Honey undid the back of her dress, her fingers shaking. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she let the gown slip down, nearly exposing her pale milky breasts to his heated gaze. “I’ll come with you.” She tried to sound enticing. “We’ll have a good time, Sam. I can make you feel real good.”
Sam grinned, then traced the gun around the shimmering blue material, tugging it even lower. Honey’s breasts spilled out, and he traced the tip of the weapon across each throbbing nipple, then down to her waist. “Take it off,” he whispered hoarsely.
Honey complied, fighting for her life. The dress slid to the floor in a liquid, sapphire puddle. She wore nothing beneath except for black silk stockings and garters, and the sparkling jewelry. She trembled as he placed the gun aside and fondled a breast, brushing his thumb across the tip and making the nipple harder. She was damp when his hand slid lower, to the silky black curls between her legs, her arousal intensified by fright the way a man on his way to the gallows would often get an erection.
“All right, Honey me girl,” Sam whispered, his brogue deepening as he pushed the singer to her hands and knees. “Make me feel good, me darlin’. Real good.” Honey did.
It was a strange thing for Amanda, after a lifetime of rejection, to feel accepted and appreciated. Pop Finnegan gruffly embraced her when the cowboys returned the herd, and Aileen was as proud as if she had raised Amanda herself. Even the Reverend heartily shook her hand and praised her courage in dealing with the Indians, and noted that her unusual intelligence was a precious gift from God—one that she should continue to to use and not be ashamed of.
Luke spared no detail in making Amanda out to be the heroine. And if Luke conveniently left out the fact that Amanda had donated one of the cows to the Indians, Amanda tactfully understood it was in her best interest to let that deed go unheralded. Few of the others had any appreciation for the redman’s plight, and Amanda needed little education to understand that.
Later, after a good beef dinner, Pop brought out his best bottle of whiskey, the one that he had been saving for Texas, and decided to open it in celebration. The voices of the men grew full and rich, obliterating the normal night sounds as they sang trail songs and danced around the fire. Aileen glanced toward Jake, and at his nod of approval, accepted an invitation to dance from one of the cowboys. Taking the man’s arm, she kicked up her heels. Pop played the fiddle, and the men took turns clapping and dancing, twirling the Irish woman on their arm and shouting encouragement to the others.
Slowly, the religious folk began to join the merriment. Their own livelihood saved, they forgot their stern beliefs for one night and they shyly began to dance. Amanda watched from her perch on the wagon, scribbling into her journal. Aesop sat beside her, munching grasshoppers and live beetles, gifts from the grateful people. She didn’t notice Luke approach, and wasn’t aware of him watching her until she heard his choked cough.
Amanda glanced up, followed his gaze, then saw he was staring at Aesop. The little owl had just regurgitated the undigestable part of the night’s meal, and was gently depositing the remains on the floor of the wagon. Amanda shrugged.
“He does that whenever he’s eating bugs. With mice he throws up hair and bones—”
“Amanda.” Luke cut her off quickly and forced a smile. “I didn’t come over here to discuss Aesop’s eating habits. I came to ask you to dance.”
“Me?” Amanda stared at him questioningly. She had put on her glasses again, and her eyes seemed enormous, two sea green lamps that stared at him unblinkingly.
Luke nodded. “Yes, you. Come on, they’re starting a reel.”
“But I don’t know how to…” Amanda protested, but Luke was reaching toward her face and gently removing the offending glasses. Amanda stared at him, feeling suddenly as naked as if he’d removed her clothes.
“I’ll teach you,” he said firmly, refusing to allow her to beg off. He clasped her hand, his own rough and warm as he pulled her down from the wagon and toward the campfire. Amanda shook her head frantically. It was one thing to waltz at the restaurant with an experienced man who wouldn’t mind a stubbed toe or two; it was another to dance something this raw and exciting with a man like Luke.
Aileen shouted encouragement and Amanda could do nothing but follow. Luke led her to the circle of light, then stood beside the other couples and smiled down at her. Amanda looked up with such dread that he chuckled, then slid his arm around her waist as the music began.
