Yet as much as it unsettled her, it excited her, made her want to be closer to Pete, to become part of him. She pressed her body against him, kissing him with ardor and excitement. His explorations didn’t cease. With one hand he traced the shape and contour of her thigh from knee to hip, from side to front. With the other hand, he unbuttoned her dress down to the waist. The feel of his fingers moving against her belly made her squirm.
Pete sat up. “I’m going to take your shoes off.”
She felt bereft. The faint sensations coming from her feet couldn’t compare with having his body in her arms, his hands on her belly and thigh. But the heat index shot up when his hands moved under her dress to remove her stockings. When his fingers touched the heated, bare skin of her inner thigh, she thought she would rise up off the ground. The sensation was unique, intimate, incendiary. His fingers seemed to linger on her thigh, the back of her knee, her calf, her ankle as he slowly removed her stocking.
Then she had to go through it all again. When he finally removed the second stocking, she let her breath go in a huge whoosh that left her feeling exhausted. She wiggled her toes, and the sense of freedom invigorated her.
“Take off your boots,” she said. “I want to feel your toes.”
“I never heard of any woman wanting that,” Pete said as he quickly complied.
“I never heard of anything you’re doing to me, but I know I don’t want you to stop.”
Pete looked worried. “I ought not—”
She sat up, quickly cut off his words with her lips. Tonight we think of no one and nothing but ourselves. Tomorrow will come soon enough.” Not that she was afraid of tomorrow. She wanted lots more tomorrows to spend in Pete’s arms, lots more tomorrows to explore his body as he had explored hers. “Now unbutton your shirt. I want to touch your skin.”
Pete’s chest was bare, a wide expanse of soft skin spread over ribs she could count as her hand moved down his chest. She kissed his chest and felt the heat in his body nearly burn her lips.
“You’re hot,” she whispered.
“You’re about to make me burn up.”
She liked knowing she could do that to a man. She especially liked knowing she could do it to Pete. But she didn’t get much chance to enjoy her power. He buried his face between her breasts while his hands started to work her dress over her shoulders and down her waist. He didn’t have to ask her to lift her body so he could move the dress past her hips. Her body responded of its own will.
She expected the frostiness of the night air to penetrate her chemise and chill her body. Instead it felt delightfully cool against her skin. The heat coming from inside her was more than enough protection against the bite in the air.
Anne moaned softly as Pete’s hands lightly traced a path over the skin of her waist and her hips. The thin fabric of her chemise annoyed her. She wanted nothing between her skin and Pete’s touch. She had loved the feel of his hands and lips on her breasts. She longed for him to make love to the rest of her body as well. She twisted beneath him until she got the straps of her chemise off her shoulder and pushed it down to her waist. She lifted her body and Pete removed it entirely.
She lay before him, naked, vulnerable, ready.
“Take off your clothes,” she whispered. “I want to feel your skin against mine.”
Anne didn’t know where she got the courage to do what she’d done, to say what she’d said. It seemed to happen all by itself, as though there were another person inside her, a person who knew what she was doing and what she wanted. Instinct told her she wanted to be able to touch Pete all over. She fervently hoped he would touch every part of her aching, yearning body. He had created a voracious appetite within her that had to be satisfied.
Pete stood to remove his clothes, and Anne marveled again that such a tall man could desire a small woman like herself. Her uncle had said she was only a dab of a woman, but Pete said she was more than enough woman for any man. Tonight he’d made her feel that way.
Until he removed the last of his clothes.
Then she wondered if she’d ever be enough woman for him. She’d never seen a naked man, never had any idea what happened when they were aroused, but she did know her body was supposed to encompass him. She didn’t know if she could. When Pete lay back down beside her, her apprehension increased. He slid his hands up and down her arms. She shivered with pleasure.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said.
“I’m not.” She wasn’t afraid he would hurt her. She was afraid she might disappoint him. He must have been with women who had lots of experience in pleasing a man. She didn’t know anything, and she desperately didn’t want to disappoint him. She wanted to be wonderful for him, so wonderful he’d forget all those other women. She wanted him to think womanhood began and ended with her.
