Passion's Fury

by Patricia Hagan

  He ignored her tartness and helped her mount. “Now listen carefully.” He handed her the reins. “There are four natural gaits—the walk, the trot, the canter, and the gallop. I’ve broke this horse to all four.”

  He stepped back. “A walk is a slow, four-beat pace, and the trot is two beats, light and balanced. You can either sit there and bump your butt or you can rise to the movement of the horse’s gait. That’s called posting. Rise up out of the saddle slightly and let more of your weight fall on the stirrups.

  “Okay.” He motioned her forward. “Walk him around in a circle and see if you can get him into a trot.”

  April dug her heels in slightly, and the animal began to move. She had no problem nudging him into a trot.

  “Rein him in,” Rance called.

  She paid no heed, wanting to show him that she could ride. She kicked the horse’s flanks. Suddenly he reared up on his hind legs, and Rance cursed, yelling at her to hold him tight. Instead, she kicked him again, thinking he was only confused. “Whoa, boy,” she called to him over the panic that began roaring in her ears. “Down, boy, down!”

  He stopped thrashing the air with his forelegs and brought them crashing down to earth. When he hit the ground with a thud, she almost lost her hold.

  “April, hang on, I’m coming!” she heard Rance screaming behind her as the horse streaked across the field and headed for the woods. She could only pray that he would slow when they reached the congestion of trees, but then they were upon them, and the horse maneuvered his way about, darting here and there. He seemed to move even faster.

  She did not dare loosen her hold. To fall now would mean she could land on a jagged stump or break her neck against a tree trunk. There was nothing to do but hold tightly. She realized she was too frightened to even scream.

  A clearing loomed ahead. Did she dare let go and take her chances falling on the ground? Dear God, what should she do?

  From behind, there came the sound of thundering hooves, faster than the ones below her. She did not even have time to turn her head before she felt the strong, powerful arm wrapping around her waist to lift her easily up and out of the saddle. She clung to Rance as he rode Virtus like the wind.

  He slowed, stopped, then lowered her to the ground and leaped quickly down behind her. He gave Virtus a hard slap on his rump and hollered “Go get him, boy!” Virtus took off at a hard gallop.

  Rance’s concerned face loomed above her. Looking her over from head to toe, he gripped her shoulders and asked, “Are you all right?” When he saw that she was, he scolded, “You had to show off, didn’t you? I should’ve known better than to let you on that horse. I thought I had him broke, but I guess he was just waiting for some nitwit like you to come along so he could prove his spirit’s not as broke as he had me believing.”

  “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, dizzy and sore from the rough ride. “I guess I was trying to show off. Don’t blame the horse.”

  “You’re going to be pretty sore tomorrow,” he told her, glancing up and smiling as Virtus trotted up, the run-away horse following docilely behind.

  He mounted the large black steed and pulled April up behind him, knowing without asking that she did not want to get back up on the other horse again. “I’ve got a gentle mare you can ride,” he told her as they headed back toward the ranch. “Though I don’t imagine you’re going to want to ride again any time soon.”

  “Oh, I’d like to go out tomorrow,” she said quickly, then realized that a ripple of pleasure was moving through her as she sat close behind him. Why does he have to affect me this way? She cursed herself silently. The man is a savage.

  “I’ll leave word you can go out for an hour or so every day, as long as you don’t give anybody any trouble.”

  “Leave word? Are you going somewhere?”

  “Me and the boys are taking some horses over to Georgia. I’m leaving Hinton and Mulhern to look after things. Don’t give them any trouble. And I don’t want you riding alone.”

  “I don’t want to go out alone with the snakes moving around.” She made herself shudder so that he would feel it. “When we were out at the chicken pen this morning, I saw one. The cook said it was just a chicken snake and harmless. But I’m scared to death of them. I don’t want to go near those woods.”

  “Good. I won’t worry about you.” He was silent for a moment, then teased, “Are you going to miss me?”

