The Trapper

by Jenna Kernan

  “I am not turning back.”

  He closed his eyes to savor the sweet sensation as he slipped forward into her. At her barrier, he hesitated. He found calm assurance shining in her eyes.

  “Go on,” she whispered.

  And, God help him, he did, swallowing back his doubt and plunging forward until his hips met hers. There he hesitated, trembling with the energy it took to remain still, fighting against his body as every fiber of his being screamed to move. She did not cry out or struggle to escape. He lifted his gaze to find a frown upon her brow.

  He hurt her.

  He clasped her jaw in his big rough hands, feeling clumsy in an area he customarily felt at ease.

  “Not like this,” she said.

  She didn’t want him. He understood. The first time was hard for any woman. His princess should not be expected to couple in the woods like an animal. She should have a bedroom, clean sheets scented with flowers and a man as refined and perfect as she. Still he did not want to give her up.

  “This is how it’s done. The lady on her back and the man above.”

  “No, I won’t lie still on my back while you move over me.”

  “I’ll get off, Lena.”

  She held him, grasping his buttock with a firm grip that startled him with its boldness. Then she rolled. He allowed himself to fall to his side still connected to her in the most intimate way possible.

  She stared into his eyes, begging him to understand, afraid and shocked by her need.

  “I will have years of lying on my back like a corpse, staring up at brocade bed curtains.A lady is not supposed to enjoy this, did you know? A proper woman reclines still and silent beneath her mate.” She stroked his cheek. “But I am that no longer.”

  His lopsided grin gave her courage. “All right, I’m game. What’s on your mind?”

  Her voice failed her and she tried again. Would he think her crude, repugnant? Uncertainty warred with desire and she swallowed back her fears. She trusted Troy. If anyone would understand her need for wildness, it was he.

  Still, she only managed a whisper. He leaned forward to hear her words.

  “Like the horses. I want you to take me like your stallion took my mare.”

  His jaw dropped and she covered her mouth as heat flooded her cheeks. Her gaze dropped and she pushed at his shoulders, needing to escape that shocked expression on his face. Why had she told him? Now he’d think her wicked and low.

  She struggled and he captured her wrists, stilling her frantic efforts at escape. His gaze locked with hers. Now his expression reflected seriousness. His nostrils flared and his eyes flashed wild desire.

  He understood.

  And he would take her.

  Her breathing stopped as he withdrew and rolled her, drawing her up on all fours. She trembled with excitement as his fingers stroked her quivering flesh, running over the curve of her buttock. His chest pressed to her back. Taut muscles tensed over her and she understood his raw power. Rather than terrify, the comprehension thrilled. He would use his strength to give what she asked.

  She cried out as his teeth sunk into her neck, sending her back arching as shivering delight danced along her spine. He drove forward with force enough to send her to the ground, but his strong grip upon her shoulders held her for his advance.

  Another scream issued from her and in that instant she understood. Her mare did not cry from pain but from an ecstasy too grand to contain. She pushed against him as his teeth scored her neck. He bucked, sending sweet shafts of pleasure through her once more. The need came again, building as before, only this time with the speed and intensity of wildfire.

  Together they rode, each stroke building upon the last until the pleasure burst within her, stealing her breath in a long shuttering cry. Her arms went weak and again she would have fallen, but he held her for his pleasure, thrusting deep, and somehow she accommodated him, half-delirious as the waves of pleasure continued to issue through her. His cry was sweet music. He rose up, clasping her hips and drawing her close.

  She gasped at the sensation of his body pulsing within hers. He rocked forward, suddenly unable to keep them aloft and they sank to the earth, he upon her back, crushing her into the soft carpet of furs.

  He stayed so for several ragged breaths and then dragged her against him, to rest in the pocket of his chest and legs. She sighed. Nothing on earth could ever compare to their fierce coupling. She knew in the marrow of her bones that only he could stir the wildness she locked within her soul.

  Chapter 20

  Troy fell hard, his entire body drained of power. He only just managed to land on his forearms, shielding Lena from the entirety of his crushing weight. Too depleted to move, he lay panting like the wild animal she’d summoned.

  After a few more rasping breaths, he rolled, dragging her with him.

  My God, what had he done?

  All his life he’d considered himself a civilized man, a man in control. How did this woman—no, this lady—strip him to the marrow of his being and reveal the savage within?

  Images and sensations ripped through him and he groaned, pulling her close. His jaw rested in the curve of her soft neck. He drew back and saw the angry red marks of his teeth on her pure white flesh. He closed his eyes against the evidence of his brutality.

  Humiliation burned him like hot ash. He could not even do right by asking her to be his wife. She made it very clear that she would not have him, and after this who could blame her?

  She overwhelmed him. He’d meant to go slowly, use a gentle hand, not fall upon her soft, sweet flesh like a wolf to a spring lamb.

  When she’d asked him to take her like the stallion, he swore his heart had stopped. That she should ask such a thing shocked him nearly as much as the realization that he wanted her like that, too—wild and fierce. He wanted his woman to have the same furious desires and greedy appetites. To have her ask this of him, it was too sweet to be believed.

