Heat of a Savage Moon--The Moon Trilogy--Book Two

by Jane Bonander

  “My beautiful wife, Birgit, has been given a clean bill of health by our own Dr. Gaspard. Of course, he told me to hire someone to help with the children until she gets stronger, but I have no problem with that.”

  Rachel glanced at the reverend’s wife, who was returning her husband’s special, secret look. Rachel’s quiet envy ate at her, and she felt ashamed.

  “Secondly, her brother, Darwin Thorpe, is staying with us for a while. Please make him feel welcome.” He looked at Rachel, who couldn’t move away from Darwin without making it look obvious, and added, “Seems he’s already made a good friend.”

  There were snickers from the other single men in the back of the room. Rachel was sure she heard “Injun lover,” but perhaps she was just overly sensitive. She wanted desperately to go back to the safety of her room.

  “Now,” the reverend continued, “the baskets look beautiful and smell delicious. I know all you men are anxious to start the bidding. Why don’t we get at it?”

  Rachel had to stop herself from running from the room. She’d purposely put her basket in the back, hoping it would go unnoticed. And it might have, she realized forlornly, had it not been for Darwin Thorpe.

  The baskets began to disappear, each one bid upon by an anxious suitor or a faithful, complaisant husband. As Rachel’s came closer to the front, she felt that familiar, anxious stomachache.

  “Now, this sure is a pretty one,” Reverend Toland said as he picked up Rachel’s basket. “How much am I bid for this?”

  “Fifty cents.” Darwin Thorpe’s voice was a bit high-pitched, but very confident.

  The reverend smiled. “I have fifty cents.” He bent over the basket, pulled in a deep breath and closed his eyes in ecstasy. “This smells mighty good, fellas. I wouldn’t let this go for fifty cents if I were you.”

  There was some good-natured elbowing by the few remaining single men who hadn’t already bought a basket, but there was some snickering, too. Rachel heard it clearly.

  The room was deathly quiet. Everyone who had already been paired off stopped what they were doing and watched the tragedy play out before them. A tragedy from Rachel’s perspective, anyway. She wanted to crawl into a hole and pull it in after her.

  “Come on now, fellas,” the reverend cajoled. “This basket is worth three times that. Do I hear a dollar fifty?”

  Silence. The single men shuffled their feet and looked at the floor. Darwin Thorpe cleared his throat nervously. Rachel wanted to evaporate.

  “Twenty-five dollars.”

  Rachel’s head snapped up and she stared at the door. Warmth flooded her and her heart nearly burst in her chest. Jason stood at the back, his dark gaze blazing a hot path over her skin.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Rachel heard the reverend’s voice, but she was no longer listening. She watched, her heart in her throat, as Jason strode purposefully through the crowd to where she sat.

  As he reached her, she saw the quiet defiance in his eyes, as if daring her to refuse him—no matter what he asked. She knew there was nothing she wouldn’t give him.

  “Yes, Reverend,” he said, not taking his eyes off Rachel, “twenty-five dollars for that basket.”

  Quietly, Rachel asked herself what this meant. Her own answer was joyous, but still she held back.

  “Rachel?” Jason took the cape he had draped over his arm and held it for her. With disbelief she stared at the cloak, realizing it was the one she’d seen in the merchant’s window months ago—black silk, with hood and shawl, all lined in black velvet.

  Something winked at her from the shiny dark fabric. Pinned high on the shoulder of the cloak was her mother’s pearl-encrusted cameo. Biting her lips to keep them from trembling, she stood, leaning on her crutch, and allowed him to drape the cape over her shoulders.

  The reality of what he’d done left her speechless. “Thank you,” she whispered, turning and looking at him over her shoulder. Everything about him—his smell, his presence, his voice—rushed over her with wonderful, warm familiarity.

  He gave her a private smile. Stepping away from her briefly, he pulled out his money clip and peeled off a couple of bills. “This is for the basket, reverend. And this,” he said, taking out a few more, “is for the ceremony.”

