by Bobbi Smith
"I'm beginning to see that," Chance agreed as he studied the desolate, night-shrouded desert. "Yet, even though the desert can be deadly, it does have a mysterious beauty about it. But I don't understand why a man who has everything would give it all up to come out here and search for gold."
"Maybe gold isn't the only thing a man's searching for when he comes to the territory," Burr offered solemnly.
Chance looked thoughtful. "It's just that it makes no sense for Doug to do this, though. Our family's wealthy, he's had the best schooling, he's easygoing and popular with the women. What else could he be looking for?" He thought of all the girls back in Boston who'd made a play for Doug, only to be discarded as he tired of them, and he grinned, feeling rather proud of his brother's amorous achievements. From what he'd seen, Doug's reputation as a playboy had been well earned.
Burr's shrug was eloquent. "Some men need more than money and women."
Chance pondered the old man's statement and quickly concluded it was true. He was living proof that success and riches did not automatically ensure contentment. Despite the fact that he'd parlayed the family business to even greater success and that he could have just about any woman in Boston he wanted, he'd taken to the seas, captaining one of his own ships.
The parallel between his own actions and Doug's generally unorthodox behavior surprised him a bit, and Chance found himself wondering if Doug got involved in all these adventures because he was trouble-prone or because he was searching for something more, something that couldn't be bought with the family's name and money?
"You're right," Chance gave a soft laugh. "Doug refused to go along with any of it. We considered him wild as a boy, always trying something new and different, always getting into trouble and needing to be rescued . . ."
"Doesn't sound like the Doug I know. The Doug I know works that mine tirelessly from dawn till dusk."
"Maybe he's finally found his happiness. Maybe this land has been the making of him."
"It's made many a man," Burr told him reflectively, "but it's broke more."
"I can see how it could. There's nothing easy or forgiving about this desert. It's a far cry from Boston and our family business, that's for sure."
"What business is that?"
"We're in shipping," Chance offered.
Burr gave him a look of respect at the news. "You a master?"
"I captain my own vessel, yes," he replied.
"No wonder you aren't used to being in the saddle all day," he chuckled. "Quite a change from riding the current, isn't it?"
Chance grinned widely. "Quite, but I'm growing used to it."
"You got other family back East? Doug's never said much." Burr's reason for asking was his own, and he waited tensely for his reply.
"Just our mother. Our father died years ago."
"No wives and kids?"
"No. Doug never seemed to settle for long with any one woman, and I'm away so much . . . Although I have to tell you, lately the idea's beginning to hold more appeal. It's a lonely life being a ship's captain "
"You got anyone in mind?"
Chance thought of Bethany and remembered their last encounter at the party. "Possibly. There's a beautiful, blue-eyed blond named Bethany back in Boston . . ."
Rori stood deep in the shadows, listening to all that was being said. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but when the conversation had turned to Chance's family, she'd found herself avidly anticipating his every word. She wanted to know everything about him there was to know.
The news that the Brodericks were rich intimidated Rori. Then, when Chance mentioned that he was considering marriage to the gorgeous Bethany, her heart constricted painfully. Certainly, judging from the things Chance had said to her that night in the hotel room, they'd already been lovers. Did this blond, blue-eyed woman hold his heart, too?
Jealousy was a new emotion for Rori, and it struck her with an awful ferocity as she pictured Chance with the other woman. In the image Rori conjured up, Bethany was a vision of perfection, much like the ladies she had seen dressed up for a dance when she and Burr had been in town a few months before. At the time she had wondered why women would want to gussy themselves up that way, and she'd asked her grampa about it. He'd told her that the women usually dressed that way to please men, that men liked to see women looking "feminine." It hadn't bothered her then, but it did now.
Rori glanced down at herself in the darkness, as if seeing her worn buckskins and moccasins for the first time. With a trembling hand, she reached up to touch the brim of her raggedy hat and then her feather-decorated braids. There was nothing feminine about her . . . nothing.
