Scooting down the curved rock face until her head was level with his, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Her feet would have dangled, but with bent knees she braced them on the rock. Her weight rested on her rear, but as she leaned forward, more and more of her body met Thorn’s. More and more of her body warmed and tingled, and when he stepped between her legs, the whole of her, from head to toe, flushed with heat.
It was, she decided, a most glorious embarrassment.
Adolescent passion. Mature longing. They mixed and melded when his lips touched hers. He wanted … she wanted instant gratification, a crazed rush toward climax.
Yet … they’d waited so long. They’d imagined so much. Now they had the reality, and they savored each other. Cherished each other. Cherished until she trembled with need, with desire, with now.
“Dear God, Rose.” Thorn touched the inside of her knees, the inside of her thighs, and, skirting the very place she wanted him to touch, the milky skin of her abdomen. “You’re as fine and soft as silk, yet underneath” — he stroked the long line of her muscular arm — “you’re as strong as one of your horses.”
“You’re strong, too.” Imitating his motions in reverse order, she rubbed his arm and then his thigh. But she couldn’t reach his knee, so, giving in to her curiosity, she substituted one body part for another.
He jerked as if he were a telegraph wire and she the electric current. Grabbing her, he begged, “Slow down. Please, slow down. I want to make you happy.”
She smiled at him, carefree and young as she had not been for too many years. “You already have made me happy.”
He pushed her back, as serious as she was lighthearted. Leaning over her, he looked deeply into her eyes. “I’m the expert here, and I can assure you, you’re not nearly as happy as you’re going to be.”
Sunrise approached, but not nearly as rapidly as her fulfillment.
He smoothed his lips across her bare shoulders.
He tilted her head back and nuzzled her neck, ran his tongue around the shells of her ears.
He held her breasts in his hands and rubbed his thumbs in circles around her nipples. He watched as they became firm and erect, then covered them with his mouth and suckled. Each movement of his tongue, his teeth, his lips made her catch her breath and moan.
He seemed to know how to command her body, to make her skin tingle in places he had not yet touched.
Happy? Oh, yes, now she knew exactly what he meant by happiness.
If happiness was frustration, she was happy. If happiness was crying aloud with no thought to a listener, she was happy. If happiness was sweet agony, then she was happy.
Everything he did she tried to imitate, and every time she touched him, he murmured encouragement and pleasure.
When she lifted one knee, trying to ease the growing need between her legs, he slid his hand up her thigh and lightly pressed on her. “Rose, honey. Rose, can I touch you here?”
She whimpered.
“Rose, would you like it if I did this?” He found the dampness that had been growing there, and slid his finger inside her.
She jumped at the intrusion. Her muscles tightened.
Now he whimpered. “God. Rose. That’s … enticing.”
He slid his finger in and out.
She flexed against him.
“Rose. Rose, honey.” He repeated her name like a prayer. “Listen. I would love to try this now. Rose, let me help you sit up. Now move down here and wrap your arms around my shoulders. Yes, like that. And your legs around my hips. Yes, like that. We’re almost there … “
Finally, he braced his feet and fitted their bodies together.
Nothing had ever made her as happy as his slow slide into her. It was the answer to a demand and a prayer. It was pain, and it was pleasure. It was the beginning of the best ride she’d ever experienced, and when he paused to ask, “Are you hurting?” she lifted her head and glared.
The sun broke over the canyon wall and lit his face, his chest, and his slow, delighted, wicked grin. “I’m happy, too.”
CHAPTER NINE
Thorn set up a slow, warm rhythm, a worship of Rose’s body with his. He held her close, stroked his hands up and down her spine. He rubbed her shoulders, slid his fingers into her hair, as if he wanted to touch her all over at the same time. He kissed her mouth, over and over.
She watched his face … his brilliant blue eyes gleamed with a hint of tears.
And all the while, his hips moved between her legs, he touched the deepest part of her, and more and more, her thoughts slipped away. She became wild, free, a creature of instinct, driven to move, to seek some primal satisfaction only Thorn could bestow.
Passion was driving her now, making her demand he ride her harder, faster. She listened with gratification as he groaned, caught in the same intense storm of pleasure that whirled her into an exciting new place she had never imagined.
Finally, hands under her bottom, he picked her up off the boulder, swung around and leaned against it. He moved her on him. She planted her feet on the stone behind him and thrust against him. Bound together by desire, they shared a frenzy of bliss.
An irresistible spasm caught her, making her arch her back, dig her fingers into his shoulders, cry out again and again.
He thrust into her, deeper and deeper, holding her tightly, straining so hard she thought his heart must burst.
As hers was bursting.
This was love, witnessed by the rising sun, evoking the low, sweet call of a mourning dove. This was love, freeing Rose and Thorn from the civilized world, making them a part of nature, and fusing them into one being.
Together, they welcomed the new day.
It took thirty minutes before Rose noticed the air was cool against her naked body, and the sun had not yet warmed the boulder upon which she rested. Turning her head, she looked around, wondering where Thorn had gone. Wondering how, after that cataclysm of lovemaking, he had discovered the energy even to walk.
