by Nan Ryan
The soft sound of his sucking was somehow powerfully erotic and Natalie thrilled to this intimate language of loving and pressed her swelling breasts ever closer to the heat and hunger of his mustached mouth.
When he'd caressed her breasts until they were tender and swollen, and tingling from his kisses, the bearded stranger sat her up, gently pushing her down onto his hard thighs. Then he sat up also and managed… she'd always wonder how… to undress her, and himself, sitting there in the middle of the bed.
When her bare knee came down upon the discarded Colt, Natalie winced aloud. He lowered the gun to the floor and raised her knee to his mouth. "Baby," he said soothingly, his lips and tongue vigorously kissing her injured knee.
Within minutes, still sitting astride him, Natalie was unashamedly naked and so was he. For a time they simply luxuriated in that newfound freedom, gently touching, exploring, appreciating the vast differences between their unclothed bodies.
While his hands swept gently over her slim, satiny shoulders, down the delicate curve of her back and to her flaring hips, his lips sprinkled kisses upon her temple, her hair, her nose.
She smiled dreamily in the darkness and let her searching fingers contour Ins strong male shoulders and scarred, muscular back. With her fingertips she traced the satiny ribbons that marred his smooth brown flesh.
"You're beautiful," he murmured, his tongue worrying her left earlobe.
She purred deep in her throat. "How would you know?" she questioned softly, letting her head fall back. "You can't see me."
His mouth slid down the side of her throat. "Ah, but I can," he drawled. And as his hands caressed her bare, slender curves, he clearly envisioned her flawless, alabaster skin, her huge emerald eyes and long, lustrous golden-red hair, and her upturned nose and soft pink lips. Oh, yes, he could see her as surely as if bright sunlight were flooding the adobe.
With his tongue he touched the rapidly beating pulse in her throat and repeated, "I can see you."
Natalie's hands tightened on his muscular shoulders as he began to slowly lift her up, his mouth never leaving her flesh.
She felt his hot lips once again upon her breasts and bit her lip with pleasure.
His mouth lingered but a short time and moved on down her rib cage even as his strong hands pushed her upward. She was kneeling then astride him, her breath growing short, her head spinning.
And still he kissed and lifted her, hands firmly gripping her narrow, naked waist.
"No… no…" she weakly protested as his mouth played provocatively upon her quivering stomach, moving lower and lower. She felt her knees leave the mattress as he lifted her higher. "No…" she murmured breathlessly, "no please… you must stop… please stop… oh… oh… oh, God, don't ever stop."
She was standing now, his sure hands clutching her hips. And he was caressing her knees and thighs and belly, his lips tasting and his tongue stroking, silky beard tickling her flesh. Her whole body ignited with incredible, consuming heat and she felt she could wait not one second longer for him to give her what her body cried out for. A sob of pain and pleasure was building deep within her and every muscle in her tense body was straining.
And finally, in answer to her craving, undulating body, his lips moved to that throbbing, most feminine part of her, and the grateful sob tore from her throat.
His mouth dazzled her as he pressed his bearded face between her parted legs, closer, deeper, sweeter, until he was buried in her, licking, lapping, loving her with endless caresses of fire.
Her body aflame, and the pressure inside it building, Natalie clung to his thick dark hair and pressed her burning pelvis to his experienced mouth. Never in all of her life had she felt as she did at this moment. Never in the years she'd been married had her husband loved her in the way this dark outlaw was now pleasuring her. Never before had she surrendered so completely, so brazenly, to the fleshly delights of raw, uninhibited sex.
She did this night.
She clung to his dark hair and tossed her head wildly, rocking forward against him. She moaned and sighed and urged him on, begging for more in a low voice that sent the blood pounding in his ears so that he felt he might completely devour her, so aroused was his passion.
And then it began.
That wrenching, tearing, exquisite release that caused the breath to catch in Natalie's chest. She looked down upon the naked man she could not see and her shoulders slumped forward, her knees buckling under her.
But for him, she would have fallen. While his knowing mouth stayed fused to her source of joy, his strong hands held her fast, until her out-of-this-world climax was completed and she was drained and limp against him.
