by Jeanne Rose
He shifted and she accommodated him, finding her right breast pressed against his chest. Beneath the man's shirt, her woman's flesh responded, the tender nipple tightening and pebbling. The other breast ached for his touch.
"Iphigenia," he murmured, his serious features bronzed by the fire's glow.
"Yes, Monte?" she whispered fervently.
His answer was silent, uttered in a brush of his mouth against hers. Her lips parted and a long sigh escaped them. He surrounded the sigh, surrounded her -- his mouth over hers, his limbs wrapping around her body until she no longer knew where she ended and he started. His kisses became more demanding. Their tongues danced.
His hand was tangled in her hair, his fingers busy at undoing the knot she'd twisted to keep it up under her hat. Strands spilled along her neck in a sensual waterfall. He smoothed the hair over her shoulder and down her breast, and she pressed into his hand and moaned into his mouth. The hand traveled to her middle and she felt him unfastening the buttons of her shirt.
Iphigenia did likewise. She wanted to feel his flesh against the pads of her fingers. She wanted to explore him, taste him, make love with him. Her few experiences with Lamar had been pleasant adventures, but had not produced this mind-shattering need that began in her center and filled all of her.
Monte crushed her back against the saddle and lifted himself a moment to open the man's shirt she was wearing. Staring at her breasts that tightened and tingled under the intensity of his gaze, he removed his own shirt and vest in one clean swoop. The male beauty of him took her breath away. The firelight laved his skin with a sensual glow, bringing each muscle into relief against the dark night.
Iphigenia reached up and touched Monte, for how could she not, the temptation was so great. His flesh quivered under the brush of her fingers. Then, her eagerness driving her, she began using both hands, exploring the very solidity of his taut flesh in the most intimate way she knew how. He was hot to the touch, but no hotter than she.
Monte tented himself over her, as if waiting. For her invitation to go further?
Trailing her hands to his waist, Iphigenia gave it to him. She unbuckled his gun belt, for he still wore his weapons. The leather and metal hit the ground with a resounding thud that startled her.
Noises seemed louder, smells sharper, emotions more intense.
I love you, Monte, she thought, only wishing she could say the words and that he would echo them.
Her fingers shook slightly as they unbuttoned his denims. Lamar had always come to her naked from behind the screen where he'd undressed. She'd never removed a man's clothing before. Anticipation made her breath come hard. Monte seemed to be breathing harder, especially when she slid a hand beneath the layers of cloth and found him hot and turgid.
He sucked in his breath and pressed his weight against her palm. She moved her hand slightly. He adjusted and pressed again and instinctively, she followed. She thrilled to feel him grow longer and harder as she took up the rhythm, her own hips naturally following the movement of her hand.
He lowered his head, suckled first at one breast, then the other, until her nipples were stiff little points and her back was arched. When he bit the tender tip, then sucked it deep into his mouth, a wanton cry escaped her.
With a growl, Monte worked at the buttons on her trousers, popping one in the process. It shot away and hit a nearby rock with a ping.
They both laughed, the combined sound husky and breathless and very, very sensual.
Then Monte plunged a hand through her trousers' opening and down to the joining of her thighs. Iphigenia sobered. He found her, his work-roughened fingers opening her to his more intimate exploration. Her thighs spread, her bottom tightened and the next thing she knew, Iphigenia was filled.
Then she was moving against him as he was against her, sensation after sensation nearly overwhelming her. She sought something that had heretofore eluded her. A pinnacle of pleasure that she had never before reached with Lamar. Monte's fingers worked magic, spreading, smoothing, seeking. Suddenly the intensity was too much for her. She arched and gasped as her world splintered into bright lights. She clutched at him and heard his groan as if from a distance. He jerked within her hand and a wet warmth told her he had reached ecstacy.
Before she could drift down to earth, Monte settled back and started removing her boots. Her pants came next. Then his. Finally, even as her world righted, he removed her shirt completely and began stroking her, starting at her breasts and trailing his hands back down her belly to her thighs and the center of her desire. She moved restlessly as she felt the anticipation grow in her once more.
