Wild Is the Night

by Colleen Quinn

  “Does it hurt badly? This was all my fault, I should never have sent your clothes downriver. I thought you were gone, I thought I could never tell you—”

  “Tell me what?” Luke eased himself back down, deciding he didn’t want to look too healthy. For whatever reason, Amanda had let her guard down. She even looked different. Emotion colored her face and sparkled her eyes with a passion he’d only guessed at before. It was like seeing a book with its cover torn off, and the pages whipping enticingly in the wind.

  “Well…things.” She blushed, her cheeks taking on a rosy hue that made her even more attractive. “I was so scared that you were hurt, when I thought you were…”

  The rain softly pattered above them, and the wind blew, bringing a scent of dank, carnal earth and crushed grass through the window. Amanda turned away, unwilling to face him, and even more unwilling to confront her own emotional turmoil.

  Luke stared at her for a long time, then gently took her hand, pulling her closer to him. “Did you hate it that much, pretending to be married to me? Is that why you tried to drive me away?”

  “No!” Her eyes widened, startled, then her face searched his, as if to seek out the truth of his question. “How could you think that?”

  “Amanda.” Luke groaned, chuckling deep within his hard, lean body. “You tore my clothes apart. Sent them downstream. Defied me at every turn. Threw quotations in my face when I tried to reach you, and invited men to my table when I tried to seduce you. I have owl feathers in everything I own, and no whiskey when right now I’d kill for it.” He grinned at her embarrassed expression. “Yes, I’d say you haven’t made it easy.”

  “I never meant for you to think that,” Amanda said, blushing to the roots of her hair. “It’s just when I saw you with that saloon girl, I thought—”

  “Nothing happened,” Luke said, wincing as he recalled that night. “I thought about it, I even attempted it, but I couldn’t get you out of my head. Believe me, Amanda, a man doesn’t lie about a thing like that.”

  She believed him. He looked too chagrined not to be telling the truth. Plucking shyly at a fold of her skirt, she shrugged. “It’s so illogical! I mean, why should I mind? I don’t understand the things I feel….”

  That was dangerously close to the truth and they both knew it. Luke picked up the hand that held his, his eyes never leaving hers, and kissed the back of her knuckles. Amanda shivered, amazed that such a slight touch could be so unnerving and so arousing at the same time. She was getting in too deep and she knew it, and didn’t know how to stop. This was more frightening than when Luke asked her to swim the river, and her eyes reflected her panic.

  “Luke, I think—”

  “Don’t think.” He pulled her into his arms, then smoothed the hair away from her face. “That’s your problem, you think too much.”

  “But it doesn’t calculate—”

  “Amanda.” He groaned, fighting the urge to silence her in an age-old way, developed—he was certain—before the theory of calculus. “‘Reason and love keep little company.'”

  “Shakespeare,” Amanda sighed, offering no resistance when his mouth took hers.

  For the first time in her life, Amanda abandoned knowledge, for her mind told her this was folly, but her heart urged her on. She giggled like a child when his stubbled chin tickled her face, then she stopped giggling when his lips brushed hers, gently at first, then deepening as passion took them both to a new level of existence. And because it was unhurried—they were trapped alone in the nester’s hut until at least the rainfall ended and the Reverend’s group set out to find them—they savored the moment, each of them wanting everything the other could possibly give.

  Amanda began to relax in his arms. Shyly, her hand clasped the back of his neck, amazed at the strength she could feel in his broad shoulders and the enticing crispness of his curls beneath her fingers. His mouth seemed to mold her lips to his and she sighed, amazed at the gentle warmth she saw in his beautiful blue eyes, and the way her body was beginning to respond to his long, sweet kisses. She parted her lips, meeting his tongue with her own, and a rush of pure liquid sexuality coursed through her, making her arch her back to be closer to him.

  Luke groaned, then his hands slid down to below her waist, pressing her body against his in a dizzying statement of how much he wanted her. She gasped, and he deepened the kiss, his tongue plunging into her mouth in a frank imitation of the sexual act he was beginning to crave.