  Rachel’s heart flip-flopped in her chest and she stared from Jason to the reverend. She knew her mouth was hanging open.

  “Ceremony?” The Reverend Toland was perplexed.

  “Please,” Jason said, nodding toward the sanctuary. “Could we talk in there?”

  Reverend Toland gave him a tentative, warm smile. “Certainly. Of course. Of course.”

  “And,” Jason added, “Birgit? Would you come, too?”

  Rachel’s face was wet with tears. She hardly dared think about what was happening. “Jason? What are you doing?”

  He gave her a stern look. “You’ll see.” He handed her the basket, lifted her into his arms and followed the reverend into the sanctuary.

  Rachel pulled back and looked at him, adoring the haughty slope of his incredible eyes. “Would you like to tell me what’s going on?”

  He gave her another private grin. “I’m afraid if I do, you won’t let me do it.”

  She hardly dared to breathe. “Do what?”

  “Marry you.”

  A worrisome little question sprouted in her thoughts, asking her why he’d do this, but she shoved it far back into the attic of her mind. It hardly mattered why. She wanted this. “Oh, you know I’ll marry you. But… but what’s the hurry? Ivy should be here, and… and Earl—” It didn’t dawn on her to argue, much less refuse. She loved him too much.

  “They’re on their way,” he answered, giving her a chaste kiss on the mouth.

  “And… and you love me? Do you, Jason?”

  He gazed at her for a long, poignant minute. The pause would have bothered her if she hadn’t been so much in love.

  “Would I ask you to marry me if I didn’t?”

  It wasn’t the answer she’d hoped for, but it would do. She looked down at her dress and thought of the irony of it all. The last time she’d worn it, she’d thought she was happy. Then, she’d been a starry-eyed, naïve girl. This time she wasn’t. Well, maybe still a little starry-eyed. Loving Jason did that to her. She suddenly remembered the speed with which she married the first time.

  “But… but what’s the hurry? What about your parents? Won’t they—”

  He covered her mouth with a deep, impetuous kiss. One she couldn’t ignore. The intimacy with which he kissed her was yet another thing she’d missed. The taste of him, the way his mouth and his tongue could send dandelion fluff whirling around in her stomach, then deeper… It had been so long… so long… She had a dozen questions, but they could wait. They could all wait until later.

  When he finally pulled away from her, she was as anxious to go through the ceremony as he was. Questioning him about his hasty decision was the farthest thing from her mind.

  Rachel sat on the bed and studied the ring Jason had given her. An emotion stronger than she could hold burst through her, and her eyes filled with tears of joy. The ring had belonged to Anna’s grandmother. It wasn’t fancy, it had no large stone, but the lacy gold filigree was delicate and lovely. Nothing could have made her happier.

  Her gaze shifted to the table and the scattered remnants of their picnic lunch. Jason had insisted they eat it au naturel. Now, watching him pour her a glass of champagne, Rachel realized that although she still wasn’t comfortable with her own nudity, she’d become very comfortable with his. She’d never tire of seeing his body, or the casual way he displayed it for her.

  Staring first at his wide, hard shoulders, then down his back to his tight buttocks, she shuddered as she remembered gripping him there whenever he came into her. He turned, moving toward her, a full glass of champagne in each hand. She still felt physical pain when she saw or touched his chest. Everything he’d gone through so many years ago wa
s transferred to her. She didn’t ever want that to change. She always wanted to feel his joy as well as his pain. Though he surely hated August Weber, Rachel had never heard him say the words.

  Her gaze trailed lower, to where his root sprang from the heavy bush of black hair. Although they’d just made love, she wanted him again, but she still wasn’t accustomed to being the aggressor.

  He stood beside the bed and grinned down at her. “What are you looking at?”

  She gave him a lazy smile. “I was just thinking that even though you have no hair on your chest, you do have it in all the important places.”

  Arousal flared in his eyes. “You’ve become quite a brazen hussy, haven’t you, Mrs. Gaspard?” He handed her a glass, and they gave each other a silent toast.

  “Thanks to you, Dr. Gaspard.” She still had the bedcovers hiked up over her breasts.