Not that she cared one wit about trying to attract Chance! Rori denied hotly to herself. But even as she swore she didn't care about him, a small ache in her heart told her that she was lying. Admit it or not, she did feel something for this tall, handsome man who simply by touching her could send excitement tingling through her.
Was this love? The thought jarred her to the depths of her soul, and as quickly as the thought came, she put it from her. She did not love Chance Broderick! There was nothing lovable about him! He was a hateful, arrogant man, and she wanted nothing, absolutely nothing to do with him! After they reached Doug's mine in another few weeks, she would never see him again, and that would be a relief.
Big Jake's soft, low whine brought her back to the present, and Rori glanced down at her two-timing friend she'd been purposefully ignoring. "I don't like you, Jakie," she scolded.
Jake cocked his head and gave a weak wag of his tail as he stared up at her, trying to make sense out of her strange mood.
"Don't give me that innocent look," Rori glared at her pet. "You're my dog, not his."
Again, Jake wagged his tail.
"You're supposed to stay with me, not go lie by the fire with Broderick!" she told him. As she spoke, Rori felt her anger return and grow, and she was glad. Anger she could deal with. Anger she could understand and control. It was those other strange emotions that threatened to overwhelm her and filled her with uncertainty. They stole her confidence and left her floundering before their painful power, and she was glad that, for the moment, their hold upon her had faded.
Wearily, Rori tilted her head back and stared up at the star-spangled, moonlit heavens. Sometimes, just staring up into the vastness of the desert sky helped her to realize how really unimportant her daily troubles were in the scheme of things. Tonight, however, there was no soothing peace to fill her with contentment. Tonight, continuing thoughts of Chance bombarded her—Chance holding her tight against his side after the fight in town, Chance lying wounded on the bed in his hotel room, Chance bending over her, worrying about her after she'd fallen, and a hot flush of desire swept through her.
Rori almost screamed her frustration to the darkness. There had to be some way to push him from her thoughts—some way to escape these unnamed feelings that threatened to consume her! She drew a deep steadying breath and gritted her teeth against the heat that throbbed through her. She wouldn't feel these things for him! She wouldn't!
Regaining a somewhat shaky control, Rori started off at a brisk walk, heading even farther away from camp. Jake remained where he was and barked softly, questioningly, wondering at her wisdom in wandering off into the night.
"Look, either you're with me or you're not! I need to walk. Now, if you're comin', come on." Rori didn't wait to see what he'd do, she just kept on going.
Big Jake looked toward the camp and the men only once, then bounded into the night after her.
The night was quiet and cloudless. Unobstructed, the stars and moon cast their pale glow over the desert mountains and illuminated the small, hidden oasis with a silvery light.
The Indian woman who sat quietly alone in the clearing was exquisitely lovely. She wore the garments traditional to her tribe, a cotton skirt and blouse, but despite their looseness, they could not disguise the lithe curves of her body or the firmness of her breasts. Her waist-length black hair was
unbound now as she combed out the heavy mass, and it fell about her in a satiny, protective veil.
Doug stood on a craggy precipice almost directly above Nilakla, his dark brown gaze focused on her and her alone. Nilakla was so beautiful . . . He could feel the heat stirring in his loins as he watched her, and his breathing grew tight in his chest. He longed to take her in his arms and kiss her, to run his hands through the silken, raven cascade of her hair. Lord knows, he wanted her, but . . .
Doug's conscience stabbed at him, momentarily stifling his burning desire for the woman who'd given him everything and asked nothing in return. Nilakla loved him completely, without reservation. It was that freely given devotion that troubled him now, for as each day passed and the prospect of Chance's arrival grew nearer, Doug knew his time with her was coming to an end.
When Chance showed up and they brought the gold out, Doug fully intended to return to Boston. He had made it on his own now, and having accomplished that, he wanted to resume his life there.
