the happenings here in Lampasas and their parts in them.

  Clint Deavers watched Calinda and Lynx ride out of town on the trail heading toward Waco. As Lynx suspected, Clint went to the telegraph office and demanded to see his message. The clerk handed the phony words to Clint, who read them and grinned wickedly.

  Clint headed for his rented room behind the Mexican cantina. He packed a saddle bag and headed out of town to skirt the Waco trail and find a perfect spot to ambush them. Clint rode swiftly and purposefully, allowing Lynx time to feel confident in their escape and to lower his guard. What man, even a husband, could retain a clear head with a beauty like that beside him? Clint knew Cal and Lynx had spent an envious night together in the same room. If he could lay a trap for Lynx and get the drop on him, he just might allow Lynx to witness his lusty pleasure before killing him. That should punish the smug gunslinger for thwarting his plans and for forcing him to settle their dispute with words only. Too, with Lynx’s life in danger, that fiery redhead should be willing to do anything to save her lover’s hide.

  Five miles out of Lampasas, Lynx motioned for Cal to follow him as he left the deserted road to head off across rugged country, a loamy terrain which discouraged all life. He quickened his pace, compelling her to pursue his galloping steed, denying any chance for conversation. Her bag, tied securely to his saddle, bounced precariously as he nudged Star into a steady run. Her sorrel needed little encouragement to tag along. Her tender buttocks were bruised as the saddle pounded against them along the rough and hasty route. Her dress kept pulling free of its confines under her thighs to flutter wantonly in the breeze which their rush created.

  The pace continued for thirty minutes until he spotted a cluster of trees with their branches which hung like an umbrella. Lynx headed that way, halting and dismounting beneath their concealing shade. When Calinda reined in, she was breathing hard; perspiration was trickling down her face and neck and was gluing wet curls to her face.

  Lynx helped her dismount, grinning as she mopped the moisture from her upper lip and forehead, then inhaled and exhaled slowly to steady her respiration. Her cheeks were flushed and her clothes were damp. He pulled the canteen off his saddle-horn and offered her water. Calinda accepted it and drank greedily.

  As Lynx took his turn at the canteen, she asked, “Why the rush? And why did we leave the road? This route is awful.”

  Lynx sat down and motioned for her to do the same. He told her about the incident at the telegraph office and his precautions. She stared at him, then asked, “Do you think he’s trailing us?”

  “Nope. If I know Deavers, he’ll get ahead of us and set a trap along the Waco road. By the time he figures out I’ve tricked him, we’ll be long gone. Plus, I have to get you home as fast as I can. I’m late for a meeting in Junction. You sure are a lot of trouble, Cal.”

  “You’re the smartest and bravest man I’ve ever known, Lynx. I appreciate your help. I’m just sorry I’m detaining you. Are you still angry with me for coming here?” she coyly wheedled.

  “Damn right, I am! Do it again, woman, and I won’t be so lenient or understanding,” he thundered at her.

  “You don’t have to get upset again. I explained and
apologized.” Cal realized she was twisting the ring round and round. She pulled it off and held it out to Lynx. “Thanks for loaning me your magic charm.”

  “Keep it; with that impulsive and defiant streak, you might need it another time.” His voice became mellow and mocking as he ventured, “Tell me, love, what can I say or do to make certain you don’t pack up and run off again? Even if another letter arrives and claims to be from Brax?”

  “I’ve learned my lesson, you mean brute. If Rankin doesn’t toss me out, I’ll stay put this time.” She turned her back to him.

  “I need to make sure I can trust you,” he murmured thoughtfully. “How can I hold you there without locking you in your room?”

  Cal whirled and watched him in astonishment. Lynx sounded serious. “I know,” he finally spoke again. “You need a home and a family. Why don’t we change your name to Calinda Cardone?”

  “You want me to become your sister?” she cried.

  “Cal, Father’s been on my back for two years about settling down. He says it’s past time for me to find a wife and have my own son. Why not? That would settle both our problems,” he reasoned flippantly. “When we get to the ranch, I’ll marry you before I head out again. It’s perfect,” he smugly congratulated himself.

  “Marry you?” she echoed in disbelief.

  Observing her reaction, Lynx playfully chided, “You don’t have to make my proposal sound like an insult, Cal.”

  “Then don’t issue it like one!” she panted in distress, anticipating a spiteful game. “You make marriage sound like a joke or a business deal: my safety and life on the ranch in exchange for appeasing your father and producing a Cardone heir. Marriage is very serious, Lynx.”

  Lynx threw back his golden head and laughed heartily. “I suppose I did word it a bit strangely. I conceitedly assumed you were in love with me. Aren’t you?” he challenged, grinning devilishly.

  “Are you in love with me?” Cal parried his question.