Only then did he lift his head and gently fold her body down next to his. She looked at his face. And she could see him. Through the duck darkness she was able to make out his gleaming blue eyes and gleaming wet lips before he kissed her with a tenderness as devastating as the wild loving had been.
She was his then.
Whatever he wanted to do. Whatever he wanted her to do. She was willing, eager, and as passionate and bold as he. When he laid her upon the bed and stretched out beside her, he took her small hand and placed it upon his throbbing erection. She sighed and brazenly caressed him, thrilling to the sounds of his deep groans.
In the darkness she leaned over him, and let her long, loose hair tickle his furred chest and flat belly. He groaned aloud when she bent to him and kissed his hard, male flesh with soft lips and teasing tongue. He could stand the sweet joy for only a short time before he grabbed her up, kissed her deeply, and pressed her down upon her back.
Shifting quickly over her, he drove into her with sure, deep thrusts and felt her soft, moist flesh close tightly around him. As though they were made for each other, they moved in slow, graceful splendor, their damp bodies slipping and sliding sensuously together until the supreme sexual pleasure they found in each other pushed them at last into the fast, frenzied movements that led to total blinding ecstasy. And so it was all that long, dark, steamy night.
The imminent danger they faced added a distinct urgency and total abandon to their couplings. Again and again they surrendered to raw, unrestrained passion, each pushing the other to new heights of rapture, each greedy for gratification, reaching out to take all the bliss the other could offer, and delighting in the giving of joy in return.
Deep in the dead of that strange, hot night, Natalie, naked and sated, lay in the arms of the bearded outlaw, her cheek pressed against his muscular, bare shoulder.
Drifting toward peaceful, much needed slumber, she pressed a kiss to his broad chest, and giggled when the crisp hair that covered it tickled her sensitive nose. She hugged him tighter and slid a long, slender leg over his hard abdomen. And she wondered.
Who was her dark, bearded lover?
Then his strong brown hands were lifting her and his mouth was back on hers and she didn't care who he was. She sighed and climbed astride him.
Once again they made love, unseeing, under the pitch-black cloak of darkness.
Chapter Three
High in the Colorado Rockies a full harvest moon shone brightly, bathing the shimmering summits and lush valleys in silvery light. Towering peaks of the 14,000-foot mountains glowed with a radiance, and the thick, fragrant flora clinging to their sides sparkled dazzlingly in the moonlight.
At Cloud West, the high meadow ranch located at the 9,000-foot level of Promontory Point's soaring western face, the sprawling white ranch house took on a luminous incandescence. Inside the comfortable, well-maintained house the moon's brilliant beams streamed through every tall window, and every skylight, leaving hardly an inch of hardwood floor unlighted, few corners untouched.
Upstairs, in a large white-walled and white-carpeted bedroom, Natalie Vallance lay naked on her white, silk-hung bed, her slender ivory body brightly illuminated. And Natalie felt as though the lustrous, vivid light exposing her body lay bare her guilty soul as well.
She folded a slender ar
m beneath her head and let her eyes slip from the gathered white canopy overhead to her undraped alabaster body. Her face flamed crimson in the white light. She longed for the darkness; the thick, oppressive blackness that had so completely covered her shame on that hot, hot night she could not erase from her memory.
She let a trembling hand trail down over her narrow waist and flat belly as thoughts of a dark, bearded stranger intruded once again into her well-disciplined, carefully planned life. Fingertips gliding over her flesh, she relived—as she'd done so many times—her shameful, and uncharacteristically wanton, behavior on that dark, strange night she'd spent with the outlaw.
Natalie told herself none of it would have happened if the moon had been shining brightly on that fateful night. It was that damnable caressing darkness that had made her cast away all inhibition and logic, and drown in a dark sea of desire.
Natalie rolled into a fetal position on the silky white sheets as the recollection of the wild mating and timely rescue caused a tightness in her naked chest. She'd fallen asleep there in the outlaw's arms in the darkness. He'd shaken her awake sometime later, saying, "Get dressed, I hear horse's hooves."
