This Savage Heart

by Patricia Hagan

  "I hope I'm not early," he said.

  Julie's elation faded. She had told him she would meet him downstairs, in the lobby. Dear heavens, he was ornery, bent on doing things his way without regard for what anyone else wanted. "It's all right, Arlo," she told him in a tight voice as Teresa looked on, puzzled. "But I did tell you I would meet you downstairs."

  He stepped inside and flashed a wide grin, his eyes raking over her possessively. "I knew you were going to look real pretty, honey. I wanted to escort you downstairs, to let everyone know you're with me."

  Julie bristled. But, not wanting to make a scene, she told Teresa she would see her downstairs and then she allowed Arlo to lead her through the door and down the narrow, dimly lit hallway.

  "This hotel is a dump," Arlo remarked with a condescending air. "Why didn't your brother put you in another one?"

  She looked at him sharply. "Myles got rooms we could afford, and I see nothing wrong here, anyway. It's clean."

  "Why didn't you tell me money was a problem?" he asked her pointedly. "I would be glad to put you up at my hotel. It's a nice place. No ballroom, but the rooms are bigger and furnished with newer things."

  "I wouldn't dream of such a thing," she gasped, astonished. "Really, Arlo—"

  "Shhh," he hissed. "We're about to make our grand entrance."

  Standing at the top of the stairway, she could see that the lobby was already crowded. From the adjacent ballroom came the sounds of instruments being tuned. As she listened, she heard something that made her gasp with horror. Arlo leaned over the railing and yelled, "Hey, all you ladies and gentlemen down there! I want to introduce you to the prettiest girl in the state of Texas—Miss Julie Marshall."

  Julie wanted the earth to open and swallow her. Never had she known such mortification. At least a hundred people turned to stare up at her curiously.

  "Arlo, how could you?" she hissed, but he tightened his grip on her arm and started down the staircase.

  If all those people hadn't been watching, Julie would have exploded. Arlo, she decided, was crazy, and she didn't know why she hadn't seen that before. He was also pompous. She wanted nothing more to do with him, but what could she do about that evening?

  She saw the way some of the women were looking at her, and she wondered whether they were shocked by Arlo's behavior or had heard Elisa's gossip. She only wished she were someplace else.

  Then she became aware of familiar eyes on her, of long, thick lashes fringing eyes as black as the Savannah River. Derek was standing to one side, strikingly handsome in a wine velvet coat, his coffee-colored hair curling slightly about the open-throated white satin shirt. He watched with a look of quiet amusement, his lips slanted, but she saw his nostrils flare ominously, his fingers gripping his brandy snifter.

  Julie glanced away and tried to control the nerves that threatened to make her explode. She had to get through the evening. Then, she would forget she had ever met Arlo Vance. But she had to get through the evening.

  Arlo escorted her on into the oak-paneled ballroom, which was gaily decorated in streamers of red, white, and blue. In the center of the high ceiling, a large crystal chandelier cast mellow light onto the rose carpet below. To one side, the orchestra had set up their instruments on a platform. Along the other wall ran four white linen-covered tables, all laden with platters of sandwiches, fried chicken, fried sweet potatoes, and griddle cakes, as well as dozens of frosted cakes and succulent fruit pies, cookies, and several kinds of candy.

  Arlo led Julie to the far corner of the room where a large crystal bowl was filled with bright crimson punch. The woman standing beside it smiled and gave them two cups filled to the brim, but her expression changed as Arlo took a big swallow from each cup, then set them down on the table. He pulled out a flask from his coat pocket and added whiskey to each cup. He held one out to Julie, but she shook her head and snapped, "No, I don't want any, Arlo. What is wrong with you, anyway? You are behaving terribly." To the hostess Julie murmured only, "I'm sorry."

  "I'm going to have a good time tonight," he said sharply, tossing his drink down in one gulp and helping himself to Julie's. "And so are you. Just relax. If other people don't like it"—he glowered at the woman who still stared at him—"they can go soak their heads."

  "Oh, dear me!" The woman gasped, then turned and hurried away.

