by Linda Howard
Doc Pendergrass, Etta, and Olivia followed him out. “Just make sure she eats and doesn’t try to do too much too soon,” Doc told him. “She won’t feel like getting out of bed for another week or so at least, but rest is the best thing for her.”
“Betsy will take good care of her,” Lucas said, mindful of the people listening. He was filled with satisfaction. The circumstances weren’t what he would have liked, and there were some bad storms ahead, but for now Dee would be right where he wanted her—under his roof.
He handled the buckboard carefully on the trip to the ranch, taking twice as long as it would to ride it on a horse, but he tried not to jostle Dee in case her shoulder was more painful than he realized. It was nerve-racking trying to see every rough spot in the road, listening for even a change in her breathing. When at last the ranch house came in sight he heaved a relieved sigh.
He reined in the horse at the porch and stepped over the seat into the wagon bed, going down on one knee beside Dee. “Run inside and turn back the covers on the bed,” he told Betsy. “Her bedroom is upstairs, the second door on the right.”
Betsy jumped down and scurried to do his bidding. She was only seventeen and thoroughly intimidated by Lucas, though he’d tried to put her at ease. But there was something about him that made some women nervous, so he put it out of his mind.
Dee was awake, though there was still that disturbing lack of expression in her eyes. It was as if she saw and understood but just couldn’t muster the strength to care about anything. “Tell me if I hurt you,” he said as he slid her on the quilts to the edge of the wagon bed so he could lift her without jostling her any more than necessary. He jumped down and gathered her in his arms, holding her close against his chest. He had carried her before and knew how much lighter she was now. His heart gave a big thud as a remnant of fear lashed him. The loss of blood had come so close to killing her that he didn’t think he’d ever recover.
Betsy was standing beside the bed when he carried Dee in. He placed his precious burden down and unwrapped her from the quilt, then settled the covers over her. “Do you want anything to eat?” he asked. “Or to drink?”
“Water,” she said.
Lucas glanced at Betsy, who scurried to the water pitcher sitting nearby.
“Whatever you want, just tell Betsy,” he said, stroking her cheek. “Sleep as much as you want. All you have to do now is get well.”
He dropped his hand and turned to leave, but she said, “Lucas,” and he turned back.
“The cattle,” she whispered. “My garden—”
Even now she was worried about that damn garden! He controlled his spurt of anger to give her the assurance she needed. “They didn’t get in it. You stampeded them all the way back to the Bar B.”
A slight smile spread over her colorless lips. Betsy brought the glass of water, and he moved so she could support Dee’s head and let her sip. By the time Dee signaled that she had had enough and Betsy let her head rest on the pillow again Dee’s eyes were closing with fatigue. Lucas quietly left the room.
He would have only a few weeks until she regained her strength and he’d have to tell her about the water. He meant to make the most of his period of grace to strengthen the bonds between them while he could. As soon as she was well enough to do without Betsy she would be all his.
* * *
It was the custom in the Millican family to spend the evening together after dinner, reading or sewing or just talking. Even when Olivia was a little girl she had been included in that intimate time, her parents always making her feel that her childish contributions to the conversation were as important as theirs. After losing their other children Wilson and Honora had doubly appreciated the preciousness of their daughter and had devoted themselves to making her life as perfect as they possibly could. The harmony of those after-dinner hours had always been a part of her life that Olivia loved, and she feared that she was about to ruin it. Luis had offered to be with her when she told them, but she had declined. If there was any unpleasantness, she didn’t want him to hear it. It was ridiculous to protect him, but part of her reasoning was based on diplomacy. It would be easier for him to get along with her parents at a later date if there weren’t any memories of harsh words between them.
Strangely enough, there didn’t seem to be any gossip. Honora and Beatrice had both been discreet about her behavior when she had learned Luis had been hurt. Etta and Dr. Pendergrass had evidently not said anything either about the way she had flown to Luis’s bedside. Olivia almost wished there had been gossip so she wouldn’t have to introduce the subject so abruptly.