Disoriented and fearful, she'd struggled with the tiny buttons on her bodice as the first faint gray of dawn seeped in through the windows. Twisting her long red hair on top of her head, she watched the tall stranger finish buttoning his black shirt, pick up the Winchester, and go out into the dim morning light.
Shed opened her mouth to call to him, but said nothing.
A detail of soldiers from Fort Garland galloped up to the station and dismounted. When Natalie came out onto the stone porch, she saw two sergeants tying the dark, bearded man's wrists behind him. Then they escorted him to a horse.
She heard little of what the solicitous lieutenant beside her said. Intently she watched the tall, lean bandit, flanked by two soldiers, walk away from her. He'd not so much as turned his dark head to give her one last glance. Mounted on a big gray gelding led by the junior officer, he rode into the rapidly rising sun.
"… and you're most fortunate, ma'am, to be alive. He's killed before." Natalie felt heartsick and remorseful, and strangely lonely.
It had meant so little to him, he'd not even looked back… not even looked back… not even looked back. That hurtful thought kept crowding out all the others. It seemed impossible to Natalie that a man—even a hardened criminal—could make love to her the way the tall bearded bandit had and walk away without looking back.
Natalie shook her head to clear him from her thoughts. She had to forget about their night of loving, pretend it never happened. If only she could convince herself it was just as she'd told everyone: The wanted man had fought off the Apaches until night fell and they rode away. Then he'd stood watch while she slept. Dawn came, the soldiers rescued them and took the man away. There was nothing more to it.
Natalie sat up and slid her long, bare legs over the edge of the bed. She rose and walked across the deep white carpet to the tall glass-doored armoire. Drawing out a white satin chemise, she jerked it down over her head, feeling an overwhelming desire to hide her nakedness. She knew it was illogical, but she was sure her body looked different now, as if the dark man had left his mark on it.
Natalie trembled and she wished for the darkness—that sweet, cloaking, secretive blackness that hid shameful indiscretions so well. And the guilt that inevitably followed.
A thousand feet below Natalie's beloved Cloud West ranch, Cloudcastle's lights twinkled like a fine jeweled necklace on a bed of dark green velvet. Tucked between the mammoth Promontory Point to the east and the majestic Lone Cave Peak to the west, the sparkling alpine village was nestled in the wide natural valley, from foothill to foothill.
Ten miles northeast of the town, Mount Sneffels rose to an imposing height, while ten miles due south, Mount Wilson, at 14,246 feet, surpassed all the others, making it one of the tallest in the San Juan range, topped only by Uncompahgre.
At the grandest mansion in all of Cloudcastle, a slim, aristocratic-looking man slipped his long arms into a fine, well-cut evening coat. He stepped closer to the free-standing gold-framed mirror and meticulously tied his striped silk cravat.
Lord Ashlin Blackmore, Cloudcastle's most illustrious citizen, a British earl, had migrated to the small mountain city by way of Denver. Leaving his native England with the last of his inheritance, the handsome blond man sought adventure and opportunity in a brash new land.
He had arrived in Cloudcastle on the hot July 4 of 1870, telling one and all he'd come as an agent for the proposed Denver-Pacific Railroad. He wished to purchase right-of-way acreage. He'd bought no land, but he had immediately won the hearts, and the trust, of the citizenry of the bustling gold-mining town. Quick to claim residence, Lord Blackmore promptly purchased the city's most imposing house.
Located at the very end of South Main Street on a natural rise overlooking the well-planned, attractive hamlet, the Blackmore residence had been built a decade before by a silver baron who'd since gone bankrupt and departed. Times had been flush when the imposing Victorian mansion was constructed, and no expense had been spared.
The spacious living room on the upper floor boasted a large bay window that provided a spectacular view of the lofty mountain peaks as well as the storybook village below. It was to this room that Lord Blackmore went to await the arrival of his guest.
Glorious moonlight washed over the European statuary, the mahogany spinet, and the tapestry-covered French sofas and armchairs, as well as the brocatelle draperies and lace curtains gracing tall floor-to-ceiling windows and double doors thrown open to the warm, dry mountain air.