  "Arlo!" Julie faced him, grateful that they were away from the others. "I thought we might be friends, but I find you are not the kind of person I want for a friend. You are unpardonably rude, and you embarrass me. I am sincerely sorry for the pain you suffered in the war, but carrying a grudge against the whole world is not the way to the peace you say you want. Now, if you will excuse me, I prefer not to be in your company. I wish you well, Arlo."

  She turned to walk away, but he set his cup down and caught her roughly around the waist, slinging her toward him. "I won't excuse you," he growled, pulling her onto the dance floor. The musicians were playing a soft melody. "We're gonna dance."

  Julie realized he was well on the way to being drunk, had probably been drinking all afternoon. If she made a scene, there was no telling what might happen. If Myles knew what was happening, there was no telling what he would do. It was best, she decided, to dance with Arlo for a while and then slip away from him later.

  He held her much closer than decorum dictated, and she tried to pull back without being obvious about it.

  "We're gonna have a good time," he muttered. "I'm gonna show those sons of bitches on that wagon train that Arlo Vance can have a pretty woman. They think 'cause I'm a Yankee I ain't good enough for them or for a Southern woman."

  They danced in silence, and after a while he said, "I like to hold you. You feel good, Julie. Have you ever had a real man? I'll bet them Johnny Rebs don't know anything about satisfying a spitfire like you."

  "Arlo, if you don't behave," she warned, "I'm going to scream."

  "Good." He chuckled. "Maybe it'll bring that gimp-legged brother of yours over here so's I can smash his self-righteous face. Scream, Julie, but I'm not going to let you go."

  How dare he call Myles "gimp-legged"? There was something terribly wrong with Arlo.

  The dance ended, but instead of releasing her, Arlo continued to hold her, smiling down at her insolently as he waited for the music to begin again.

  "Let me go, Arlo," she whispered between clenched teeth. "I don't want to dance with you. I find you offensive and anything but a gentleman."

  "Well, I don't find you offensive," he said, laughing, blasting her with whiskey breath. "And I find you every bit a lady—and more. I'll just bet when you let your hair down and stop acting prissy, you can be real hot. We'll find out later."

  She jerked against him in vain. There was nothing she dared say to him at that point. Should she scream?

  "The lady promised this dance to me, Mr. Vance."

  Julie looked up gratefully to see Derek towering above them, his brown-black eyes stormy. Taken by surprise, Arlo's hold upon her relaxed. With one quick jerk Julie freed herself and stepped quickly to Derek's side. His arm around her, so protective, had never been more welcome.

  Arlo sized up the situation as quickly as he could. Arnhardt was too damn big. And as much as he'd had to drink, he wouldn't stand a chance anyhow. Soon he would see that Arnhardt paid for butting in. But for the moment he figured it was best to leave. With a last hungry gaze, he promised himself a chance someday to enjoy the delectable fruits of Miss Julie Marshall.

  "Well, of course, Captain," Arlo said, giving Derek a polite bow. "The lady is all yours. Good evening to you."

  "Thank you," Julie whispered gratefully. "You couldn't have come at a better time. He's had too much to drink."

  "Vance has other problems besides drinking, Julie," Derek said somberly. "You would be wise to stay away from him." He took her in his arms and they began to dance.

  "I know that now," she admitted. "I'm afraid what happened to his family has unbalanced his mind." She spoke absently.
The nearness of Derek, having his strong arm wrapped tightly about her, was overwhelming. She was floating with a heady, dizzy feeling.

  "Tell me," Derek urged. "No one knows anything about Vance. He just showed up one day and asked to join us. I saw no harm. But it helps to know a man in case he gives you trouble."

  She told Derek the story as Arlo had told it. Then she said, "It's made him bitter toward all Southerners, I'm afraid." She repeated Arlo's caustic comments about the wagon train members.

  "If he makes trouble, he'll get trouble," Derek said. Then his arms tightened, and he smiled. "You're ravishing tonight, Julie, ravishing."

  Julie felt the familiar warm flush catapulting within her. It was so easy—oh, dear God, so easy—to remember those times in his arms, nights when they were alone. As she gazed up at his warm, sensuous lips, she could almost feel those lips. So many warm memories....

  He gazed down at her, suddenly amused. "What are you thinking about, Julie? Whatever it is makes you happy."

