Involuntarily Summer moved a hand to her abdomen. She hadn’t let herself think about having Lance’s baby. Hadn’t let herself think about the consequences of bringing a mixed-blood child into the world. She didn’t want to think about such a thing.
Lance saw the dismay on her face, the faint look of horror, and smiled bitterly. “Yeah, I thought that’s how you’d feel.”
She didn’t try to deny it. She couldn’t. “I hadn’t thought much about it,” she said lamely. But perhaps she should think about it. “Lance? On our wedding night…what you did to me…Did that make me pregnant?”
He wanted to curse…at the same time he wanted to reassure her. “After the way you left me hurting? There’s no way, princess. Not when you’re still a virgin.” His eyes seared her. “Surely with all your experience with men, you know that. Don’t tell me you’re that ignorant.”
“Well, I am.” Her chin lifted. “A lady isn’t raised with knowledge of such things.”
“No, I don’t expect so.” Lance looked off in the distance. “There are ways around a woman getting pregnant.”
Surprise widened Summer’s eyes, while acute embarrassment flushed her cheeks. “How?”
“Just…ways. A proper wife would know about them.”
His emphasis on the word proper annoyed her. “I hardly think the usual standards apply in this instance. Our marriage isn’t exactly…This isn’t the sort of marriage I expected.”
His huff of laughter was loud in the growing dusk. “I don’t suppose it is. I’ll bet it’s one hell of a shock for you, princess. No lady would want an uncivilized breed for a husband, and you’re more finicky than most.”
“I am not.”
“Sure you are. You want a pale-skinned, soft-handed pansy to do your bidding.”
Summer bristled. “I want a gentleman for a husband, yes.”
“Well, you damn sure didn’t get one.”
“That is altogether too obvious!”
“Well, I didn’t get what I wanted, either,” he lied. “I want a woman who’ll be honest with me, not try to work her wiles on me every time she wants something.”
Glaring at him, Summer rose up on her knees. “You should have thought of that before you forced me to accept your proposal! You were the one who insisted on this marriage!”
“Yeah, and it’s high time you remembered you’re my wife!”
By now Lance had risen to his knees also, and his face was cruel when he reached out for her and caught her arms. Summer’s flashing green eyes suddenly sobered with wariness, and perhaps a little fear.
Sliding his right hand down her arm, he closed his fingers around her wrist. When she tried to pull away, he held it captive. Slowly, inexorably, Lance forced her hand up and pressed her palm against his bare chest.
“Touch me, princess.”
“Lance, no…”
“Oh, yes. You’re going to learn not to be afraid of me.”
Wrapping his arm around her waist, he pulled her closer, even as she tried to push him away. Giving no quarter, he moved her palm over his chest, compelling her to feel the smooth naked flesh there, the masculine nipples, the flexing muscles of his rib cage, the hard, flat plane of his abdomen.
Summer closed her eyes. “Please, I don’t want this…”
“On our wedding night you wanted it.”
“I…I didn’t…”
Releasing her wrist, his hand rose to cover her breast, and Summer gave a soft gasp. “You remember our wedding night? What I did to you?” His fingers flexed, kneading the soft deerskin, until her gasp turned into a whimper.
“Your breasts are real responsive, princess.” His mouth sought her lips, brushing the corner. “You like my hands on you, don’t you?”
Summer shook her head, not wanting to surrender to his intimidation, or to the heated need that suddenly spiraled through her.
He gave her no choice. Catching her wrist again in his grip, Lance moved her palm downward, over the waistband of his breechclout, beneath the front flap. A layer of deerskin wrapped his loins, but she could feel the stiff bulge beneath the supple leather, the hard ridge of his masculinity.
He pressed harder. “Do you feel what you do to me?” he whispered against her mouth. “Don’t you want to know what it’s like to have this buried inside you? Haven’t you ever wondered what it feels like to have a man moving between your legs?”
