Beyond The Horizon

by Connie Mason

  Holding her thighs apart, Blade buried his head in her softness, his tongue a hot brand, flicking, teasing, stroking her erotically. A consuming heat spread over her as her thighs parted naturally, allowing him full access. Slipping his hand beneath her buttocks, Blade lifted her to his hot, devouring mouth, her scent and honeyed sweetness driving him wild. Shannon moaned, unaware that such a sensation was possible. She only knew she wanted it to go on forever.

  “Blade, I want you inside me!”

  “Not yet, Little Firebird, I owe you this. Don’t hold back, love, this is just another way of loving.”

  Then she was crying out, thrashing her head from side to side as waves of exquisite pleasure carried her away. Her body was still vibrating, her nerve endings on fire when Blade surged full and deep inside her. His powerful thrust affected her like a bolt of lightning.

  Blade’s response to their fiery union was to groan in her ear, “Oh, God, Shannon, you feel so tight—so warm—so damn good.”

  His strokes were sensual, skillful thrusts, his hands and mouth everywhere, fondling, arousing, as their bodies clashed and rocked in primitive violent mating.

  He brought her to the trembling brink, then retreated, leaving her gasping, pleading, until a series of deep, penetrating thrusts hurled them both into oblivion, spinning, careening wildly, their cries of ecstasy intermingling. Afterwards, as they floated back to earth, Shannon swore their souls had touched and united.

  “My sweet, exciting vixen,” Blade crooned in her ear.

  “My bold, handsome savage,” Shannon sighed in response.

  Blade stiffened, then realized she meant it as praise. He shifted his weight to lie beside her, pulling her into the curve of his body.

  “I shouldn’t have come here, Shannon. I never meant to jeopardize your reputation.”

  “We are both too hot-headed for our own good,” Shannon observed dryly. “We lashed out at one another in self-defense. One thing I learned is that I have no pride where you are concerned.”

  “It is dangerous for you to be seen with me.”

  “How do you mean that?” Blade was silent so long that Shannon realized his warning was double-edged. “You’re involved in something, aren’t you? Something to do with the reason you were prowling inside those wagons.”

  Blade fell silent, reluctant to involve Shannon in his secret investigation.

  “You may as well tell me, because I’m not going to let it rest until I find out. Perhaps I can help you.”

  “Don’t ask, Shannon. I care for you too much to see you harmed.”

  “I told you I won’t let it rest. Perhaps I should ask Colonel Greer.”

  “Christ, Shannon!” He raked his finger through his hair, snorting in exasperation. “That is the worst thing you could do. When you get something stuck in your craw, you won’t let go. I’m an investigator for the government—does that satisfy you?”

  Shannon mulled his answer over thoughtfully. “Not really. What are you investigating?”

  Silence.

  “Well? Perhaps I could do a little snooping and—”

  “Gun smuggling.”

  “Gun smuggling! You suspect someone on our wagon train? Who are the guns intended for?”

  “Indians,” Blade said. “Renegades like Mad Wolf are desperate for weapons.”

  “You’re working for the government?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you’re a—”

  “—half-breed,” Blade finished. “But I fought for the Yankees, remember?”

  “How could I forget?” Shannon muttered. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

  Blade paused in thoughtful consideration. If he told Shannon the truth, would that be the end of it? If he lied, would Shannon’s prying land them both in trouble? In the end he decided to tell the truth and pledge her to secrecy.

  “I found the guns, for all the good it did me.”

  “You found them in one of the wagons?” Shannon asked. Truth to tell she was more than a little stunned that Blade was actually confiding in her. He had probably decided it was the lesser of two evils. “Whose wagon?” Before Blade could reply, she added, “No, don’t tell me, I already know. Clive Bailey. Clive is the gun smuggler. I never did like that man. What are you going to do about it?”

  “Nothing,” Blade replied sourly. “The bastard got rid of the guns while we were stranded on the prairie.”

  “Oh,” Shannon said in a small voice. “What happens next?”

  “I watch and wait for Bailey to make a mistake.”

  “How can I help?”

