by Jodi Thomas
Before she could react, he twisted around and grabbed her, pinning her arms to her sides. The quick action sent them both tumbling to the grass. They rolled for several turns, and he held her closer with each twist.
A low roar seemed to echo through him as all the calmness snapped inside him.
When they stopped rolling, he was on top of her. She struggled, knowing that she could reach her knife easily, but unsure how badly she wanted to win this battle.
“I don’t care,” he said the words with such anger it frightened her.
She tried to push him away. “You’re mad!”
“I don’t care if you already love Wes,” he whispered into her hair. “I will kiss you in the light.” His mouth closed down on hers with bruising force.
The kiss was wild and hungry. She tried to push away, but he held her tightly as his mouth imprisoned all cries. He pressed his body against her, letting her feel the weight of him and his need for her. His hands moved from her arms to her hair, plowing his fingers deep into her curls, knotting her hair around his fists, demanding a kiss that had always been his for the asking.
She felt the world spinning around her, but she didn’t move as he continued to kiss her. Her arms were free, resting on the grass like a rag doll. She could push him away, but she didn’t as he rolled slightly to his side without breaking the kiss. The warm pressure of his fingers moved along her side, feeling her body with a possessive touch.
His need for her was a storm of passion and haste. He wanted to drink her in so deeply he’d never lose the taste of her. He needed to feel her so completely that his touch would linger a lifetime on her flesh. She should feel his passion and his pain as thoroughly as he felt it.
When his hand reached her Colt, he stopped suddenly and sat up, breaking the kiss so abruptly Nichole felt as though he’d taken her breath away.
“Why don’t you shoot me?” He stared away from her feeling the emptiness of the land. “Put me out of my misery. I had no right to kiss you like that, but I’ll be damned if I’ll say I’m sorry.”
She knelt behind him and gently placed her hands on his shoulders. The muscles were iron tight with only the layers of his clothes to soften them. For the first time since she’d met him, she wasn’t sure how he would react. Maybe he wasn’t a “predictable” like she thought. “I don’t love Wes,” she whispered. “And I don’t want to kill you—though you make it awfully tempting.”
His head leaned back slightly, resting on the front of her shirt. “I want to make love to you,” he whispered. “I can’t get the feel of you out of my mind . . . or the taste of you . . . the smell of you . . . the way you move. No amount of reason seems to matter. I want to make love to you until there is no one in the world but you and me.”
Nichole pulled away.
He didn’t say more as she slowly walked to the horses and caught the reins.
When she moved back to him, she said, “Follow me,” as though he’d asked for water. Without another word she climbed on her horse.
They rode southwest for a mile before she turned into a cluster of cottonwoods. “When I was walking, after the stage robbery, I found this place. I guessed town to be only a few more miles, but I needed to rest. So I stopped here for a while.”
She tied her horse in the trees and walked down a slope to a circle of blackberry bushes.
Adam followed. He wasn’t sure what she had in mind, but he had no plans of apologizing. The creek was high with spring rains. Water almost covered the huge roots of the trees as they reached down for a drink. The grass was already green, but most of the bushes were still blooming a golden red, making the stream look like it was banked by fire.
She pulled a carpetbag from one of the bushes. “I hid this here, hoping I’d get the chance to come back for it. I knew, dressed as a man, I’d cause talk if I walked into town with this carpetbag. Wolf had to pick out one with flowers on it.”
Adam watched her pat the bag as though it were an old friend she’d missed.
“Wolf bought this for me along with the dress the night I had to leave Tennessee. I cut the dress up for bandages when my hands were burned.” She opened the bag and pulled out a brush, a comb, and a bouquet of colorful ribbons. “The ladies I met along the way said I’d need these when my hair grew out.” Her hands brushed over the ribbons of velvet, silk, and lace. “In a few more months it’ll be long enough to tie back with one of these.”
Adam moved around the tiny clearing guessing that she was talking more to herself than to him. She’d picked a good place to hide. They’d crossed the stage tracks half a mile back, so she knew where she was and the trees offered her plenty of shelter. Suddenly, he realized Nick didn’t need him to take care of her. She could take care of herself. She always could. She’d proven it over and over. Did she have to slug him again to get him to see the truth?
He touched his jaw. She was no helpless woman, he admitted. She could have even stopped the kiss he’d given her anytime she’d wanted to. This last fact left him a little more unsettled.
“This is the only piece of my dress I have left.” She walked past him and dipped the material in the stream. “I thought it might help your lip.”
Adam stood frozen as she touched the cold rag to the corner of his mouth. A slight sting made him flinch, and she pulled away. Blood spotted her rag.
Touching his lip, he tasted blood for the first time. “I hadn’t noticed,” he answered as she placed the cool cloth on his mouth once more.
“Be still,” she ordered. “How can I treat you if you’re jerking all the time?”
Adam smiled. “I make a poor patient.”
“That you do.” Nichole leaned closer and lightly kissed the corner of his mouth. “There, all better.”
“Kiss me again,” he whispered as he widened his stance so that they were the same height.