  It took every bit of self-control not to give him a sarcastic reply. Now was not the time, she reminded herself. For two months, one week, and three days, she had kept her temper in check. Through the silent meals, the glances he gave her, she had managed to keep silent. Everyone thought she had resigned herself to imprisonment here. That was what she wanted them all to think, and she was not about to be goaded into exposing her true feelings.

  “You didn’t answer me, April.”

  “I’d rather not discuss it. We were getting along well. I see no reason to argue.”

  “All I asked was if you’ll miss me.”

  She sighed, kept her voice even. “Not really. Do you think prisoners miss their jailors?”

  “I suppose not,” he said, after a pause. “But tell me something else. Don’t you ever get lonely? Seems to me I hear you tossing and turning in that big bed of yours at night.”

  “No,” she could not help snapping at him. “I do not get lonely.”

  He reached to tug playfully at a strand of her long hair. She moved back quickly as he murmured, “I think you’re lying. I think you do get lonely, and that you’d like to come to my bed. You can’t help remembering that it was good for us once.”

  “Once was enough.” She removed her arms from about his waist and maneuvered so that her hands were twisted behind her to grip the back of the saddle. If she fell off, so be it. She was not going to sit there hugging him.

  He murmured, “Once is never enough, sweet. You’ll realize that sooner or later.”

  They rode the rest of the way in silence, and he let her off in front of the cabin. She hurried inside.

  Later, plucking the chickens in back of the cabin, she saw Rance working around the stable, and her gaze kept moving back to him. His back glistened in the sun, muscles rippling. He had a strong, powerful body, and his thighs strained against the tight britches.

  Once he turned to face her, and she looked away quickly lest he see her watching him…but not before she caught a glimpse of that massive chest. A flush went through her. She had seen the dark curling hairs that tapered downward, and she trembled to remember that other time, when she had seen him naked…seen the way those thick hairs curled below to his manhood.

  He was rugged. He was rough. He was unlike any man she had ever known. And how, she wondered angrily, had he known that she did, indeed, toss and turn in her bed at night?

  It was thinking of her escape that made her toss and turn at night, she told herself furiously as she stole another glance in Rance’s direction. Certainly she had not been longing for him!

  Slowly, the idea took hold. The more she thought about it, the better it seemed. Rance would be even less suspicious of her if she could bring herself to do it. He would think she was mad about him, and would never leave him. Why, it was even better than pretending to be afraid of snakes in the woods.

  She hurried to finish making dinner, and then went into her room to bathe and change. She chose a green velvet gown that she had not worn since leaving home. The bodice dipped down to expose the pink ridges of her nipples. She took a deep breath to shove her breasts even higher, before struggling with the fastenings.

  She stood before the mirror and brushed her hair up into a sweeping coiffure, leaving little ringlets to curl saucily about her face and ears. She had only a tiny bottle of perfume, which she had packed into her bags that long-ago night. Dabbing the fragrance behind her ears and between her abundantly exposed breasts, she decided she looked lovelier than she had since arriving at the ranch.

  It was almost dark when he came in
, the masculine smell of leather clinging to him. April was sitting before the fire, waiting, and he raised an eyebrow as his surprised gaze swept over her.

  “Are you ready to eat now?” she asked softly.

  He nodded, a strange expression on his face. “I’ll go wash up,” he mumbled.

  When he returned, he was wearing clean clothes and smelled faintly of lilac water. His black hair was damp and smoothed back, but tendrils clung to his neck and about his ears.

  He sat down opposite April, and they ate in silence. She hoped her nervousness did not show, and she had to force every bite past her lips.

  When he had finished, he got to his feet and said pleasantly, “You’re getting to be a good cook, April. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to be up before dawn, and I’m tired. I think I’ll call it a day.”

  The word rang out before she realized it. “Wait!”

  He stared at her expectantly. When she said nothing more, he cocked his head to one side and asked, “Well, what is it, April?”

