Wild Is My Heart

by Connie Mason

  “Okay, honey, sleep outside if you reckon it will help,” he said, lacking the heart to deny her anything. He’d warn the hands before he retired and have Jake make damn certain she wasn’t bothered.

  Sam struggled with sleep, so elusive and disturbed by dreams and images it was difficult to judge where fantasies ended and reality began. From somewhere out of her deepest longing Colt appeared beside her, a lamp held aloft in one hand. Her eyes ran over the incredible, sensual length of him, from his chin with its day’s growth of beard, over the rich outline of chest and shoulders straining against the fabric of his buckskin shirt, down long lean hips and thighs, pausing a breathless moment on the bold proof of his masculinity. Her eyes lifted from their avid contemplation of him to find him studying her with wry amusement. Warmth penetrated her body, winding its way around her heart, consuming her soul.

  Carefully placing the lamp on the night table, Colt’s gaze went over her hungrily. He knew a gut-wrenching longing to claim her tremulous lips and devour their sweetness. He wanted to probe the honeyed depths of her mouth and feel her return his kiss full measure. With a will of their own his hands reached out to touch her soft, full breasts and he longed to weigh their softness in his palms. He wanted to—The profoundness of his need jarred him.

  Sam knew she was dreaming, had no doubt she had conjured Colt up from her erotic fantasies. Although the hands that explored her body intimately felt like flesh and blood, she knew that Colt wouldn’t dare come to her room with Laura in the house. Then her drugged thoughts scattered as her fantasy lover captured her lips, his kiss firing her passion as his tongue slipped between her teeth into the moist cavern of her mouth. His kiss was forceful, demanding a response as one of his big hands stole under her nightgown to fondle her between her legs, moving slowly, insidiously higher and higher.

  Surrounded in a misty haze, Sam encouraged the shadowy form crouched above her, reaching out to stroke broad shoulders that somehow had lost their buckskin covering. The flesh beneath her fingertips was warm, vital, pulsing with life. The muscles flexed and jerked as her lips tasted the slight saltiness of his skin.

  She breathed in the special scent of him, a clean woodsy aroma blended with the pungent fragrance of soap. Though Sam knew he was but a figment of her imagination, the proud arrogance of his dark features loomed bigger than life before her. She loved the confident way he carried himself, the bronze perfection of his rugged form, the way his tawny eyes glowed when he made love to her. She sighed happily, imagining for a moment that this incredible man was hers.

  “I love you,” she whispered to the phantom who could neither hear or speak.

  In dreams anything was possible. She could delude herself into thinking Colt had tender feelings for her instead of considering her merely a possession. If Colt were truly in the room with her she would never admit to loving him, knowing the contempt he felt for her.

  His voice was deep and rich, and it went over her like a velvet caress, stoking the already fiery desire she was experiencing. “Do you mean that, Violet Eyes, or are you dreamin?”

  Colt was shocked but immensely pleased by the way Sam welcomed him to her bed. He had expected fierce resistance but found her soft and accepting in his arms. He hadn’t planned things this way, but when he returned to the house for the night an unexplained force drove him to Sam’s room. And once he saw her there was no turning back.

  The single lamp cast its golden glow on Sam’s sleeping form. Tiny gasps escaped her lips, and her movements were so erotic that all thoughts of leaving fled. Flinging off his shirt and stretching out beside her, Colt assumed she was awake when her hands discovered his chest and her lips tasted his flesh. For some reason those three words she uttered sent his senses reeling.

  As she tottered on the fringes of awareness, Sam’s eyes widened, suddenly aware that the warm weight pressing her down into the softness of the mattress was no fantasy. Confused, groggy, her senses drugged, Sam wrongly assumed she was back in Black Bear’s village where she was known as Violet Eyes. Her next grave mistake was thinking it was Brave Eagle who had just spoken her name—her Indian name.

  “Brave Eagle?”

  “Christ! Do you think I’m that damn Comanche?” Colt spat disgustedly. “Is he the man you love?”

  “Colt? I… you called me Violet Eyes. I … thought …”

  “You thought it was that savage makin’ love to you. Sorry to disappoint you.”