"Monte?" she whispered, trying to grab onto his elusive hands.
He sat there for a moment, smiling. "Don't worry, we're not done. I just want to take a minute to admire you."
Actually, she had thought they were done, had never before experienced the fulfillment he'd just given her. That they weren't done, that something else was to come, filled her with heat. She lay before him naked, vulnerable, aroused, her hair spread out about her in gold tangles.
Monte's deep dark eyes narrowed with desire. She'd never felt so beautiful in her life ...bone-deep beautiful, earthy beautiful, woman-beautiful.
She sat up and reached for him. He groaned and moved over her, letting her use her hands and mouth to please him. She explored every inch of his body, and when she reached the flesh between his thighs, she knew she was doing something right, for he was hot and hard. She thrilled to the knowledge.
And to the way he chose to gratify her. Kissing her knees. Nipping the insides of her thighs. Exploring with his tongue what he had previously done with his fingers.
Fisting his long raven black hair in both hands, she arched harder into his mouth, spreading her legs wider, urging him on with little cries. But as she approached the pinnacle for a second time, he suddenly stopped. In one smooth movement, he hooked one of her thighs with his arm, raising her leg so that her knee was bent over his shoulder even as he entered her.
Startled, Iphigenia thought to object, but the protest sounded liked approval, she realized, as, indeed, it was. This felt different from what she'd experienced, but like everything else Monte had done to her ...wonderful.
She curved her free leg around his back and settled in for the ride. Her gaze touched his face, his chest, the joining between their bodies that she could barely make out by firelight. The sight of him entering her, then pulling out, hard and gleaming of her essence, inflamed her. She reached down to touch him, reveling in the thrusts that began in her fingertips and ended deep inside.
She explored him more fully, her fingers circling, teasing, enticing. In return, she grew more eager for fulfillment. His slow movements quickened along with his breath. She, too, was ready. She strained against him and once more felt the universe expand. He grew rigid for a moment, then cried out, her voice joining his, together shattering the desert quiet.
Monte groaned and, releasing her raised leg, covered her with his damp body. Iphigenia clung to him, wishing she would never have to let him go. Wishing she would never have to return to reality.
Reality.
Thinking about the failed mission he'd distracted her from for a glorious if too short time, she sighed deeply.
Monte shifted to the side so he could see her. "What's wrong?" he asked, stroking the hair from her face. His thigh still wrapped around her hip possessively.
"I feel a little guilty."
"About making love to me?"
"No, never. I meant ...forgetting Hope."
"Iphigenia, I swear to you we'll get your baby back, no matter how."
"Not through force," she said anxiously, horrified more than ever at the thought of Monte behind bars.
"Then we'll find some other way. I promise."
She settled her head on his shoulder and wound an arm across his chest, content that he meant what he said. But how? While Monte was the type of man to keep his promises, he didn't have means to the cash Abn
er demanded.
But she did, Iphigenia realized, wondering how to bring up the subject.
Before she could figure it out, Monte was nuzzling at her neck, and renewed sensations were swamping her. Feeling very voluptuous and downright carnal, she hung back her head and closed her eyes, for the time being finding solace in Monte's lovemaking.
AT DAYBREAK, Iphigenia awoke tangled in a bedroll and around Monte. Blinking, she realized she was staring straight into his beloved face with its blade of a nose and sensual mouth. His dark hair swept along his cheek, teasing her fingers to brush it away. As if Monte sensed her watching him, he opened his eyes, allowing her to lose herself in their very blackness.
"Morning," she murmured, reaching out to brush away the hair and to cup his cheek.
He kissed her palm, then nipped at the tender flesh below her thumb. A now familiar sensation zinging through her, Iphigenia wiggled her bottom and realized other flesh was tender, as well. Monte had been truly savage, untamed, keeping her awake with his erotic demands for hours.
