Only Love o-4

by Elizabeth Lowell

  «Not yet,» Whip said, laughing, retreating.

  «When…?» she cried.

  «When your body is shivering and you’re all around me like hot, wild honey. Then I’ll take you, Shannon. And we’ll both scream with the pleasure of it.»

  One of Whip’s hands moved down Shannon’s body, caressing her breasts and belly and hips. Then he found the satin knot of her desire once more. It was the same as she was — hot, slick, hungry. He teased her until she cried out and sought him even more urgently, her body coiling beneath his as forerunners of ecstasy raked through her.

  Whip’s hand slid beneath Shannon’s hips, testing and caressing her resilient flesh. Then his arm moved fully around her bottom and he dragged her upward, lifting her, opening her completely to him, wondering if she would like it that way.

  She did. He knew, because he felt the sultry pulses of her pleasure caressing his hungry flesh. The world darkened around him as desire coiled violently, pulling him down into the hot center of Shannon’s being.

  «Shannon,» Whip said urgently. «Look at me!»

  Dazed, shivering, Shannon opened her eyes. Whip was poised above her, his face dark with passion and his eyes like twin silver flames, burning.

  «Now, honey girl. Now.»

  He took her with a smooth, powerful thrust, not stopping until their bodies were as deeply joined as it was possible for a man and woman to be.

  Shannon stiffened and gave a keening cry. Instantly Whip froze, hoping that her body would adjust to his presence if he didn’t move.

  Then he felt the secret, deep pulses within Shannon and knew that she was transfixed by pleasure rather than pain. With a hoarse sound he began moving, no longer fighting the dark, elemental passion that called to him from her body. He drove into her tight satin depths, felt the honeyed kisses of her climax licking over him, and pulled her hips even more tightly against him.

  Whip’s last thought was that he hoped Shannon meant what she had said about wanting everything he had to give, because he had just discovered it was too late for him to hold back anything at all. Life had become a hot, radiant darkness with neither beginning nor end; and its heartbeat was the hard, silken pulses of his release spilling into her welcoming body.

  19

  Reno rode up to Shannon’s cabin in a blaze of summer heat that made the snowstorm of three days ago seem impossible. Pearly wisps of clouds trailed from the highest peaks. The rest of the sky was as clear and blue as Shannon’s eyes. The smell of evergreens and meadow grass gave the air an extraordinary savor.

  But whatever birdsongs the meadow and forest might have had to offer were being drowned out by Prettyface’s savage barking.

  «That’s enough, Prettyface!» Whip said, walking out of the cabin. «Reno is a friend. Friend!»

  Prettyface didn’t think so, but he subsided into snarls and then a grumbling kind of silence.

  Reno’s green eyes looked at the dog with deceptive laziness. His left hand wasn’t exactly on the butt of his revolver, but it wasn’t very far away, either.

  «Real sociable type,» Reno said dryly.

  «He’ll warm to you,» Whip said.

  «I’ll hold you to that.»

  «Just don’t try to come here when I’m gone.»

  «When will that be?» Reno asked coolly.

  Whip didn’t answer.

  Reno glanced from Prettyface to his brother, wondering if Whip was any closer to solving the problem of his conflicting passions for a distant sunrise and a pretty widow lady.

  Then the cabin door opened and a woman with a walk as sultry as the summer day came toward Reno.

  «Judas Priest,» Reno said beneath his breath as he dismounted in a fluid rush. «No wonder you’re between a rock and a hard place.»

  Whip said nothing, simply watched Shannon with haunted, quicksilver eyes. Then he held out his hand to her and smiled gently. When she laced her fingers through his, he pulled her close, tucking her against his body.

  Reno watched all of it, his brother’s tender smile and sheltering arm, Shannon’s loving blue eyes and equally loving smile. But most telling of all to Reno was their physical ease with one another.

  Shannon and Whip had become lovers. Reno had no doubt of it. If the radiance of Shannon’s eyes hadn’t told Reno, the shadows in Whip’s would have.

  Reno touched the rim of his hat to Shannon in silent greeting.

  «Shannon,» Whip said, «this is my brother Matt Moran, but we all call him Reno. Reno, this is Shannon Conner Smith.»