Wondered? How could she not wonder? Ever since their wedding night, she hadn’t stopped thinking about what had happened between them, what Lance had left unfinished. What it would have felt like to become fully a woman. His woman.
“No,” she whispered in protest.
“You don’t even know what you’re missing, princess.” His voice was rough and silky…seductive and threatening, all at once. “What you felt before—what I made you feel—that was only the beginning.”
He moved their clasped fingers, edging beneath a fold of the loincloth, bringing her in direct contact with his manhood. Summer gasped at the feel of the hot, rigid flesh beneath her hand, and immediately Lance took advantage. Covering her parted lips with his, he thrust his tongue deeply in her open mouth.
His kiss was a simulation of sexual possession, shockingly graphic, intensely and deliberately erotic, while he forced her to touch him, molded her fingers against his hot sex.
Summer was panting for breath when she finally managed to pull her mouth away. “No…please…”
Lance suddenly let her go. Muttering a violent oath beneath his breath, he abruptly stood up.
Quivering, she looked up at him. He was staring down at her, his black eyes alive with an emotion that was stronger than hunger, more intense than want.
Shaken, she could only stare back at him.
When he bent to pull off his moccasins, she jumped.
“Settle down, princess. I told you, you don’t have to be afraid of me.”
“What…are you doing?” she half spoke, half whispered, as she watched him reach for the front flap of his breechclout.
“What does it look like? I’m getting undressed. I mean to cool off. I’m so hot for you, I’m about to burst. I need a cold bath.”
“You’re going to…bathe here? Out in the open?”
“You have a better place to suggest?”
He had loosened the front flap from the rawhide strip around his waist and started unwinding the deerskin from around his loins. In shock, Summer lowered her gaze, realizing he meant to bare his body in front of her.
“Look at me, princess!”
His sharp command brought her eyes up. Crimson color flooded her face as full comprehension dawned, while her heart began to pound in slow, painful strokes. He meant to force her to view his nakedness.
Her breath went shallow as he tossed the breechclout aside. She wanted to look away, but her shocked eyes clung to him, to the dark lean body towering over her. Against her will her gaze traveled over him, taking in his powerful form with its clean lines of muscle and sinew—the strong, bronzed shoulders and arms, the lean, tapering waist, the narrow hips, the athletic thighs, the long, jutting arousal that thrust out from a sprinkling of crisp black hair at his groin.
The sight of his huge, swollen sex caused her throat to go dry, her stomach to contract.
“My body is no different from any white man’s,” Lance declared harshly.
No, he was wrong, Summer thought dazedly, her heart thundering in her ears. His body was far more beautiful than any other man’s. Virile, masculine, hard, corded with powerful muscle. Despite her genteel upbringing, regardless of the demands of modesty, she was captivated by the beauty of his nakedness.
“You better get used to it,” Lance added gruffly as he turned away. “If we get through this alive, you’re going to get to know it real well.”
If he meant to threaten her with carnal knowledge of his body, though, he missed the mark. Summer only felt a shameful excitement at the thought of knowing him more intimately.
She watch
ed helplessly as Lance stalked over to his gear and bent down to fetch something…watched the powerful play of sleek muscle in his back, the hard, lean buttocks flexing with sinew. His skin was almost as dark there as the rest of him, she realized with appalling curiosity.
He pulled a cake of soap from a buffalo hide pouch and strode down to the stream that was little more than a trickle. Deliberately turning to face her, his legs spread wide, he scooped up a handful of water and let it trickle over his chest, over his groin. The chill, although providing a shock, did little to ease the throbbing heat he felt. He’d been in a state of painful arousal for the past week, lusting after his beautiful wife, and not even ice water would be able to cool him down for long.
Gritting his teeth, Lance started soaping his body, running his hand over his chest, down his abdomen, over his groin…When he cupped his balls, he inhaled a sharp breath. It was a mistake to have touched himself there. He was so hard, he was near to bursting. His throbbing cock felt like it might explode.
