The Savage

by Nicole Jordan

  It was a blustery day, cloudless but with a hint that winter would soon be coming, but his arms kept her warm. Indeed, Lance’s hands wouldn’t leave her body alone. And with all the attention his lips gave her, it was clear he found the left side of her neck and the shell of her ear fascinating.

  When they’d ridden half a mile or so from the ranch and were sheltered by the relative privacy of a stand of post oaks, Lance left off nibbling Summer’s skin to murmur huskily in her ear, “You’ve never made love on horseback before.”

  Summer turned her head to glance at him with wide eyes. “Can you do it that way?”

  His grin was wickedness itself. “A Comanche can do anything on horseback.”

  Summer returned a wicked smile of her own, but declined his scandalous invitation. “Someday we should try it—when it’s not so cold, and when we have the time—but not right now. Now, behave yourself, Lance Calder, and stop distracting me.”

  Which, of course, he took as a challenge to see just how distracting he could be.

  He thought at first she was taking him to the site of what would be their new home, but she guided their mount up into the hills, toward the same high point he had once shown her, the day he’d talked about them building a future together. She halted the horse just before the promontory, though, where they could look out over the rugged, rolling land of Sky Valley.

  “I’m glad you decided we should stay here,” Summer murmured, drinking in the magnificent view. “This land is worth holding on to.”

  “I know,” Lance said quietly. “I always wanted this land for my own.”

  The look she turned on him was teasing yet faintly hesitant. “I always suspected that was the real reason you married me.”

  “Dammit, princess, you know that’s not true.”

  “Do I?”

  “You should.”

  Keeping his arms tightly around her, Lance took her hands, interlacing his fingers with hers, while his voice wrapped her in a velvet cloak. “Have you ever really yearned for something you couldn’t have? Ever wanted something so bad, you ached for it? That was how I wanted you. But you were beyond my reach, untouchable, like a precious dream.”

  Summer smiled softly. Some untamed part of her heart had always wanted Lance, too. Even when she’d thought him a dangerous, forbidden savage.

  She’d conquered her prejudices since then. Lance was half-Indian, true, but she wouldn’t change him for all the civilized, purebred gentlemen in the vast state of Texas. Except maybe his stubborn pride. That could stand softening. She only hoped—fervently—that Lance had learned not to let his difficult past destroy his future. That having a child to consider would make him temper his hostility toward the whites he would have to live among.

  Deciding it was time to put her hopes to the test, Summer nudged the sorrel forward, bringing them to the crest of the ridge. From that vantage, they could look down and see the site where Lance had planned to build their home.

  She watched him anxiously, and so knew the instant he realized there was something different about the place, that there was activity in progress down below. From this distance the people and animals looked like scurrying ants.

  Lance’s eyes narrowed grimly. “What’s going on?” he demanded, his tone hard, his reaction not at all what she’d hoped it would be.

  “Those are our neighbors, Lance. They’re building our house for us.”

  “Our…neighbors?” He turned his harsh look on her.

  “Yes.” Summer hastened to explain, so that the terrible light in his eyes would fade. “It was Amelia’s idea, really—a wedding present for us. And an apology from her and everyone else for the terrible mistake they made last week. Melly asked them all to pitch in, and Harlan Fisk organized it all. It’s like a barn raising, only this is for our house. They mean to set the frame and the roof today, and the outside walls tomorrow, so we can work on the interior during the winter. Most of the supplies you ordered came last week, and Reed finished the drawings…” Her voice trailed off at the last. “I hoped you would be pleased.”

  “I don’t take charity,” he replied stiffly, but she thought his tone might have softened just a bit.

  Summer shook her head. “It isn’t charity. It’s their way of saying welcome. This is what neighbors do for one another, for members of a community. And you’re part of this one now—we are.”

  Without a word, he took the reins from her and backed the sorrel away from the ledge, turning the way they’d come.

  The ride to the valley below was silent. Summer could feel the tension in Lance’s body, but she was afraid anything she said would only make the situation worse. Lance would have to decide on his own whether he wanted to make peace with their neighbors. They were willing to meet him halfway, but he would have to rein in his stubborn pride and accept their offer of friendship.

  There must have been over a hundred people present, they saw as they rode up, and every one of them, man, woman, and child, was hard at work hammering and sawing, lifting and toting. Teams of oxen and horses shifted wagonloads of lumber and bricks and moved beams into place, while to one side stood tables loaded with food and drink brought by the women. Whole families had driven dozens of miles to be here, Summer knew, giving up their Saturday workday and their Sunday day of rest to help the newlywed couple set up home. She wondered if Lance realized the significance of their generous gesture.

  It seemed as if he did, for he pulled up and sat staring at all the industry, his expression wary, as if not quite believing his eyes, or knowing quite how to react.

  The choice was taken from him.

  Amelia must have been on the lookout for them, for she immediately came out to greet them, offering Lance a shy smile of welcome, although her eyes were a bit anxious. “I hope you don’t mind, having to work on your honeymoon, but it seemed best to get started.”

  Dusty was right behind her, a big grin on his usually calm face. “Howdy, Lance…Miss Summer. Good to see you made it through the wedding night. Lord, I thought you were gonna come out of your skin yesterday, Lance, waiting for the ceremony to start.”