  And he shouldn’t have believed.

  And that would be best for them both. If she didn’t want him, their parting would be easier. Because, damn him for a fool, he still longed for her.

  Her hand slid over his forearm as he tried to move away, but she captured him, lacing her fingers into his and guided his hand to the soft, warm skin of her stomach.

  “Lena, will you speak to me? Did I hurt you too much?”

  She gave a sound like a sigh, but with a rumble at the back of her throat. Her fingers continued to guide his until she pressed his palm to the contracting button of her nipple.

  He bit his lip to keep from groaning at the pleasure of it. His body stirred again, lifting to press against the curve of her buttock. She rubbed her backside against him and he gasped.

  Was she mad?

  “Lena, stop now. I don’t want to hurt you again.”

  He heard the sound, but did not credit it. But he could have sworn she laughed.

  Troy pulled his hand free and rolled her to her back. She stared up at him with luminous eyes that called him once more.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  She stroked his chest. “I want that again.”

  His eyebrows lifted as he stared in shock. “But I marked your neck and—and—Lena, I was too rough.”

  “No, I can match you in this. I am stronger than I look. You said so. I have never felt such passion and I will never find it again. Please, once more.”

  And then the little vixen reached out and wrapped her slender fingers about his shaft. His pulse jumped like a cornered jackrabbit.

  “Guess I have to, when you put it that way. But gently this time.”

  Her face contorted in a pout. “No. Like before.”

  He hesitated. She kissed him, pressing her warm curves to him, and he was lost. He could as soon take her at his leisure as he could stop a summer storm. Lena was the lightning and he the thunder.

  He rolled her away, until her back nestled against his belly, and slipped his shaft between the heat of her th
ighs. They lay on their sides as he nuzzled her neck. Her breathing grew frantic and she arched to give him access. He clasped his arm about her and slipped himself into her passage from behind, impaling her, relishing her cry of pleasure.

  When she tried to move, he held her still, running his hands over her soft breasts and the sensitive curve of her belly. At last he separated the folds of skin at the juncture of her thighs and caressed the tender bud.

  She groaned and writhed as he stroked her, holding himself back until her cries told him she neared her summit. Then he thrust as he touched her, trapping her exquisite body between his stroking hands and his delving shaft.

  She arched, crying out his name as her body convulsed, squeezing him. The force of her release destroyed his controlled pace. He held her hips, gathering her to accept his thrusting, mindless once more in his frenzy to take what she offered. She cried out a second time. His last conscious thought was the hope that she had found her pleasure again, even as he feared his wildness was too great.

  Lena woke to find the twilight creeping over the wooded grove. Beneath her, soft wolf skin caressed her naked body. Behind her, Troy’s slumbering breath fanned her neck. She nestled in the warmth of his embrace and remembered their lovemaking. Certain now that Troy was her match.

  In any other time and place, he would be her choice. The easy lethargy left her as she recalled that he could never be her husband. Again, she chafed at the necessity of returning to her obligations. But her family was more than that. She loved them. Until she met Troy, they were her only world. Why must she choose?

  She gazed up at the branches of the cottonwoods, seeing them rock gently in the evening breeze. Here society’s rules fell away. Allowing herself to listen at last to her wild heart, she had abandoned responsibilities, tasted his love and now bitterly regretted her decision to make love with him.

  Not because she was ruined. No, she did not give a whit for that. Such things were easily staged. The trouble lay in her. She was not naive enough to believe that such emotions came with just any man. Oh, no. To fly up to the heavens and then fall shattered to the earth only to be born up again from the ashes—this was a rare gift. Such things occurred only once in a lifetime. No, not even that, not so often. She rested her cheek in his palm, ignoring the coursing tears that issued from her. He was all she had ever dreamed of in a man and she was throwing him away.

  How could life play her such a nasty trick? How could she find him and then give him up?

  Oh, why had she promised to return?

  Her heart ached. Why did she feel such duty? She no longer cared for her old world. She only wanted to paint. Now, she would give up even that. But that loss paled next to the pain of having to abandon the man she loved.

  The strangled cry escaped her before she could recall it. Troy stiffened.

  “Lena? Are you crying?”

  She nodded.

  He sat, peering down at her with concern lining his sweet face. “I knew it. It’s my fault. I never should have taken advantage of you. Lena, forgive me.”

  He thought she regretted their joining. She saw it clearly. Guilt, no worse—shame burned his cheeks. She rose to sit beside him and pressed her hand to his chest, taking comfort from the steady beat of his heart.

  “I am not sorry, not for an instant. I’m weeping for the future, not the past.”

  He cocked his head, as confusion wrinkled his brow.

  “I want to stay with you. Even in this wilderness I feel their tethers. I cannot seem to break free.”

  His voice held cold certainty. “You’re going back.”

  “Forgive me.” She pressed her hands over her eyes and wept.

  He grasped her wrists, tugging them away, then lifted her chin until she met his gaze. His nostrils flared as his look intensified. A chill of dread straightened her spine.

  “What if there’s a child?”