Pete let his fingertips trail across her breasts, tease her nipples, massage her belly before moving across the line of her hip. She drew in her breath when his hand moved to the inside of her leg.
“Relax,” he said. “It won’t hurt.”
She didn’t think it would, but she couldn’t force her body to relax. The anticipation of what he would do next seemed neverending. He rubbed her belly again, and the churning sensation caused her to tremble from head to foot.
“Hold me,” she said, and rolled up against him, only to find his swollen groin pressed hard against her thigh. She tried to draw away, but his arms closed around her.
“I won’t hurt you.”
“I know you won’t” But now she wasn’t sure.
The spiral of excitement in her body and the all-consuming heat burned away any reluctance. Every feeling, every instinct, every primitive drive urged her toward him, toward a union she could sense would change her forever.
When his hand moved between them, she didn’t draw away. When she felt his fingers enter her, she gasped and stiffened. But she didn’t draw away. When he gently touched a nub that threatened to raise her body off the ground, she gasped and clenched her teeth. But she didn’t draw away.
She couldn’t. Her body craved more, urged her to impale herself on his hand, to force him deep inside her, where the throbbing need stayed just out of reach. She breathed in deep gasps as his expert touch sent her to even higher levels of ecstasy. Involuntary tremors and fire spread from her belly throughout her body, igniting every nerve, making each acutely sensitive to touch. Her desire for him overrode everything else as the dormant sexuality of her body awoke, shuddered to life for the first time.
Heat rippled under her skin. She couldn’t disguise her body’s reaction, didn’t want to. When his fingers continued to rub that tiny nub, that endless source of rapture, she couldn’t control her outcry of delight. She yielded to the searing need that had been building in her, and a moan of ecstasy slipped through her lips. Desire flooded her entire being. She felt as though she would lose touch with solid ground, with reality, with everything except the sensations that encircled her body like a silkworm’s soft, luxurious cocoon. Everything in her tightened, stretched, expanded, clamped down until she was certain she would be torn apart by the magnitude of the forces that had taken possession of her body.
She quivered uncontrollably, shaken to and fro by surges of passion; then everything flowed from her like water from a stream falling into the sea. She sighed with exhaustion, ready to sink back into Pete’s arms.
Then she felt him enter her. She felt herself stretching and stretching. Before she reached her limit, he withdrew, then slowly entered her again, farther this time. He repeated the process once more.
“This might hurt.”
Before she could tense, he drove deep inside her. A sharp pain cut through her haze of pleasure with the keenness of a knife but disappeared almost immediately, leaving her aware only of the weight of his body, of the fullness of having him inside her.
Exultation surged through her. Her body melted against his and her world was filled with him.
Within moments the crescendo began to
build again within her. Her body felt as though it was half ice, half flame, as waves of ecstasy throbbed through her. She rose to meet him. Hungry desire spiraled through her, exciting already sensitive nerve endings to hypersensitivity. Once again she felt herself going out of control, out of contact with the corporeal world. She abandoned herself willingly, and an amazing sense of completeness filled her.
The feel of his skin against her, the sound of his rapid breathing, the musky smell of his passion-heated body served to lift her to levels of even more exquisite pleasure than before. Her body began to vibrate with liquid fire; a tremor inside her heated her thighs and groin as she felt herself soar toward a shuddering ecstasy. She felt passion rising in her like a hot fire, clouding her brain, rendering her incapable of doing anything beyond feeling. She abandoned herself to the whirl of sensations.
The waves of passion grew even more turbulent than before. Anne felt tossed about until she wanted to cry out for release. Electricity arced through her until she felt positive she glowed from incandescent heat.
“Please,” she murmured.
As before, the release came without warning, and she felt all the tension, the ache, the turbulence flow from her in a single rush. They fell apart. She was too exhausted to speak.
