Orchids in Moonlight

by Patricia Hagan

  "I want to feel you," he said raggedly, pausing anxiously in disciplined assault to open her blouse. With one quick jerk, her chemise was open, spilling forth her breasts. "I want to touch you, feel you, all over..."

  He dropped his head to take as much of her in his mouth as he could, sucking hungrily, voraciously, before withdrawing to pucker against her nipple as he flicked wildly with his tongue.

  Jaime entwined her hands in his hair even tighter, arching her back and urging him to continue feeding his hunger, for the sensation was a hot burning knot in her belly that she wanted to last forever.

  As he suckled, his fingertips tormented her free breast, kneading, rubbing his thumb over and around in a circular motion that made her gasp out loud. He began to switch from one to the other, assailing first with his tongue, then taking all of her, only to withdraw and flick to and fro upon her nipple once more in a torturous rhythm.

  Finally, when her ecstatic whimpers had become a long continuous moan, he drew back to look down at the tightly beaded nipples as he continued to work the firm, smooth flesh. "God, you're beautiful," he murmured. "I knew the first night we met your body would drive me insane."

  Hotly, he took her in his mouth again, and she cried out in sweet joy, twisting against him, reveling not only in the luscious attack upon her breasts but also trembling to feel the hard pressure of his manhood as it demanded to be unleashed.

  He jerked at her bloomers, yanking them downward, as she wriggled to help. In the night glow, he feasted on the slender curve of her hips, the honey-colored thatch of pubic hair, as he swiftly tore off his own clothes.

  She lay back and he caught her mouth with his, scorching, searing, till she was shaking and limp and clinging to him in helpless surrender.

  He could feel her fever and rejoiced to confirm it had been there all along. This night, while she succumbed to her desire, he would take charge, knowing she was afraid. But later, during the lonely nights ahead, he would teach her everything she needed to know to please a man.

  "Easy..." he coaxed, when, instinctively, she closed her thighs at his first touch there. "I won't hurt you. Open your legs to me, Jaime. I'll be easy, I swear."

  Only partially did she relax. She felt one tiny jab, one sharp pain, and then only a warm spreading that told her, somehow, the last barrier to her innocence was well on the way to oblivion.

  Cord thought he was going to explode. Using every ounce of self-control he could muster, he held back. God forbid he should hurt her. She had to be ready, ripe for his penetration. Some women, he knew, from listening to their besotted husbands in smoke-filled saloons, merely tolerated sex. They spread their legs long enough to be rutted, then snapped them shut and turned their backs and prayed a lot of time would pass before they were again required to succumb to marital duty. Cord did not want it to be like that for Jaime. He hoped she would learn to crave it as much as he did; only then would they both know true fulfillment and pleasure. Frankly, he didn't care if they did it all day, every day, and took the next year to get to California, because he sensed, somehow, she had been waiting for the right man to come along and awaken all her carnal senses.

  And he was damn glad to be that man.

  She was moving her hips, undulating as he brushed his thumb across that nuclei of sensation, the crest of her womanhood. She was enraptured, drowning in a sea of ecstasy unparalleled. Opening her mouth, she clung to him as he claimed her once more in a bruising kiss.

  If life ended here and now, Jaime knew she would have no regrets. And she told herself he had to care about her, if only a little.

  Cord could resist no longer, had delayed as long as possible. The heat had built beyond control.

  Raising up, he clutched her waist and stared down at her face, a mirror of yearning and wonder. Her hair and flesh was damp, wet with perspiration, despite the night chill. They were both naked, the cold wind delicious against burning skin.

  As he lowered his mouth to hers, she felt his first hard jab and instinctively, sensuously, lifted her legs to wrap around his thighs and hips. Digging in her heels, she received him.

  Cord sensed he was hurting her and started to withdraw, but, feeling his reluctance, she clawed at his back to hold him tighter. Helplessly, all resistance melting beneath her eager invitation, he drove into her. Again and again, he rocked to and fro, and she met his every thrust by lifting her hips.