He was standing there at the doors, blond hair looking silver in the moon's glow, his lips curving into a smile beneath his straight, patrician nose, when the carnage turned into the drive. Lord Blackmore saw the gleaming black coach come to a stop in the circular pebbled driveway below. He took a drink of burgundy and his smile broadened.
She stepped down from the carnage and into the moon-light Her golden-red hair shone with highlights while the turquoise satin gown she wore lightened to a soft aqua in the pale, penetrating light. She lifted her skirts and turned to look up, and the earl's breath caught in his chest. Her flawless white skin was pearlized; her emerald eyes flashed and her dewy mouth was red and gleaming.
In seconds she was ushered into the room and into his arms. Lord Blackmore embraced the beautiful woman and said into her ear, "My dear, you grow more beautiful each day. Each night. Come, I shall pour you a glass of wine and we'll enjoy the view for a time before dinner."
Natalie smiled and fought down the puzzling desire she felt to pull away from his arms, to rush out of the room, back to the seclusion and privacy of Cloud West, She stood with her cheek pressed to the immaculate white shirt covering Lord Blackmore's chest, and felt his lips upon her hair, his soft hands gently pressing the bare flesh atop the low-cut back of her turquoise satin gown. It was all she could do to keep from shouting, "Don't touch me; take your hands off me."
She did not.
She remained passively still in his embrace until he at last released her, set her back, and looked down at her, his hands lightly gripping her shoulders. Brown eyes troubled, he said softly, "My love, you're not yourself I can't help but wonder…" His voice dropped lower. "Are you sure that outlaw didn't harm…"
Natalie shrugged from his grasp and turned away, afraid the answer was written all too clearly in her eyes. "Ashlin, you've asked me that several times." She strolled toward the front bay window. "For the last time, the man never touched."—she hesitated, then hurried on—"never harmed me. Please don't speak of it again."
"I'm sorry, love." He came to her, gliding his fingertips over her satiny white shoulder, and assured, "We shan't speak of it ever again, I promise." He leaned down to kiss the shoulder he was touching and Natalie instinctively flinched. Lord Blackmore straightened, cleared his throat, and said, "May I offer you burgundy, my dear."
"Y
es, Ashlin, thank you." She sauntered closer to the gleaming bay window. Her emerald eyes swept over the village below. Shimmering in the moonlight, Cloudcastle was a fairyland with twinkling lights, wide tree-lined avenues, and attractive Victorian buildings. Against the breathtaking backdrop of the towering San Juans, she could pick out the opulent, marble-fronted Eureka Hotel and adjoining Gaiety's Gaming Hall, where lights blazed from every Portal. And across the street was the ornate Cloudcastle Opera House with its turrets and gables and balconies. The tall spire of the First Presbyterian Church with its gold-capped bell tower glittered in the moonlight.
The newspaper office, the Federal Land Office, Gallen's Dry Goods, the firehouse, numerous shops, the apothecary and Dr. Ellroy's office.
Her eyes settled on the newly built white Castleton County Courthouse. Almost immediately her gaze shifted to the sturdy, two-celled jailhouse across from the courthouse. There was activity there; several own, some mounted, others on foot, were congregated in front of the small building. It was too far may for her to make out any faces.
"Darling." Lord Blackmore was at her side, a glass of burgundy in his outstretched hand. "What intrigues you so?" He smiled and put a gentle hand on her nape.
"Nothing really," Natalie responded. "Just some sort of action down at the jail and I wondered…"
"Please, Natalie." He set the wine aside and drew her into his arms. "Forget the activity. Forget the jail." He slowly lowered his golden head and covered her lips with his own, pulling her closer. "Know only the jail of my encircling arms, my beautiful Natalie, my precious fiancée."
Joe South, Castleton County's most frequently jailed citizen, blinked and sat up on his bunk when the door of his cell swung open to admit a new prisoner. Roused from a drunken slumber, the frail, sleepy Joe rubbed his eyes, scratched at an itchy underarm, and studied the tall, silent man through bleary, unfocused eyes.
