by Linda Howard
“Do you have family nearby?” she asked.
“I don’t have any family at all, or at least none that I remember. I guess that’s why I’ve drifted the way I have.”
“And you’ve never been married?” She immediately said, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t pry.”
“I don’t mind answering. I was planning on marriage once, but she died. That was ten years ago.”
“Do you still love her?” Why couldn’t she control her unruly tongue? She had no business at all asking him such personal questions, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. She felt her face heat at her rudeness, but he treated the question as easily as if it were about the weather.
“In a way.” Thoughtfully he continued, “Celia was a wonderful person, truly worth loving, and I still love the person she was. But I’m not still in love with her, if you understand the difference.”
“Yes, I do.” Olivia was astonished at the relief she felt.
They came to a small stream and walked along it until they reached a log that had been placed across it. Olivia looked back at the picnic, blinking in surprise at how far they were from the others. Only a few people were visible from where they were, most of the townsfolk hidden by trees and brush and the curve of the meadow.
“Perhaps we should go back,” she said a little nervously.
Luis stepped up on the log and held his hand out to her. “And perhaps we shouldn’t. The explorers would have taken forever if they had never ventured out of the sight of the crowd.”
She bit her lip, then cautiously placed her hand in his and let him help her up onto the log. She couldn’t believe she was doing this. Olivia Millican had never done anything as outrageous as wandering off with a strange man; but then, she thought a little rebelliously, Olivia Millican had always longed to travel. Perhaps it was time to start paying attention to the secret Olivia. After all, she felt perfectly safe with Luis.
The log rolled unsteadily as they made their way across it, but fortunately they needed only a few steps to cross, and then Luis was clasping her waist in his strong hands and lifting her the rest of the way. She felt as if they had crossed a huge obstacle to their explorations, rather than a small stream. She didn’t think she had ever been in this area before.
They walked beneath the trees, and Luis pointed out different kinds of birds to her. She was enthralled, for she had lived all of her life in towns, and the limit of her knowledge about birds was that she could tell a robin from a crow. Behind them the sounds of the picnic faded completely away, and she could hear only the birds and the wind rustling in the trees, their quiet steps, and their voices. He was holding her hand, his strong fingers wrapped securely around hers, the heat and roughness strangely reassuring. She ought not to let him hold her hand, she thought, but she didn’t do anything to stop him. They should return to the picnic. She said nothing.
They were as alone as if miles from town, wandering deeper and deeper into the forest. She wondered if her parents were worried but knew they would simply think she was with friends.
The rich smell of the forest satisfied something deep inside her. The contentment shone out of her face as she looked up at him with a luminous smile, and without thought Luis reacted to that sweet femininity, pulling her into his arms and bending to her mouth.
Instinctively he kept the contact light, feeling the softness of her lips and letting her respond at her own rate. Olivia did so by degrees, beguiled by the tenderness of the touch and the hard warmth of his body. Her forearms, which had been resting on his chest while she subconsciously decided if she should push him away or not, slid up, and her hands laced around his neck as her body made its own decision. It felt so good to be held by him like that, so she snuggled closer. His taste was intriguing, so she instinctively parted her lips to taste him more, and that was all the encouragement Luis needed. He put his hand on the back of her head and held her while he deepened the kiss, first gliding his tongue over her lips, then slipping it inside when she didn’t protest. He felt the little start of surprise she gave, but it was followed immediately by sweet yielding.
Olivia was dizzy from the pleasure of kissing him. She had been kissed a few times before—she was, after all, twenty-five years old—but no one else had ever kissed her with an open mouth, inviting her to part her own lips. She shivered with delight at the sensation of his tongue first touching lightly, then moving deep inside her mouth. She jerked at the unexpected invasion, expecting it to be awful, but the swift rise of intense, heated pleasure instead had her pressing closer to him.
“You’re so sweet,” Luis murmured against her mouth as he slanted his head and returned for more of those hungry, invading kisses.
She had never felt passion before, never suspected that any man could make her feel that way. She had never before let any man hold her fully against him, her breasts crushed into his chest. It felt wonderful, she thought dimly. Her breasts ached, and that hard pressure seemed to ease them. Another ache was growing in her, deep in her belly, and she couldn’t understand it or find ease for it.
He raised his head, staring down into her dazed blue eyes. His own eyes were hot with need. He was breathing hard, but so was she, her soft breasts heaving. Luis recognized all the signs of an aroused woman, but he also plainly saw the innocent bewilderment behind the passion.
He hadn’t brought her out here for this, he told himself. He had watched her for a long time, noticed how she kept trying to evade Bellamy, and had impulsively asked her to walk with him. But now they were alone, and he hadn’t been able to resist that sweet mouth.
He could have her now. He could lower her to the moss-covered ground and have her skirt up before she fully comprehended what she was doing. As inexperienced as she was, she wouldn’t have an inkling how to control her own desires. But a hasty seduction would likely be the only time he would ever have her; he knew women well enough to know that afterward she would go to any lengths to avoid him. That wasn’t what he wanted. She was so sweet he wanted to lose himself in her time and again, and the only way to do that was to be patient and truly win her.