  Jaime could feel the crescendo building, awed by the intensity of raging delight, as though molten lava coursed through her veins, up and down her spine, twisting, twining, jerking her about like a puppet on a string. She had no will of her own any longer, was powerless to withdraw from the hypnotic power that held her in its velvet grasp.

  Cord felt her shuddering within and lifted his mouth from hers to allow her to unleash exultation's cry.

  Only then did he push ever deeper into her, no longer able to be gentle, for he was lost in his own glory.

  But Jaime felt no pain, only the supreme fruition of her body, her spirit... her heart.

  Chapter 11

  Cord thought how beautiful she was. Long sweeping lashes brushed soft, heated skin. Her swollen lips were still wet from his kisses. His gaze dropped lower, to the perfect breasts, bare now that the blanket he'd wrapped about her had dropped away as she slept through the night.

  Dawn had broken, bathing the earth in blue and pink ribbons of a new day. He knew they needed to be getting started but was reluctant to end the moment. As he pulled her against him, she moaned softly, drowsily, and he delighted to see the peaceful smile that touched her lips.

  They had made love the night before too many times to remember, but Cord's real pleasure came from knowing she had given herself freely, without reservation. It made it all special, and he was awed to realize it was the first time in his life he had ever experienced such a tender bonding. They had not come together as the result of a night of revelry and drinking in a saloon, nor had it been a cut-and-dried business deal. It had happened naturally, without forethought, and he was shaken to know it was the best he had ever had.

  Pushing the blanket farther down, he exposed the long line of her hips and shapely thighs. Kissing the firm skin of her belly, his lips whispered against her flesh, and he felt her quivering.

  She was awake, watching him with an almost glazed expression of heat.

  His tongue was doing crazy, wonderful things to her stomach, and she was thrusting her pelvis against his assault. "Touch me," he urged. "Touch me and feel how much I want you."

  Jaime did not hesitate, for she was well aware of his hardness against her flesh and yearned to touch, to savor, the energy and hunger she had birthed. Closing about his shaft with nimble, eager fingers, it seemed only natural to begin to stroke him, up and down, squeezing ever so tenderly.

  Exploring, her hand wandered, delighting in the sensuous power exuding from the hot flesh. She trailed on to feel and revel in the molded perfection of his muscular thighs. Finally manipulating to cup and squeeze his buttocks, she strained ever closer, wanting all of him deep inside her.

  He felt her need, knew she was ready, and moved to oblige. Easily he mounted, lifting her legs up and wide. She snuggled against him, sighing deep in her throat as he entered with a single swift thrust.

  Making his arms straight on each side of her, he held himself rigid so he could see her face.

  She met his hungry gaze of wonder as she clutched his shoulders, her hips matching his mighty rhythm. He held back his own zenith, waiting to feel her quickening before driving himself to furious release.

  Together, they climaxed, then clung together in wonder for long moments. At last, he kissed her long and deep, then rolled to the side to proclaim, "You're one hell of a woman, Sunshine."

  "Well, you should get a little of the credit, sir," she told him lightly. She managed a smile, despite disappointment to recall how Hannah had talked of closeness and sweetness with her husband, not humor and mirth after lovemaking. Jaime told herself she was f
oolish to expect Cord to treat her as he would a wife. After all, they were just two people, alone in the wilderness, coupling out of loneliness and desperation.

  Yet, she knew she was falling deeper in love with him. If she didn't want to wind up with her heart smashed to bits and pieces, she had to start regarding him as just a man to give her pleasure and hold her close on a long and dreary night.

  * * *

  The day passed pleasantly. They joked and laughed and talked about trivial things. Then, climbing up a steep slope to a flat, grassy meadow, they sobered at the sight of bleached white bones—the skulls of cows and the curved rakes of rib sides.

  "Looks like somebody lost a whole herd," Cord said, squinting in the late-afternoon sun.

  Jaime gaped at the sight of what looked like the scattered remains of a human being next to a gaping hole.

  Cord confirmed grimly. "The body was probably buried but without enough rocks on top of the grave. If wolves can smell anything, they dig."