She raised her arms to his neck and pressed against him as she repeated the light kiss on the corner of first one side and then the other side of his mouth.
“Again,” he asked as his hands moved over her back.
Her kiss was light, airy, irresistible.
“Take off your weapons, lady,” he requested between kisses. “You won’t be needing them for a while.”
Slowly, she lowered her arms and unbuckled her gun belt. He felt her hands moving against his abdomen as she worked. Without looking, she tossed her valued Colt in the grass a few feet away. Her knife followed.
Adam smiled as he unbuckled her belt and tugged her shirt up over her head. He’d expected to see the undergarments she’d been sleeping in, but instead were the wrappings that bound her chest tightly. Bindings like she’d worn the first night they’d met.
His hand slid along the cotton until he felt the end tucked beneath her ribs. Slowly, he unwrapped her, feeling her breasts swell with each layer removed. When he pulled the cotton away, he let his hand pass over her chest, feeling more of her warmth with each layer.
When the last strap fell away, Nichole took a deep breath and Adam lowered his head to taste what he’d uncovered.
She cried out in surprise as his wet mouth closed over her warm flesh. But his hands around her waist held her steady as he drew her tender breast into his mouth. She arched back giving herself fully to his need.
Gently, he lowered her beside the water and continued to taste her. She relaxed as her surprise turned to pleasure, filling her with a warmth and a need for more.
When he finally returned to her mouth he kissed her lightly, whispering how much he enjoyed the warm taste of her breasts and how he planned to kiss far more than her lips in the sunlight of this day. As his kiss lengthened, his hands moved over her, stroking with long, possessive movements. Each time his fingers reached her pants, he shoved them lower, baring more skin to his touch.
She sighed into his mouth as he pushed the trousers bel
ow her hips and covered her bare flesh with his hands. Trying to stop the world from spinning, she closed her eyes and stretched against his touch. The earth was solid beneath her back, the sun warm on her skin and his touch was heaven.
Moving over her slowly, kissing her lightly, caressing every part of her, he convinced her of how dearly he treasured her. She knew nothing of making love, but she knew he was somehow performing a timeless ritual, preparing her for what was to come . . . preparing her body for mating.
She loved each touch as she’d loved every touch he’d given her. Slowly, she grew used to the way his hands dug into her hair pulling it gently, and the way his mouth closed over her breasts with a greater hunger to taste each time, and how he kissed her as if there would never be another time or place for them.
Pulling off his shirt, he pressed his chest against her. As the material moved away, replacing cotton with flesh, she laughed with pure joy.
The feel of his skin touching hers as he removed her clothing brought a new warmth inside her. She moaned in pleasure and arched to meet him, loving the way the soft hair across his body tickled her skin. Loving the feel of him fully over her.
The more he felt her move beneath him, the more he needed her. His kisses were deep and wild one minute and tender the next. She was a need so deep he’d spend a lifetime trying to satisfy and finally die still wanting more.
He fumbled with his trousers, then leaned his face against her hair. For a moment, he seemed to hesitate, unsure.
She reached for him, pulling him close, knowing that this was what had to be from the time they’d met.
Slowly, he lowered his body over her, covering her like a warm blanket, welcoming her to the home of his arms. He moved above her allowing her to grow accustomed to the feel of him. His body was lean and strong and warm as he pressed her against the earth, rocking her world with each slight shift.
His breathing grew rapid and irregular in the hollow of her neck as his hands closed over the top of her legs and he pulled them apart. When she resisted, his mouth covered hers and silently asked again. After several deep kisses, his hand moved once more to her legs and she let him part them without hesitation.
Biting her lips, she felt a sudden pain shoot through her as he entered her, hard and fast. His hands held her shoulders as she cried out but he didn’t stop. He pushed again and again.
For a few minutes, she drifted with the pain, then his mouth covered hers once more with a warm kiss that told her all would be right. She didn’t move as he continued kissing her, touching her breasts, filling her with passion.
Tears came to her eyes. She knew he was making love to her. And she wanted him to as she had from the first, but no one had told her of the pain. Now she understood what men meant when they said they “took a woman,” for he was taking her. He was pressing into her very soul, touching her as no man ever had, or ever would again. This gentle man, with all his kindness and goodness, was taking her with hard, demanding strokes. And she was letting him.
Then, from deep inside she felt it, a stirring rumbling through her body like a landslide rolling slowly at first, only pebbles, then turning to a great avalanche. Suddenly, his kisses were fire and his touch pure pleasure. She shifted with him, feeling the movement inside her like a mighty stampede running wild over her senses, awakening every feeling, every joy. She wrapped her arms around him and fully gave herself over to the pleasure.
Suddenly, she was taking all he offered and begging for more.
The very center of her body exploded, sending out lightning bolts in every direction. She cried out his name and fell back to earth only to find his arms caught her.
For a long while, he held her. Stroking her hair, brushing his fingers gently over her breasts, cupping his hand along her hip. She closed her eyes and let him touch her. There had been so little touching in her life. His hands made her feel beautiful and cherished.
