Untamed

by Diana Palmer

  “You didn’t remember, Stanton,” she said. “That wasn’t your fault.”

  “If I hadn’t agreed to that job...!”

  “If, if, if,” she chided. She reached up and kissed his chin. “Let’s have a nice lunch and then we can go and sit in the park, if you like.”

  He searched her soft eyes. “I know something I’d rather do,” he said huskily.

  Her face colored.

  “Jake had a cleaning crew go over to your house when the crime scene unit left. We can go home tonight, if you want to.”

  She couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “That would be...nice.”

  “Oh, better than nice,” he murmured at her ear. His lips smoothed over her earlobe. “I’ll have to stop by the pharmacy first, however. Unless you’re taking something...?”

  She looked up at him with her heart in her eyes. “I’m not. I don’t want to,” she whispered.

  His face tautened. “I missed it all,” he said. “Knowing you were pregnant, watching you carry my son, being there when he was born... I missed everything,” he ground out.

  She put her fingers over his hard mouth. “There will be another time.”

  He caught her hand and held her palm to his lips. His eye held hers. “It’s too soon,” he said unsteadily.

  She felt her heart racing. “Joshua is almost two months,” she said unsteadily. “We could...if you wanted to.”

  His face went scarlet, at just the thought of it. “I wanted to make you pregnant in Manaus. I told you that I did.” His jaw tautened. “But this time, if it happens, there is no way I’m leaving you. Not even for a day!”

  She pressed close to his side. “Not even for a day, my darling,” she whispered.

  Her heart soared. She’d never felt such happiness in her whole life.

  * * *

  That night, he loved her to sleep in her own bed, his body slow and tender, his mouth touching and lifting and teasing her until she thought she’d go mad.

  “I thought I remembered how good this felt,” he murmured against her breasts, chuckling.

  “I remembered.” She reached up and kissed his wounded eye. She’d teased him out of the patch already. He gave in with good grace. He didn’t really mind letting her see the injury. She loved him so much that she never even noticed it, and he realized that.

  He moved slowly on her yielding body, enjoying the soft little cries that pulsed from her throat, the way her short nails dug into his hips as he lifted and fell against her. The whole time, he watched her face, enjoyed the intimacy of being with her, all over again.

  “I didn’t think...you could be so patient,” she whispered brokenly.

  “Why? Because you think I had other women while my memory was gone?” he teased unsteadily. “I couldn’t touch another woman, not even Charlene,” he murmured at her lips. “I didn’t want anyone else. I couldn’t understand why, until I ran headlong into you in the Jacobsville pharmacy. My God, what a shock! I was so aroused that I attacked you,” he groaned.

  She gasped. “Aroused?”

  “Aroused.” He moved harder against her. “I hadn’t felt it since the wound. I just looked at you and went rigid.” His mouth ground into hers. “Lift your legs around me, darling,” he whispered as he shifted, making her moan even louder. “That’s it. Yes...like that...hold on, baby. Hold on. Hold on. Hold on...!”

  The words echoed with every hard, deep motion of his hips. The rhythm went wild all at once. His hands tightened at either side of her head and his face mirrored the sweet torment of what he was beginning to feel.

  “Oh, God, Tat...!” he cried out and began to shudder rhythmically.

  She went with him, her body arching, lifting, grinding up into his as the fever melted them together like molten steel. At the end, she cried out and sobbed against his shoulder, giving in to a wave of pleasure that threatened to kill her. She almost lost consciousness, it was so violent.

  She felt his heartbeat shaking her. She felt the beloved weight of his warm, damp body on hers as they both gasped at breath.

  “I died,” he murmured against her soft breast. “I died.”

  “So did I,” she whispered, still shivering.

  “I got you pregnant the first time we made love,” he said huskily. “I wanted it, so much!”

  “Me, too,” she whispered, holding him closer.

  “If only,” he managed, lifting his head to look down into her soft, sated eyes.

  She touched his cheek with the tips of her fingers. “If only.”

  “We’ve had a hell of a rocky ride to the altar,” he said drowsily. “But maybe, with a little luck, it will be smooth sailing from now on.”

  “I hope so,” she agreed. She smoothed her hands over his broad, hair-covered chest. “You’re so beautiful, Stanton,” she whispered. “I never get tired of looking at you.”

  “That’s my line,” he argued, laughing as he bent to her mouth. “My lovely Tat.”

  She sighed and pulled him closer. “Now I’m sleepy.”

  “Me, too.” He rolled over, pulling her with him. “Do you have the monitor on in Joshua’s room?”

  “Yes, of course,” she murmured. She grimaced. “I still can’t believe I trusted Mariel with him.” She shivered. “I was so stupid...!”

  “You had no reason to believe she meant you any harm.” He traced her eyebrows. “I’m so sorry, for the pain you’ve endured because of me. I’m sorry about Carvajal, as well. Not that I wouldn’t have done everything in my power to get you and my son away from him, if he’d survived the malaria,” he added darkly.

  “He wouldn’t have tried to make me stay. He knew how I felt about you,” she added sadly. “He’d been in love, himself. He never told her after the accident. He said she deserved a full life.”