Yet, even as Doug planned to go back, a great sense of remorse filled him. He cared deeply for Nilakla, and he knew it would not be easy to be parted from her. She was laughter and gentleness and goodness. His life would be emptier without her, but there was no way he could take her back with him. She was an Indian, and she would never be able to find happiness in the unforgiving strictures of Boston society.
As if sensing his presence, Nilakla looked up from where she was sitting. She saw Douglas then, her blond lover, standing high above her on one of the craggy peaks watching her. Once again she was taken aback by how much she loved him. He was so tall, so masculine, and so handsome. Her black eyes met his brown ones fully and without guile, and though she couldn't read his expression at this distance, she could tell just by his tense stance that he wanted her.
"You want me, Douglas?" she asked, her voice husky with emotion as she held out a hand toward him in invitation.
At that moment, all thought of leaving her vanished from Doug's mind. He wasted no time in descending from the mountainous heights, moving straight to her to take her in his arms.
"Yes, Nilakla, I want you," Doug murmured, his lips seeking out the sweetness of her throat as his hands began an impatient exploration of her enticing curves. There was something about being close to her that drove him to distraction. In saner moments, whenever he thought of their abandoned lovemaking, he could never pinpoint just what it was that drove him to possess her with such passionate need—the womanly scent of her, the satiny feeling of her skin beneath his questing touch, the wantonness of her response to him . . . He only knew that he desired her more than he'd ever desired another woman. "I always want you . . ."
"And I, you, my Douglas . . . my love," Nilakla whispered the bittersweet confession. She knew he wanted her body. She knew he needed that much from her, but her heart ached because she also knew it could never be more than that.
Doug was waiting only for his brother to come to him, and when he did, Nilakla knew her love would go away and never return. She longed to cry out to Doug to stay with her forever, to be her love, her husband, but she realized that love is only worth having when it's freely given. She could not force him to stay with her, and she certainly would not plead with him. She would only make the last of their time together as wonderful as she could, giving him all she had to give and treasuring each moment.
Nilakla felt his body harden against hers, and eager to know him fully, she slipped her hands up to unbutton his shirt. She would tolerate no barriers between them when they were making love. She wanted his hot, driving body deep within hers, for it was only then that she felt Doug was completely hers. Doug was her only love, and Nilakla knew that when he left her she would never love again.
They discarded his clothing as quickly as they could and dropped to the ground together wrapped in each other's arms, famished for a taste of each other, naked flesh pressed to naked flesh. In silent desperation, Nilakla reached down and took him to her, guiding him into her soft, welcoming heat. She wanted to clasp him to her heart and hold him captive for all eternity within the circle of her arms. She loved him, and she couldn't bear to think of what she would do when she had to live without him.
Their mating was fierce with loving splendor. Nilakla held nothing back, and Doug couldn't resist the openness and fullness of her passion. Their bodies one, they soared to the heights of physical pleasure, peaking as perfection was attained.
It was later, as they lay still bound together in love's embrace that Nilakla spoke. "I love you, Douglas," she told him, gazing up at him. As always, his blond good looks enthralled her, and with a single finger, she traced the hard planes and angles of his face. How handsome he was, and how different from her! They contrasted so greatly, but in that contrast, they also complemented. Where her hair was black as night, his was as bright as the day. Where his chest was hard and muscular, she was soft and lushly curved. Where his hips were narrow and powerfully, drivingly built, her hips were wide and perfectly made to accept him. She ran her finger across Doug's lips in a soft caress, thinking of how wonderfully he kissed and how much pleasure he could give her with his lips and tongue.
"You hold my heart, Douglas," Nilakla said.
His passion spent, her words reminded him again of her devotion in the face of his determination to leave her. The moment between them that had been so perfect a minute before suddenly left him feeling uncomfortable. He wondered whether it was fair to continue loving her this way, when he knew that some time soon he would have to go. Guilt stung him, and he disengaged himself from her embrace.