  My woman.

  Though the words weren’t said aloud, Reno sensed them very clearly.

  So did Shannon. Red tinged her cheekbones for a few moments. She held out her hand and searched Reno’s vivid green eyes anxiously, wondering if he would condemn her.

  Reno’s hard fingers lifted Shannon’s hand to his lips. He bowed as elegantly as though he were in a Paris ballroom rather than in a wild mountain meadow.

  Shannon startled both men by sinking into a deep, graceful curtsy, as though she were wearing yards of silk and crinolines rather than ragged men’s clothing. Then she peeked up at Whip’s dark, startlingly handsome brother with laughter and relief in her beautiful eyes.

  «A pleasure, Mr. Moran,» she murmured, rising.

  «Reno, Mrs. Smith,» he corrected gently, holding Shannon’s hand between both of his. «I left Mr. Moran behind a long, long time ago.»

  «Then you must call me Shannon. I never was truly Mrs. Smith. Silent John was my great-uncle.»

  For an instant Reno’s dense black eyelashes shuttered his reaction.

  No wonder Whip is having such a wrestling match with his conscience, Reno told himself silently. Shannon is a virgin.

  Or was.

  «In any case, Silent John is dead,» Shannon said clearly.

  «A lot of men will be relieved to hear that,» Reno said beneath his breath as he released Shannon’s hand.

  «I beg your pardon?» she said.

  «Silent John was, um, well-known around Colorado Territory,» Reno said.

  «His reputation — and Prettyface — went a long way toward keeping me safe while he was gone,» Shannon said.

  «Prettyface,» Reno said, glancing toward the huge brindle hound. «Hell of a name for something that, um …»

  Tactfully, Reno didn’t finish the sentence.

  «Maybe you’d like to be the one to call him ugly,» Whip offered, smiling as he remembered Shannon’s saying something similar to him.

  Shannon snickered.

  «No, thank you,» Reno said promptly. «My mama didn’t raise any dumb ones.»

  Whip laughed out loud.

  «Come on inside,» Whip said. «We were just sitting down to lunch.»

  «Only if you’ll let me put something on the table. Eve packed enough food for two.»

  «Why?»

  «She wanted to come along, but when we got to Cal’s place, Ethan was feeling puny and so was Willow.»

  «Are they all right?» Whip and Shannon asked simultaneously.

  «They’re fine. Just a summer cold. I told Eve I could look the claims over by myself. If nothing looks good, I’ll go and bring her back up here. If there’s gold here, the two of us will find it.»

  What Reno didn’t say was that he doubted there was any gold worth mentioning up Avalanche Creek, which was why he had brought Eve along in the first place. He had prospected Avalanche Creek’s high, dangerous reaches years ago and found mostly chilblains and bruises for his efforts.

  «Did you bring the Spanish needles?» Whip asked.

  «In my saddlebags,» Reno said. «They don’t work worth a tinker’s damn without Eve, though.»

  «What are Spanish needles?» Shannon asked.

  «Dowsing rods made of metal,» Reno said. «They respond to gold or silver rather than to water. The Jesuit priests brought them to the New World hundreds of years ago.»

  «Do they really work?» Shannon asked him.

  «Count on it.»

 
«But only for Reno and Eve,» Whip put in. «Damnedest thing you ever saw. If any other people hold the needles together, they’re just so much junk.»

  «Truly?» she asked.

  «As ever was. Makes the hair on your arms stand straight up to watch Reno and Eve using those needles.»

  «Then you found gold?» she asked Reno.

  «Yes. Way up in the Abajos, in a crumbling old mine that had been dug by Indian slaves for Jesuit priests. There were ingots of pure gold so heavy Eve could hardly lift more than one at a time.»

  «Oh, my,» Shannon said. «Those needles must be something!»

  «They were a doorway to hell,» Whip said curtly.

  Shannon looked at Whip, shocked.

  «The mine came down around my ears,» Reno explained. «Eve and Whip damn near died digging me out.»

  Shannon went pale. She touched Whip’s sun-bright hair with fingers that trembled.

  «I don’t want gold that much,» she said starkly.

