by Joni Keever
She moaned. But the sound held the long, throaty quality of a contented cat, not the earlier anguish and frustration. All through the night, Kade kissed her, caressed her, stroked the tender bud hidden between her thighs, satisfying her while keeping a tenuous grip on his own raging desires. More than once he thought he’d be the one to go mad. Many times he decided to rid himself of the thin layer of clothing that separated their heated bodies and to more fully gratify the beautiful woman clinging so desperately to him. Yet in the next instance, he remembered the trust in her eyes, those incredible emerald eyes that seemed to draw his soul from his chest, like the stars drew the smoke from the fire.
Rest came in fitful spells when Kade would simply hold her, rocking her like a child, crooning to her and brushing the hair from her face. Then the clouds would build again, rolling and rumbling. Carly would call his name, over and over. And he’d soothe her, with his kiss and his caress, through the raging squall.
Finally the skies cleared. The storm dissipated. And Carly slumbered.
Kade thought sleep eluded him . . . until the dream began. He thought the dawn crept passed the horizon like a child passed a snoring father . . . until warm hands began their timid exploration. He thought he heard the wren sing its morning song in the distance . . . until a lithe and supple body molded itself to his side.
In Kade’s dream, he could take what he denied himself last night. With one arm, he pulled his temptress closer. With the other hand, he stroked her back, smiling as she purred and covered his thigh with her own. He turned to nuzzle in her hair. His hand followed the curve of her waist upward until he cupped a firm breast. She arched her back, burying her flesh deeper into his palm. Kade stroked her tender skin, tugging gently on the hardening rosy bud.
Carly groaned, and his lips moved to her temple, tasting the light salt of her. He breathed deeply of the scent of her. She nuzzled against his neck, and he forced his eyes open. Even in the faint dawn light, even shadowed by her veil of golden hair, even through the spiderweb of his dream, Kade could see Carly still slept. Her body, her actions, were driven only by the effects of the drug, not by desire. As the garantoquen weakened within her system, Carly’s need had grown more languid, less demanding.
He quickly rolled away from her and stood. Raking his hands through his hair, he exhaled loudly. How closely he’d come to being seduced by her need, by her nearness. How closely he’d come to using her for his own satisfaction, just like the other men she’d encountered since coming west.
With a hard shake of his head, Kade moved several feet away and sat. There would be no sleep, no reprieve of any kind for him.
#
Shadows shortened, and still she slept. Kade paused in his pacing. Her hair flowed from her face like honey. Amber lashes rested quietly against ivory cheeks. Soft, pink lips parted slightly; the dress he’d covered her with slipped dangerously low as she stirred.
Kade cursed. He’d adjusted that dress three times. He’d be damned if he was going near her again.
Slapping the pair of leather gloves he carried in one hand against the palm of the other, he crossed the narrow gully and tugged the cotton covering up Carly’s creamy flesh. He hurried away, certain she’d wake and immediately start screaming if she saw him looming over her. Then again, even if he was nowhere near Carly, she’d surely become hysterical the minute she realized she lay bare beneath the fabric.
Kade had considered trying to put her clothes back on her before she awoke. He discarded the idea as quickly as it came. She would undoubtedly wake, and how would he explain what he was doing? How would he explain anything about last night?
He checked their gear for the tenth time. Kade tossed the saddle he’d acquired from his uncle’s camp on the stallion’s back. The animal snorted and cast him a wary look. Kade took a deep breath to still his anxious actions. He patted the black’s neck and glanced again at the sleeping woman.
Memories of her willingness, of her creamy flesh, and of her hungry kisses clawed at him. No, it wasn’t Carly who’d offered herself to him in the magical hours of dawn. The root of the red berry plant had caused her body to betray her. It was Kade’s fault—his fault that she walked among his people, his fault that she faced Storm’s jealous vengeance, and his fault that she had acted in such a way with him that would surely cause her to hate him and probably herself.