  “By forgetting I ever mentioned this,” Blade said earnestly. “By not telling a soul what I’ve just confided. I want your promise, Little Firebird.”

  “Of course I won’t tell anyone,” Shannon vowed, “but I want to do more than that.”

  “No, Shannon,” Blade warned, regarding her keenly. “I’m serious about this. You can help me by staying out of it.”

  “Whatever you say,” Shannon said meekly. If Blade hadn’t been so distracted by the way Shannon’s long chestnut hair curled around her breasts he would have been highly suspicious of his easily won victory. Passive compliance was hardly her way.

  “Good, at least I—”

  “Shannon, dear, where are you? When you failed to show up at dinner time, Claire and I decided to bring you your dinner. You work much too hard, you know.”

  “My God, Molly and Claire!”

  Like a shot, Shannon was out of bed, scrambling into her clothes. Blade was one step behind. “What shall we do? They can’t find us here like this.”

  “I’ll slip out the window,” Blade hissed, struggling into his pants.

  “Shannon! Are you in the bedroom?”

  “They’ll be here in a minute.” Shannon’s voice shook with alarm.

  Blade gathered up the rest of his clothes, grabbed his boots and dove through the open window.

  Shannon turned from the window just as Molly and Claire Greer stepped into the bedroom.

  “My goodness, why didn’t you answer?” Claire asked suspiciously. Her violet gaze swept the room, missing nothing. Not the mussed bed, the open window, or the red neckerchief Blade left behind as he made his hasty exit.

  “I—I must have fallen asleep,” Shannon confessed guiltily. She was aware of Claire’s keen scrutiny and prayed she suspected nothing.

  “You poor dear,” Molly crooned sympathetically. “You’ve worked yourself into a frazzle. Eat your supper and come back to the house later for a bath and a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow is soon enough to move in here. The officers’ wives are donating food to fill your cupboards.”

  “How wonderful,” Shannon exclaimed, truly grateful.

  “You are going to be teaching their children, and they wanted to welcome you properly. Well, I must be off”. Are you coming, Claire?”

  “I think I’ll stay and chat with Shannon while she eats,” Claire said, waving her mother off. Abruptly she turned and slanted Shannon a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  Shannon knew Claire didn’t like her, but she had no idea why. It never occurred to her that the lovely brunette might be jealous, for she had nothing or no one to be jealous over. What Shannon didn’t realize was that just her beauty was enough to send Claire into a jealous rage. Claire had been the belle of the post since arriving at Fort Laramie with her father and didn’t appreciate the competition one bit. Already Shannon had all the young officers agog, and Claire sensed there was more between Blade and Shannon than met the eye. Blade was more man than Claire had seen in a long time, and she wouldn’t have refused a clandestine flirtation.

  “Let’s go to the kitchen,” Shannon said. “The food smells delicious and I’m famished.”

  Suddenly Claire bent and picked up something from the floor, something that had been partially concealed beneath the bed. Shannon blanched, recognizing Blade’s neckerchief immediately.

  “What’s this?” Claire asked. Her knowing s
mirk brought a silent groan to Shannon’s lips.

  “Why, that’s the dust cloth I was using,” Shannon lied, thinking furiously.

  “Hmmm, fancy dust cloth,” Claire observed, her eyebrows arched in open defiance.

  Though Shannon had no way of knowing, Claire had seen Blade wearing that very same neckerchief just this morning. Claire had no idea what was going on, but she certainly intended to find out. Shannon was competition she neither needed or wanted.

  Shannon breathed a sigh of relief when Claire left a short time later. She had much to ponder and needed to be alone. She wanted to review in her mind all that Blade had told her about his investigation and to explore the ways she might help him.

  Chapter Eleven

  Blade entered Clive Bailey’s trading post, pretending interest in the merchandise while Bailey was occupied with another customer. Blade made his way through aisles crowded with bags of flour, dried beans, coffee, cornmeal and barrels of salted meat. Past rows of shelves holding tins of food, harnesses, halters, ropes, saddles, and even wagon wheels stood on end against them. Blade skimmed quickly over tables loaded with clothing and yard goods to inspect a display of guns and knives. In addition to all this merchandise, sunbonnets and women’s corsets hung from long poles next to pots and pans piled one on top of another. There was even a brass bathtub sitting in the corner.

