by Nan Ryan
Marge lifted her head. Her eyes sought Kane's. She trusted this hard man. He was telling the truth. Her lovely, retarded Belinda would be safe with this dark, handsome stranger. She was sure of it.
Natalie felt better after telling Tahomah of Kane Covington and his deed to Treasure Mountain. And she felt a measure of relief when the old shaman shook his gray head and said in that gruff, fatherly voice, "Do not worry, Fire-in-the-Snow. This Kane does not know of the gold." His glittery eyes shone in the firelight. "And if he finds it… remember that no white eyes takes the gold and lives."
For the remainder of the evening the two of them enjoyed each other's company. They shared a tasty meal of roasted elk, and when Natalie drowsily snuggled down into her bed of furs across the dying fire from Tahomah, she felt safe and unworried, just as she always had with the wise medicine man.
It was late morning when she awakened. She stretched lazily, glad there was no rush to get home. Her day was free; she had no cases on the docket. She could enjoy a leisurely ride back to Cloud West and be well rested and at her best for Ashlin's return from Denver come midafternoon.
Shortly after lunch, Natalie embraced old Tahomah, buckled the gunbelt around her hips, mounted her stallion, and rode away. Blaze picked his way carefully among boulders and steep, narrow passageways, weaving in and out of the. shadowy, rugged cliffs and scarps above timberline.
It was cool and dim inside the fissures of the great peaks, but once Natalie and Blaze emerged into the harsh grandeur of flat, barren rock below the veiling clouds of the summits, a fierce sun beat down. The intense sunlight was so severe, Natalie could feel its stinging heat on her bare head and perspiration beginning under the heavy poncho. Wrapping the mount's reins around the saddle horn, Natalie drew off the woolen garment, turned, and tied it behind the cantle.
Shedding the poncho helped little. Natalie was still warm. She was wearing the top half of men's heavy underwear, and she couldn't take it off because there was nothing beneath it. Plucking at the itchy, clinging cotton, Natalie adjusted the hot leather gunbelt and ran a hand across her warm face. She sighed, knowing she'd be perspiring heavily by the time she reached the welcome canopy of the dense mountain forest below.
An idea took hold. Natalie smiled. She could alter her course slightly and ride up to Turquoise Lake. She kicked Blaze into a trot, her mind made up. Eager to reach the cold glacial waters of the ice-carved basin, Natalie was already debating with herself whether, once there, she'd merely sip some of the cold waters and dash some on her steaming face, or if she would pull off her tight boots, roll her up leather trousers, and wade for a while. It was a pleasant dilemma.
Natalie was disagreeably hot by the time she reached the clear, jewel-like tarn. Her face was flushed; a sheen covered her throat and the scratchy undershirt clung to her. Dismounting well below the lake, Natalie tied Blaze to the one lonely pine struggling to survive high on this rocky point. She unsaddled the big stallion, patted his sleek, hot neck, and hurried away.
Busily flipping open the top buttons of her undershirt, Natalie climbed agilely up a barren, windswept conelike ridge, stopped, and gasped in horrified shock. Mind and muscle paralyzed, Natalie stood openmouthed, staring.
Below her, on the opposite side of the Turquoise tarn, ankle-deep in the shallow water, stood Kane Covington. As naked as the day he was born.
His dark, lean body glistened in the strong sunlight. He stood unmoving, a living bronzed statue poised in a pool of vivid turquoise. Natalie's shocked eyes clung to the bare length of his body and she grew breathless, unable to move or to look away.
Terrified he would glance up unexpectedly and see her, Natalie was in agony; she could neither safely leave nor stay. Damn you, Covington, dive in, she said to him mentally. Are you afraid of water? Dive in and let me escape. Please!
Kane moved, but he did not dive into the water. He slowly twisted his torso first one way, then the other and turned so that he was more fully facing her. Natalie's misery increased.
Heart now thundering in her chest, Natalie, amazed that he'd not raised his dark head and caught her, stared unblinkingly at the naked male body whose every plane and hollow her hands had once explored in the warm darkness.
God he was magnificent!
Muscular arms and shoulders had a sculpted, marble appearance. Chest, deep and wide, was covered with a dense growth of coal-black hair where crystals of water, clinging to the thick curls, glistened in the glaring sunlight. That dark, dark hair narrowed to a thick, straight line going down his hard abdomen and flat belly to widen again at his groin.