All three horses, she saw, were unsaddled and tethered to a bush. In some vague corner of her mind, she was glad they hadn’t wandered away, untended as they were. Hearing movement behind her, she rolled over.
Using branches and an Indian blanket, Thorn had made a bed in a notch under the cliff. The saddles, supplies, and firearms were tucked behind the bed for safekeeping. Thorn wore his jeans and his boots, but his chest and shoulders were still bare. Still beckoning.
And she wanted to start all over again.
His warm chuckle pulled her gaze to his face. “Don’t even think about it. You’ll be riding sidesaddle as it is.” Gesturing to the bed, he asked, “Think we could sleep here for a while? I don’t know about you, but I’m tuckered out.”
“We need to go get my horses.” But a yawn interrupted her.
“They’re not going anywhere until the next train comes through.” He came over and pressed a kiss right in the middle of her back, then lifted her over his shoulder and carried her to the bed. Fussing like an old maid with a guest, he inquired about her comfort, formed a pillow for her head, and when she had been placed to his satisfaction, covered her with another blanket. “Now” — he lay down and wrapped an arm around her — “who knows you sold Starbright?”
“Just about everyone, I would guess. Sonny would have told everyone at the party. Didn’t he tell you?”
“I heard it before I left,” he admitted. “Before I came along and you had somebody to be suspicious of — who were you thinking might steal those horses?”
“Somebody who didn’t like me or my parents.”
“Everyone likes you. Everyone liked your parents.”
She kept her head pressed into his chest. “Except you.”
He ignored that. “How about Sonny?”
“How about Sonny?”
“Didn’t you ever think of him?”
She sat up and asked incredulously, “Sonny?”
Two cynical lines set themselves into Thorn’s cheeks. “When I live
d here, every rancher in the area knew he’d better get his calves off the range fast, or his cows would have no calves, and Sonny’s cows would suddenly all have twins.”
“That was Sonny’s father.”
“Yeah, and Sonny never did it?”
She didn’t answer.
Thorn shook her a little bit. “Who stands to get your land if you fail? Who’s got the resources to have cowboys watch your place night and day and pick off your horses when the time is right?” She didn’t answer, and he added the clincher. “The corral with the stolen horses is on his land.”
“Oh, no!” She thought of Sue Ellen and her blatant assurance that she was keeping Sonny on the straight and narrow.
“I know you don’t want to believe it, but my money’s on Sonny Pogue for horse thief.”
Slowly she lay down.
“Think about it,” he coaxed. “When you wake up, the answer will be right before your eyes, I’m sure.”
The answer? Right before her eyes? The only thing that would be right before her eyes was … Thorn.
He kissed her forehead and cuddled her, murmuring love words and assurances, and before she knew it, she slept.
When she awoke, it looked to be about noon, and she was alone. She heard Thorn talking in a low tone — to the horses, she guessed. Was he answering the call of nature? Was he moving the horses into the shade?
Or was he leaving, like the thieving liar he was?
Embarrassed by her suspicion, but unable to quiet it, she rose, peeked around the corner — and saw him. He was fully dressed, his guns strapped on, his hat pulled over his eyes, and he was leading his horse away.
Away! After what had happened, after the pleasures of the night and the promises of the morning, he was leaving!
She collected her carbine from behind the bed, swiftly reloaded it, and set it into her shoulder. Stepping out into the sunshine, she caught him as he fitted his boot into the stirrup.
“This time, you bastard” — she cocked the lever — “I really am going to kill you.”
CHAPTER TEN
Jumping Jehoshaphat, Rose was nude! Not a stitch on! Bare-beamed and buck-naked! In the open, in full daylight, without a shred of self-consciousness or guilt.
Thorn gulped. What a woman. What … a … woman.
Was that a rifle she was holding?
Oh God, it was.
She had her Winchester, and her hands were mighty steady. And she’d called him a bastard — the first curse word he’d ever heard her use. Deep in his gut, he had the ugly suspicion she would, without remorse, shoot him through the heart.
He’d better think fast.
But she was naked! Nothing on but skin and hair!
And she was magnificent. The sun shone full on her flesh, lighting every curve, every muscle, every part that had never seen the sun before. It shone on the hair of her head, creating a glossy halo.
God, how he loved her.
Unfortunately, that same sunshine shone on the carbine — on the black, well-greased barrel, on the warm brown stock, on the cold, empty mouth that would spit death at him.
Too bad he didn’t have the brains to be scared, but all his sense seemed lodged in his pants.
She spoke, and he almost couldn’t hear her for the pounding of his heart.
“Get away from the horse,” she commanded. “I wouldn’t want him hurt if the bullet goes all the way through your nonexistent heart.”
“Now, Rose.” Thorn tried to free his boot from the stirrup, and found his coordination had disappeared with his eloquence. Maybe it was the fact he couldn’t take his gaze off of her. “Now, honey…”
She gestured with the barrel. “Get away from the horse.”
“Yes, ma’am.” With a series of hops, Thorn managed to extricate himself, although he behaved so oddly even his stallion turned his head and watched him in amazement. “But before you kill me, I think there’s something you should know.”