  She did not need persuasion to leave the grisly scene.

  The road stretched before them in a thin crescent strip, winding through grass and sand. Pointing to the distance, where the plain broke up into a slab of mountains, he announced, "The Sierra Nevadas, We're almost there."

  Jaime marveled at the spectacle. In a play of dramatic light that sent rose and gold shadows dancing across the landscape, the majestic peaks stretched skyward. Though ominous and foreboding, she nonetheless felt excitement racing up and down her spine as she stared at the rugged mountain range and thought how her quest would finally end somewhere beyond.

  By the time the sun began to sink behind them, casting purple and gray shadows in its wake, Jaime was already yawning. When Cord looked at her quizzically, she felt herself blushing to admit, "We didn't get much sleep last night."

  "Probably won't get much tonight either." He winked, then went on to say there was a campsite not far ahead. "I've been pushing to get there to stop for the night. I think, once upon a time, it might have been somebody's idea of a homestead, because there's a small shack there. When I came through, I took time to patch the roof, so it might still be in good shape. There's also a little pool, made from the offshoot of the river. It'll be a good place to get a bath."

  It was nearly dark when they came out of the head-high grass, and he was happy to inform her, "We've seen the last of our travel on the plains. From here on, we'll be climbing."

  Jaime had been walking, and she dropped the mule's rope as they reached the clearing, delighted to see a crystal-clear pond. "I can't wait," she cried, beginning to peel out of her clothes.

  "It's going to be plenty cold," he warned. "You'd better get a fire going before you plunge in so you can warm in front of it when you get out. I'm going to try and find something to eat before it gets any darker."

  He walked away, disappearing over a little rise. Jaime busied herself gathering twigs and sticks and soon had a nice fire going. Stripping, she grabbed a bar of lye soap and a change of clothes from the supply pack, then ran into the frigid water, squealing out loud as the chill washed over her bare flesh.

  Quickly, knowing she couldn't stand it for long, she dipped her head to wet her hair, then scrubbed herself all over.

  Night was rapidly descending, but a full moon was already bathing the world in liquid silver.

  Finally, teeth chattering and shivering from head to toe, she waded to the bank, straining to see where she had left her clothes. They'd had to abandon their supply of linens and so used their soiled garments to dry off. She would put on clean clothing, then wash what she could and hope they would dry by morning in the brisk night wind.

  Jaime froze. She could make out the figure of someone in the shadows, watching. "Cord?" she called softly, hopefully, every nerve tense. "Is that you?" There was an annoyed edge to her voice, sure he was trying to scare her.

  She saw movement and frantically called out again. "This isn't funny, Cord."

  Fumbling for her bloomers, she was shaking as she struggled to put them on. Then, just as she reached for her blouse, cold terror seized her.

  Out of the shadows, they came at her. She opened her mouth to scream, but a hand clamped over her mouth to stifle the sound.

  Struggling wildly, she felt terror rock through her insides as she saw there were two of them.

  Indians!

  Long dark hair streamed down their backs, and feathers drooped from some kind of skin wrapped about their heads. They spoke a language she could not understand, low and guttural, as they wrestled her to the ground and stuffed a gag in her mouth.

  In wonder, one lifted a strand of her wet, golden hair and spoke to his accomplice in their native tongue. A chill shot through her as she remembered Cord saying Indians were especially fond of yellow-haired women. Against the gag, she cried in horror as one produced a knife and swiftly cut off a lock to hold high in triumph.

  A necklace made of bones and beads hung from his neck, brushing his hairless chest. Above her, the other one stood with his feet mashing down on her wrists. He wore leggings, open in front and fastened to his belt by thongs, and, like his friend, a breech cloth between. He spoke, pointing to her breasts, still wet and glistening in the firelight. She hadn't had time to put on her blouse and lay vulnerable, exposed.

  Dear God, she wondered frantically, what was to be her fate? Did she dare hope they would only cut off more of her hair and be gone? Cord had told her they were on the fringes of Shoshone territory but said the tribe always headed south in the autumn, and he'd anticipated no trouble.