“Damn!” Kade pressed the heels of his hands to his temples. The stallion startled and shied away from his typically calm master. Kade lowered his hands deliberately. He opened his eyes and turned to stare at his companion.
“I trust you,” she’d said.
A fist gripped his insides. The question was, how much of last night would Carly remember?
Chapter Twenty
The mournful call of a coyote split the still evening air. From somewhere in the distance, a second creature answered. Kade stiffened.
For a brief moment, Carly marveled at how she no longer grew tense at the now-familiar sound. Yet the cowboy’s already rigid posture had straightened as he reined the black to a halt. He cocked his head and listened. Just as she opened her mouth to question him, he raised a gloved hand to silence her. A moment later, the first coyote howled once more.
“Apache.”
Except for urging her to hurry once she finally woke sometime around noon, that was the only word Kade had spoken all day. At first Carly felt grateful, needing the time to organize her thoughts and feelings, trying to put the pieces of last night together in her mind, to get a complete picture of what had happened. But as the hours dragged by, he grew increasingly tense, even jerking away when she inadvertently brushed against him while shifting her position. Several times, she felt as if he wanted to say something; then he’d simply clear his throat or cough, and the only sound would be the steady rhythm of the stallion’s hooves on the sunbaked earth.
Carly gasped and grabbed handfuls of Kade’s shirt as he wheeled the black in a complete circle. The animal reared. She squeezed the horse hard with her thighs and prayed she wouldn’t tumble from her seat. The front hooves came down, churning the ground, propelling the riders forward at breakneck speed. Kade leaned low over the animal’s neck. She lay against him, eyeing the distance from saddle to sand.
“Kade! What are you doing? You’re going to kill us both!” Carly yelled over the thundering hooves and rushing wind.
“I’m hoping to avoid just that,” he called over his shoulder.
A moment later, the terrain broke, and he jerked his mount to a halt in a dry creek bed, reaching behind him with one arm to swing her to the ground. She landed squarely on her backside, jarring her sore shoulder and knocking the air from her lungs.
In one fluid movement, the man slid from the saddle and directed the black to a prostrate position by pulling the reins around and down. He covered the animal’s head with one arm and spoke low in Pawnee to quiet him.
“Lie flat against the ground,” he ordered Carly, without taking his sight off the area they’d just crossed so quickly.
Sucking at the dry, dusty air, she did as she was told and moved to lie near him. She saw nothing on the horizon, nothing in any direction for that matter. Yet Kade apparently had reason to question their safety. And that was reason enough to send her heart racing.
“What is it? Did you see Apache? Are they your enemy?” She strained her eyes in the direction he stared.
“I didn’t see them. I heard them. And they are not usually our enemies. Only Cheyenne and Sioux.”
She dropped her voice to match his whisper. “Then why do we hide from the Apache?”
“Because we are trespassing. We’re in Oklahoma territory. This is their land. We don’t need any more trouble than we already have. With the increasing tension between the Indians and the white men, tolerance is low. We can’t risk an encounter.” He turned to peer over at her.
“Oklahoma? How can you tell?” She looked around, half expecting to see a big line drawn in the red ground.
; “Carly, if you prefer your pretty blonde hair to remain atop your head rather than dangling from an Apache war lance, I suggest you shut up!” Kade hissed his command through clenched teeth. He paused, added a steely glare to the threat, then turned back to his vigil. “I only hope they don’t notice the dirt we kicked up.”
A prickling sensation swept her scalp. She resisted the urge to lace her fingers over the top of her head. She swallowed hard and shifted her gaze to the horizon once more. They had created a low cloud of dust. It blew lazily across the dry golden grass. She listened. Nothing. Maybe Kade was wrong. Maybe there were no Apache. Maybe—
The coyote call once again asked a question. The answer, closer this time, sent chills down Carly’s back. A few moments later, she heard faint conversation as the Indians joined up and rode on.
She continued to glance from the barren plains to Kade and back. Her lungs ached. She commanded herself to breathe, slowly, deeply. Carly closed her eyes and rolled to her back. She wasn’t sure if they’d really been in serious danger, or if Kade simply enjoyed terrorizing her. He probably derived great pleasure from driving her to the brink of insani—
Memories of last night rushed at her.