The waves of erotic sensation died away, leaving her tired but exhilarated with the knowledge that she and Pete were finally joined as man and woman, husband and wife. No matter what happened in the future, no one could take that away from her.
Mrs. Dean was waiting at the ranch when they returned. So was the sheriff.
“Thank heaven you’re back,” Mrs. Dean exclaimed as she enfolded Anne in an embrace which clearly closed Pete out. “I was certain you’d been kidnaped. I sent Ray for the sheriff immediately.”
“I left a note saying I was going to visit my husband at the roundup,” Anne said.
“I supposed that was a subterfuge to allay my fears until it was too late to retrieve you. Child, no respectable woman goes to the site of a roundup. There’s nothing but men there.”
Pete had waited until Eddie and the men started the herd toward the railhead. Eddie was going along to head up the drive. It would be several weeks before they returned. Pete expected to be gone before then. He hadn’t found his money, and he was beginning to suspect he never would. He was tempted to stay here long enough to wring it out of the ranch. It wouldn’t take long. Old Carl might even have enough money tucked away already, and Peter owed him something.
But he knew he wouldn’t. He’d told enough lies already.
Then, of course, there was Anne. He’d already taken advantage of her once. He couldn’t fool himself into thinking he would stay on his side of the bed tonight. The longer he stayed, the more they made love, the more deeply she would fall in love with him. He had no right to do that to Anne. He had to leave.
“Well, don’t stand here arguing,” Dolores said. “I held supper back hoping you’d get here before it got cold or dried out.”
“We have things to discuss,” the sheriff said.
“Then discuss them at the table,” Dolores said. “If you don’t eat now, I’m going to throw it out.”
So they ate supper. Anne and Pete took their places at opposite ends of the table. The sheriff and Mrs. Dean sat on one side, Dolores and Ray on the other. Pete and the sheriff were soon talking about the roundup and conditions on the range. For once Mrs. Dean didn’t seem anxious to force the issue. Pete decided she thought it was improper to discuss important matters in front of the help. For once, Pete was glad of her snobbery.
But it couldn’t be postponed forever. By the time dinner was over, Anne was trying to suppress yawns. Pete felt sorry for her. She hadn’t gotten any rest last night. She wasn’t used to sleeping on the ground or outside. She’d started at noises all night. She’d kept him awake as well. He was nearly as tired as she was, but he wasn’t the least bit sleepy. In a short time they were going to be in their bed together, alone. After last night, he knew he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. Even now he could remember the feel of her skin as though he were still touching it. He would remember the taste of her until his dying day.
“It’s time for you to seek your bed,” Mrs. Dean said to Anne. “You’ve been yawning for the last quarter of an hour.”
“I am tired,” Anne confessed. “I never realized riding fifteen miles on horseback could be so tiring.”
“I’m surprised you aren’t prostrate from fatigue,” Mrs. Dean said. “I know I wouldn’t be able to rise from my bed for at least a week.”
“I can’t afford to stay in bed that long. Dolores wants to give the house a good cleaning while the men are away.”
“Good. That will keep your mind off wondering what will happen to you when this man”—she directed a hostile look at Pete—“is shown up for the imposter that he is.”
“She won’t have to worry about that no matter who this man proves to be,” the sheriff said, reaching into his pocket.
Every eye turned to the sheriff.
“I haven’t had a chance to tell you, but a sworn affidavit to Anne’s marriage to Peter Warren ought to be coming in a few days. Once I have that, whether she’s Peter Warren’s wife or his widow, this ranch will be hers.”
“She’s only seventeen,” Pete said. “If anything were to happen to me, would her uncle have control over her again?”
“No. Out here a married woman can take control of her own affairs, no matter how young she is.”
A weight lifted off Pete’s shoulders at the same time a screw in his belly tightened another couple of turns. Anne would be safe. The ranch belonged to her. He could leave now.
“That’s all nonsense,” Anne said. “The ranch belongs to Pete. I’m not a widow.”