  He was making her crave it too.

  Amanda felt as if she was drowning in pleasure. She was lost in a hot, endless kiss that made her behave in ways that she never dreamed desirable, never dreamed of at all. Somehow, they had turned and he was on top of her, his legs tangled in her skirts, his weight leaning on his arms as his hands cupped her head. Passion flared hotter as his body made intimate contact with hers, promising more, and then delivering with the next heated kiss. His hands slid sensuously down her body, cupping her breasts, his thumb brushing the nipples until they hardened, outlined against the damp material of her dress.

  His hands moved lower, seeking out the arched curve of her legs, her slender waist, her rounded bottom. Amanda rolled on top of him, her explorations just as eager. She marveled at the contrast of his work-roughed hands against her own bare skin. Her chestnut hair fell loosely around her, tickling him, making him chuckle even as he kissed her again. He reached up, his fingers working the buttons of her dress, and she sighed, lifting her hair out of the way, making the task easier for him.

  It was wonderful to let a man undress her. Amanda felt like an explorer, on the verge of a new discovery with every moment. The dress and chemise slipped sensuously down her body, aided by his hands, which felt even better as they cupped her waist. Then he brought her back down on top of him, startling her as his mouth made hot wet contact with a bare, aching breast.

  Amanda never imagined it could be this good. Her fingers locked in his hair and she urged him on, reveling in the powerfully erotic feel of his tongue encircling, then sucking on her nipple. She leaned on her arms, wanting it to go on, wanting everything he had to offer.

  Then his hands were beneath her skirts and his playful manner gone. She gasped as he roughly pushed her damp dress aside, then purposefully sought out the dark curls between her legs. His fingers raked through them, then slid lower, caressing her intimately, making her writhe against him.

  “Luke, I want—” she breathed, panic setting in. She had meant to say that she wanted to stop, but his mouth took hers—and with it, the last vestige of logic.

  “Me too,” he whispered, mistaking her meaning. “God, Mandy, I want you so badly. I want to be gentle, but I don’t know if I can….”

  He pushed her onto her back and Amanda felt him, hot and probing between her thighs. But he kissed her again and she was lost, forgetting everything except that Luke wanted her. She never felt more beautiful—or more a woman—than now, in his arms. She parted her legs at his urging, aware that something wonderful was about to happen. Her body felt like an overripe peach, bursting with juice. Blood pounded in her head and her pelvis burned, aching, wanting something she couldn’t explain.

  He entered her a little bit at first, then, unable to restrain himself, he plunged deeply into her. Amanda gasped. Passion fled as he drove into her and pain became a reality. She struggled against him, but he mastered her as easily as he had the captured horse, and Amanda quieted, following his urgings. She bit her lip and her eyes flew open, amazed at the excitement in his face and the driving force of his body. Her discomfort increased as her initial pleasure fled, and she was aware of a scraping dryness between her legs and the damp ground beneath her. She began to count strokes, grateful when something seemed to especially please him and he groaned, shutting his eyes tightly, and drove even more deeply into her. The ache became a raw pain, and Amanda was thoroughly relieved when he finally withdrew, taking the burning lance with him.

  Luke collapsed, drained of all energy. She was s
o exquisitely tight and so responsive that he wanted to stay like this forever, plunging into her warm wet body, making her forget everything except this. She’d given him an earth-shattering orgasm that was the sweetest he’d ever recalled. He smiled as he remembered his initial impression of her, as a cold, withdrawn school marm. She had proven to be anything but.

  Drenched in sweat, aching from his wound, Luke rose on one elbow and gazed down into the face of the woman who’d just given him unbelievable pleasure.

  “My God, Amanda,” he breathed, brushing the long hair away from her face, wishing he could have seen her at that special moment. “Wasn’t that just incredible?”

  She stared at him, her eyes bright and clear of passion, her nose wrinkled in confusion.