“Are you all right?”
“Wha—what?” Carly opened her eyes to see Kade and the stallion regain their footing. The black shook his head and snorted. The cowboy dusted his shirtsleeves and pant legs, then stopped to look at her.
“Are you all right? Did I hurt you when I set you down?” He reached out an arm to help her up.
Carly hesitated. “Uh, no. I’m fine.” She accepted his hand. For a moment, they stood staring at each other. Kade opened his mouth to speak, then broke away, checking the cinch around the horse’s belly.
“We, uh, better get going. They were in a hurry to deliver a message to their chief, or they would’ve taken the time to track us.”
“You understood what they said?” Carly picked up the canteen that had come off the saddle horn in the shuffle. She carried it to Kade.
“Enough of it. They figure we’re a tracker for soldiers who are searching for them. Luckily we headed away from their camp.” He stepped up into the saddle, then offered her a hand without meeting her gaze.
Once she settled in behind him, Kade set off at a brisk pace. A muscle twitched in his jaw. Carly couldn’t help but feel that what bothered him had little to do with the Apache.
They both started to speak at once.
Kade glanced over his shoulder. “Sorry. What were you saying?”
“I was merely going to ask what’s been troubling you all day. You’ve been so quiet yet on the verge of saying something, and—”
“We need to talk . . . about what happened last night.”
Her breathing faltered again. She waited for him to continue, her heart thundering in her ears. Truth was, pieces of last night were still hazy for her. Yet suddenly Kade’s interpretation of what happened seemed imminently more important than her own recollection.
He started off slowly. “I’m not sure what all you remember. You were—”
“I remember.” She blurted the words past the lump in her throat. Heat rose to simmer along her cheekbones. Her hands moved from their usual perch at Kade’s waistband to tug at her collar. She didn’t think she could bear to hear their actions put into words, if there were words for such things.
“You do?” He cleared his throat. “I see. So, you remember drinking your medicine and that I explained it wasn’t the turnip root?”
“Yes.” She hesitated, not sure why he felt the need to review the entire evening. “You asked where I got the pouch. You asked if anyone from your camp would want to hurt me. I remember.”
He persisted. “And you told me about Storm, teasing you with stories about maiden sacrifices.”
“I think ‘threatening’ would be a more accurate description, but yes. As I said, I remember.”
After pulling a bandanna from his back pocket, Kade wiped beads of perspiration from his forehead, pushing his hat up at a precarious angle. He returned the handkerchief and tugged his hat down low, shadowing his features. “I didn’t know how much of the garantoquen you had taken, only that you were burning with the effects from it.”
A certain amount of heat rose within Carly now, but it wasn’t caused from the red berry plant’s root this time. Surely he didn’t expect them to relive every detail of their night together! What had felt completely natural and acceptable in the veiled light of dawn became distorted in the judgmental glare of day. Especially given his odd behavior. What was he trying to tell her?
“You asked me to help you.” Kade’s voice escalated with his frustration. “I explained what my people use the medicine for, and you said you understood.”
“Yes, I understood. I’ve told you I remember.” Carly knew her cheeks glowed with crimson embarrassment. “I don’t know why we need to have this conversation. I remember, Kade. It’s all come back to me, and I remember everything.” She practically yelled the last few words. Her fists pounded punctuation against his thighs. She was only glad he couldn’t see her face from his position in front of her. Carly took a shaky breath, regretting her tone of voice and wishing they could begin again.
Several long moments passed. She dared to glance past his shoulder at the partial profile she could see. As she suspected, the muscle in his jaw twitched in irritation. When he cleared his throat, she jumped.
“I promise I won’t touch you again, Carly. It’s just that, well, you acted like, I thought . . .” He cursed under his breath. “I got caught up in the moment, in a dream. I thought I was dreaming,” he blurted. “I’m sorry about the whole thing, and, like I said, it won’t happen again. You have my word.”