There didn’t seem to be any other way to do it, however, so she took a deep breath and said, “Mother, Papa, I have something to tell you.” Her mother turned to look at her expectantly, and Wilson put his paper down. “I’ve fallen in love, and I’m going to be married.”
Their eyes rounded with surprise, then Honora clapped her hands and jumped up. “That’s wonderful,” she cried, laughing excitedly. “I just knew Mr. Cochran would propose, though I did wonder when—”
“Mother, no,” Olivia interrupted. “It isn’t Lucas.”
Both their faces had been wreathed in smiles, but now their expressions went blank with surprise. “Not Lucas?” Wilson asked with a perplexed frown. “But he’s the only one who’s been courting you, except for Bellamy, and of course you’d never have anything to do with him. Everyone in town thought—”
“Everyone but the two people involved,” Olivia replied gently. “Lucas is a friend, but we’ve never been in love.”
“But if it isn’t Mr. Cochran, then who is it?” Honora recovered from her surprise and was fairly quivering with curiosity.
“Luis Fronteras.”
Again their faces went blank. Honora sank into her chair. “Who?” she asked in bewilderment. The name was familiar, but she couldn’t place it. And it sounded . . . foreign.
“Luis Fronteras. He worked for Mr. Bellamy. He’s the man who helped Dee until the Double C men could get there.”
“A gunman?” Wilson was incredulous. “You say you’re going to marry a Mexican gunman? Olivia, that’s ridiculous. Why, you don’t even know him.”
“A Mexican!” Honora’s eyes rounded with shock.
“On the contrary, I know him well.” Olivia met their gazes. “I’ve been riding with him every Sunday. And I love him.”
Wilson folded his paper and tossed it aside. “That’s impossible. You have absolutely nothing in common with a man like that. Why, he’ll never settle down and provide you with a home.”
“Perhaps where I live won’t be like this,” Olivia admitted. “But this isn’t an impulsive decision. I’ve thought about it for a couple of months. I could marry a man who could give me a big house and a lot of clothes, but I wouldn’t be one tenth as happy with him as I would be in a tent with Luis. I want to have a family with him, and I trust him to take care of me and our children. What does it matter if he isn’t rich?”
“You’ll find it matters a great deal when you have to do without.” Wilson shook his head. “We’ve always done our best to shelter you, so you don’t have any real idea of the kind of life you’re proposing to lead. Darling, you deserve much more than he can give you. You couldn’t survive.”
“Of course I can. Don’t you see, he loves me. And I love him. That’s what I need, what I’ve always wanted more than anything else. Not to marry a rich man, but to marry a man I love.”
“Absolutely not,” Wilson said sternly. “I forbid it. You’re just infatuated with him and have no idea what you’re talking about. I realize he’s a romantic sort of figure, especially after the way he helped Dee, but you need stability to have a good marriage, not a gun sharp who’ll always be looking over his shoulder.”
“Oh, Papa,” Olivia said sadly. “I’m not asking your permission. I love you and Mother very much, and I want you to be at my wedding, but I’ll have it whether you’re there or not. I know you’re concerned for my
safety, and everything you’ve mentioned has made me think, too. But Luis is more than all those things you’ve said. He’s a good, honorable man. Look at the way he risked his own life to help Dee, to use your own example! None of the fine, upstanding citizens in the saloon could find it in their hearts to give help when he asked for it, but you wouldn’t be kicking up such a fuss if I wanted to marry any of them. Please don’t turn against Luis because he isn’t the type of man you’ve always thought I would marry. He’s exactly the type of man who will make me happy, and I want you to be happy for me.”
“You want too much.” Wilson’s face and voice were both stiff. Honora was quietly weeping.
“I’m sorry you feel that way, but it won’t change my mind.”
18
OLIVIA LAY SLEEPLESS LONG AFTER THE HOUSE WAS silent that night. The grandfather clock downstairs chimed midnight, but she was wide awake. She had hated the scene with her parents, hated their unhappiness, but it hadn’t changed her mind. She had never been as certain of anything in her life as she was of Luis.