  There was no light, in the room except from the fire, bathing them in a golden hue.

  “You didn’t say anything…” she began hesitantly, shyly. Taking a deep breath, she rushed to finish, “…about my dress.”

  “You look lovely.” He continued to stare at her, puzzled. “But you always look lovely, April, no matter what you are wearing.”

  When she did not speak again, he nodded and said, “I will try not to wake you when I leave. Good night.”

  She stared after him as he disappeared into his room and closed the door quietly behind him. Damn it, she thought, furiously twisting her skirt in her trembling hands, I have to do it.

  With trembling legs, she stood and began to unfasten her dress, letting it fall to the floor at her feet. Stepping out of the garment, she removed her chemise and pantalets. Her body shone gold and bronze in the glow of the fire. She reached to remove the pins from her hair, letting it fall softly around her face and shoulders.

  Quickly, before she could lose her nerve, she walked to his door. She did not knock. She turned the knob and let the door swing open. He sat up in bed, and she saw the stunned expression fade to one of pleasure and desire.

  “My God!” he whispered hoarsely.

  She moved slowly to the side of the bed. “You were right, Rance,” she spoke tremulously.

  “About what, April?”

  “Once was not enough.”

  With a groan, he flung the covers from him with one hand, exposing his naked body, bathed golden from the fire’s glow behind them. With almost savage strength, he reached out to pull her roughly down beside him. Her soft breasts squeezed against his chest, and his hands moved to cup her buttocks and pull her tighter still. She could feel his immediate hardness between her thighs as she lifted her face for his kiss.

  His mouth was warm, hungry, fierce with passion. His tongue touched hers possessively, then he moved to devour her face, her neck, then swiftly lick upon her thrusting, heaving breasts.

  April closed her eyes. Sweet delight seemed to consume her entire body. She opened her thighs to receive his probing hand, gasping out loud as the hot needles of pleasure soared through her loins. “Take me, Rance,” she whispered raggedly, shamelessly.

  “Oh, no, my lovely.” His lips were moving downward. “Tonight you’re going to become my woman for all time. I’m going to show you what it means to be a real woman in a man’s arms.”

  She screamed out loud as she felt his probing tongue, there in that secret place. Her body jerked and writhed in spasms as he held her firmly, not letting her struggle away, paying no attention to her protests. She felt as though she were on fire. A great roaring began in her ears and then she was being swept higher, higher. Molten waves of pleasure flooded over her body, consuming her. Just as she felt she would surely die, he moved to thrust himself inside her. The explosion charged though her loins and up into her belly to move onward, upward, to the depths of her soul. Her nails dug mercilessly into the rock-hard flesh of his back as she fought to bring him closer, closer.

  She could feel his hot, harsh breathing in her ear, the pounding of his wildly beating heart against her breasts. He moved furiously, hammering into her body relentlessly as she opened her legs wider to receive as much of him as possible. With a strangled cry, he gave one mighty push and released his passion inside her.

  They clung together, naked flesh wet with the perspiration of their almost savage consummation.

  He rolled away to lie on his back, pulling her close against him so that her head lay against his shoulder. Nuzzling her soft damp hair with his chin, he whispered teasingly, “After that, my sweet, even twice won’t be enough.”

  She did not speak. A terrible sadness was wrenching her because she knew that twice would have to be enough. After this night, they would never again be together.

  And she cursed herself for the silent tears that flowed down her cheeks as he lay sleeping beside her though the long, long night.

  Chapter Eleven

  Somewhere in the woods an unknown animal screamed mournfully. April ran her fingertips up and down her arms as she sat in her bed, felt the goosebumps upon her flesh. She would not let herself be frightened, she told herself. There was nothing to be afraid of. After all, when she left the ranch, there would be only an hour or so of darkness. She knew the road, had made sure that Mulhern or Hinton took her in that direction during her daily rides. She felt she knew every curve and bend in that road, and she figured it was only a distance of about three miles to the main road that would take her south, into Sylacauga. From there, when it was daylight, she would be able to cut through the woods, out of sight.