  They continued to grunt and mumble between themselves, as though undecided as to what to do with her.

  With a sudden new wave of terror, Jaime felt one start to tear at her bloomers.

  She knew it was now or never.

  Instinct for survival took over.

  She dropped her chin to her chest, then swiftly brought her head back up to smash into his crotch. With a shriek he slumped forward, slamming into his partner and catching him by surprise. They both fell from her in a tangled heap and cries of outrage.

  Twisting with all her might to the side and scrambling to her knees, Jaime sprang upward as she spat out the gag, then immediately bolted forward. At the same instant, she screamed, long and loud and piercing in the stillness of the night.

  The Indians came alive amid shouts of fury and were right behind her.

  She plunged into the night, running blindly.

  She felt him before she saw him, one strong arm sweeping about to lower her gently to the ground behind him.

  He stood bathed in moonlight, legs wide apart, his face a mask of stony resolve. Dark eyes flinty, mouth set in a tight line, he fired one shot into the air as the Indians charged.

  In their language, Cord told them angrily that Jaime was his woman.

  Jaime was on her knees, clutching Cord's right leg as she watched and listened. "Why... why don't you just shoot them and be done with it?" she surprised herself by asking bluntly.

  "They're not really vicious," he told her calmly. "They're Pah Utes, young bucks probably out on their first hunting trip for wild sheep. This is the time of year the rams lead the herd down from the higher elevations, because they sense the snows are coming. Seeing you, they went crazy. I think they'll back off, but one of them worries me. He looks real angry."

  "That must be the one with the sore crotch."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "He was bent over my face, and I butted him with my head. That's how I was able to get away from them."

  Cord winced at the thought. "Christ, Jaime. If you'd shot him, he wouldn't be half as mad."

  "I didn't have a gun. They had me pinned down. I was desperate."

  "Obviously. If you hadn't managed to get away, he'd probably have cut your throat." He spoke to them again in Pah Ute.

  When they exchanged nervous glances and began to take a few steps in retreat, Jaime tugged at Cord's trousers and demanded, "What are you telling them?" />
  "I told Sore Crotch he has no right to be mad, because you were only defending yourself."

  "But why do they look scared?"

  "I also told them you were tetched. Indians think crazy people are bad medicine, so they want no part of you." He motioned them to go, and they took off running.

  Jaime watched them disappear into the darkness, then said, "If I weren't so relieved, I'd take offense at being called crazy. Do you think they'll be back?"

  He pulled her to her feet. "No. They figure if I know their language, I also know a little of their ways, and I'll be ready if they do. Besides," he added with a chuckle, "don't forget they think you're crazy."

  They started back toward the fire.

  "I'm glad you got back in time,"

  "You were doing all right. After all, you used your head."

  She ignored his pun. "I had no choice. They caught me off guard. I'm not an old hand at the ways of savages like you."

  She did not see him wince at her unintentional barb, and he swiftly changed the subject. "Sorry I didn't find any meat. It'll be beans and jerky again."

  "I don't care. I'm just grateful it's over." And she gave him a warm hug, which he returned obligingly.

  Later, the wind picked up, and though the air was not as cold as previous nights, Jaime looked longingly at the little hut. Cord knew what she was thinking and said sleeping inside was not a good idea. "In case they did come back, we'd be trapped."

  He found a place not too far away, on a slight rise where he could observe the silvered night. He could see anyone approaching and felt safe.

  Jaime eagerly took her place next to him on the bedroll. With her head on his shoulder, cradled in his arms, they lay quietly for long moments staring into the velvet heavens, the stars glittering like diamonds scattered to infinity.

  His hand dropped to caress the softness of her hip as he turned his head to claim her mouth once more. This was not the fierce urgency of other kisses, rather a melding of tenderness, mingling with desire.

  Easily, as natural as breathing, Jaime answered with her body. Rolling to her side, she began to explore him, touching the hard curves of his thighs, the sinewy muscles of his arms, his smooth back.