“You look like you’re about to be slaughtered. Come on, Amanda, relax. It’s fun.”
“Luke, I do this about as well as I swim.” Panic set in as he twirled her around, then led her expertly around the fire.
“Just follow my lead. I’ll do all the work. That’s right, bend your knee.” Luke slipped his arm through hers and guided her through the steps as Pop played “Buffalo Gals Won’t Ya Come Out Tonight.” After a few moments, Amanda discovered he was right. It was fun, and easy. Luke did all the hard steps, and Amanda discovered that if she just went along with him, she could dance. The thought was so heady that she got carried away, and stepped forcibly on his foot a moment later.
“I’m so sorry!” Amanda stammered, flushing crimson. She wished that she was far away, safe back in the wagon with her books.
Luke grinned. “Amanda, I’ve got boots on. It would take more than your slight weight to put a dent into these. Stop looking so embarrassed and let’s try again. We’ve got all night.”
Amanda took his hand with considerable trepidation, then allowed herself to be drawn into the dance once more. She marveled at his patience. No man had ever shown her this much kindness before. She caught Aileen’s smile and she grinned back, enjoying herself and finally relaxing, knowing that even if she made a mistake, it would not be fatal. Breathless, she swirled with Luke, and when she’d mastered the steps well enough and mustered up some confidence, she even allowed the other cowboys to coax her into dancing with them.
Luke reluctantly let her go, knowing that the cowboys would cherish the chance to dance with a lady, and a pretty one at that. Flushing from excitement and exertion, Amanda took on that odd natural beauty that he’d seen a few times before. She looked young, vibrant, and winning, her eyes sparkling with fun and her smile lighting up her face. Her dress clung to her slender figure, and with a grace she didn’t know she possessed, she picked up one corner of it the way Aileen was doing and swirled around the campfire.
He was proud of what she had done that day, although it took him a while to appreciate her reasoning. The sympathy she had shown to the Indians was remarkable. He couldn’t help but think of his own experience as a Confederate soldier, and feel a kinship for these men who had lost much more than he had, for the same cause. And even though Amanda was a Northerner, she felt for their plight. Luke smiled at the thought. She was an intriguing mixture of intelligence, logic, and beauty—a combination that he was beginning to appreciate.
When the music finally stopped, the men broke into loud applause. Amanda stood next to Aileen and Jake, her cheeks blooming with color, her hair falling from its knot to frame her face with soft chestnut curls. She glanced up and saw Luke watching her across the fire with frank approval. He excused himself from the other men, then joined her.
“You look beautiful tonight,” he said honestly.
Amanda blushed hotly, her heart pounding. “Thank you. For the dance, I mean.”
He nodded, struck a sulphur-tipped match on his boot to light a cigarette, then gestured toward the prairie. “Pop wants to really push on once we cross the river. Since we won’t have much time alone, I thought you might want to take a walk tonight.”
“A walk?” Amanda repeated incredulously.
Luke smiled—a warm, wonderful smile that made her knees turn to jelly. “Yeah, a walk. Got any objections to that, lady author?”
“Well,” Amanda hesitated. “I do have a lot of writing to do. And I want to research the Hereford breed. I thought I could learn something useful f
or the ranch—”
“Amanda.” Luke took her hand firmly. “We got married last night. Technically, this is still our honeymoon. Unless you’re afraid of something?”
“Absolutely not. Prairie life, unbeknownst to many, is relatively safe at night—”
“I am very relieved to know that.” Luke propelled her away from the others.
The moon was full, a pale disk that washed the grasses with silver and made the cottonwoods take on a ghostly cast. An autumnal wind ruffled the leaves, sending the scent of the oncoming winter across the plains. Canadian geese flew overhead in a perfect vee, their wings tipped with starlight. It was beautiful, wild and free. Amanda drank in the awesome beauty. They would be leaving this all behind soon, and starting a new life in a strange land. She would be Luke’s wife until that time….