  Her eyes widened. If any man could sire a child, it was Troy. She’d never met a man so virile.

  “There may not be.”

  “But there may.”

  She did not deny the possibility.

  “You can’t raise a bastard. They’ll take it from you.”

  Fear gripped her and her breathing quickened.

  “What will I do?”

  “Give it to me.”

  “You can’t raise a child alone,” she said.

  “Then I’ll find help.”

  Did he mean to take a wife? She gaped at him. Of course, he would marry. Had she expected him to pine for her his whole life long?

  Yes.

  She did. If the situations were reversed she would never choose another. But they weren’t reversed. Did he try to break her heart? She stared, slack-jawed, and saw the cold glint in his eyes. Yes, he did mean to hurt her as she hurt him. That was right.

  “Do you mean to marry?” she asked.

  “If need be.”

  Her lip trembled. She could not prevent it. Her heart twisted at the pain.

  His gaze turned cold. “A child deserves his mother. You tell me you can raise our baby and I’ll leave off. But if you mean to pass my child to another, hide it like something secret shame, it’s mine. I’ll not lose a child again—not again.”

  “Troy, we have several weeks left. By the time we reach Fort Union, I will know.”

  “You don’t leave with my child.”

  “But I have to.”

  “Then I’ll follow.”

  She thought of the scandal. “No. You mustn’t.”

  His expression darkened. This was dangerous ground. She cautioned herself to tread cautiously.

  “Why’s that?”

  “It could cause…difficulties.”

  He nodded, his gaze hard as flint. “I’m good enough to take out for stud, but not good enough to show at auction—that it?”

  “That is certainly not it. Oh, you do not understand my position.”

  “I told you if we did this thing, one of us would have to choose.”

  “If you follow me to New York and tell the world of my indiscretion, I’ll be ruined.”

  “So you might like a tickle out here in the great wide open, but you sure as hell don’t want me popping up in your life back East. Half-breed trapper—you’d sooner die than let them society fellers know we had a dance or two.”

  “I am not ashamed of you. I am trying to protect my family. Why should they suffer for my indiscretions?”

  “Is that what I am?”

  “Come with me then. I will take care of you. A house, horses, everything.”

  “Everything but my children.”

  She clasped his hand. He must understand. “Troy, I explained to you. I have a duty.”

  “That’s right. You have a duty to any child that might now be settled in for the long haul.”

  She rested a hand upon her belly. Her father would be furious and her mother so disappointed. But they would take care of this, she would travel the continent until the child came and then—she sighed. Then, they’d expect her to forget her baby and return to wed. Her head dropped.

  How could something so glorious change in an instant to a dirty little secret? How she hated her life.

  “Yes, you are right. I will give it to you, gratefully. I wish I could stay forever with you.” When she tried to stroke his chest, he pulled away.

  He grasped his breeches and thrust his legs angrily into the openings.

  “Troy?”

  He slid into his breeches and moccasins with his back turned and then donned his shirt, before collecting his gear and stalking off into the night.

  The air grew cold. She hesitated at the edge of the furs. Would he come back? Her clothing lay down by the river.

  She wrapped the wolf skin blanket about her shoulders and dressed in a damp shift she recovered from her packs. Her stomach growled. She gave up her pride and called for him, waiting in the stillness, but receiving no answer.

  Her body ached as if from a long day’s riding. In truth she
had been ridden. She shifted her weight and felt the dull ache between her thighs. Finally she rose and washed away the evidence of their coupling.

  She tended the fire and set out the buffalo robes as she had seen him do many times. Setting her rifle by her side, she slid beneath the hide where sleep captured her at last.

  When next she stirred, purple clouds streaked the wide sky, the fire lay consumed in a pile of ash and the hide beside her remained vacant. Fear brought her upright. In an instant, her gaze settled upon his horse. He had not abandoned her.

  She roused the embers to a delicate flame, feeding it until the fire warmed, then found the jerky in his pack. She gnawed at the tough meal and then stilled, feeling a trickle between her legs.

  Closer inspection found blood upon her thighs, but not the bright spotting of virgin’s blood she’d seen last night. A moment later the dull ache in her lower back confirmed her suspicions. She stilled, thinking back.

  Yes, that was right, about three weeks had passed since her last flow. She slumped on the bank as relief and sorrow warred.

  Would he be thankful to break this last tie between them?

  Chapter 21

  John Edward Hart sat in a crude little chair in the trading post of Fort Union. Before him stood a savage. Hart stared down his nose at the heathen.

  “You speakie English?” he asked and then waited a full five seconds for the reply. The man simply stared. “Apparently not.”

  Hart turned to the guide he had contracted in New Orleans, a dirty little trapper named Jeb Macey.

  “How can he be of use? I mean really, it may take an Indian to find an Indian, but I hardly think a mute tracker will do.”

  Jeb Macey slid two fingers beneath his hat and scratched. Hart retreated a step as he wondered if the man was as lice-ridden as he appeared.

  “Well he understands sign and he can speak to any Lakota we meet up with.”

  “Lakota? What the devil is Lakota?”

  “Sioux, a tribe of Indians on the plains, Sir.”