  With her usual candor she replied, "I won't lie to you, Derek. I was thinking about how it was for us. It was good, right or wrong, and I will always cherish the memories."

  "Would you care to make more memories?"

  She stumbled, losing her step. "Why... no," she stammered, grasping for composure. "Derek, I was not insinuating... oh, I don't know what I mean!" Her cheeks were flaming.

  Derek laughed, but it was a gentle laugh, not taunting.

  Others drifted in, and the ballroom began to fill. They were receiving open stares. Arlo had positioned himself against a wall and was scowling at them. Abruptly, Derek stopped dancing, tucked her hand in the crook of his arm, and led her from the dance floor.

  "It's a nice night, and we could both use some fresh air." He stopped by the punch bowl where another hostess ladled the crimson punch into two cups, handing them to Derek with a friendly smile.

  Outside on the terrace, the night wind was cold. Stars, studding the sky like ice chips, seemed to chill the air even more. Julie shivered, hands trembling as she lifted the crystal cup to her lips to drink. "I guess it isn't so nice out here, after all, Julie. You're freezing."

  "Anything is better than being back in there with Arlo Vance watching every move I make."

  "Why did you agree to come to the ball with him, Julie?" he asked. "To make me jealous?"

  She matched his smugness by asking demurely, "Did I succeed?"

  He chuckled, moving closer. Lips brushed against her own as he murmured, "You little vixen." His mouth claimed hers. She resisted, but only for a moment, then felt herself helplessly yielding.

  Finally, he released her, smiling in triumph. "You've been wanting me to do that, and don't lie to yourself about it." His eyes were challenging. "I feel you watching me, Julie, and I see the desire in your eyes. It matches my own. What we had was damn good."

  He kissed her again, passionately, and when he released her, she was crying. Stepping back, she crossed her arms across her bosom and sobbed, "Yes, it was good, Derek. It was beautiful." Tears streamed down her cheeks. "Can't you leave me alone?" she whispered. "We both know we don't want the same things out of life, so why can't you get the hell out of mine?"

  Suddenly he bent over and lifted her into his arms. "You don't want me to get out of your life, Julie, you want me in your life—on your terms. You're so goddamn stubborn, you deny us both pleasure because you want your way. But tonight, by God, it'll be my way."

  He walked her swiftly across the terrace, down the stone steps, and into an alley behind the hotel.

  "Where are you taking me?" she demanded. "Derek, put me down."

  He ignored her.

  They passed a drunk staggering in the alley, and then a tomcat searching for food.

  He walked purposefully, and Julie lay in his arms, her head on his shoulder. "Derek, please let me go," she begged as they moved through the glow of a street lamp into the dark shadows of the main street. "Forcing me won't make me agree to be your mistress."

  "Force you?" He laughed. "When did I ever force you, Julie? I won't force you tonight, either. But I'm going to make you realize you want me as much as I want you."

  They reached the wagon train compound, and he walked directly to the large Conestoga used for a supply wagon, the wagon he lived in. With one quick movement, he lifted her up and inside, pulling himself in right behind her.

  Without preamble, he began kissing her, soothing her with caresses, and in a few minutes both were naked in the dark wagon.

  His fingertips danced slowly down her belly, sliding easily downward between her thighs, sending spasms of pure pleasure into her. He knew just where to touch to cause her to moan with delight. Enraptured, she yielded, but mustered enough will to plead once. "No, Derek, don't do this, please."

  His lips were devouring her breasts, moving between the swollen globes to tease. Raising his head, he taunted, "Take me, Julie. Put me where you want me," and he thrust his swollen organ against her thigh. "I'm yours... just as you're mine. Take me, misty eyes, all of me, if you can."

  She could no longer deny the voracious need, and her fingers inched toward him as her heart urged her on. She wrapped her hand about him, and they sank to the floor as one. Spreading her thighs, lifting her legs, she guided him, gasping with delight as he thrust inside her. Bittersweet spasms of fire flamed within her belly. She hated him and hated herself, but, oh, he did have such power.

  As he plunged inside her again and again, she clutched eagerly at his undulating buttocks, inciting him. Faster and faster he drove into her, carrying them to a realm of euphoric release.