“How do you know?” Mrs. Dean asked. “He probably killed your husband. I’ve told you—”
“I know what you’ve told me, but I don’t believe it. Even if for some reason Pete weren’t Peter, he still wouldn’t be a murderer.” Anne looked down the table, love shining in her eyes. “I love him. I trust him with my life. I know he couldn’t kill anyone.”
Pete’s heart leapt into his throat. Agony and ecstasy fought for supremacy. While ecstasy won now, he knew it would be agony that would ultimately claim the victory.
“You can’t love that man!” Mrs. Dean exclaimed. “I forbid it!”
“It would be wise to keep your feelings in check for a while yet,” the sheriff said. “He’s still under suspicion of murder.”
“He didn’t kill Belser. I told you he never left the bed that night.”
“What about Peter?” Mrs. Dean asked. “We don’t know where that man has left poor Peter’s body.”
“He didn’t kill Belser, and he obviously didn’t kill himself,” Anne said, her voice rising. “The sheriff says this is my house. If it is, I can do anything I want. I won’t have anybody here who keeps saying my husband is an imposter and a murderer. If you can’t stop, you can leave immediately.”
“It’s pitch black outside,” Mrs. Dean declared. “You can’t expect the sheriff to start back to town at this hour.”
“I meant you, too.”
“Me!” It was clear the idea that she should control her tongue or be forced to leave had never crossed Mrs. Dean’s mind.
“Yes,” Anne said, not backing down. “I appreciate your coming here to watch out for me, but I don’t need it. And, I won’t have you calling my husband a murderer.”
Every eye in the room remained focused on Anne. Apparently no one was able to believe that the mild-mannered girl they knew had turned into such a forceful woman. Pete smiled with pride. Though his intention had been honorable in the beginning, he hadn’t cut a very chivalrous figure during these last days. Still, he could take pride in knowing he’d had a crucial part in helping Anne come out of her protective shell, in helping her find her place in her home and in local society. She was smart, beautiful, and determined.
She’d do.
Pete pushed his chair away from the table. “Before we fall into a wrangle, let me suggest we all go to bed. Anne is tired. Mrs. Dean and Dolores have had a trying time worrying about Anne, the sheriff made a long ride, and I’ve been through a roundup. Only Ray here isn’t yawning into his fist.”
Ray blushed.
Mrs. Dean got to her feet and moved to Anne’s side. “I hope you don’t think you’re sleeping in Anne’s bed.” As she said that, she put her arm across Anne’s bosom as though to protect her from a frontal attack.
“As a matter of fact—”
“We don’t know who you are. Until we do, I can’t allow you to compromise Anne any further.”
“Really, Mrs. Dean, I think I can sleep with my husband without compromising myself.”
“The sheriff hasn’t gotten his papers yet,” Mrs. Dean said. She didn’t move or moderate her glare, which challenged Pete to defy her.
“After Mrs. Dean said you were an imposter, I wired for a physical description,” the sheriff said. “The lawyer said it ought to be here in a day or two. We’ll know then.”
“Until then you must maintain separate bedrooms,” Mrs. Dean declared.
“No,” Anne said.
“I don’t see any reason—” Pete began.
“I’ll stand at her door all night,” Mrs. Dean declared. “I’ll throw myself across your bed if necessary, but you will not violate this child until you can prove you are truly her husband.”
“This could be several days,” the sheriff said.
“This is ridiculous,” Anne said. “I will not be bullied.”
But Mrs. Dean was insistent. She called upon Dolores and the sheriff to support her. When she didn’t get the unqualified support she wanted, she turned to Ray. The poor startled boy blushed from neck to hairline and remained inarticulate. Finally she appealed to Pete’s better nature.
“I don’t think imposters and murderers have a better nature,” he said. “Except for mothers and sisters, they probably want to ravish every female they see. It isn’t that they don’t want to have a better nature. They just can’t help it.”
Pete (The Cowboys) Page 20
