by Bobbi Smith
"You are?" Catherine asked, suspiciously. She well remembered his declaration that she would never get another cent of his money.
"There is one condition." He folded his arms across his chest.
"And that is? . . ."
"That you take the settlement I offer you and leave San Francisco."
"Leave? Where will I go?"
"That's up to you. I just want you out of town, and I think you'll agree that my suggestion merits your agreement."
Catherine pondered his offer only briefly before picking up her handbag. "All right," she told him, thoughts of survival guiding her. "Let's go."
Mitch trailed his hand idly over Espri's silken flesh as they lay together, naked limbs intertwined, sensual appetites temporarily sated. After leaving Jon, Mitch had returned to their suite and had shared the sumptuous breakfast Mabel had served them. When they'd finished the meal, unable to resist any longer, they had made love, passionately and desperately, treasuring this opportunity to hold and caress one another again. Now, completely at peace, they lay in each other's arms, cherishing each sweet touch, each gentle kiss.
"Mitch?" Espri murmured, nestling against his shoulder as she caressed the leanness of his ribs.
"Um?" he murmured.
"I was just remembering the time we made love under the waterfall." She nuzzled sensuously at his neck as her hand trailed lower.
"It was wonderful, wasn't it?" Mitch felt desire stir within him at her erotic touch, and the memory of their passionate exchange beneath the cascading waters stoked its fires.
"Very. Mitch?"
"Yes?" he asked huskily, as he pulled her closer for a kiss.
"We've never enjoyed your own 'private' waterfall." She smiled invitingly, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
Without a word, Mitch got up and disappeared into the bathroom. In a moment, Espri heard the sound of running water and she looked up to see Mitch returning.
"Your waterfall awaits you, madame," he told her teasingly as he scooped her up.
She laughed delightedly and looped her arms around his neck as he carried her straight to the tub and stepped beneath the shower. When he let her wet, sleek body slide down his, they faced each other beneath the soft, warm cascade.
His expression was serious yet filled with tenderness. "I love you, darling, and I promise you that as soon as we can, we'll go back to Malika."
"I'd like that, Mitch. But as long as I'm with you, I've found my paradise." She drew him to her for a rapturous kiss, and Elysian enchantment was theirs once again.
The End
Want more Western historical romance
from Bobbi Smith?
Here's an excerpt from
DREAM WARRIOR
Prologue
Spring 1859—Dakota Territory
"Easy, boy." Gray Eyes, the eight-year-old, half-breed Cheyenne boy, spoke quietly as he approached the sleek young stallion he sought to tame. "Easy, Wild One."
It was almost dark, but Gray Eyes didn't notice. His concentration fierce and his expression determined, he closed in on the spirited black horse that had been a gift from his grandfather, Tall Shadow, the chief of the tribe. His grandfather had known how smart and independent the horse was and had offered to help train it, but Gray Eyes had turned him down. He was determined to break the stallion by himself.
Wild One was living up to his reputation for having a mind of his own. Gray Eyes had been working with the horse since early that morning, but had met with little success so far. Still, he refused to be discouraged. He wouldn't let the physical pain and exhaustion he felt or the other Cheyenne boys' mocking laughter stop him. He was going to master this horse, and once he did, it would be the finest mount in the tribe.
As Gray Eyes approached the stallion again, the horse rolled his eyes and laid back his ears as he sidled away. Tired though he was, the horse was just as stubborn as the boy and would continue this struggle for domination. He would not yield his freedom easily.
Driven by his burning need to succeed, Gray Eyes concentrated on mounting again. He'd learned early in life that he was different from the other boys and that the white man's blood that ran in his veins from his now-dead father had somehow tainted him. He'd always felt he'd had to earn their respect, and he'd done so with a vengeance, always working to be the best. It had become a way of life for him, and taming this horse would be no different from any of the other challenges he'd faced. Finally, ready to engage the battle once more, he grabbed Wild One's rein and vaulted onto his back, gripping the stallion tightly with his legs.
The stallion fought with all its strength. Desperate to dislodge the boy from its back, he twisted and turned, bucked and writhed. But no matter what the horse tried, the youth matched its efforts with equal fervor.