He cradled it gently, moving his soap-slick fingers along the length—and he heard a soft gasp. He was still holding his heavy shaft in his hand when he raised his head.
His innocent wife was watching him, wide-eyed, horrified, captivated, unable to look away. She was as fascinated by him, by what he was doing, as he would have been had she been the one bathing, touching herself.
He met her shocked green eyes, held them, as deliberately he curled his hand around his turgid length and squeezed. Stiffening, Lance nearly groaned at the sensation that was more pain than pleasure, yet he didn’t release himself; instead he tightened his grip. He needed relief from the fierce hunger he’d suffered for the past week, needed to ease the ruthless swelling, no matter how temporary the release.
It wouldn’t take long to bring himself to the bursting point. All he had to do was picture Summer naked like he was, and he was ready to erupt. All he had to do was remember what it had felt like on their wedding night, remember stroking her lush breasts, her tight nipples, imagine gripping her soft buttocks as he thrust deep into her, over and over and over again.
Baring his teeth, Lance let his head fall back, his fingers kneading himself hard, sweeping up and down his tumescence in swift, jerky motions. He could hear his breath, harsh and uneven in his ears. Feel himself shaking as he arched against the pleasure-pain.
A guttural moan sounded deep in his throat as the tremulous explosion built inside him. Another instant passed, and then he was coming violently, his body convulsing. His seed shot out, hot and pulsing, spurting in ever-diminishing arches to land in cloudy pools on the grass.
When finally he opened his eyes, it was to find Summer staring at him, her lips parted, her breath shallow. Bending to scoop up a handful of water, he rinsed off his body, starting with his groin.
When eventually he came out of the water, she was still staring at him. Lance’s mouth curled with self-mockery. His little exercise in self-satisfaction hadn’t helped much. His flaccid length was already swelling again, and knowing that Summer was watching him only made him that much harder.
But then he made the mistake of approaching her blanket. With a start of alarm, Summer edged away from him.
Lance stopped abruptly, his bronzed body naked and dripping as he stood over her. His eyes took on a hard gleam as they swept her shrinking form. “I told you, wife, I’m not going to touch you. You’re safe from me. At least until we find your sister. Until then you don’t need to worry about a savage breed rutting between your legs.”
Chapter 8
Lance was as good as his word. That night he neither touched her nor made the slightest attempt at intimacy. Indeed, the only time he spoke was to order her tersely to get some sleep. Summer was still tossing and turning on her bedroll long after Lance’s even breathing told her he had nodded off.
Her resentment of him only swelled, if that was possible. She could scarcely believe he hadn’t shown the slightest shame or remorse for the carnal act he’d performed on himself. It was as if he had dismissed the incident from his mind, dismissed her from his mind as well.
Summer couldn’t forget, though. Her cheeks grew hot every time she remembered Lance standing naked in the stream, his hand massaging his erection. Each time she closed her eyes, she remembered the magnificent sight he made coming naked up out of the water like some pagan god. Damn him for confusing her! His scandalous action had disturbed and aroused her, despite all her efforts to the contrary. But while Lance had found relief for himself, he’d left her to struggle with her bewildering feelings alone, offering no respite for the powerful, shameless yearnings he’d incited in her.
The following morning was worse. Lance ignored her entirely as he broke camp, and when Summer went down to the stream to perform her morning ablutions, the memories followed her. More disquieting, when she drew the slippery soap over her skin, all she could think about was Lance’s slick hands on his body—and what her own were doing just now.
What if it had been my hands on him, touching and arousing him? Bringing that painful look of ecstasy to his face?
Scandalized by the thought, Summer flushed to the roots of her hair. And yet the images wouldn’t go away.
Lance’s hands had pleasured her on their wedding night—and last night had pleasured himself that way. Could she do the same to him? Should she be doing that to him? Was that what he’d meant when he had taunted her about not being a proper wife?