At first the scraping noise didn’t register, as accustomed as she was to the tree limbs outside her window brushing against the glass. Then she realized that the sound was that of her window being raised, and she leapt from the bed with a scream lodged in her throat.
“Don’t run,” Luis said in a low voice. “It’s just me.”
“Just you!” Her knees shook, then buckled a little. She grabbed for the bedpost. “Are you trying to frighten me to death? Don’t ever do that again!” But even in her fright she kept her voice to a fierce whisper.
He chuckled. “Yes, ma’am. I hope this is the only time I ever have to climb through your bedroom window.”
She was much struck by that fact. “Yes, what are you doing climbing trees so soon after being shot? What if you opened the wound again?”
“I didn’t. It was just a little wound, after all. I feel fine.” He put his hand on the back of her head and kissed her. “I couldn’t wait until morning to find out if I have to wait a month for a fancy church wedding, or if we can do it a lot faster.”
She put her hands on his biceps, drawing strength from the hard warmth of his body. “We can get married as soon as you want,” she said, and despite herself there was sadness in her voice.
He kissed her again, his mouth tender. “I’m sorry, darling. I know you wanted them to be happy.”
“Yes, I did. But I found that I’m selfish enough to want my own happiness, too.” With a little sigh she went into his arms; feeling them fold around her was like coming home. As he gathered her close she abruptly realized how thin the barrier of her nightgown was, allowing her to feel the heavy buckle of his gun belt and the extra cartridges shoved in the little loops, even the buttons on his pants. The last was so evident because of the heavy bulge behind them.
Once she would have been mortified had a man held her so close she could feel his body, but Luis had spent months accustoming her to his touch, teaching her the pleasure of physical love. A thrill went through her at the knowledge that he desired her, and without thought she moved her hips against him.
He slipped one hand down to her buttocks and urged her closer, bending his knees a little to bring them together. She sighed at the adjustment of their bodies.
Luis angled his head to fit his mouth on hers. Now. The time was now. She had made her choice, and he wasn’t going to wait even one more night before making her his. Perhaps a gentleman would wait until they were married, but he wasn’t a gentleman—he was a man who wanted his woman. The marriage rites were for society; the most basic vows would be sealed with their bodies.
She was no longer frightened by his kisses, or by his hands on her body. She shivered with delight whenever he touched her breasts. He led her through those things he had already taught her, feeling the delicious tension beginning to tighten her muscles. He unbuttoned her nightgown and slid his hand inside to stroke her satiny breasts, and she gave a soft moan as her nipples tightened.
He stepped back and unbuckled his gun belt, letting it drop to a chair. Then he pulled off his shirt.
Olivia moved to him, fascinated by the faint gleam of light on his smooth skin. It was too dark to see his expression, but she discovered that she didn’t need light; she knew him, knew his wide shoulders and hard chest, his muscular abdomen. The bandage at his waist was a small splotch of white, and seeing it made her ache anew. She kissed him, brushing her lips across his chest to find his little nipples. “I love you,” she whispered, her breath warm on his skin.
He tilted her head up and settled his mouth on hers, his tongue slowly entering and teasing. His hands swept across her shoulders, and the nightgown dropped to her waist, held up by the curve of her hips. Before she could do more than draw a quick breath he pushed it past her buttocks, and it dropped to the floor around her feet.
She stood frozen, her frightened eyes lifting to his face, and now she wished that she had light so she could see him. No, she didn’t. She was naked, and if she could see him, he could also see her. She realized that he could see her very well, the paleness of her skin visible even in the darkness.
Her bareness was shocking. Her hands fluttered downward to shield her sex, and with inexorable gentleness he caught her wrists and moved her hands to her sides. “Have I ever hurt you?” he asked with his lips at her temple.
She began to tremble. “No,” she whispered.