  He grinned down at her. “Are you cold, or just shy?”

  A wave of warmth washed over her. “A little of both, I guess.” She glanced at the window. “It’s still daylight, Jason, and we’ve… we’ve already… done it.”

  His eyes sparkled with humor. “Done it? Don’t you know what it’s called?”

  She blushed, truly feeling shy. “Of course I do.”

  “Then say it,” he answered, sitting beside her on the bed.

  Forcing her eyes up to meet his gaze, she said, “We made love.”

  He gave her a good-natured smirk. “Oh, we did that, all right. But what else?”

  She took a long, nervous gulp of champagne. “We… we had intercourse.”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “We had that, too. But don’t get technical, Rachel love. Tell me,” he said, running his fingers across her breasts, then on down to the triangle at the crest of her thighs, “what we call it when we’re so damned hot for each other we can’t get out of our clothes fast enough?”

  The champagne was beginning to loosen her up. The place between her legs throbbed. “You mean like that time in the closet?” She still remembered the urgency of that coupling, and it aroused her further.

  “Exactly,” he answered, letting his gaze rest on the hardened points of her nipples beneath the sheet.

  She knew what he wanted her to say. It excited her when he whispered those things to her. It made her feel lusty and sensual when her every thought was centered on the feelings between her legs. “Oh, Jason, I know what you want, but… but no matter how much I want you, I… I just can’t say it out loud.”

  His eyes softened. “Can you whisper it to me?”

  “You… you don’t think it would be awful of me?”

  He took her glass and put both of them on the table beside the bed. “It’s not an awful thing for a wife to say to her husband, Rachel, believe me. In fact, many men like it.”

  “And you? Would you like it?” She was so aroused she could hardly breathe. She was afraid she was going to climax without him even touching her.

  “Oh,” he answered, his stirring gaze answering for him, “I’d like it a hell of a lot.”

  She was ready to spontaneously combust. “All right,” she said around a shy smile, “come here.”

  He bent close and she whispered the raunchy, erotic words into his ear. His sharp intake of breath and the condition of his manhood told her he was pleased. She, on the other hand, was ready to burst into flames.

  He moved away and tugged at the bedding, revealing her nudity. “There’s something I’ve always wanted to do.”

  Swallowing a delicious shudder, she asked, “What’s that?”

  “Brace yourself.” He retrieved his glass from the table and tipped it just enough so that a small trickle of champagne splashed onto her stomach, pooling in her navel, then tunneling on down into the soft hair that grew low on her belly.

  She sucked in a quick breath and let it out shakily as he dipped his head and lapped up the moisture. His tongue slid down into her hair and she stiffened, raising up off the bed. The sensation wasn’t unpleasant at all, but it had taken her completely by surprise.

  “I guess you’re not quite ready for that,” he said, his voice soft and teasing.

  “What… what were you going to do?” Her heart pounded so hard in her chest, she thought it might break free.

  He continued to grin at her. “Think about it for a while, Rachel love. Just think about what I could do down there with my mouth.”

  Before she could imagine what he had in mind, he bent and kissed her stomach. Heat, deep and powerful, burned inside her. Her need for him intensified when he worked his way up to her breasts, pulling and tugging on first one nipple, then the other, until she wasn’t sure she could stand it anymore.

  Spreading her legs, she felt him nestle against her. He teased her with his hard tip, touching, rubbing the maddening itch of her burgeoning bud. When she thought she could take no more, when every nerve ending was alive with desire, and she was hanging on to him with all of her strength, he finally slid into her, pressing deep.

  She clung to him, pushing against him so tightly, she felt the coarse hairs of his bush entwine with hers. Wrapping her legs around him, she waited impatiently for him to move inside her. Then he began. He didn’t pull out and thrust again, but rocked slowly. She felt her climax start deep in her womb, a slow bubbling of intense desire that suddenly shook her as spasm after spasm wracked her, and she heard herself cry out.