  Lance’s bronzed features relaxed slightly at his good-natured ribbing, Summer saw with relief. She also noticed the way Dusty had placed a proprietary hand at Amelia’s waist, and that her sister didn’t seem to mind the contact.

  Summer gave him a grateful smile. Perhaps Amelia’s recovery wasn’t so doubtful after all.

  Dusty stepped forward then and reached up to help her dismount, but Summer held back. She wouldn’t get down unless Lance chose to.

  He had stiffened again, his eyes fixed on the large, older man striding toward them.

  Harlan Fisk stopped beside their horse and looked up at them with a smile. “Hello, folks.” While his greeting was jovial, his expression remained entirely serious. Nor did he mince words. “I’d take it most kindly if you’d accept my apology, son. I always thought myself a fair man, but what happened last week…Well, I’m downright ashamed. There’s no excuse for nearly killing a man, but, well…I’m damned sorry.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, Lance gestured with his head toward the skeleton frame that was springing up before their eyes. “You didn’t have to do this.”

  “Sure I did. You think I want to live with that night on my conscience? No, sir—and every man here feels the same way. You’ve got a lot of us squirming, son.” Reaching up, he stretched out his hand, offering it to Lance. “If you’d accept my apology, maybe I’d quit feeling like a yellow-bellied snake.”

  Slowly, coolly, Lance took the proffered hand, allowing Harlan’s handshake.

  Beaming with what looked like relief, Harlan turned to face the crowd, calling for silence. “Hey, everybody! The Calders are here.” When the work stopped and all eyes had turned toward them, he added, “What do you say we give the newlyweds a cheer?”

  From the shouts and applause that suddenly erupted from the crowd, it seemed as if some great event had occurred.

 
Reed limped up on his crutches just then. “It’s about time you two got here.” His blue eyes scanned them both, going from Summer to Lance. “She been keeping you in bed all day? I warned you, Lance. Summer’ll turn you into a lazy good-for-nothing if you let her.”

  “Reed!” Summer protested, her cheeks flaming in response to her brother’s ribald comment.

  Reed chuckled and cocked a thumb toward the emerging new house. “I appointed myself chief supervisor, but there are a dozen decisions I didn’t want to make for you. You better get started or they’ll be finished before you can get a word in.”

  Not replying directly, Lance turned to look at Summer. “This is what you want, princess?”

  She returned his gaze solemnly, love and loyalty shining clearly in her eyes. “If it’s what you want. It’s your decision, Lance.”

  “So,” Reed demanded, “are you going to let us do all the work on your house, or are you going to pitch in?”

  Lance’s hard mouth tentatively, reluctantly, curved in a slow grin. “I guess I better, if I mean to have any say at all in how it’s built.”

  The collective relief his small audience evidently felt showed on all their faces: Amelia, Dusty, Reed, Harlan Fisk, all smiled up at him in gratitude. Lance felt their warmth and knew he had made the right decision.

  He swung down from the sorrel, then reached up for his wife. When Summer slid down into his waiting arms, he stood there for a minute, holding her, while the others politely recognized his desire for privacy and left them alone.

  Not loosening his grip, Lance gazed down at her intently. “I want you to know, I’m only doing this for our kid.”

  Summer smiled up at him. “That’s a very good reason.”

  “And because I love you.”

  “That’s an even better reason.”

  His mouth curved wryly as he glanced at the construction. “I didn’t figure on spending our honeymoon building our house.”

  “I know. But we can’t reject the kindness of all these people. They really do want to make amends, Lance.”

  “Yeah.” He turned back to her. “Even so, I’d rather do what your brother suggested—spend the day in bed with you.”

  Reaching up, Summer brushed her fingertips caressingly over her husband’s lips. “I would, too, but there will be plenty of days in the future when we can be lazy together. We have forever.”

  His ebony eyes searched hers intently. “That a promise?”

  “A solemn, cross-my-heart promise, my love.”

  His dark features softening at her answer, Lance took her hand and turned with Summer toward their developing house.

  A dozen people called out greetings as they melded into the crowd. Lance greeted them back, even the men he recognized from his near lynching, but those were all the pleasantries he was allowed time for. Someone handed him a hammer and Summer a bucket of nails, while someone else demanded to know where the parlor fireplace was supposed to sit.

  With a fleeting grin at his wife, Lance hefted the hammer and pointed to the framework for what should be the front left room on the lower floor. “You want to help me figure out what’s the parlor in this fancy house, princess? I don’t want to do this all alone.”

  “You won’t have to,” Summer replied softly. “I’ll be with you.”

  Sharing a smile, they went to work, building their new future together.

  www.NicoleJordanAuthor.com

  Photo by Debra MacFarlane

  Nicole Jordan is the New York Times bestselling author of numerous historical, Western, and Regency romances. In her former life, Nicole grew up as an Army brat, earned a degree in civil engineering, and spent eight years as a manufacturing manager making disposable diapers and toilet tissue! Currently she lives in the Rocky Mountains of Utah with her real-life hero (her husband) and beloved kids (her horses).

  One of Nicole's novels had the dubious honor of being humorously spotlighted by Jay Leno on “The Tonight Show.” On a more serious note, her books regularly appear on bestseller lists, including The New York Times and USA Today, and have earned such honors as RITA finalist, RWA's Favorite Book of the Year, and the Romantic Times Career Achievement Award for Historical Romance.

  To learn more about Nicole's novels, visit her website at www.NicoleJordanAuthor.com