When she moved her leg, he mumbled an oath and rolled away.
Opening her eyes, she watched him pick up the rag she’d used on his lip. His tall lean body reminded her of a wild animal as he knelt by the stream and washed the cloth.
When he returned, she closed her eyes pretending sleep. Gently, his hand touched her knee. He raised her leg slightly and placed the cloth between her legs where the pain had been.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he whispered as he stretched beside her once more and kissed her cheek.
His words were haunted with sadness.
“You didn’t,” she lied, but the blood on her leg told the truth.
They lay in the sun for a long while, their bodies warm and wet with sweat. Finally, she stretched against him, shoving her damp hair out of her face.
“I guess we both could use a bath.” He stood and reached for her. “We’d best be getting back to town.”
“A bath sounds wonderful.” She laughed, coming awake in an instant. When his hand touched hers, she shoved him backward into the stream.
Adam sank beneath the water with a mighty splash. When he surfaced, he was laughing and spitting water. “Help,” he shouted. “I can’t swim.”
She didn’t believe his cry for a moment, but she offered her assistance knowing he’d pull her into the water that ran crystal clear three feet above sparkling rocks.
It was two hours before they stopped splashing and fighting enough to declare a truce and dress. As she dressed, he undressed her, loving the way she played as wholeheartedly as she made love. By the time they were respectable looking, he was already hungry for her beneath him again and her eyes spoke of the same longing.
He took a step.
“No,” she held up a hand, “we have to get back. Everyone will be looking for us.”
Adam pulled his passion in check. “I can wait.”
“I’ll not come to your bed tonight. I’ll sleep in my own,” she teased.
“Then I’ll come to you, but you’ll not sleep.” He offered his hand. “Until tonight.”
She accepted his hand. “Until tonight.”
They rode back to town in a comfortable silence.
The afternoon was bright with spring and all the world seemed right for Adam for the first time in years. Since they may have caught the men who robbed and burned the stage, there was no reason for Nichole to hide. He was looking forward to seeing the expression on Bergette’s face when she discovered a woman had been hiding out in his room. If the news didn’t send her packing, Nichole had suggested several ways to encourage her to go, one more outrageous than the next.
He wanted to do the everyday things with Nick, like sit on the porch at sundown or drink coffee at the kitchen table without worrying that someone might come in. He wanted to go for rides at sunrise and sleep in a bed with her nude body wrapped around him.
Adam was still laughing when he opened his office door and found Sister Celestine sitting at his desk with a rifle across her lap.
“Sister?” he asked as Nichole followed him inside.
The nun stood slowly, cradling the rifle in her arms as though she’d done so many times. “Doctor,” she announced without emotion, “we’ve got an outbreak of trouble around the place.”
Nichole lowered her gun belt from her shoulder.
Rose entered at full run from the examining room. She held a butcher knife in each hand. Her thick curly hair had fallen from its bun, making her look very much like a pirate. “Who—”
She froze when she saw Adam and Nichole. Slowly lowering her knives, she whispered, “Thank the Lord, you’re back.”
“You may say that again, Sister Rose.” The nun raised her chin to attention. “Reinforcements have arrived.”
TWENTY-TWO
GLANCING AT THE woman he had just spent the morning making passionate love to, Adam tried to adjust his mood and his eyes to the muted light of his office. Little remained of the beau
tiful, funny, sexy woman he’d held only an hour ago. She’d been replaced by a warrior he hardly recognized. Her body had hardened to stone, her wonderful green eyes darkened with purpose. The holster she’d carried lightly over her shoulder was strapped around her waist. The transformation was complete.
“Stay away from the windows,” Rose whispered as though someone outside might hear her. “We’ve been shot at several times since noon.”
“What is going on?” Adam looked directly at Sister Cel, knowing she’d be miserly with the answers.
“Charles and Lily are covering the back. Nance boarded up the windows in your rooms. Bergette and Mrs. Jamison are safe upstairs judging from the crying.” Even Sister Cel was adopting Nichole’s stance. Only she looked more like heaven’s warrior than one on earth. “We’ve secured the perimeters as much as possible, Doctor.”
“Start at the beginning and tell me what happened.” Adam kept his voice calm though panic spread across his brain like bindweed as he moved around the room counting bullet holes in his windowpanes.
“I’ll tell you what happened.” Rose bobbed up and down between the windows as she crossed the room, following the doctor like some crazed jack-in-the-box pull toy. “All hell’s done broke loose, that’s what’s happened. But don’t you worry none, we’re going to fight to win. Remember the Alamo!”
“They all died at the Alamo,” Adam stated, wondering if Rose and the nun had downed all his supply of medicinal whiskey.
Rose reached him trying to stare him down from her foot shorter disadvantage. “Well, it’s the only battle cry I know. I say we fight to the death if we have to just like old Davy Jones did.”
“It was Davy Crockett, Rose,” Sister Cel interrupted. “I remember someone saying he was the oldest Texan to die at the mission. Old Davy.”