The battle for supremacy seemed endless to Gray Eyes. Every violent, jarring movement of the horse sent pain shooting through his already battered body, but he would not admit defeat, he would not give up. Hanging on for dear life, he suffered the stallion's severest test and somehow, ultimately won.
When the steed finally stood quivering beneath him, Gray Eyes let out a whoop of victory. The taunts of the other boys were forgotten. He had done it. He had conquered the proud stallion and made him his own! Gray Eyes held his head high as he rode the prancing Wild One. In his triumph, he looked every bit the future warrior.
Everyone heard his cry and came running. All eyes followed him as he guided the magnificent stallion through the village. His control of the animal earned the respect and approval of all, and they loudly praised his ability as he rode by.
Tall Shadow stood with his daughter, Gray Eyes's mother Morning Wind, watching his grandson. His black eyes shone with pride. "For one so young, your son has done a remarkable job. Few others could have tamed that one. Once again he has proven his worth."
"My son has always known his own worth," Morning Wind told him.
"He will be a fine warrior one day."
"I know," she replied, her smile fading a bit as her gaze followed her son.
"This does not please you?" Tall Shadow heard the note of reluctance in her tone and wondered at it.
"It saddens me that my son does not wish to learn more about his father." As much as Gray Eyes tried to be fully Cheyenne, there could be no denying his resemblance to his father, Jack Marshall. At the thought of her husband who'd died when their son was an infant, an intense longing filled Morning Wind. She deeply regretted that father and son had never gotten to know each other.
"There is no reason to worry. Gray Eyes will grow to be a good man. No father could ask more of his son."
Morning Wind fell silent. She knew her father believed what he was saying, but Gray Eyes was no ordinary Cheyenne boy. He was Jack Marshall's son, and she wanted him to be as proud of his white heritage as he was of his Cheyenne background. Jack had been a fair and honest man, respected by all in the tribe. She wanted Gray Eyes to hold his father in the same high esteem. In honor of his memory, she'd insisted her son take lessons from the missionary who came to their village. Gray Eyes resented the lessons, but she'd remained firm. She would not allow him to deny his father's existence.
Tall Shadow glanced at his daughter and saw the sadness in her eyes. "Your love for this man has never faded."
"No, Father, and it never will."
"There are many warriors who would have you for a wife."
"I want no other man to raise my husband's son."
"A boy needs a father."
"He has you. Who else could do a better job of bringing him to manhood?"
At that moment, Gray Eyes encouraged Wild One to rear as he let out a war cry. The horse pawed the air and then raced away with long, powerful strides as his master gave him his head. The other boys ran for their own mounts to give chase. Their shouts of praise for Gray Eyes's accomplishments filled Morning Wind's heart with joy.
Morning Wind couldn't help but smile again as she watched her son disappear over the hill. Sh
e knew in that moment that he would indeed grow to be a fine man. She only hoped that one day he would come to appreciate the ways of his father.
1861
Gray Eyes was weary. For five days now, the ten-year-old boy had survived alone in the wilderness as he'd searched and prayed for a vision from the heavens—a message that would show him the path he was to follow for the rest of his life, a message that would give him the power he needed to become a brave and fearless warrior. But the days and nights had passed without the desired revelation, and despair had begun to grow within him. The fear that his father's blood was a curse upon him that would prevent him from fulfilling his vision quest tormented him. Many of his friends had already received their visions, some in as little time as a day. Yet here he was, still praying and still waiting.
Night came and swallowed the earth, and once again Gray Eyes was alone in the darkness. Settling down beneath the warmth of his blanket, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep. His last thought as he drifted off was that maybe the next day would bring the knowledge he so desperately sought.
The snarling sounds of the savage battle echoed through the night as the ravenous wolves battled the sleek, well-fed mountain lion. The lion was the intruder. For months now it had been stalking the wolves' land and preying upon their game. Food had grown scarce now, and winter would soon be upon them. To save themselves, the pack had to drive the powerful invader from their ancestral territory. There was no avoiding the confrontation any longer.