“I’m going to make love to you tonight. You’re going to be completely mine. Do you know what’s going to happen?”
She tried to think, tried to prod her stunned mind into coherency. “I . . . not really.”
“Have you ever seen animals mating?”
“N-no. I mean yes. I saw a pair of dogs once.” And she had been painfully fascinated before the impropriety of what she’d been doing had occurred to her, and she had rushed away in embarrassment.
Luis smiled against her hair. His innocent darling. “The concept is roughly the same,” he said, soothing her with light caresses on her back and hips. “You’ve felt how I get hard when I’m with you. To make love I put my shaft inside you, here.” And he moved his stroking hand to the front of her tightly clenched thighs, sliding one finger into the soft folds.
She jerked wildly, and he caught her to him with one strong arm. “Stop that,” she moaned. “You mustn’t.” Her trembling had increased, and she felt weak, the muscles in her legs shaking and threatening to go limp. She couldn’t believe that he was touching her between her legs, or that it was causing a violent firestorm to race along her nerves. She felt unbearably heated, her skin so sensitive that his touch almost made her cry out. Only the dim knowledge that she had to be quiet kept her from screaming aloud at this painful ecstasy. He had aroused her before, given her pleasure that had left her aching for more, but nothing had been like this. It was as if before he had given her only water to taste, and now he was giving her full-bodied wine. There was simply no comparison.
“Let’s lie down, love,” he coaxed, kissing her again. She stood rigid, and he persuasively rubbed his finger on the tiny nub between her legs, keeping his touch feather-light because she was so new to it all. She trembled again, and he felt the strength go out of her legs. He lifted her onto the bed and quickly removed his boots and pants. His entire body was aching with anticipation as he lay down with her.
She felt dazed by what was happening. He was seducing her, and she was helpless to stop it. She didn’t want to stop it. But she felt as if she were on a runaway train that was going faster and faster, totally out of control, and she couldn’t jump off.
She felt his hard length jutting against her hip, and without thought she reached down to move it. As soon as her fingers closed around that alien flesh she jerked her hand away. Luis moaned, his hips arching a little. “Touch me,” he murmured roughly, his breath coming fast. “Please. I’ve wanted to feel you holding me—”
She hesitated, for it seemed impossibly bold and wicked. But so had e
verything else he had taught her, and she loved it all. Shyly she folded her fingers around him again, and in the next moment she was fascinated by the feel of him, hardness covered by silky smooth skin. She felt the first faint edging of fear, for she didn’t see how he could possibly enter her as he had said.
He moved over her, levering her thighs apart with his.
It took all of her self-control to lie still. Her hands twisted in the sheet.
He sensed her distress and soothed it with low whispers of reassurance and kisses that lingered. He fondled her breasts and kissed them, and soon the tension eased out of her muscles. Her legs relaxed so that they were no longer clamped on his. His talented fingers searched out the softness between her thighs, and the petals opened like a flower blooming. She made a soft sound, and her head rolled on the pillow.
He stroked her to passion, entering her with his fingers while using his thumb to keep her aroused. She arched and twisted, her body instinctively seeking his. He rubbed her to the very edge of completion, then removed his hand and guided his manhood to her opening.
Again she went still, though her chest was heaving. He leaned closer, letting her cradle his weight. The force of it pushed him a little way into her.
She closed her eyes, her entire body trying to draw back from him. He was inside her just enough for pain to threaten, and what she felt warned her that it would be true pain, not just discomfort. “It hurts,” she whispered.
“I know, darling. But it’s just this first time.”
She lay beneath him, feeling the pressure as he eased deeper into her. She could feel her inner channel opening and painfully stretching to admit him. She felt a deeper stretching, and he was hurting her, the pain hot as her maidenhead tore to let him forge deep into her body.
He held himself still to let the pain abate. His shoulder was wet with her tears, and he set about soothing her even though his manhood was throbbing painfully. The soft clasp of her inner muscles was maddening, luring him toward a satisfaction he couldn’t let himself have just yet.