  She looked up at him, arrested. “What are you doing in my room?”

  “It’s obvious, isn’t it? I want you.”

  “I don’t want you! Leave me alone.”

  “Your body wants me.” Colt smiled with slow relish. “It’s been so long, Sam, you need me as much as I need you.”

  “I don’t need you at all.”

  “Who do you love, Violet Eyes?” he taunted, reminding her of her careless words. “Did you fall in love with Brave Eagle? Did he bed you?”

  “Please, Colt, don’t torment me.”

  “I wouldn’t do that, Violet Eyes. I want to love you. Chief Black Bear would be the first to remind you of your wifely duty.” His tone was light and teasing.

  She formed a scathing retort, but it died in her throat as his mouth slanted across hers in a fiery kiss that left her breathless. Just when she thought she would suffocate, his lips drifted down her cheek to the hollow at the base of her neck, then back to her mouth. He cursed when her nightgown prevented him access to her breasts. His breath warm in her mouth, he tore at her single garment, baring her in seconds, then stripped off his boots and pants, as frantic for her as she was for him. She felt the heat of his skin, the abrasion of his body hair as he settled on top of her, thrusting one knee between her thighs.

  Sam gasped when Colt’s open mouth found the peak of one breast. His tongue teased the nipple, then sucked greedily upon the tender flesh. His hands slid down her belly, molding her hips, her buttocks, then sought a deeper warmth.

  Sam thought she would never be able to bear the swirling torrent of fiery need that stirred deep within her the moment he began his loving torment. She knew she should resist, willed herself to hold back her response, but Colt was an unstoppable force, driven by incredible passion. He was a mass of sinewed strength—a powerful, imposing creature, half-man, half-beast. He was a cunning, calculating male who had learned to survive by his wits, and she was powerless against his imposing will.

  There was no logic in the kind of passion Colt evoked in her. It was raw emotion, so fierce and potent that nothing could contain it. She made a half-hearted attempt to resist but gave up when one earth-shattering sensation of rapture piled atop another.

  “Do you want me to stop, Violet Eyes?” Colt rasped, his tawny eyes dark with desire.

  “Hellfire and damnation! No!” Sam flung back, clutching desperately at his broad shoulders and moaning in sweet torment. “Love me, Colt. Love me for all the empty tomorrows when I’m nothing to you but a vague memory.”

  Colt would have challenged her words if he hadn’t been too caught up in the moment for coherent speech.

  The aching between Sam’s legs built to a crescendo of need. She arched her hips against him and was impaled by his hard strength. A trembling sigh left her lips; her body a mass of tremors as Colt’s sensuous mouth whispered over hers, coaxing her lips apart to taste deeply of his offering. He moved with easy grace, plunging, thrusting, withdrawing, setting her afire as sensation after sensation turned her into a living flame. She cried, she cursed, she begged Colt to release her, but he continued to toy with her senses until her own urgency drove him toward completion. His silken strokes created an inferno in her and Sam felt herself ready to explode. Then she did, soaring to the heavens, lifting out of space and time into the star-studded universe. Colt’s climax began almost simultaneously, his body trembling, his hoarse cry resounding loudly in the stillness of the night.

  A profound contentment came over Sam as she floated back to earth, and she snuggled against the
curve of Colt’s body. If only—but the thought barely registered before she felt Colt stiffen beside her and turn away. “Colt? What is it?”

  “Why do I forget everythin’ ’cept the need to possess you when I’m with you? This terrible urge to fill my senses with the taste and smell of you is a weakness in my character I’m unfamiliar with.”

  “Can’t you just accept our attraction for one another without rationalizing?”

  Colt turned to face Sam, his tawny eyes glowing hotly. “I can accept the fact that I want to make love to you, Violet Eyes, and keep you close, but it’s the reason for that need I question.”

  Colt’s bald statement stunned Sam. What did it mean? Did he actually feel something for her besides sexual attraction? Something stronger than the contempt for that part of her that was Indian?

  “I want you to stay here, Sam,” he coaxed. “Stay and share the ranch with Laura.”

  “As your wife?” she challenged boldly.