  “He was a good man,” he said reluctantly.

  “So are you,” she replied, tracing his hard mouth. “And I love you insanely.”

  He laughed softly and kissed her back. “I love you insanely. Otherwise, I assure you, I wouldn’t have gone eight damned long years without a woman!”

  She wreathed her arms around his neck and leaned over him. “I’ll make it all up to you,” she murmured against his mouth.

  “You will?” he teased.

  “Oh, yes. I can start right away, too.” Her long, soft leg smoothed in between his hair-roughened ones. “Do you like this?”

  “Like it?” he groaned, arching. “I love it!”

  “In that case, suppose I do this, too...!”

  He rolled her over onto her back and groaned as he found her mouth. For a long, long time, they didn’t say another word.

  * * *

  Joshua was christened at the age of four months in Jake Blair’s church. His name had already been changed to Kantor, just as Rourke’s had. Clarisse had felt a pang of conscience at first, but it wasn’t right to keep the name of a man who wasn’t Joshua’s father. She knew that Ruy would understand.

  Joshua’s proud parents stood with the Griers, Cash and Tippy, who were to be his godparents. On the other side was K.C., his grandfather, who released the honor of godparent to one not of the family. There was a crowd for the event.

  The reception was held at the fellowship hall, but just as a buffet lunch was being served, Tippy left Tris with her brother, Rory, and Clarisse left Joshua with his father and grandfather, and both women made a sudden beeline for the ladies’ room.

  As they bathed their faces shortly afterward, they exchanged looks of unholy amusement.

  “I know, it’s too soon, but we really wanted another one,” Clarisse began.

  Tippy was laughing through tears. “I wasn’t convinced that I could get pregnant again,” she confessed. “Cash is going to be shocked!”

  * * *

&nb
sp; Shocked wasn’t the word. Cash picked her up in his arms and carried her around the fellowship hall, kissing her nonstop the whole time. Rourke was similarly involved with his own wife.

  “Must be the water,” Jake Blair murmured, glancing at his daughter, who was almost ready to deliver.

  Her husband, Carson, just grinned.

  * * *

  Many months later, Rourke and Cash were pacing the waiting room while their wives were admitted and taken into the delivery room.

  “I want to be in there with her,” Cash muttered as the obstetrician, a woman, came into the seated area.

  “So do I,” Rourke added. “We did the natural childbirth thing...”

  “Mrs. Grier went into labor almost before we could get her prepped,” she told Cash with a big smile. “You have a son, Chief Grier. A fine, healthy little boy.”

  “A boy.” Cash’s face went white. “A boy! Tippy, is Tippy all right?” he added quickly.

  “She’s just fine. You can go in and see her. Marie, will you take the chief back to his wife and son?” she added, motioning to a nurse.

  “My pleasure. Come along, Chief Grier,” Marie said.

  “What about Tat?” Rourke asked, beside himself.

  “We had to do a C-section. It’s all right—she’s doing very well,” the doctor assured him. She laughed. “I know you were hoping for a matched set, but it’s another boy.”

  Rourke just smiled. “I was hoping for a healthy baby,” he corrected. “I’d have been happy with either, as long as my sweetheart is okay.” That concern showed.

  “She’s doing fine. Come along. I’ll take you back myself.” She shook her head. She laughed. “Maybe it really is the water.”

  * * *

  Rourke stood over the bed where Tat, pale but happy, was holding the newest addition to their family. He bent and touched the tiny head with his fingertips. There was a wetness in his good eye.

  “All my life, I’ve felt as if I never had a place where I truly belonged. Now I do,” he said, lifting his gaze to her rapt face. “I could die of happiness right now.”

  She smiled softly. “So could I, my darling.”

  “K.C. is on his way over. He’s bought out half a toy store for Joshua, and he’s bringing a bag full of things for the new baby.”

  “I’d like to call him Kent,” she said gently. “For K.C.” It was Rourke’s father’s real first name.

  His face softened. “He’d be very proud.”

  “And Morrison for my father. It was his middle name.”

  “Kent Morrison Kantor it is,” he said softly. He bent and kissed her eyes. “Have I told you today how much I love you, Mrs. Kantor?” he whispered.

  “Only ten times,” she murmured, drawing his face down so that she could kiss him warmly. “Not nearly enough.”

  He chuckled. “I love you madly.”

  “I love you madly back,” she said against his mouth.

  “Forever,” he whispered, and his face was so radiant with love that it almost blinded her.

  She brushed his lips with hers, fighting tears that felt like a watery overflow of happiness. Her mind was drifting back, over the long barren years with glimpses of terror and pain and sadness. All that, and now this. Heaven.

  “Don’t cry,” he whispered, kissing her eyelids, sipping away the tears. “I’ll never leave you again. Never.”

  She managed a watery smile. “I know, my darling,” she whispered softly, overcome with joy. “I know.”

  Rourke kissed his son’s little head. “After the storm, the sunlight,” he said under his breath, in Afrikaans.

  She nodded. “And it’s blinding—it’s so beautiful!” she whispered.

  “Beautiful,” he agreed, but he was looking at her lovely face.