  Moments later he withdrew to lie beside her, cradling her head on his shoulder. Gently, lovingly, he caressed her face. She made no sound, and he did nothing to provoke her, for he wanted the moment of peace to last. He ought to have known better. Peace was never theirs for very long. She started to dress, and he said, getting up and putting on his clothes, "I'll walk you back to the hotel."

  "I can walk myself," she said, then could not resist saying, "unless you want to go back to the ball in hopes of seeing Elisa. I suppose you love the way she fawns all over you."

  "Elisa?" he said. "You think I would lust after a woman in her condition?"

  "Her condition is temporary. Her marital status is not—but I doubt that her being married would stand in your way if you wanted to bed her."

  "No, it wouldn't," he told her bluntly. "If a married woman I find desirable invites me to her bed, I don't have the scruples to turn her down... as long as her husband isn't in the bed with us."

  He laughed at himself. She was about to say something cutting when Micah came running and peered into the wagon. At the sight of Captain Arnhardt standing with Miss Marshall, certainly imprudent at such an hour, Micah bowed his cotton-white head in embarrassment.

  Derek was not one to explain his own conduct, so he simply said, "Yes, Micah. What is it?"

  Micah slowly lifted his eyes. He looked afraid. "Cap'n, it's Miz Thatcher. She in a bad way. She hurtin'. She say fo' me to fetch you quick."

  As Julie looked on in alarm, Derek touched his fingertips to his mustache thoughtfully. "It isn't time for the baby, so this means trouble. Run on into town and find a doctor. Is there anyone with her now, Micah?"

  "She wouldn't let me get nobody but you. She say to get you and nobody else. She say she don't want none of them old busybody women around her. That was what she said, Cap'n Arnhardt."

  "Right now she doesn't have any choice." He turned to Julie and told her calmly, "Go back into town with Micah and find Teresa and bring her here. Elisa can't have any objections to Teresa."

  He hurried away, and Julie watched him disappear into the shadows. Why, she wondered, had Elisa sent Micah for Derek? Why hadn't she just sent for a doctor?

  Chapter 6

  Julie rushed into the hotel lobby, ignoring the curious looks. She knew she was a sight—hair disheveled, gown mussed. Pushing through the throngs of people, she searched the ballroom
until she saw Teresa and Myles standing beside the refreshment table. Both looked at her in alarm as she made her way over to them.

  Myles quickly turned to grasp her elbow and lead her away from the curious before asking, "What on earth has happened?"

  Julie explained, and in a minute she and Teresa were on their way to the wagon train compound, while Myles went in search of a doctor.

  The two women were scurrying down the street when they heard Myles shouting, and turned to see him running from the hotel. He reached them, a look of deep worry on his face. "I'm sorry, but there's no doctor around. There's only one in this town, and somebody just told me he's been gone since early morning. A whole family is sick about ten miles out, and there's no telling when he'll get back."

  Julie and Myles looked at Teresa, who was shaking her head. "I've never delivered a baby. I've never even seen one born."

  "I'm sorry," Julie said. "I haven't, either. But maybe it isn't the baby. Maybe it's something else."

  Myles went to find Esther Webber, and the two women continued on to Elisa's wagon, shivering against the cold. Micah was standing outside, shoulders hunched, eyes filled with fright. "I couldn't find no doctor, so I come back here. Is she gonna be all right, Miz Marshall? If it's the baby, will it be all right?"

  "Micah, I certainly hope the answer is yes to both your questions." Julie patted his bony shoulder. "Pray for her. We'll do what we can."

  She started by him, but he cried out, "If ever'thing ain't all right, will you see to it Captain Thatcher knows it won't my fault? His daddy told me to see to it Miz Thatcher got out to Arizona okay."

  "No one is going to blame you for anything, Micah," Julie told him. "Now go somewhere and pray."

  Before they could call out, Derek pushed aside the canvas at the rear of the wagon, a grim look on his face. "I hope the doctor's on the way. The baby's coming. I don't think it will be much longer. I wanted to move her to town, to a room somewhere, but hell, I don't think there's time. Did you find a doctor?"