The mountain lion's pale fur shone white in the moonlight as it fended off its desperate assailants. The monster cat had claimed this land by right of might and would not give it up. With deadly accuracy, the lion struck blow after bloody blow. His defense against the pack proved lethal as he inflicted mortal wounds against the all-but-conquered wolves.
Though bloodied and nearing death, the pack did not, could not, retreat. Starvation drove them as they continued to attack the greedy beast that had stolen by brute force all that was theirs. There would be no honor in retreat; there would be only death.
Driven by hunger, the wolf warriors moved in closer. The largest of the pack was crouched low, ready to leap for the lion's throat when a haunting howl echoed in the distance. It was an eerie sound unlike any they'd heard before—a call that expressed without words the agony of their souls.
Wolves and mountain lion paused to scan the jagged cliffs around them, searching for the one whose cry had stopped the fighting. They caught sight of him then and stared in awe at the mighty wolf standing high above them on a narrow, rocky outcropping. His head was thrown back as he howled his haunting song, and his coat glowed like silver fire.
As if aware that the bloodshed had stopped, the silver wolf turned his shining eyes to the scene below. Making his way fearlessly down from the heights, he moved to stand between his kind and their sworn enemy. Time seemed to stand still. The pack felt the peace of his presence and slipped away into the night.
The lion remained, alone with the silver wolf. It eyed him cautiously, then sensing no threat and believing its power now uncontested, it let out a roar of victory before turning its back and bounding away.
The carnage ended, the silver one returned to the ledge, surveying the land below. From on high he could see that peace reigned—for now. There would be no more deaths that night, and in celebration, he threw back his head and gave vent to the thankful song in his heart.
As if drawn by the silver wolf's call, another wolf, a female, appeared in the clearing. Her coat, too, was the color of moonbeams. She saw the silver peacemaker and climbed to him. Coming to his side, she joined in his haunting song, her voice blending with his in the night.
Across the valley in his small, secluded encampment, Gray Eyes watched and listened. He'd been awakened by the sounds of the fight, and excitement had filled him as he'd realized what he was seeing. Though he was only half Cheyenne, his heart was true and his motives were pure. His white blood had not cursed him. He'd been given that which he'd sought. He'd been given his vision.
Gray Eyes faced to the east and began to pray. His prayers of thanksgiving were fervent and lasted throughout the night. When at last sunlight erased all vestiges of darkness and fear from the land he loved, he stood and lifted his arms to the heavens. Calling out in a loud, strong voice, Gray Eyes declared, "I am Silver Wolf!"
As if destiny intended it, a wolf's cry echoed back to him from across the valley.
Silver Wolf gathered his belongings and began the long trek back to his village. When he'd begun his quest, he'd been a boy, with conflicts in his soul that had haunted him. Now, as he returned to the village, he was a man—a man at peace with himself.
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After working as a department manager for Famous-Barr, and briefly as a clerk at a bookstore, Bobbi Smith gave up on career security and began writing. She sold her first book to Zebra in 1982. Since then, Bobbi has written over 40 books and 6 novellas. To date, there are more than five million of her novels in print. She has been awarded the prestigious Romantic Times Storyteller of the Year Award and two Career Achievement Awards. Her books have appeared on numerous bestseller lists. When she's not working on her novels, she is frequently a guest speaker for writer's groups. Bobbi is mother of two sons and resides in St. Charles, Missouri with her husband and three dogs.
Bobbi has been awarded the prestigious "Storyteller of the Year" Award from Romantic Times Magazine and has attained positions on the New York Times, USA Today, Waldenbooks, B. Dalton, Walmart and K-Mart bestseller lists. The foreign rights to Ms. Smith's books have been sold to China, France, Germany, India, Israel, Italy, Russia and Sweden. Smith's current publisher is Amazon. Bobbi has written two faith-based contemporary novels, Haven and Miracles, under the pseudonym Julie Marshall.
BY BOBBI SMITH
BRIDES OF DURANGO: TESSA
CAPTIVE PRIDE
DESERT HEART
DREAM WARRIOR
THE LADY AND THE TEXAN
TEXAS SPLENDOR
WANTED: THE HALF-BREED