  “No, it wasn’t.” She shrugged, as if discarding a puzzle that wasn’t worth dissecting, then moved away from him. She snatched up her dress and chemise and pulled them roughly over her body, then she fished out her tortoiseshell glasses and put them on. Gazing at him through the spectacles, she frowned. “In fact, I think the whole thing’s been much too exaggerated, though from a scientific standpoint, it makes sense.”

  “What does?” Incredulous, his mouth dropped as he rose on one arm, then he saw that she was serious. She was looking at him like a mad scientist peering into a glass jar at a particularly undesirable specimen.

  “That it shouldn’t be pleasurable for a woman.” Her freckled nose wrinkled and she tapped her cheek with her forefinger, giving him a speculative glance. “For most other species it isn’t. Hence the mating dances and the brilliant coloring of the male peacock designed to attract a female’s attention. Surely if the female derived as much enjoyment from the act of fertilization as the male—”

  “Amanda!” Fury made his jaw tighten, and the lazy aftermath of passion disappeared, replaced by raw anger. This woman was unbelievable! His male pride stung, Luke glared at her while Amanda delivered her next line like a female archer, taking deadly aim.

  “—there would be a population explosion. So even though I’ve devalued myself in a marital marketplace, I am glad we did this.” She smiled sweetly, not realizing that the brilliant red that stained his face was from a blush, and not passion. “For I’ve learned something valuable. I don’t ever want to do this again, and therefore, have no reason or desire to marry. I will also take full responsibility for any progeny that may result from this act of intercourse, so you need not worry. I can take care of myself.”

  Chapter

  15

  Luke thought he was losing his mind with anger. This couldn’t be happening. Yet even as the Reverend arrived with Pop Finnegan, bringing help in the form of a wagon and a horse, he couldn’t take his eyes from Amanda.

  She didn’t seem to notice that anything was wrong. In her simple, matter of fact manner, she informed the trail boss of Luke’s injury and what she had done to treat it, then she climbed out of the rain and into the back of the wagon, and reached for her carpetbag. By the time Luke had joined her, after Pop had checked the bandage and the wound, she was scribbling happily into her journal, barely aware that he existed.

  No woman had ever treated him this badly. Raised in South Carolina in the genteel life of a wealthy plantation owner, he had been accustomed to women who were gentle and sweet, who looked up to their men and let them know how much they appreciated them. And Luke, who had been told he was handsome since the age of thirteen, warranted a great deal of feminine attention—all of it positive. Even the Hamilton twins, with their ripe red lips and rich dark hair, followed him around from the time they could walk. He was used to them hanging on his every word, blushing when he so much as touched their hands or ruffled their hair. Later, when he returned from the war and was branded a deserter, the women still made a place for him in their parlor, despite the fact that he was socially ostracized and shouldn’t have been received. Their fathers and husbands didn’t acknowledge him, but his warmth and his charm had won him a place in the hearts of the women that was not easily destroyed.

  Yet Amanda had cut him to the quick. He sent a glare in her direction, but she was oblivious of him, her pencil scrawling across a sheet of paper, filling it with her blunt observations of life. She was a cold woman, Luke thought, prim and without the slightest consideration of his feelings. His face reddened as he thought of her appraisal of his love-making. Christ, he was actually blushing. He should leave as soon as they returned to camp. No one more deserved such ungallant treatment, and it would make him feel great to see her surprised expression when he rode out of camp, this time for good. Nothing was worth this, not the ranch or even his desire for revenge. Haskwell he could get on his own. He really didn’t need Amanda.

  But even as he decided to do just that, his mind rebelled. He couldn’t let her get away with this. Leaving would be too easy. For the sake of all mankind, he couldn’t unleash Amanda on the rest of the world. He had to triumph over her, had to prove to her and to himself that she was wrong. He would make her take everything back that she’d said to him—not just for tonight, but for all the rest of the times she’d slighted him. His male ego demanded it.

  As if reading his mind she glanced up at him, and at least had the decency to look away when she saw him glaring at her. She returned to her books, but her hand trembled as she wrote. Luke gritted his teeth.