"Douglas?" she asked, clinging to him a little longer than she should have.
"I have to keep watch tonight," he said awkwardly as he moved away from her intoxicating warmth and began to dress.
Chilled by the abrupt end to what she'd hoped would be a long night of lovemaking, Nilakla said nothing. She only pushed herself to a sitting position as she watched him dress.
"I'll be late coming to bed." Doug spoke without meeting her gaze again. He found he was almost afraid to look at her, afraid that if he laid eyes upon her supple, golden flesh he wouldn't be able to stop himself from using her for his own pleasure again and again, all night long.
His words were like a knife to her heart, and Nilakla bit her lip to stop the pain that threatened. Already, he was distancing himself from her, already he wanted to be away from her. Her declarations of love and devotion meant nothing to him. Instead of binding him to her, she had pushed him that much farther away.
"I will be here waiting for you," Nilakla answered simply enough, hiding the agony of her heart.
Doug did not answer, but walked away into the darkness without looking back. She waited until he was gone and then slowly got to her feet. Nilakla stood quietly for a moment, her slender form sculpted by the pale moonlight, and then began to dress.
She struggled to find peace, but silent tears traced silvery trails down her cheeks. There was no point in trying to tell Douglas of the wonderful gift she had to give him . . . of the child she carried deep within her. She would not beg for his love. He must stay with her because it was his choice to do so, not because of some unexpected consequence of their passion. Nilakla held the secret locked in her heart and mourned the end that was near.
Chancellor Broderick . . . Douglas's brother . . . just the thought of him filled Nilakla with hatred. He represented the threat of Douglas's past and future to her, and she knew she would despise him when she finally met him. She dreaded his coming.
A sob caught in Nilakla's throat, and her tears began to flow more freely as she imagined Doug leaving to go back East with his brother. The reality of her sorrow weighing heavily upon her, she turned wearily to her solitary bed.
Doug had walked a long distance from the mine, for he'd needed time to sort out his thoughts about Chance, the gold, and his future. Chance was everything Doug had always wanted to be, though few knew it as he had been careful to cultivate a devil-may-ca
re attitude so no one would ever suspect. For as long as Doug could remember, Chance had been the logical one, the controlled one who thought every problem through carefully and then invariably picked the right choice. Doug knew he could never be as good as his brother, for Chance had always been successful in whatever he'd tried to do. His single-mindedness and hard-edged business sense had helped him develop Broderick Shipping from the moderately successful company it had been at the time of their father's death into the fantastically successful venture it was now, and Doug admired Chance for it.
There was no envy or jealousy in Doug's admiration of Chance. He loved his brother, idolized him really. Every time Doug had gotten himself into trouble chasing after one daring dream or another Chance had been there to save him, and this had only served to increase Doug's affection. This time, even though Doug had sent for him, things were going to be different when he arrived. Despite the fact that it had annoyed Doug to have to call on Chance for help, he wasn't calling because he was in a bad situation and needed rescuing as it had been in the past. Instead, he had called on his brother because he was the only person in the world he could trust to help him with the gold . . . the gold he had found and mined on his own.
Doug thought of Nilakla then and realized that he really hadn't done it alone. She had been the one who'd led him here, and she had been at his side ever since.
For a moment, Doug's heart warmed as he dwelled on her devoted support, and then he remembered Chance and Boston and all that his life had been before. He wanted to go back. He wanted to let everyone know that he'd managed to become successful in his own right. It was important to him. Yet, even as he told himself that he had to go back, he wondered why the thought of leaving Arizona and Nilakla left him feeling so torn and troubled.
Chapter Nine
Rori was furious! Wouldn't anything ever go right in her life again?! The day had started off well enough, though she'd gotten little enough sleep the night before. They had loaded the pack horses and had been out on the trail just after sunup. Then, within the first half hour's ride, Patch had begun to limp. By the time they'd reached the watering hole, there was no hiding the fact that he needed more time to rest his sore leg.