Amanda turned awkwardly toward him, noticing for the hundredth time how handsome he was. There was a dangerous sensuality about Luke that she knew other women would appreciate, and a restless intelligence that equalled her own in ability. Everything about him intrigued her, and for that reason, she wanted to run as much as she wanted to stay.
“We’ll be reaching Texas in a few days,” Luke began, breaking the silence. “We’re crossing the river tomorrow, now that the cattle have been rounded up. It can’t be too soon for me, with that last attack.”
“So you think it was Haskwell.”
He nodded, confirming her fears. “Without a doubt. Once we get to town, I want you to register a complaint with the sheriff. I might not be around to protect you all the time, and once we stop moving, you’ll be an easier target. This time for me it was just a flesh wound. Next time, one of us could get killed.”
Amanda nodded, hating the tightening she felt in her throat. He was still planning to divorce her in Texas. For some reason, the thought ripped her apart. She held onto the cuff of his buckskin jacket, ignoring his look of surprise. Her voice was shy and hesitant, even as her fingers curled intimately within his coat.
“Luke…I take it you’re not mad at me anymore.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment, then reached up to gently touch her face. “I guess I overreacted earlier. I’m sorry.”
It was an apology, and a heartfelt one at that. Holding her breath, Amanda plunged in. “Would you then…I mean, could you kiss me? Just once, like we really were married, and you wanted to?”
He stared at her long and hard, taking in the import of what she’d just asked. For another woman, it would mean little—a flirtation, or worse, an experiment in sexuality. For Amanda, it meant much, much more. Washed in moonlight and dressed in a plain, muslin gown that showed the full effects of hard wear, she looked beautiful. Innocent. And beguiling in a way she would never understand. As Luke pulled her into his embrace, he knew that somehow she had come to mean something to him, something that Haskwell had little to do with. A thousand pictures entered his mind at once, of his clothes floating downriver, of her owl squawking at him, of Amanda peering through her glasses and composing some of the most incredible feelings she had yet to reveal to him.
His lips brushed hers, softly at first, then more persistently until she sighed and reached for him, her arms sliding about his neck, her fingers locking in his hair as he drew her even more closely against him. Then when he finally kissed her, it was unlike any kiss he’d ever given her.
Amanda felt shaken to her soul. She clung to Luke, feeling like she would stumble, that she would become one with the star-studded blackness above and fall into infinity. He was penetrating the wall she’d built around herself, a fortress of books, to the woman beneath. Sweet joy filled her, along with a sense of terror. At once she understood what it was to risk, to have no beliefs, no guarantees, nowhere to look for the safe and right answers. It was frightening and exhilarating at the same time.
When Luke released her, Amanda wanted to draw him back, to experience more. But Luke was already taking her back toward the camp. It was almost as if he wanted to avoid her, for he excused himself as soon as they reached the campfire and volunteered for the night watch. Giving him a solemn, penetrating glance, Amanda returned his goodnight wishes and went to the wagon alone, watching him walk away from her, after a kiss that seared both of them and would have ignited the wettest pine.
What was Luke up to, anyway?
Luke took a swig of whiskey from the jug the men passed around, trying to ignore the figure of his wife silhouetted against the pale white canvas of the wagon. Gritting his teeth, he fought the urges of his body as she removed her dress. He could see her ripe young form, beautifully curved, emerging from her gown. The men made ribald remarks, and Luke gave them a frozen glance that sent them choking on their liquor and leaving them apologetically silent afterward.
He couldn’t go to her, not yet. She would still be apprehensive after their first attempt at lovemaking, and she still did not trust him.
Yet, as he watched her now, he could see her sitting inside the rustic wagon, her legs crossed, her pen dipping frantically into the inkwell then scribbling in her journal. When in God’s name would she ever tell him what she told that damned book? It was infuriating. Luke had to fight the compulsion to go to that wagon, pull her into his arms and force her to reveal those secrets to him. But he had to use his own mind this time.
Snatching up his lantern, Luke started away from the fire, toward the black encrusted water. He heard Pop Finnegan’s puzzled outcry.
“Where the hell are you going?”