Natalie commanded her eyes to leave that most private part of his splendid anatomy: that virile maleness that caused her throat to so dry, her stomach to contract, her knees to grow watery.
She tore her gaze from that which he was so innocently displaying and noted the white scars across his smooth, deeply tanned back. Vividly she remembered how those three satiny ribbons dissecting his flesh had felt beneath her fingertips. Beneath her lips.
Water was dripping in rivulets down his shimmering hard buttocks; the dusting of dark hair on his long, well-shaped legs clung to his hard thighs and muscular calves. He'd obviously been in the water before. Why, oh, why, didn't he go back in.
Dive in! Dear God, dive in and let me escape. It won't take me a second to hurry back over the ridge. I'll be gone by the time you clear the surface and you'll never know. I've been here… never know I've seen you like this. Dive in, Covington, I beg you!
Kane didn't dive.
He lifted long arms up, folded them behind his head, and drew in a slow, deep breath. And Natalie watched, fascinated, as his wet, wide chest swelled with indrawn air and his stomach became concave beneath his rib cage. He stood there like that, his long legs apart and his eyes closed and Natalie's attention was once again drawn to that masculine flesh that could give such wild, wild pleasure.
She could feel the heat of the sun beating down on her head; the temperature of her body rising feverishly, an ache starting deep inside that she recognized as a threatening physical hunger. A hunger for Kane Covington.
Dive, you sensuous son of a bitch!
Kane's long arm slowly unfolded. He stretched them high above his head, and clasped his hands together. He raised himself on tiptoe. He remained motionless for an instant, then dived gracefully into the turquoise waters, piercing the cold depths with poised precision, disappearing immediately, sending tiny ripples spreading in an outward circle on the placid surface of the lake.
Stifling a cry of relief, Natalie whirled and ran up the cone-like rocky embankment. She topped the granite ridge and scampered over its side, sliding, slipping, hurrying to get out of sight. She had escaped.
Natalie halted, caught her breath, and waited. And while she waited, her indignation steadily grew. Kane Covington was swimming naked in her favorite tarn on her private property, and she deeply resented it!
When her breathing had slowed to normal and she no longer heard the splashing of water, Natalie waited a few more minutes. Then, instinctively touching the revolver, she turned and started back toward the tarn.
She made as much noise as possible, purposely kicking at boulders while she hummed loudly. She would give him plenty of time to know that someone was coming… ample time to get fully dressed.
Natalie topped the rise and encountered him standing on the near bank, wearing only a pair of close-fitting denim pants that were not yet buttoned up over his belly. Her humming ceased and, feigning great surprise, Natalie stopped, glared at him, and said in a cold, cutting voice, "Mr. Covington, you'll have to go at once. You are trespassing!"
"Really?" Kane fixed her with those bold blue eyes and his wet, sensual lips turned up into a mocking smile. "Why didn't you serve your warrant when you were here a moment ago, Your Honor?"
Natalie's jaw dropped. Shock was quickly replaced with fury, and she snapped. "Why didn't you acknowledge my presence?"
Kane chuckled and started toward h
er, long fingers raking the thick wet hair back off his face. "Why didn't you acknowledge mine?" Before she could reply, he added devilishly, "You examined me thoroughly. Do I please you?"
Natalie smirked hatefully. "You flatter yourself, Covington. I was merely—"
"Seeing if it looked as good as it felt in the darkness?" he taunted.
Natalie's face reddened, but her delicate jaw hardened. "Let me repeat, Mr. Covington, you are trespassing on my property and I want you to leave. I'll give you exactly five minutes to finish dressing and get out of here!"
Unruffled, Kane, moving catlike on bare, brown feet across the sunbaked rock, neared her, his naked, wet shoulders shimmering in the sunlight. Natalie felt a sudden weakness.
"Your Honor," he said in that gentle drawl of his, "it's you who are trespassing, not I."
"I?" she said indignantly. "This is Turquoise Lake, Covington. Within the boundaries of Cloud West and… and…"It was dawning anew. She was above the timberline of Promontory Point. This portion of Cloud West no longer belonged to her.