  She looked down at the child in her arms and drew in a long breath. “Better call K.C.,” she told Rourke.

  He chuckled, pulled out his cell phone, took a selfie of the three of them, and sent it off to his father.

  An instant later, there was a reply. There, on the screen, was K.C., with a grin like a Cheshire cat, wearing a long red cap with a white ball on the end, waving a small soccer ball and a stuffed lion. There was a text message underneath.

  On my way, with the contents of another toy shop. Harnessing the reindeer as we speak!

  “My God, it’s Christmas tomorrow,” Rourke exclaimed.

  “Yes, and you didn’t believe in Santa Claus, you silly man,” Clarisse chided. “But look what he brought you!” she added, indicating the child in her arms.

  He bent and brushed his mouth over hers, and then over the child’s head. “I must have been a very, very good boy this year!”

  She pursed her lips. “Oooooh, yes,” she drawled, and gave him a steamy appraisal.

  Cash Grier poked his head in the door. “I’m going for coffee. Want some?” he asked Rourke.

  “Yes,” Rourke said. “I’ll go help you carry it. Back in a jiffy,” he promised his wife, grinning.

  “What did you name him?” Clarisse asked.

  “Marcus Gilbert Rourke Grier.”

  Rourke caught his breath. He looked oddly flushed.

  Cash grinned. “We’d have added Cassius, but Carson’s got that on his side of the family. So we thought we should have Rourke for yours.” He put an affectionate arm around Rourke. “After all, that’s what Jacobsville is. A family. Right?”

  Rourke was trying not to show the emotion he felt. He looked at his wife, his newest child and thought of K.C. on the way to join them. “Ya,” he said after a minute, when he’d composed himself. “A big family.”

  Clarisse’s eyes were brimming over with joy. “Hey,” she teased, “bring me back a steak, could you?”

  Rourke made a face at her. “I’d be hung from the ceiling with IV tubes, my darling,” he confessed. “Sorry. But you can have a teddy bear.”

  “A lion,” she corrected, her eyes soft with love. “We’ll name him Lou, after yours back home.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” He winked at her and went out the door with Cash, whistling softly.

  Clarisse drew in a breath. She had the world. The whole world. She kissed her little boy’s head and closed her eyes. Life was sweet. Sweeter than dreams.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from INVINCIBLE by Diana Palmer.

  “This is an action-packed, joyous return to Palmer’s fictional Jacobsville, Texas... Invincible is quite suspenseful and infused with plenty of delightful, sparkling dialogue.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  If you loved Untamed, don’t miss these great titles in Diana Palmer’s sweeping Wyoming Men series:

  Wyoming Tough

  Wyoming Fierce

  Wyoming Bold

  Wyoming Strong

  Don’t forget these other thrilling tales from New York Times bestselling author Diana Palmer!

  Dangerous

  Merciless

  Courageous

  Protector

  Lawless

  Invincible

  All available now in ebook format.

  Looking for more? With more than one hundred ebooks available, you can also enjoy dozens of other memorable titles by Diana Palmer!

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  Invincible

  by Diana Palmer

  CHAPTER ONE

  IT WAS A rainy Friday morning.

  Carlie Blair, who was
running late for her job as secretary to Jacobsville, Texas police chief Cash Grier, only had time for a piece of toast and a sip of coffee before she rushed out the door to persuade her ten-year-old red pickup truck to start. It had gone on grinding seemingly forever before it finally caught up and started.

  Her father, a Methodist minister, was out of town on business for the day. So there was nobody to help her get it running. Luck was with her. It did, at least, start.

  She envied her friend Michelle Godfrey, whose guardian and his sister had given her a Jaguar for Christmas. Michelle was away at college now, and she and Carlie still spoke on the phone, but they no longer shared rides to town and the cost of gas on a daily basis.

  The old clunker ate gas like candy and Carlie’s salary only stretched so far. She wished she had more than a couple pairs of jeans, a few T-shirts, a coat and one good pair of shoes. It must be nice, she thought, not to have to count pennies. But her father was always optimistic about their status. God loved the poor, because they gave away so much, he was fond of saying. He was probably right.

  Right now, though, her rain-wet jeans were uncomfortable, and she’d stepped in a mud puddle with her only pair of good shoes while she was knocking corrosion off the battery terminals with the hammer she kept under the front seat for that purpose. All this in January weather, which was wet and cold and miserable, even in South Texas.

  Consequently, when she parked her car in the small lot next to the chief’s office, she looked like a bedraggled rat. Her dark, short, wavy hair was curling like crazy, as it always did in a rainstorm. Her coat was soaked. Her green eyes, full of silent resignation, didn’t smile as she opened the office door.

  Her worst nightmare was standing just inside.

  Carson.

  He glared at her. He was so much taller than she that she had to look up at him. There was a lot to look at, although she tried not to show her interest.

  He was all muscle, but it wasn’t overly obvious. He had a rodeo rider’s physique, lean and powerful. Like her, he wore jeans, but his were obviously designer ones, like those hand-tooled leather boots on his big feet and the elaborately scrolled leather holster in which he kept his .45 automatic. He was wearing a jacket that partially concealed the gun, but he was intimidating enough without it.