  Amanda Edison had challenged the very heart of him. And he had to win, no matter how dirty the methods he used or how unethical his tactics. It had become a matter of pride.

  “Pull up your skirts, let’s see your legs. We paid our money—let’s see your legs,” Honey sang to the group of men, her voice warbling with fear. The men came to their feet in thunderous applause as the showgirl stepped out onto the stage, her scarlet plume dipping over one eye enticingly, her matching dress hiked up to expose an indecent length of black stockinged thigh.

  The dress had been Haskwell’s idea, as had been the stockings. Honey lifted her dark head and sang, her soft brown eyes searching out the crowd for one man, praying that he wouldn’t be there, that something had intervened and taken this man out of her life….

  She saw him a dead second later, seated at a poker table, his white shirt sleeves rolled up and his face thoughtful. He scanned the cards in his hand, then threw several chips onto the table and sat back with a smirk. A few minutes later, he was scooping up the chips, laughing in an Irish brogue that was filled with sinister menace. Then his eyes met hers.

  Honey choked. She felt impaled as Sam smiled, his eyes fixing her like a pin through a specimen. Continuing to sing, she removed one long white glove, then laid it over the hat of a lounging cowboy. His companions barked their laughter, even as she scanned the room, looking for an escape.

  The front door. Honey’s eyes turned toward it hopefully, knowing that her dressing room door was watched at all times—for her protection, Sam had told her. There was no other way out through the rear of the building, but here she had a chance. Perhaps, when Haskwell was distracted enough, she could enlist the help of one of these cowboys. She could then walk right out of here, with no one the wiser.

  Relief flooded through her and she belted out the lyrics to the racy song, gratified to find all the men’s eyes on her. God, why hadn’t she thought of it before? It would all be so easy, and she’d be rid of this man who held her captive in such terror; who showered her with gifts, then made love to her in the crudest possible ways. Her fear was an aphrodisiac to him, and she shuddered to think of what he would resort to next, just to see the terror in her eyes. She had to get out of here, and tonight she would do just that.

  A young, gangly cowboy grinned up at her, his soft blue eyes telling her that he thought she was pretty, and that he wanted her. Sending a seductive smile through the room, Honey paused by the man, then dropped her other glove onto the floor beside him. The men roared as the cowboy blushed, then dipped down to retrieve her offering. As he lifted his head, he found his face close to hers as she whispered quietly.

 
; “Follow me out of here in about five minutes, sweetie.”

  Honey pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose, leaving a red smear of lipstick. The cowboys guffawed, then slapped the young man’s back, congratulating him on winning the lady’s favor. The cowboy’s face was beet red, but he nodded and smiled, good naturedly wiping away the lipstick even as Honey sashayed away from him toward the door.

  The poker dealer nudged Haskwell. Sam glanced up from behind the cards and saw Honey remove a glass bracelet, then drop it teasingly into a cowboy’s lap. She wiggled and cooed, breathlessly whispering her song while making her way through the crowd. Every man watched her, every man wanted her.

  “I’m in for five, Tommy.” Haskwell tossed in a chip, his black eyes never leaving the young girl. Honey leaned over another man, her breasts nearly brushing his face, her little bottom thrust out in a suggestive pose. Haskwell grinned. She was doing what he had taught her, and working the crowd well. The little strumpet had turned into a virtual gold mine, in more ways than one. He watched her ruffle another man’s hair, then slip a proffered gold piece down the bodice of her scarlet gown.

  “Looks like Honey’s got herself an ardent admirer,” the dealer remarked, indicating the young cowboy who got to his feet. “He’s been watching her for the last half hour.”

  Sam’s smile vanished even as Honey turned and gestured quickly to the cowboy, all the while keeping an innocent smile on her face. She glanced at Haskwell, saw that he was involved with his cards, then nodded quickly toward the swinging doors at the front of the saloon. The cowboy, unable to believe his good luck, followed the beautiful woman with the flashing dark hair and the sparkling red dress.