She smiled at the sensual memories that even now stirred her. "I was thinking."
"So early?"
"Mm-m."
"Really?" he asked, his tone suggestive.
"No, not that!" She felt heat rise to her cheeks. Though she'd abandoned herself to his lovemaking in the dark, she couldn't quite do the same now. "It's broad daylight, for heaven's sake."
"So I can see you even better."
Iphigenia blushed furiously.
And Monte gave her an expression that undoubtedly was meant to convey his disappointment. Instead, he merely looked comical, making Iphigenia laugh.
"So what were you thinking about?" he asked.
"About that marriage proposal of mine," she blurted without preamble, not quite the way she'd imagined bringing up the subject. "Perhaps you turned me down too quickly."
Anxiously she stared into his face, praying not to see anger. She didn't, though his expression changed to something more cautious. Swallowing hard, she asked, "Did you mean it when you said you would do anything to help me get Hope back?"
"You know I did."
Not certain of how he would react, Iphigenia fussed with the blanket and took a big breath. "My mother left me a trust fund, payable upon the date of my marriage. It's a lot of money, more than I need to pay off Abner Frickett. The rest can be used on the ranch."
Monte raised a brow. "No."
"Oh."
His immediate and repeated rejection crushed her. She rolled away and sat up, taking the blanket with her. Blankly, she looked for her scattered clothing until she felt Monte's hand on her arm. Swallowing, she faced him.
"I won't take your money," he told her, sounding as if she'd wounded his pride. "But I do want to see Hope in your arms."
Did he mean ...
"What are you saying?"
"That I'll marry you ...under one condition."
Stunned, she stared at him until his agreement registered. Monte was willing to marry her, after all. Only -- "What condition?"
"That we don't tell anyone at the ranch. We sleep in our own bedrooms."
"But why?"
Had he been disappointed in her? If so, he'd pretended he was enjoying himself.
"Xosi never liked competition when she was alive," Monte told her. "I doubt she'll like it any better now."
Though part of her believed Monte's tale, a practical part protested. "But what can a ghost do to us?"
"I don't know," Monte admitted in all seriousness. "And that's what I'm afraid of."
A FEW HOURS later, having returned to Fort Davis, Monte had made all the arrangements. The fort's chaplain had agreed to do the deed in the small chapel at the edge of the military base. Iphigenia had insisted on changing back into her woman's clothing and so he was waiting for her to return from where she'd disappeared into a back room.
A young lieutenant named Hap Morely and his wife Aggie had agreed to witness the marriage. The husband was quietly talking with the chaplain, while the wife was helping Iphigenia.
Giving Monte plenty of time to think about the step he was about to take. He hoped he hadn't made a mistake. A marriage was a lifetime commitment, one difficult enough to keep when two people loved each other. He knew Iphigenia found him desirable but he had no illusions as to why she was marrying him -- only for Hope's sake. She'd already telegraphed her father to transfer her trust fund to the First Bank of Fort Davis.
Maybe his love for her would be enough for the present, Monte thought, and maybe the future would hold a return of his affections.
"We're ready," the chaplain announced.
Monte looked to the door where Iphigenia had disappeared. Aggie stood there, waving him to his spot.
Then Aggie joined Hap, and Iphigenia entered the chapel, her eyes locked with Monte's as she slowly made her way toward him. Her traveling outfit was fancied up with some of her jewelry. Around her neck, she wore a single row of diamonds and emeralds. Matching earbobs shone among the silky strands of her blond hair that was pinned up in a soft, flattering style. Her smile was at once tremulous, as if she wasn't certain that she was doing the right thing, and radiant as if she was.
Iphigenia stopped short before him. Monte couldn't tear his gaze away. To his eyes, she'd never looked so beautiful ...or so alive. Her ivory skin had been touched with gold from the sun since she'd come to Texas and there was a spark in her green eyes, a vitality to her entire manner. His heart pounded knowing she would soon be his. When the chaplain cleared his throat, he thought of that, shoving away the dark shadow in his life.