  “No … no, of course not,” he quickly denied. “You know that’s impossible, the way I feel about Indians.”

  “Will you expect to share my bed?”

  Colt hesitated, eyeing her shrewdly. “I don’t see why not. As long as it’s what we both want. And if our couplin’ tonight was any indication, I’d say you enjoyed it as much as I did.”

  “I won’t be your whore, Colt. If that’s what you think of me, there’s no hope for any kind of relationship between us. No matter how badly Laura needs me, I won’t remain here a moment longer than necessary. There will be no repeats of tonight.”

  Christ! Colt cursed beneath his breath. He didn’t really think of Sam as a whore. He had been the first with her and was certain there had been no one else unless Brave Eagle had seduced her. Perversely, he wanted to keep her for himself where no other man could touch her. Did that make her his whore? Was there no cure for the terrible ache of wanting her with a passion bordering on desperation? What he needed was to sate himself with her golden flesh until he tired of her. Only then, Colt reasoned, would he be free of her.

  “You don’t mean that, darlin’,” Colt murmured huskily, teasing her lips as he pinned her to the mattress. His mouth drifted downwards to capture a pouting nipple, and the magic began anew.

  “Damn you, Colt!” Sam gasped, arching into his mouth. “So blasted sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

  “You’re mine, darlin’, for as long as I want you. Nothin’ can deny this—” Her body jerked convulsively as his hands sought a deeper warmth, his fingers separating the petals of her womanhood to stroke the fires of her passion. “Or this—” Unerringly he found the velvet sheath, carefully inserting one finger, then another, thrusting, withdrawing, until Sam’s ragged breathing and muffled cries sent his own passion rocketing. Then Sam felt the bold proof of his desire replace his fingers and she knew nothing but the spiraling shards of pleasure turning her body to ash and cinder.

  Hazy wisps of mist hung lopsided in a sky streaked with mauve and scarlet when Laura returned to the house the next morning. Accustomed to rising at dawn to begin her numerous chores for the day, she had found it difficult to change habits overnight. Folding her bedroll neatly and placing it on the bed she had yet to sleep in, Laura wandered into the kitchen to begin preparations for breakfast. Selecting wood from the woodbin next to the cook-stove Sam’s father had purchased shortly before his death, Laura lit a fire and searched the cupboards for food. She was. delighted with the staples on hand and set coffee to boil while she fried bacon and made biscuits.

  When the coffee was done, Laura filled a cup with the fragrant brew and crossed to Sam’s room, wanting to surprise her with her skill. Noiselessly she opened the door, so startled by the sight of Sam and Colt intimately entwined on the rumpled bed that the cup flew from her hand, nearly scalding her. Sam and Colt were nude, their bodies stirringly beautiful in the early morning light. A glowing smile curved the corners of Laura’s mouth. Her brother might deny his feelings for Sam to himself but to no one else. It was obvious he cared deeply for his wife, and Laura hoped he would realize it before he lost her. Returning to the kitchen, she placed the food on the back of the stove to keep warm and went outside to wash up in the stream that rambled through the woods behind the house.

  Colt jerked awake with a start, suddenly aware of the sun stabbing his eyelids. Hell’s bells! How could he sleep so late? Had Laura returned to the house yet? If so, he hoped she hadn’t discovered him in Sam’s bed. It would be difficult to explain to his sister why he found it necessary to sleep with Sam when he repeatedly denounced their Comanche marriage vows as heathen rites he had no intention of honoring.

  There was no denying that his need for Sam overruled his scruples. It was a need so potent that he could take her again despite the fact he had made love to her repeatedly until the sky turned from black to dirty gray and exhaustion claimed them. Was there no way to break the spell she wove around his senses?”

  Rising, Colt struggled into his pants with a haste born of guilt, grabbed up the rest of his discarded clothing, and spared a last glance at Sam’s sleeping form before leaving the room. Seeing no one about, he finished dressing on his way out the front door and hastened to the bunkhouse to wash up and breakfast with the ranch hands.