The blank eye of the barrel followed him as he moved carefully away from the horse and toward a boulder. He thought he might be able to leap behind it — if she shot before he explained. The location placed the sun up and behind him, so it might mess up her aim — if she shot before he explained. Most important, it kept the light full on her, so his last sight on this earth would be Rose — if she shot before he explained.
Might as well die happy.
“There’s a reasonable explanation for what I’ve done,” he said.
“Yeah, and I bet you’re trying to think of it right now.”
Tilting her head, closing one eye, she sighted down the barrel. She looked as ruthless as any killer he’d ever faced, and twice as mad. Her anger inspired him to say the right thing … just as the sweetest couple of teacups he’d ever seen on a woman inspired him to stay alive. “You know, your daddy always warned you your temper would get you in trouble.”
Her knuckles tightened on the rifle.
He thought he was dead for sure.
Then she lifted her head. “So?”
“You’re not thinking straight. You’re thinking I’m abandoning you when that’s the farthest thing from my mind.”
Her gaze cut to his saddled, travel-ready horse, then back.
He waved his hands in what he hoped would appear to be innocence. “Now, now — there’s a reason. A really good reason, and if you’ll let me—”
He reached for his jeans pocket.
Every one of the muscles in her body tensed. She looked like a woman facing death.
He froze.
She suspected he would pull a gun on her. She thought he could kill her.
My God, what kind of a man did she think he was? He’d been trying to do what was best for her for years, and she thought he’d murder her?
He didn’t understand women. He didn’t understand them at all.
Easing his hand away, he said, “My wallet’s in my pocket. You know that’s where I keep it, and you know I didn’t have any little guns hidden on me last night.” He tried out his patented, charm-their-bloomers-off grin. “Only keep my big gun in my pants.”
Neither the grin nor the joke worked.
In fact, her cold gaze got colder.
Sweat broke out on his forehead. In his most soothing tone, he said, “I want to show you what’s in my wallet. If you’ll let me get it out, I’ll toss it to you and you’ll understand everything. I swear I won’t move while you examine it. I know you’re not feeling too kindly toward me right now, but try and remember that you said you trusted me not to hurt you. Not even when you thought I was a horse thief. Not that you don’t probably think I’m a horse thief now, but—”
“Get the wallet.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He’d been babbling, he realized, but how could he do anything less when faced with her totally unclothed figure — and that gun? “Right here, ma’am.” He managed to dig his wallet out of the tight pocket and toss it toward her. It landed close and skidded right to her foot, just the way he planned it.
Thank God his aim hadn’t deserted him, too.
Tucking the carbine under her arm, keeping a careful eye on him, she scooped up the wallet. She opened it.
He knew what she saw. Nestled in the worn brown leather was a five-star silver badge, stamped with the imprint of a five-peso Mexican coin — the badge of the Texas Rangers.
The Texas Rangers. A band of law enforcers unique to Texas and the wild frontier.
That badge told Rose everything she needed to know about him … although he half expected her to accuse him of stealing it.
In fact, he saw suspicion swoop over her features, but her mind grasped the facts before she could voice them. “You’re the Ranger I sent for.”
He almost collapsed with relief. Everything would be all right now. She’d welcome him with open arms now. She’d understand the sacrifices he’d made for her sake now. “Yes, ma’am, and I was going to get on that horse and go do my job. I wasn’t abandoning you. I couldn’t do that.” He lowered his
voice into a sexy growl. “Not after last night.”
But she didn’t even notice. She was still staring at the star. “You’ve been a Ranger for a long time.”
“Since I got out of prison in ‘74.”
The carbine drooped. “Are there a lot of shady characters in the Rangers?”
He didn’t much like the tone of her voice. “A few. If a man is good at rustling, it stands to reason he’d be good at catching rustlers.”
“Is that why you joined?”
He didn’t like the way she was staring at the badge, either, or the way she wouldn’t look at him. “Major John B. Jones was my captain. He met me while I was serving my time, and he offered me an early out if I’d throw in with his troop to fight the Indians.”
Carefully, she shut the wallet. “So you did, of course.”
Had she been waiting for him? Had she expected him to return after his prison term was over? He’d come back seven years ago — she hadn’t known it, but he had.
He remembered the way she had looked. Even from a distance, he had seen too much for his battered heart. Her hair had been flying, her face had been lit by a smile. She had looked content, happy.
He remembered the way he had felt then. Cold, alone, almost … betrayed.
God knew she hadn’t sent him a message through his mother. According to his mother, Rose could barely look her in the eye when she saw her, and she had made a point of avoiding everyone in the Maxwell family. She’d wanted nothing more than to forget him, and she’d probably tried. Just as he’d tried to forget her.
Obviously, that had proved impossible for both of them.
“It was my patriotic duty to join. We fought Kiowas and Comanches and Apaches until we herded them to Oklahoma in ‘77. Then we chased thieves and killers on the frontier.” He couldn’t keep the pride from his tone. “Caught ‘em, too.”
“Yes.” Turning away, she presented him with a view of her long, strong legs, rounded buttocks, and straight, too-straight, spine as she returned to the campsite. “The Texas Rangers are famous for taming the frontier.”
Wild Texas Rose Page 6