“To the river,” Luke replied bluntly.
The religious men and the Reverend exchanged glances, clearly wondering if Amanda’s “strangeness” was catching. “What the hell are you doing that for? It’s damned cold!” Pop called.
“I know,” Luke shouted angrily.
The religious men broke into laughter, which they quickly hushed up as the Reverend gave them a disapproving look. But even as he opened the Bible to conduct prayers, there was more than one choked cough, though no one dared say anything.
After all, it was only the second night he was married. And a pretty poor marriage it seemed at that.
He kissed me tonight, when I asked him to. Somehow, at some time, he has become a part of me. I love him, yet I cannot face that, nor can I tell him. It is incredible the power that this naked emotion has—the power to cut so deeply that I fear I may not recover—and yet I feel more alive than ever before.
We are married, I am his wife. The thought of that is dizzying, yet I know it would not be so if he hadn’t been forced. I don’t know what to do. I want to make him happy, but I don’t even know where to begin. Odd that I should be in this position! There was never a math equation that I couldn’t solve, though some of them took weeks, never a treatise I couldn’t conquer, and yet I know less about pleasing Luke than I do about the anatomy of an earthworm.
He was happy when I found the cattle today. For the first time since I’ve known him, he seemed to appreciate my mind, yet I do not think that is the way to reach him. I look at Aileen and Jake, and think it is so easy for her. Jake walks with his arm around her waist, she smiles at him while helping the women to cook. I can tell that he cannot wait to be with her each night, to leave the campfire to join her inside the privacy of their wagon. Why can’t I accomplish that?
He will divorce me when we get to Texas. He has sworn that, and yet the thought appalls me. Once we are in Waco, it will be too easy to just be friends or business partners. He will have the ranch, and I will have my books. For however long he is my husband, I must try to make him want me.
And time is running out.
Chapter
19
“Come on, boys, let’s get these dogies through before sundown.”
Pop Finnegan urged the McLafferty family through the rushing depths of the Canadian River. The prairie schooner bucked and wavered as the waters rammed into it, and the heavy canvas quickly became saturated from the river. The McLafferty children rode with the cowboys, their bodies tied to
the saddles with rope to keep them from falling during the crossing, while the elder McLafferty struggled to get the wagon through to the opposite bank. One of the children cried out as a box detached from the side of the wagon and began a rapid descent downriver.
“My little pet! Papa, he’s going!” Timmy McLafferty cried as the box snagged onto a floating branch.
“I’ll get it,” Luke shouted, fishing out the box and tying it to his own horse. The little prairie dog inside rustled nervously as Luke’s horse pranced in the river, sidestepping loose twigs and debris that swirled around them. “Come on, next!”
Amanda sat on top of her horse, her eyes as wide as when she wore her glasses, her knuckles white from clenching the reins. She was still scared to death of the horse, and the endless miles of grey, slithering water didn’t help matters much. She glanced up at Luke. He was shouting orders to the wagon driving in front of her, balancing Timmy Lafferty’s box, and controlling the horse with just the pressure from his legs. He made it look so easy, and yet…
Amanda fought back tears. Luke had been preoccupied and distant, trying to get the wagons prepared for the crossing. He had readied their wagon, intending to drive it himself so that Amanda would not have that ordeal to contend with. He had crawled into the wagon late last night, and immediately fell asleep. Amanda had the faint impression that he was wet, that his coal-black hair had been slicked back, and that moisture gleamed from his chest before he crawled beneath the blankets. She dismissed the notion as ridiculous. Winter was approaching, and Luke certainly wasn’t crazy enough to go swimming in the river this time of year.
“Next!”
Amanda froze. They were calling to her. Numbly she flicked her reins, but the horse beneath her seemed to share her indecision and refused to budge. Luke glanced up, his face shadowed by the black Stetson he wore, his ankles wreathed in water. He was about to shout impatiently to her, but something in her face softened him. He seemed to remember her fears, and he urged his mount through the swirling water to the riverbank beside her.
Wild Is the Night Page 20