  Sam stretched lazily, a contented smile tilting the edges of her lips. Her body ached—but pleasantly so. She felt vaguely tired—yet glowingly refreshed. Then memory eroded the corners of her brain, intruding upon her feeling of happiness. She reached out to where the indentation and warmth of Colt’s body still lingered, and breathed a sigh of relief to find he had already gone. After her wanton behavior last night she didn’t want to face him yet.

  A timid knock sounded on the door and Laura poked her head inside. Hastily Sam pulled a cover over her nudeness. Laura appeared not to notice—all Indian women slept nude.

  Laura felt no qualms about intruding on Sam, for she knew that Colt was gone. She had spied him walking to the bunkhouse on her way back from the stream. “I thought you’d like some coffee, Sam.”

  Sam flushed guiltily, thinking Laura’s words a mild rebuke for sleeping so late. “I didn’t realize it was so late,” she replied sheepishly, reaching for the coffee.

  “You deserve to sleep after all you’ve been through.” Laura smiled.

  “What!” Sam replied, startled. Was Laura referring to the sleepless night she had spent in Colt’s arms? Had she heard their rather vocal lovemaking?

  Laura soon put Sam’s worst fears to rest. “I slept outside last night. It will take me some time to adjust to sleeping in a bed.”

  “Oh,” Sam said in a small voice, lowering her gaze to hide her relief.

  “Breakfast is cooked. When you’re ready we’ll eat together.”

  “Is … is Colt… sleeping?”

  “I saw him walking to the bunkhouse when I returned from bathing.”

  “Oh,” Sam said again. “I think I’ll bathe first.”

  “Hurry, then, I’ll wait.”

  Some time later, shaved, bathed, and dressed in clean buckskins, Colt returned to the house. He found the women in the kitchen.

  “I’m leavin’ for Karlsburg,” he said, shifting his gaze from Laura to Sam. “Can’t say when I’ll return. I reckon Cap’n Ford has been in touch with Jim by now with new orders. I’ll get word to you if my orders take me out of town.”

  “Do you have to leave?” Laura asked.

  “I’ve a job to do, honey. I’m a Texas Ranger. I go where I’m needed.”

  “Who is Jim?”

  “Jim Blake, my partner. He’s been in Karlsburg posin’ as a hired gun hopin’ to learn more about the Logans. I’m convinced they’re behind most of the cattle rustlin’ in the area.”

  “What do they hope to gain by it?” Sam asked, puzzled. “I know Vern Logan is a vile worm whose only thought is for his own skin, but why do he and his father want to ruin the ranchers?”

  “Power and money,” Colt explained. “They stand to make a fortu
ne from the railroad. They want to be the most important men in Texas.”

  Sam chewed on that for a while before asking, “When will you return?” She could have bit her tongue for asking, but it was too late to take it back.

  Colt’s considering gaze flicked over Sam and a slow smile lit his dark features. “Why, will you miss me?”

  “Hardly,” Sam lied. “I just wanted you to know that I won’t be here when you return.”

  A cry of dismay slipped past Laura’s lips. Sam flung her a pitying look but stubbornly maintained her position, undaunted by Colt’s fierce scowl.

  “Laura, I’d like to speak with Sam privately before I leave.” Though the words were addressed to his sister, his intimidating gaze never left Sam.

  “Of course,” Laura agreed with alacrity as she left through the back door.

  “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll be here when I return,” Colt warned ominously.

  “What difference does it make to you? You don’t care about me, so why try to keep me against my will?”

  “I care about Laura and she needs you.”

  “What makes you so damn contrary?” Sam fumed angrily. “You admitted last night you needed me. Can’t you care a little?”

  Shoving his hat to the back of his head, Colt raked her slim figure suggestively. “You’re a damn allurin’ woman, darlin’, despite your Comanche blood. Only a fool or a blind man would deny it, and I’m neither. I’m also no saint. A man takes his pleasure where he finds it. When I want someone or some-thin’, I take it. Last night I did need you.”

  “And now you don’t,” Sam stated flatly.

  “Don’t put words in my mouth. Just be here when I return.”

  “If I’m not? What then?” Sam challenged.

  A sly smile quirked Colt’s lips. “What if you’re breedin’, darlin’? Have you thought of that? How will you support a child?”