Her cheeks hot, Summer cast a vexed glance over her shoulder where Lance was saddling the horses. His cold silence only heightened her pique. The Belle of Williamson County was not accustomed to being ignored by a man. But then, Lance Calder was not just any man. Nor was their relationship like any marriage she had ever envisioned. She was a bride, but not a bride. She was his wife, and yet she remained celibate. Which was her own fault, of course. Lance had made it clear in a dozen ways that he wanted her, even if he was treating her like a pariah just now. She had felt his desire yesterday, in his every hard look, every restrained gesture, every angry, heated caress.
Abruptly Summer splashed a handful of chilly water over her burning cheeks. Honestly, she should feel grateful for his abstinence. Any child of Lance’s would likely suffer the same cruelties growing up that he had, and she didn’t want that for her children—or for herself, for that matter. It was too late for her, perhaps; her marriage to Lance had no doubt made her an outcast in her own society. But her situation would only be made worse if she were left with a mixed-blood child to raise alone. If Lance didn’t return from this mission—But she couldn’t consider such an alarming possibility She couldn’t bear to think Lance might lose his life trying to help her.
Besides, she might not become pregnant. He had said there were ways around it…ways a proper wife would know.
Hotly, Summer dried her face on a scrap of a cloth and then began rebraiding her tousled hair. Perhaps she deserved Lance’s coldness. He was right about one point at least. She had to learn not to flinch every time he looked at her with those smoldering, yearning eyes.
She didn’t fear Lance, precisely. He had never hurt her, even if he did have a temper like a wounded bear. Indeed, he had often treated her with astonishing gentleness for so hard a man.
What she feared was the overwhelming feelings of confusion he aroused in her, the feeling of being swept away, of losing control. And yet…would it be so wrong to allow Lance to sweep her away? To forget just for a short while her terror over her sister?
Biting her lip thoughtfully, Summer gathered her toiletries and slowly rose. Perhaps she was being selfish. Considering the risk Lance was taking for her sake, he deserved better from her. She should at least try to be the wife he wanted. She owed him her best effort. If what he wanted was a proper wife, then she should comply.
Indeed, that was what she’d promised when she agreed to their bargain. She couldn’t claim ignorance, either. Lance had warned her what to expect in their marriage bed. He had been honest—brutally so—f
rom the first.
It shouldn’t be a hardship, though, letting Lance make love to her. He’d shown her what a considerate lover he could be. And her surrender might help soothe his brutal temper. Perhaps he simply needed the physical release. Her sister had always said men felt carnal urges more strongly than women. And Lance was more man than even she knew how to handle.
Drawing a deep breath, Summer returned her toiletries to her saddlebag and stood watching as he loaded the packhorse, twisting her fingers together with uncharacteristic uncertainty.
“Lance?”
“What?” He didn’t even turn to look at her.
“I’ve…been thinking about what you said. About the risk you’re taking for me…And you’re right. You do deserve a proper wife.”
“So?”
His curt replies weren’t helping her at all. “So you can…if you want…you can make love to me.”
That brought his head whipping around. His black eyes pinned her, while his lips thinned. “Don’t do me any favors, princess.”
Summer flushed. “It isn’t a favor…I wouldn’t mind if you…Honestly.”
“I don’t want your damned charity.”
“It isn’t. You have the right, just like you said.”
“Sure, but maybe I don’t want what you have to offer.”
That was a bald lie; they both knew it. A man didn’t look at a woman the way Lance sometimes looked at her if he didn’t want her. Even now his smoldering glare gave her reason to hope. Desire was there, hot and shimmering between them; she could feel it.
Before Summer could challenge him, though, Lance added tersely, “Maybe I just don’t enjoy feeling like trash every time I touch you. Maybe I don’t care to have you looking at me like I’m going to attack you.”
“Lance…I’m sorry…” She smiled at him tentatively, with imploring sweetness. “I was frightened at first. It was all so new to me…We’ve been married barely a week. But I’ve had time to grow accustomed to you…to us. And I’m not afraid of you. Can’t you forgive me?”
The Savage Page 15