  «It’s all right, honey girl,» Whip said, brushing his lips over her hand.

  «A cave-in won’t be a problem up Avalanche Creek,» Reno said. «It’s hard rock all the way. The old Spanish mine wasn’t.»

  «How do you know about Avalanche Creek?» Shannon asked.

  «Silent John wasn’t the first man to see a gleam of gold dust in the creek and follow it back up the peak.»

  «Did you find gold?» she asked eagerly.

  Reno made a neutral sound. «Some.»

  «How much is ‘some’?» Shannon persisted.

  «Not much,» Whip said succinctly. «Otherwise Reno wouldn’t have risked his butt in the Spanish mine.»

  «Oh,» Shannon said, disappointed.

  «But I wasn’t looking all that hard,» Reno said kindly.

  «This time will be different,» Whip said.

  Reno raised his eyebrows at the certainty in Whip’s voice. A look at his brother’s pale silver eyes told Reno that questions wouldn’t be appreciated.

  GOLD was the subject during the quick lunch the three of them ate, and gold was discussed at every opportunity along the trail to Rifle Sight claim. Sweat gleamed on the horses and mules, for Whip was holding to a very hard pace.

  Sunlight followed them every step of the way, its blazing warmth as golden as the metal they pursued. Grizzly Meadow was hot. It brimmed with wildflowers and the songs of hidden birds. Both men examined the area carefully, but found no fresh evidence that a grizzly had been there. Relieved, they quickly set up camp.

  «Plenty of deer sign around,» Reno said. «If there’s any light left after you show me the claim, why don’t you hunt? Winters are long up here.»

  Whip heard what Reno didn’t say — Shannon would need every bit of meat she could get in order to survive the season of storm and ice.

  While Shannon began preparing supper, the two men went quickly to the claim. The sky was already turning color, hinting at the glorious sunset to come.

  It didn’t take Reno long to look over the mine. There was little to look at.

  «Any other runnels?» Reno asked as he emerged from the shallow hole in the mountain, a lantern in his hand.

  «Not that I’ve found,» Whip said. «And yes, I looked carefully.»

  «I believe you. A man looking for freedom is real careful.»

  Whip’s mouth flattened, but he didn’t deny what Reno was saying.

  «The gold is for Shannon,» Whip said.

  «Uh huh. Regular little gold digger, that one.»

  «Damn it, Reno —»

  «Put your ruff down,» Reno interrupted calmly. «We both know the gold is as much for your freedom as for Shannon’s security. If you can’t stand hearing the truth, then maybe you better take a long look at what you’re doing.»

  Whip gave his brother a cold, level stare. «I know what I’m doing.»

  Reno shrugged. «I thought I did, too, last autumn. Then you dumped a saddlebag full of pure gold bars at my feet and told me I was a goddamned fool.»

  «And you’re thinking I’m the fool now, is that it?»

  «I’m thinking that’s one fine woman whose heart you’re going to break. Too bad she was a virgin. That will make it harder when —»

  «It’s none of your business,» Whip interrupted, his voice flat, dangerous.

  «The hell you say. I’m the one finding gold so you can pay off your conscience and go back to chasing sunrises.»

  Whip shifted his stance slightly, menacingly.

  Reno’s answering smile was as narrow as his eyes.

  «That’s it,» Reno goaded. «Jump me. Maybe I can pound some sense into your thick skull. Sure as hell someone should.»

  «Pound rock. It’s softer.»

  «Smarter, too.»

  Abruptly Reno turned away, cutting off whatever Whip had been about to say.

  «Three days ago I would have given you the fight you want,» Reno said over his shoulder. «But I’m slam out of patience at the moment. I’m going back to camp before I lay my revolver along your thick skull. Shannon doesn’t need a bloodied, banged-up yondering idiot to worry about. Her worry plate is plumb full as it is.»

  WHEN Shannon awoke, the stars were just fading from the sky. In the distance she heard the murmur of male voices. There was no crackle of campfire or smell of coffee in the crisp air.

  «Whip? Reno?» she called. «Do you want breakfast?»

  «Go back to sleep,» Whip called. «Reno and I are just talking about the claims. I’ll wake you when it’s time to start back to the cabin.»