Kane was shaking his wet head. "That's correct, Your Honor. You're standing on my land." He lifted a bare shoulder. "My lake."
Natalie felt a trickle of perspiration coursing down the valley between her breasts. A headache was beginning behind her eyes. And her hatred for this dark southern man was steadily growing. She glared at him when he said, "Not to worry, though. I'll be more than happy to share the lake with you." His blue eyes widened a trifle as they swept over her slender body. "Why don't you shed those hot clothes. I'll give you a nice cold bath and then make love to you." He moved steadily nearer.
Furious, Natalie warned, "Don't take another step."
"Or you'll what?" Kane tortured.
As swiftly as any dangerous gunslinger, Natalie whipped the .38 revolver from its holster and leveled it on him. "Or I'll blow your arrogant southern head off."
Kane never hesitated. He continued to come, his eyes flickering for an instant, more with excitement than with fear. He felt the slight hardening of his body inside his pants as he approached this angry, flame-haired female whose glacial, green-eyed beauty was somehow strangely enhanced by the threat of danger she posed.
He recalled with vivid clarity the way she had coolly fired and killed Apaches at Spanish Widow. She was now training her gun on his bare belly. Would she pull the trigger?
"I mean it, Covington," Natalie said contemptuously. "Take one more step and I'll fire." Kane took another step.
Natalie's finger tightened on the trigger of the .38. Her breasts heaved beneath her undershirt and she bit the fleshy underside of her bottom lip until she tasted blood. A cornered lioness, Natalie Vallance was dangerous.
Kane stood directly before her, so close, the steel barrel of her gun was only inches from his bare stomach. His eyes held hers for a moment, then lowered to settle on her mouth. Natalie felt her gun hand tremble.
Kane smiled triumphantly. And he slowly bent over and kissed the shaking hand that held the revolver. His warm lips sprinkled soft kisses over her white, fragile knuckles, the smooth back of her hand, the inside of her wrist, while Natalie, stunned and speechless, stared at the back of his dark, wet head.
Of its own volition, her hand, with the revolver still clutched tightly in it, began slowly to lower. Kane raised his head to look at her. His blue eyes flamed and a shiver skipped up Natalie's spine.
"Kiss me, Your Honor," Kane murmured huskily, and leaned close.
Natalie's free hand shot out and shoved his dampened chest. "Kiss your?" she shrieked, "you're lucky I didn't kill you!"
"You desired me when I was a bearded outlaw," he reminded her, "I'm the same man who—"
"Don't speak to me of that night! It's past and forgotten and—"
"Justice Vallance," he drawled lazily, "you haven't forgotten, nor have I. We're out here alone… on my land… you needn't pretend with me."
"Pretend?" She was almost shouting as she looked up at that smooth, sunburned face with its sharp, chiseled features and burning blue eyes. "I am not pretending! Get this through your thick Rebel skull, I do not want you!"
His dark eyebrows lifted skeptically. "Don't add perjury to trespassing. You want me."
"No, I don't!" she assured him haughtily, insanely noting the way his long, wet eyelashes clung together.
Kane grinned knowingly down at her. And with a movement so swift, it rendered her powerless, his deft hands jerked the tail of her thick cotton undershirt from out of her tight trousers, shoving it up under her arms. Her full, creamy breasts spilled out to him, but Kane's eyes remained locked with hers. His long arm encircled her and he pressed her against his lean frame.
"Feel my heart beat against yours and then tell me you don't want me," he commanded, and Natalie winced as her bare breasts were flattened against damp, crisp hair and hard muscle. She swallowed, too surprised to speak, to think, to move. His heart thundered with her own, thrilling her, exciting her.
His eyes, those deep, mysterious cobalt eyes, seemed to look right into her soul, and he said huskily, "You want me, Your Honor. Just as I want you."
"No… no, I don't," she murmured weakly, and squirmed with mingled emotions when his mouth sank down to hers.
Kane kissed her, but her mouth stayed closed and trembling beneath his searching lips. Desperately fighting the white-hot passions flaring within her, Natalie turned her face away to escape his plundering, passionate mouth. It did little good. His hand came up to cradle her head against his warm, slick throat, and above her ear he ordered enticingly, "Let yourself go. Let's do the things we did at Spanish Widow in the darkness. No one will ever know."