  Blade suspected Bailey did a thriving business, mostly from fur trappers, miners, and wagon trains passing through. Predictably Blade wandered over to inspect the weapons, disappointed when none of them appeared to be those smuggled in the false bottom of Bailey’s wagon.

  “Are you looking for something in particular, Blade?” Bailey had finished with his customer and walked over to where Blade stood examining the weapons. “That rifle you’re holding is a good choice.”

  “I’m just looking,” Blade muttered, turning to face Bailey. “Thought it was time I collected the rest of my pay.” He’d already collected half his pay and was to be paid the rest upon reaching Fort Laramie.

  “Wondered when you’d come for it. Naturally I deducted a portion for those days you left the wagon train.”

  “Naturally,” Blade said dryly.

  The money was important to Blade but not essential. All through those years he had attended school in the East, his father had sent him money regularly, most of which Blade saved. He’d even managed to save a portion of his army pay these past years and though far from wealthy, he certainly wasn’t destitute.

  “Heard you hired on as scout,” Bailey said.

  “That’s right. With winter coming on I had nothing better to do.”

  “Hello, Mr. Bailey. Am I interrupting?”

  Both men turned, surprised to see Claire Greer standing beside them, smiling brightly.

  “What can I do for you, Miss Greer?” Bailey asked respectfully. As the daughter of the post commander, Claire Greer demanded and received deferential treatment from soldiers and civilians alike.

  “I heard you brought a selection of new bonnets from back East. Thought I’d look them over.”

  “Help yourself, miss. I’ll be back in a few minutes—I have to get something for the breed.” He disappeared up the stairs.

  Blade studied the young woman with considerable interest. She was small, pleasingly formed, and undeniably lovely. But not as vibrantly beautiful as Shannon, he decided, picturing Shannon as he had last seen her, her incredible body flushed from his love-making and her deep blue eyes hazy with passion.

  She stepped closer, her voice a seductive purr meant to entice. From previous experience Claire knew few men could resist her. “You’re the new scout Daddy hired.”

  The moment Claire spied Blade inside the trading post her mouth had gone dry and a slow heat built inside her. Up close, his blatant masculinity nearly overpowered her. He was big, vital, and so tantalizing he literally took her breath away. She could hardly blame Shannon for succumbing to the half-breed—if in fact she had—for the man was every woman’s dream. Being half savage and forbidden to Claire only made him more exciting and dangerously attractive.

  “They call me Blade,” Blade said, a lazy smile hanging on the corner of his mouth.

  He had met many women like Claire Greer in his lifetime. When they saw something they wanted they went after it with single-minded determination. He recognized Claire’s avid interest in him and acknowledged her silent message with a cynical smile. Though Claire would never, ever, admit to wanting a half-breed, obviously all he had to do was beckon and she’d fall into his bed. But oddly, he didn’t want Claire, beautiful though she might be. He wanted a chestnut-haired vixen whose nose was dusted with freckles and who made love like an angel.

  “I’m Claire Greer. My, you are a strong one,” Claire gurgled admiringly as her eyes swept the magnificent length and breadth of his muscular form. “I’ll wager you’re good at just about—anything.”

  Blade smiled tightly, saying little while Claire continued to ogle him. He recognized an outright invitation when he heard one and prudently withheld a reply.

  What neither was aware of was that Shannon had just entered the store to purchase a few necessities not provided by the women of the fort. Her anger sizzled when she saw Claire and Blade engaged in intimate conversation, Claire’s hand resting on Blade’s bulging bicep, her violet eyes wide with appreciation—and something that could only be interpreted as invitation. When Blade made no attempt to discourage Claire’s brazen conduct, Shannon did a slow burn.

  How dare Blade flirt with Claire after making love to her as if he really cared! Shannon bristled indignantly. Did it mean nothing to the womanizing savage? She whirled abruptly and left before either Blade or Claire even noticed that she had witnessed their shameful display. A few minutes later Clive Bailey returned.