Carly’s face burned hotter. Chagrin gave way to indignation. So that was it! He’d merely obliged her and had to pretend she was someone else to do so. How dare he! Carly may have had no previous experience in this area, but she’d felt sure Kade would treat her with honor and respect after what they’d shared the night before.
How could she have been so stupid? Why did she think for even a moment that this savage could possibly be a man she could love, a man she could respect? She had surely been too long beneath the cruel sun of the plains. Her brain was well baked to have let her entertain the idea of making love to a man who had no appreciation for the finer things in life. He obviously preferred saloon girls and the like. Women who prided themselves on knowing every way to service a man. Women like Storm.
“Not half as sorry as I am! And since your word is undoubtedly worth even less than you are, let me assure you, Mr. Kade Roberts, what happened last night will never, ever happen again.”
Not with you . . . or any man.
#
Carly sagged with the weight of exhaustion and the burden of frustration as they made their way down the dusty, deserted main street of a scraggly little town. The moon rode high in the black sky, and not a light burned in any window. In the only full sentence Kade had spoken since their argument two days ago, he informed her they’d be stopping there for the night.
She would have a bed. She would have a bath. But, most importantly, she would have a reprieve from being in the company of this arrogant, selfish savage.
Twenty minutes later, Carly eased herself into a tub full of steamy water. After continuing downward until her head slipped below the surface, she came back up only when her lungs burned with the need for fresh air. She attacked her dirty, matted hair with a bar of soap. She scrubbed her skin until it glowed red. She soaked chin-deep until the ache melted from her muscles.
A rustling sound stirred her as she drifted toward the seduction of slumber. Resentfully, she opened her eyes and focused across the small room. A scrawny brown mouse nibbled at the crust of bread she’d left on the plate the innkeeper’s wife had brought up for her.
Carly picked up the bar of soap and hurled it toward the bedside table. Her aim proved true, and the tin plate raced the rodent to the floor. The
clang reverberated about the room as the dish spun upside down on its rim, eventually coming to a stop. Tiny eyes twinkled from the shadows beneath the bed. In short, cautious bursts, the mouse darted out toward the cast-off crust. Snatching up its prize, the rodent turned with a flip of its tail and scurried across the room to disappear through a crack in the baseboard.
“I didn’t want that ol’ hard bread anyway. No reason for it to go to waste.” She sighed.
Rising from the cooling water, Carly almost laughed to herself. She’d just talked to a mouse! A creature that, not long ago, would’ve sent her climbing atop her bed, screaming for Papa or Betsy. How her life had changed.
She dried herself with a threadbare towel and wrapped it tightly about her. After gathering her filthy, tattered clothes, Carly plunged them into the soapy water. If anyone in her youth had told her a story like the last several months of her life, she would have scoffed at it, deeming it a tall tale. Never would she have believed anybody, man or woman, could survive all that she had and still be able to laugh.
Retrieving the bar of soap, Carly scrubbed the dirt and grime from her only garments. She thought of the dozens of pretty dresses and gowns she’d owned in Virginia, of the times she’d refused a new one that wasn’t quite the right fit or color. She shook her head in amazement as she recalled throwing a tantrum once when she couldn’t find “the perfect gown.”
A last-minute invitation had arrived, an etiquette breach that set the grapevines ablaze. But since the hosts happened to choose an evening when there were no other Christmas celebrations planned, most of the invitees conceded to attend.
Without enough notice to have a dress made, as would’ve been the only proper thing to do, Carly was left to choose a frock from her wardrobe. Everyone had seen all her new gowns that season. The ones from the previous year were simply no longer in fashion. After an hour of trying on half the gowns she owned, she began pulling dresses from her wardrobe and hurling them across the room. She ranted and raved as Momma and Betsy ducked and dodged. Carly sulked in her room the rest of the evening, refusing to attend the party. The next day, Papa summoned Seamstress Donnelly and ordered three new frocks to be created for future emergencies.