"You… you're making me wet," she whispered insanely.
"I'll make you wet in more places than one," he growled, and Natalie felt the tightness rapidly building in her lower belly, her breasts swelling painfully against his hair-roughened chest, nipples taut with desire.
Why did she continue to stand here, half naked, against this man who obviously had not a shred of respect for her, a man who was her enemy, a reckless southerner who'd taken her beloved land. "You are disgusting and dirty," she said feebly, feeling the same wild rush of sexual excitement she'd experienced at Spanish Widow.
"Be disgusting and dirty with me, Justice," he said, seeming to read her thoughts. Gently he pulled her head away from his shoulder, tipped her chin up, and said throatily, "Kiss me, baby. Kiss me."
His mouth slowly settled on hers and it was just as it had been at Spanish Widow. Kane caressed, molded, tasted her lips with he art-stopping tenderness, gently persuading, expertly enticing, silently seducing. Natalie was powerless—just as before—against such exquisite lovemaking. His lips were smooth and surprisingly soft, the kiss like a slow, sure fire burning its way through her.
"Ah, baby," he groaned just as his kiss deepened. His mouth was on hers again and Natalie could no longer fight it. With a soft sigh of resignation, her lips parted to accept his hot, thrusting tongue and Kane trembled as his long arms went around her to mold her slim body to his.
Here under the burning Colorado sun, Kane's thrilling, ardent kisses set Natalie aflame, just as they had on that dark, hot night. She anxiously returned his caress, her tongue seeking his, her fingers trailing over the harsh planes of his handsome face, her body pressing eagerly to the hard, inviting length of his.
"Baby," he said when at last their lips parted, "say you want me. Tell me." His lips played on her temple.
"No," she gasped, awed by the powerful passions claiming her, "I don't… I can't…" His lips stifled her protests.
And he murmured into her mouth, "It's all right, baby, all right," before he kissed her again.
Kane stood, legs apart, mouth devouring the sweetness of hers, hands cupping her soft, rounded bottom, anxiously drawing her hips and thighs to his own. One hand slid up her bare back to press her naked breasts closer to his chest and he heard her catch her breath in a gasp of startled ecstasy. A hard, ungiving object wa
s between them. Kane lifted his head and smiled druggedly down at a flushed Natalie.
His hand found hers. Hers still held the .38 revolver. The gun was trapped between their bodies, its steel barrel resting dangerously close to his rigid masculinity. Gently he pulled her hand and the gun away and said teasingly, "I'd hate to lose the part of me that gives us both so much pleasure."
He may as well have tossed cold water from the tarn into Natalie's hot face. With that one careless sentence, he'd dashed her desire.
"You smug bastard!" Natalie recoiled in outrage, wriggling frantically from his arms, her emerald eyes flashing. Gun raised once again, she angrily jerked her rumpled undershirt down over her naked breasts. "I ought to shoot you! You're vulgar and insulting and I despise you."
"Hey, I'm sorry, baby," Kane offered, the blood still rushing through his veins, his groin aching.
"No, you're not," she hissed. "You're only sorry that you failed to seduce me again. You show no respect whatsoever, Mr. Covington! Well, I'll tell you something, you'd best remember who I am. I happen to be the highest-ranking law officer in the county of Castleton!"
"So?" Kane felt his own anger rising as his passion dissipated. This fiery beauty dressing him down had stood in his embrace seconds earlier, molding herself to him. This haughty redhead had once done things to him in the darkness no shy, retiring lady would know about, much less do. Now, like a typical female, she was pretending to be shocked and distressed at his behavior. It rankled Kane.
Stepping closer, a muscle jumping in his lean jaw, Kane grabbed her gunbelt and pulled her roughly to him. "Your Honor, you wear no awe-insiring judicial robes of virtue with me. As you recall, I've been under those robes." A light gleamed in his hot blue eyes as she struggled impotently against him. "And I will be there again."
Chapter Ten
Natalie was still very much upset come sundown. Dispiritedly playing croquet on the well-manicured lawn of Ashlin's mountainside mansion, she struck the bright red wooden ball with her heavy mallet, lifting her eyes as it shot across the grass.