He realized all of that but couldn’t bring himself to let her go without tasting even more of her. He began kissing her again, tightening his arms around her and positioning his hardness against her soft mound. He felt the gasp she gave, took it into his mouth, and kissed her beyond her alarm. Slowly he sank down to his knees, taking her with him.
Boldly he put his hand on her breast, squeezing it through the cloth, but that wasn’t enough. He wanted to feel her warm, naked flesh. Olivia arched away from the touch, her eyes flying open.
“Don’t be frightened,” he crooned, lulling her with more kisses, stroking her breast and ribs.
“You—you shouldn’t do that.”
“This is part of making love. Does it feel good?” Some women found it painful rather than pleasurable, so he was always careful to ask.
“Y-yes,” she stammered. “But that isn’t the point.”
“What is the point, then?” He continued kneading her breast, and he found her tight little nipple with his thumb. She gasped again as he rubbed it, and hot color tinted her cheeks.
“That—that we shouldn’t be doing this.” She closed her eyes, involuntarily concentrating on the wonderful sensations.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No,” she moaned. Then her nails dug into his shoulders. “Yes. We have to.”
“Not quite yet,” he whispered, and he slipped his hand inside her bodice. Olivia gave a pleasured cry at the searing heat of his palm on her naked breast. Her nipple was very hard, thrusting eagerly forward. Swiftly he opened her dress so that both breasts were bare, then bent her back over his arm and took one of the succulent little buds into his mouth, circling it with his tongue before pulling at it with a hard sucking motion.
She shook and shuddered, straining against him, soft little cries coming from her open mouth. The ache low in her body had grown beyond her control, and she wri
thed with it, her hips moving, asking for something she couldn’t identify. Luis felt the movement and knew exactly what she needed, but now wasn’t the time. He forced himself to be content with teaching her just part of the pleasure he could give her.
Her breasts were small and milky white, the nipples pink and delicate. She quivered every time he rubbed them, luring him to complete what he had started. It took all of his willpower to resist, to bring her down gently by pulling the edges of her dress together again and holding her close, kissing her and murmuring to her, telling her how much he wanted her and how he ached, knowing it would make her feel better if she knew that he wasn’t unaffected by this.
Still, her pale face flamed with embarrassment when her senses returned. She pushed his hands away and began fumbling with her dress, trying to restore it to decency.
“Don’t be ashamed,” he said. “You’re beautiful.”
“How can I not be ashamed?” she asked in a strangled voice. “You’re a stranger, and I’ve let you—” She broke off, unable to put into words the depth of her disgrace.
“We aren’t strangers now,” he said in a quiet voice. “Olivia, look at me, darling.”
She shook her head, so he caught her chin and firmly tilted it upward. “Do you think I can’t respect you or I wouldn’t have touched you like that?”
The distress in her eyes was his answer. He leaned forward and gently kissed her. “I touched you, darling, because I want you so much I couldn’t help myself. I stopped because I do respect you and want to see you again.”
She surged to her feet, her face red. “Oh, no!” she cried involuntarily.
He caught her hands when she would have run from him. “Because you think this will happen again?”
Olivia could barely stand still, so great was her distress. Tears swam in her eyes. “We must never—”
“Don’t expect me to stay away from you, because I can’t. And I’ll kiss you again every chance I get. Eventually we’ll make love, Olivia—yes, we will,” he said sternly when she began shaking her head. “Forget that I’m just a drifter and you’re the banker’s daughter, and remember how it felt with my mouth on you because it will be much better than that, darling. Much better.”
8
DEE WAS DRAWING A BUCKET OF WATER WHEN LUCAS rode up that afternoon. Her heart slammed against her breastbone at the sight of him; it had been over a week since she had seen him, and it was alarming how much she had missed his high-handedness. The battles with him made her feel more alive than she ever had before because she could be herself while she was fighting him, and nothing she said would shock him.
He swung down from the horse and looped the reins around the rail. “I told you I’d come after you,” he said grimly, walking toward her.
Dee hefted the bucket of water with a warning glint in her eyes. “And I told you I wouldn’t go to the picnic. I have my reasons, and I’m not going to ruin things just to satisfy one of your whims.”
His eyes glittered with an unholy blue light, and he kept on coming. “I’ve been wet before,” he said.
Maybe the water wasn’t much of a deterrent, but the bucket was heavy. Dee swung it at his head, soaking both of them as the water sloshed out. He ducked, and she quickly shifted position, drawing back for another swing.
“You leave me alone,” she warned.
“There’s no way in hell,” he retorted, and he grabbed for her.
Dee ducked, and the wooden bucket caught him on the shoulder. He stopped, swearing while he rubbed the place she had hit. Those blue eyes narrowed on her. “You’d better knock me out this time,” he said, and he lunged.
She took him at his word and tried her best to knock him in the head, but this time he didn’t let the heavy bucket stop him. It banged against his back as he dived under her swing, and before she could dodge away he jammed his broad shoulder into her midsection, then lifted her. He straightened with her dangling over his shoulder and strode purposefully toward the house.