  Immediately Claire stepped away from Blade, pretending great interest in the bonnets hanging from a pole. Blade nearly laughed aloud. Claire’s prompt dismissal made it perfectly clear that further contact between them must be in private, away from prying eyes and gossips. Would she be content with quick, furtive kisses and gropings, he wondered curiously, or would she demand all he had to offer? The question was moot, for he never intended to find out.

  “There you are, Blade,” Bailey said, eying the pair suspiciously, then immediately dismissing his outlandish thoughts. “This pays you in full.”

  Blade pocketed the money, nodded a curt thanks, tipped his hat politely at Claire, and strode from the store.

  “Now, Miss Greer, what can I do for you?”

  “I’ll come back later, Mr. Bailey,” Claire replied. Entranced by the way Blade’s trousers clung to his muscular thighs and buttocks, she licked her dry lips and hurried after him. “I suddenly remembered a prior engagement.” She swished out the door in a swirl of ruffled petticoats.

  The first day of school dawned bright and cool. Notices had been posted for several days and Shannon stood eagerly at the door to greet the students from the fort. She was pleasantly surprised to see two Indian boys amidst the white faces. They had somehow learned of the school and came out of curiosity. The children ranged in age from seven to eighteen, and Shannon eagerly anticipated the challenge of teaching so diverse a gathering.

  After introductions were made all around, she determined that only seventeen-year-old Tommy Pierce and fifteen-year-old Leroy Jones would present any problems. Both were big, burly boys, much taller than herself, and they were already bullying the rest of the children, particularly the two Indian boys, Blue Feather and Running Elk. Thus far the Indian boys appeared well-behaved and attentive despite jeering from the rest of the group.

  Shannon had seen little of Blade these past several days, except from a distance. She’d seen him ride out with patrols several times, and despite the fact that she’d been in her own quarters now for days, he’d not come to her again. Not that he’d find a warm welcome, Shannon grumbled sourly. She was still incensed over the outrageous way he had flirted with Claire Greer in the
trading post.

  The first week of school passed with blessed little trouble. For the most part the children were eager students, a bit boisterous perhaps, but badly in need of formal learning. Some hadn’t attended school in two or three years. If not for Lieutenant Goodman, Shannon would have been content with her job. When he wasn’t out on patrol or engaged in duties he made a habit of waiting until school let out, then dropping by to “chat” with her, and usually ended up walking her home. Shannon was certain Claire didn’t know about it or she’d have the violet-eyed witch breathing down her neck.

  That Friday after school was dismissed, Lieutenant Goodman appeared outside the schoolhouse at the usual time. After Shannon waved the children off, he followed her inside without waiting for an invitation.

  “You appear to enjoy this job, Shannon,” he said. His eyes followed her greedily as she went about her chores.

  “I do,” Shannon replied, picking up supplies and depositing them in cupboards. “Sometimes I feel as if I was meant to teach school. Is there something you wanted, Ronald?” Since he had been so insistent about it she had begun calling him by his first name.

  “Why, yes, I suppose I do,” Goodman grinned ingratiatingly. “Are you planning to attend the dance a week from Saturday?”

  “I’m looking forward to it,” Shannon admitted. “It’s been ages since I’ve been to a dance and it sounds like great fun.”

  Several young officers had already approached her offering escort, all of which she politely declined. She thought it wise that she attend her first dance with the Greers. She was so looking forward to it that she even had the dress she would wear picked out. All she needed to do was buy some new ribbon to trim the bodice.

  “Good. Save me a dance. I’m taking Claire, but I can dance with whom I please once I’m there. Claire and I aren’t engaged yet, even if her father does expect a proposal soon.”

  He sent Shannon a speaking look, as if to say he’d be more than willing to give Shannon a tumble behind Claire’s back if Shannon was willing. She wasn’t.

  Shannon was searching her mind for a way to rid herself of the obnoxious lieutenant when noise from some kind of a commotion outside captured their attention. “What’s happening?” Shannon wondered aloud, walking to the door and peering out. “There appears to be a crowd gathering down the street.”