  Sighing, Shannon rolled over and pulled the blankets up to her eyebrows. Nights were always chilly in the high country. More than once during the darkness she had wished for the warmth and comfort of Whip holding her close while she slept. It had been so easy to get used to the luxury of his presence.

  Whip had set up his bedroll across the campfire, where his brother slept. Prettyface had kept Shannon company, but not for long. The dog preferred not to sleep near the campfire, as though the bright flames and pungent smoke dulled his canine senses. He kept to the perimeter of the camp, well away from the people he guarded so carefully.

  When Whip walked past Prettyface on the way back to camp, the dog lifted his huge, blunt head and thumped his tail against the ground several times in silent greeting.

  «Your mistress is still sleeping, isn’t she?» Whip asked softly. «Good. I could use a little rest myself. Didn’t sleep worth a damn last night. Stay here and guard us.»

  Soundlessly Whip went to the place where Shannon was. He took off his heavy jacket and slid beneath the blankets, stretching out next to her. Shannon murmured sleepily and turned toward him, burrowing into his warmth, nuzzling against him, sighing.

  At first Whip thought that she had awakened. Then he felt the utter relaxation of her body and knew that she was deeply asleep. The realization that Shannon turned toward him even when she was asleep was like a silver needle of emotion stitching through Whip’s soul, pain and pleasure combined.

  Shannon, don’t love me. I don’t want to hurt you, honey girl.

  The only answer that came was the smell of spearmint and woman combined.

  Whip’s heart turned over and his body hardened in a savage rush. He knew he couldn’t stay with Shannon for much longer…but he could make a lifetime of every moment they had together.

  Slowly Whip eased beneath the blankets, breathing deeply of warm, woman-scented air.

  I would love to kiss those sweet breasts, but I shouldn’t wake her.

  Even as Whip told himself that Shannon needed sleep more than she needed loving, his hands were moving over her old, painfully clean shirt.

  Silk and lace lay warmly beneath, shocking in their femininity after the man’s shirt.

  What the hell…! Where did she get this?

  Long fingers untied silk bows one by one. But it was Whip’s mouth rather than his hands that moved the silk aside, discovering the even softer silk of Shannon’s skin.

  Shannon murmured and si
ghed and shifted, lifting herself to his kisses.

  Whip hesitated and asked very softly. «Shannon?»

  Her only answer was a sigh. Except for the subtle tightening of her nipples beneath his lips, her body was still completely relaxed, trusting him in a way no one ever had.

  Even himself.

  Honey girl, how am I going to live without you?

  His tongue touched the tip of each breast. The velvety hardness of Shannon’s nipples teased his lips, silently asking for another kind of caress. He gave it to her softly, delicately, holding her within his warmth even as he tugged her nipples to hard peaks with his mouth.

  Shannon’s body moved languidly, held between the heat of Whip’s caresses and the growing heat of her dreams.

  Don’t wake up yet, sweet woman. Let me taste your dreams.

  Long fingers found and unfastened Shannon’s pants, pushing the loose fabric down her legs and over her feet. She stirred restlessly, then calmed when Whip held her close.

  «It’s just me, honey girl,» he murmured against her ear.

  Shannon made a sleepy sound and cuddled even more closely against Whip.

  He lay very still, trying to slow the savage hammering of his heart that had begun when his fingers encountered the silky underwear. He wanted to look at Shannon wearing only that bit of softness and lace. He wanted it until sweat gathered in the small of his back.

  But he wanted to touch her sleeping dreams even more.

  Whip knew if he cast off the covers so that the swelling light of dawn could bathe Shannon, she would awaken. So he held her until she lay relaxed in his arms once more. Then he eased slowly down her body beneath the blankets, his mouth following the opening in the chemise, tracing the margin between silk underwear and satin skin.

  Shannon stirred as heat flushed her body, a seething warmth that was summoned by Whip’s slow, thorough loving. She sighed and her hips moved in the languid rhythms of his caresses.

  Her sensuous response consumed Whip as softly and completely as he was consuming her. The world became infused with heat and the elemental perfume of a woman’s desire.