Furiously she discovered that she was helpless in that position. Her kicking legs were anchored by his left arm, and the only target she had for her fists were his legs and buttocks. Since it was the only thing she could do, she bit him.
He roared with mingled pain and rage and slapped her bottom with all his strength, which was considerable. Dee cried out at the burning impact, then tried to bite him again. He twisted, dumping her off of his shoulder onto the back stoop, then immediately grabbed the back of her collar and used it to drag her into the house.
As soon as he released her she jumped to her feet and sprang at him. “You little bitch,” he said admiringly, and he laughed as he evaded her fists, taking hold of her arms and instead forcing her back against the wall.
Dee fought with the intent to win, and that meant using whatever means she could. She was severely hampered by the way he held her arms, so she resorted to kicking, trying for his crotch. His laughter stopped abruptly when her foot landed on his thigh, far too close for comfort, and he solved the problem by crushing her up against the wall with his body.
“Now fight me,” he panted.
She tried, twisting and heaving, but with the wall behind her and his heavy body pressing her from the front she had no room to do anything more. She kicked, and he used the moment of motion to force his legs inside hers. With another quick move he had her lifted off her feet, his muscled thighs holding hers apart while he ground his pelvis against her.
She stopped fighting, because it was useless and would only increase the heavy pressure of his erection between her legs. She leaned her head back against the wall, panting. “Damn you, let me go.”
Instead he lifted her higher and hungrily closed his mouth over her breast. The wet heat penetrated her layers of clothing, and she felt her nipple tighten, pebbling under the onslaught of his tongue. Desire mingled sharply with anger until she wondered if they weren’t the same thing after all.
He released her arms so he could pull at her blouse, and without that support her weight dragged downward, pressing her even harder against his groin. A heavy surge of pure need shook her, making her cry out, and she clenched her hands in his hair rather than using her new freedom to fight him off. Her blouse ripped under his savage hands, then his fingers locked in the top of her shift and jerked, subjecting it to the same fate. He cupped her naked breasts in his hands and pushed them together, his beard scraping her soft skin as he sucked at first one breast and then the other.
She twisted, crying out again. Lucas drank in the sound, roughly kissing her while he continued massaging her breasts. There was no stopping this time; he had to have her, had to satisfy the burning, untamed hunger in both of them. He worked his hand under her skirt and untied her drawers, dragging them down over her buttocks.
Dee stilled as she felt her underwear slipping down; her head turned away, and her eyes closed. She had been totally naked in front of him before but had not felt so bare as she did now, so vulnerable. He moved back a little from her and let her legs come together, and the cotton drawers slithered down her legs to pool around her ankles. “Step out of them,” he whispered, and mindlessly she did.
The heavy weight of his body returned to lie against her, holding her to the wall. His hands were still under her skirt, on her naked flesh, kneading her buttocks and stroking her thighs, and finally covering her mound.
She held her breath, not even daring to breathe in her agony of anticipation and need. His hand moved slowly, one long finger sliding down into the slit of her soft folds. The lash of pleasure was almost cruel, and so strong that she bucked in his arms. He held her, that one finger moving mercilessly back and forth. He sank it a little way into her, and she almost screamed from the shock, yet her legs opened wider to allow him to do whatever he wanted. She squirmed, her nails digging into his shoulders as his wet finger returned to find the small nub at the top of her sex and roll it back and forth, this time shattering her control and making her scream.
“God, you�
��re beautiful,” he muttered, watching her skin flush with desire. She was unutterably wild and glorious, with her head tilted back and her bare breasts heaving from the force of her breathing. She had blazed up like wildfire, burning beyond her control, just as he had known she would.
She was wet silk between her legs, so soft and hot he thought he might explode just touching her. He held her securely and eased his finger into her again, probing deeper, using his thumb to rub her and keep her hot so she wouldn’t object to his penetration. She jerked, whimpering, and her internal muscles tightened on his finger to hold it so snugly he almost groaned aloud, thinking how tight she would be on his shaft. He couldn’t enter her very far before he met the surprisingly firm resistance of her maidenhead, and he knew that this initial act wouldn’t be very easy for either of them.
His hand had brought her close to orgasm, and she squirmed wildly against him, seeking release from the terrible, exquisite tension. “Easy, easy,” Lucas whispered against her mouth as he pushed his thigh between her legs, shoving it high and hard against her. The heat of her burned him even through his pants. “Let me show you how.”
He put both hands on her hips and began rocking her against his thigh. She shuddered and moaned and couldn’t stop, the low gasping sounds growing louder as the aching need intensified. The hard thigh between her legs both eased the ache and made it worse, so that she didn’t know what to do. She began sobbing and beat at him with her fists, but he merely pushed her higher so that her toes were off the ground and she forked his leg. His hard hands kept her hips moving in that maddening rhythm, and she couldn’t take it any longer, she couldn’t, until it felt as if every muscle in her lower body clamped down and convulsed and her senses exploded in a storm of sensation. The great waves of ecstasy washed over her one after the other and finally passed to leave her as weak as a kitten, barely coherent and limp in his hands.