  Jason continued rocking, harder and faster until she felt him explode inside her. She held on, refusing to let him go. The last thing she remembered before she fell asleep was being rolled to her side and feeling the covers tucked in around them.

  When Rachel awakened, it was dark. She sensed that Jason was awake beside her. “Jason?”

  “Hmmm?”

  She gently touched his chest, running her fingers over each scarred furrow. “I… I have to tell you something.”

  “Yes?”

  “Remember… remember the money the marshal said had been stolen from Jeremy’s safe?”

  “I remember,” he answered, absently stroking her hip.

  She swallowed hard. “I found it.”

  He sat up. “You found it? Where?”

  She told him about going into the warehouse to make room for the other supplies, and how she’d found it behind a loose brick in the fireplace.

  “What did you do with it?” His voice was strained.

  “Well, I… I figured the money was mine. And… and Jeremy had left so many debts all over town, I thought it… it wouldn’t hurt to start paying them off.”

  She didn’t mention her surprising trip to the bank or the mysterious disappearance of her mother’s cameo.

  “So, who did you pay off?”

  “Well, first let me tell you what I did to prove to myself that your friend Buck wasn’t involved.”

  He chuckled beside her.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Is this about the leather pouch?”

  She stared at him in the darkness. “How did you know?”

  “Buck told me you’d planted it on his lunch tray. He had no idea what it was all about, but that it was a pretty transparent attempt to find out something.”

  She felt a rush of foolishness. “He probably thinks I’m a real ninny.”

  “No, he really doesn’t, Rachel.” His hand returned to her hip and he stroked her tenderly.

  “Maybe not, but he still must blame me because he’s in jail.”

  Jason shifted beside her. “It’s odd. Jail has given Buck time to think. He’s actually become quite philosophical.” He paused for a moment. “And he doesn’t want to die.”

  “Jason, I didn’t tell Captain Weber what I thought about Buck. He admitted to me that he’d overheard our conver—”

  “I know,” he interrupted.

  “How did you know?”

  “Well, I didn’t know at first. At first, I was angry. I’d decided that even though you tried to do the right thing once yo
u got to the jail, it was too late. Weber had already made up his mind about Buck. So, I wanted it to be your fault.”

  “Oh, darling, I—”

  “No,” he interrupted again. “If you’re going to apologize, don’t. Buck’s innocent. We both know that. Somehow, we’ll get him out of there before Weber takes him to Fort Riley.”

  She cuddled against him. “I feel so safe now that I’m with you.”

  “Rachel,” he said, absently stroking her breast, “where else did Jeremy owe money besides the bank?”

  Fresh adoration flushed her skin. “Thank you again for getting back my cameo. I… I didn’t think anyone knew of Jeremy’s debts besides me and the captain. And… and of course, Ivy and the marshal.”

  He pulled her close. “I’d seen you come out of the bank months ago. I had a feeling Weber had money problems.”

  “Well, thank you, again.” She ran her hand down over his warm groin and cradled him in her palm. His root twitched and grew slightly at her touch.

  He stilled her hand. “Not so fast. Where else did Jeremy owe money?” he repeated.

  “He owed Bram Justice three thousand dollars.”

  Jason swore, then pulled her into his arms. “Dammit, Rachel, Justice is the man who’s trying to kill you.”

  She went cold. “Oh, dear heaven…” She clung to him, her mind whirling. “Do you suppose he’s the one who stole the money?”

  “I think that whoever he hired to kill Ritter and Weber stole it for him.”

  Even though she was tucked safely into Jason’s arms, she began to shiver. “I’m really in trouble, Jason.”

  “I know you are, Rachel love.” He stroked her back and her buttocks soothingly.

  She pulled away slightly. “You don’t understand. I paid off part of Bram’s loan with the money I found. And if he’s checked on his stash, he knows it’s gone.”

  The two little boys had coerced Concetta, the elderly Gaspard housekeeper, into packing them each a hearty lunch. They were off, they had told her, to track the wild buffalo that hid in the hills beyond the vineyard. They took Bruno, Dusty’s grandpa’s hound, with them.