  She knew that one of the two men would be outside sleeping on the porch, following Rance’s orders. She also knew that whichever one was on post, he would be sleeping soundly, probably snoring. With their boss away, they drank as much as they pleased. They usually fell into a drunken slumber and would not awaken till the morning sun hit them full in the face.

  A week. It had been a week since Rance and his men left for Georgia with the herd of horses. How she had ached to leave during that week! But she had made herself wait in order to learn the route she would be taking in darkness.

  The animal screamed again. A bobcat. There were plenty of them around, she had been told. She really had no reason to fear them, except at night. They were, Edward had explained, nocturnal animals, preying on small animals, chickens, and the like. But get one mad, he had warned her, or cornered, and the cat could be quite dangerous.

  That last night with Rance still made her tremble and she knew she would always remember it. If he were another kind of man, and they had met under different circumstances, perhaps they might have shared a real love. But all they had was lust, plain and simple, and she would have to forget she had ever known Rance Taggart.

  Her eyes grew heavy from want of sleep, but she did not dare give way to slumber. Moving slowly from the bed, she padded over to the window that opened onto the front porch. She pushed the curtain aside slightly. A quarter moon gave enough light that she could see a man’s sleeping form on the porch floor. He turned his face just a bit. It was Mulhern. Good. He drank more than Hinton. He would be dead to the world.

  How much longer till day? She dared to strike a match and allowed the flame to burn just long enough to see the clock on the wall. Five o’clock. Another half hour, and she would leave.

  She returned to the bed and sat down, drawing her knees up beneath her chin. Rance was going to be livid when he returned to find her gone. But there would be nothing he could do about it.

  Restless, she paced the room. Finally, she decided she could wait no longer. As long as she remained in that room, she was going to work herself into a nervous frenzy.

  She knelt beside the bed, felt beneath for the bundle of clothing she had taken earlier from Rance’s room. There was a pair of trousers—much too big, but perhaps there would be a rope in the stable for tying the waist. There was a
lso a thick woolen shirt and an old coat. When she had dressed in Rance’s clothes, she pushed her long mane of hair up into an old straw hat she had found in the barn and hidden away. She hoped she looked like a man. She stared down at her high-top pointed shoes. They would be awkward for riding. But there were no boots to be had.

  Her own clothes would all have to be left behind, for it would be an unnecessary nuisance to try and lug her bags along.

  It was time to leave. Slowly, ever so slowly, she turned the doorknob, holding her breath and praying there would be no sound. There was not. Gingerly, she stepped into the big room, then moved slowly, stealthily to the door that led out behind the house. Once outside, the moonlight filtered down through the pines, guiding her toward the stable. Halfway across the clearing, she turned and could barely make out the sleeping form of Mulhern. Good. He had not awakened. Hinton would be in the bunkhouse, and that was farther away still, not even in sight. There was slim chance that he would hear her.

  She went to the rear of the stable, carefully opening the wide doors. Earlier, she had rubbed lard into the hinges. Inside, the smell of manure, hay, and animal sweat made her nose wrinkle. It was deathly dark, and she moved from memory. The mare was in the third stall on the left. The saddle was slung over the railing on the right, the harness right beside it. For an instant, she panicked as one of the horses whinnied, pawing the ground, and she whispered to it soothingly. They were used to her. Good. The hours she had spent here memorizing every part of the building had paid off. The horses were not frightened of her.

  She reached the mare’s stall, opened the gate, and slipped inside. Running her hand down her neck, she whispered to let the horse know who she was. Then she began to move faster. The saddle was heavy, awkward…She prayed she had the cinches adjusted right or she would spill to the ground when she tried to ride. The mare did not want to take the bit, and there was momentary struggling until it was in place.