"We are gathered here for a joyous occasion, the union of Monte Ryerson and Iphigenia Wentworth," the man began. "The beginning of a lifelong commitment ..."
Lifelong.
The shadow stirred, alarming Monte, reminding him that women who got involved with him didn't fare well. His mother. Amanda. Xosi. All women who had loved him ...all women who had died before their time.
But Iphigenia didn't love him, he reminded himself, oddly comforted by the realization.
And it would be to her advantage and continued good health that she never did.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
WHEN THEY ARRIVES BACK at the R&Y late that night after a long hard ride direct from Fort Davis, Iphigenia was so exhausted she imagined Monte might have to pick her up and carry her into the house. The idea was only fitting since they were newlyweds, she thought.
Then remembered the threat of Xosi and the fact that no one could know about their marriage.
Sobered, she dismounted, groaning when the lack of control over her legs nearly landed her in a heap on the ground. She caught herself on the saddlehorn and fell against the mare. Belinda snorted but didn't dance away. Probably too tired. The cutting pony wasn't used to travelling long distances any more than Iphigenia was.
"I can take care of the horse," Monte told her, trying to remove the reins from her hand.
Hanging onto the leather, she straightened. "As can I."
"You're in no shape --"
"I shall do it anyway!"
Her snapping at him was stupid, she knew, for he was merelybeing considerate. But ever since they had left the chapel as man and wife, tension and a lack of words had distanced them.
"Suit yourself."
He turned his back on her and tears stung Iphigenia's eyelids. She could hardly believe they'd been so close only the night before. On the journey back today, he'd kept them riding hard and fast, had rarely spoken, had acted like she was a stranger.
Steeling herself, she set to relieving Belinda of her burden and feeding her. Hungry herself, for they'd stopped twice only long enough to ingest some wretched thing called jerky, Iphigenia decided she'd settle for her nice, soft bed and worry about food in the morning.
But when she and Monte silently walked back to the house side-by-side a bit later, she felt the tension between them mount. Was he thinking about bed, as well, one they wouldn't be sharing?
"
You got our story straight?" Monte asked, his expression dark and unreadable.
Irritating her anew. "I left the ranch in a pique because of a disagreement and you brought me back. A difficult concept to remember."
Iphigenia swore she heard Monte gritting his teeth. She swept ahead of him, pausing only when she saw two horses tied up near the house.
"Company," she said, hoping Jonah Barkley hadn't come calling again.
Monte slid a hand over the horse closest to them. "Still warm. Whoever it is hasn't been here long."
Iphigenia was already racing up the porch steps. She'd barely gotten inside the front door when she froze at the sight before her -- Cassie and Stephen entertaining two men who were strangers to this house. A bottle of spirits and two glasses sat on a small stool one of the children had placed directly in front of the sofa.
The one who was not a stranger to Iphigenia looked up. His eyes widened. "Iphigenia? What in heaven's name have you been about?" Horace Wentworth demanded, plunging to his feet, his white mustache twitching. "And those clothes!"
Iphigenia heard Monte enter behind her. "Father. How could you have gotten here so soon?"
She glanced at her father's companion, a man who wore a fancy two-gunned holster with his dusty black coat and pants. A hired guard?
"What do you mean so soon?" her father asked.
"I just sent the telegram this morning."
"What telegram? You mean you came to your senses?"
Realizing Horace Wentworth didn't know what she was talking about, she asked, "Uh, why are you here?"
"Maybe you'd better take him into my study to talk things over," Monte suggested, still directly behind her.
"And just who might you be?" Horace asked, bristling. "The man who lured my daughter into the wilderness with false promises of marriage?"
"No, that was me," Cassie said. "I put the notice in the newspaper without Pa knowing."
Iphigenia noted both the girl's and Stephen's interested expressions. "Uh, Father, would you please follow me to someplace more private?"
