by Nan Ryan
Cole shouted to Marietta, “Lay your heels to the piebald and head for that stand of trees up ahead on the right.”
Marietta nodded. Looking back over her shoulder she saw the fierce-looking braves coming at a fast gallop, lances raised, knees controlling their snorting, blowing mustangs. Terrified, she obeyed Cole’s command and they raced headlong toward the safety of the bosque.
Neck and neck they galloped.
Cole called out, “Listen to me and do exactly as I say! See that sharp bend ahead, when we go around it, we’ll be out of sight. Once that happens, jump off your mount, run up into the thick trees and hide.”
“What about you?” she yelled and looked anxiously at him.
“I’ll keep riding,” he shouted as he wrapped the reins around the saddle horn, reached down and drew his rifle from the leather scabbard. “The Indians will follow. You’ll be safe.”
“But what about you?” she asked again, terror-stricken.
“You hide and stay put,” he ordered. “I’ll find you!”
They continued to ride, full out, drawing ever nearer to the dense forest of scrub oak and cedars. In seconds they were rounding the sharp bend bordering the forest.
“Now!” Cole shouted and Marietta didn’t hesitate.
She tumbled off her galloping mount, picked herself up and scurried into the trees, slapping low branches out of her way and running as fast as she could through the knee-high underbrush.
Behind her she heard the report of a rifle and the Comanches’ bloodcurdling shouts as they galloped past, racing after Cole. Trembling despite the heat of the day, Marietta ran fast through the woods, tripped and fell, got up and staggered on into the darkness of the thick, impenetrable forest. She continued to run and thrash through the brush and thorny bushes until her weak legs would carry her no farther and her lungs were burning from her labored breaths.
The whooping and shouting and distant rifle fire continued. Marietta imagined the worst. She sank tiredly onto her knees and sat back on her heels. She put a hand on her racing heart and fought for breath, swallowing with difficulty. When finally her heart had stopped pounding and her breath had slowed somewhat, she sat totally still, careful not to move or make a sound.
Frightened and worried, she wondered what was happening to Cole. She licked her dry lips and told herself he could outrun the Comanches. He was smart, he would lose them, ride to safety.
Another rifle report and Marietta jumped as if it was she who had been shot. She sat flat down in the underbrush, pushed a chinaberry limb out of her hair and hugged her arms to her chest. She looked around, but could see nothing. The forest was too thick, too dark with leafy tree limbs entwining overhead and thick underbrush below. How could Cole ever find her? He would find her. He said that he would.
Marietta patiently waited, careful not to move or make a sound, as time dragged slowly by. The sounds beyond the forest grew steadily fainter, came from farther away. Then they stopped altogether. She strained to listen, but could hear nothing.
The sun was almost down. Marietta could tell because it was growing even darker. She trembled and her teeth began to chatter. She had never felt so alone and frightened in her life. What would she do if Cole didn’t come for her? Maybe he hadn’t been able to outrun the Comanches. Maybe they had caught up with him. Had dragged him down off his horse and killed him. Had slit his throat and left him to die in the dust.
Marietta felt tears sting her eyes.
Day turned to night.
There was a moon, but it didn’t penetrate the thickly foliaged forest. It was extremely dark now. Pitch black. So dark you couldn’t see your hand before your face. Marietta was terrified. It had been too long. Cole wasn’t coming. The Comanches had killed him. He was dead, she knew he was. If he were not, he would have long since found her. Cole was dead and she was alone and the Comanches were looking for her. Wouldn’t give up until they found her.
Marietta’s fear rose to choke her when she heard the distinctive sound of dead leaves softly crunching. Her head whipped around and she listened, eyes round with fright.
Dear God, the Comanches had found her. She would be raped and scalped. She sat there, tense and motionless, waiting to meet her fate.
The sound of leaves being crushed underfoot grew steadily closer and Marietta was afraid to move or breathe. Then the leaf-crushing abruptly stopped. The Comanche brave was, she knew, standing directly above her. Marietta braced herself, expecting to feel the blade of a tomahawk slice away her hair. She stiffened and her eyes widened in horror when a hand touched her cheek, then covered her mouth so that she couldn’t make a sound.
She was flooded with relief when Cole crouched down, put his lips against her ear and whispered in that distinctive southern drawl, “You’re safe now, darlin’, but be very quiet.”
A grateful Marietta looked up, trying to see his face. She couldn’t. It was too dark. He took his hand from her mouth and she felt his protective arm come around her, draw her close. Biting back a sob of relief, she automatically leaned into him. They sat there still and quiet in the darkness for several long moments, neither moving, neither making a sound.
Then, unable to see his face, Marietta sighed when Cole’s hand gently captured her chin and tilted it up. She felt his breath on her face. And then his warm, smooth lips covered hers. It began as a sweet, comforting caress, a tender, silent statement to reassure her that she was now safe. But it swiftly escalated into a hot, penetrating kiss of blazing passion.
When their heated lips finally separated, they embraced, holding each other tightly, fiercely. Then they broke apart and began to undress in silent, unspoken agreement. Taking care to be as quiet as possible, they helped each other disrobe, kissing in triumph each time an article of clothing came off.
Cole carefully placed the Colt .45 next to their discarded clothing.
The only way they could be sure that the other was totally undressed was by touch. And they found it highly pleasurable to carefully examine one another with exploring fingers in search of any lingering, unwanted garments.
When they were certain the other was totally naked, they put their arms around each other again, kissed and sank onto their clothing. They couldn’t talk to each other, the Comanches were still rampaging nearby.
Couldn’t see.
Couldn’t talk.
Could only feel. But it was enough. It was plenty. It was exciting. It was erotic.
Her arms around his neck, Marietta silently swooned when she felt Cole gently urge her legs apart. He reached down and cupped her groin with his hand in a gentle yet possessive way that silently seemed to say she belonged to him. And she wanted to shout that she was his and nobody else’s.
His hand lightly closing over her, Cole kissed Marietta and she shivered with pleasure when he whispered into her mouth, “Is this mine, sweetheart?” He flexed his fingers slightly. “Can I have it? Can I have you?”
He never allowed her to reply. He kissed her deeply, his tongue seeking hers. In the middle of that invasive kiss, Cole took his hand away and agilely moved atop her. He ended the kiss by playfully biting her lower lip and sucking it into his mouth. He teased it with his tongue, then released it. His lips left hers and his mouth trailed down over her chin and to the hollow of her throat.
Marietta held her breath as he kissed her there. She released her breath as he nibbled and nuzzled his way down over the swell of her breasts. Her back arched when she felt his lips capture a peaking nipple.
She looked down, but could see nothing. So she lay there and luxuriated in the tugging of his lips, the raking of his teeth, the teasing of his tongue.
When he began to suckle the wet, sensitive nipple, Marietta’s eyes closed. Then, immediately recalling that they were cocooned in covering darkness, she smiled foolishly and opened them. The thought ran through her mind that she could do anything and everything without embarrassment, since neither could see the other.
Marietta raised a hand, slid he
r fingers into the thick hair of Cole’s moving head. Faintly she could hear the continued shouting and whooping of the frustrated Comanches beyond the thicket. But she again smiled and softly sighed, unworried. Unable to focus on anything save this naked Adonis who was kissing her breast in the darkness.
Lying between Marietta’s legs, pressing kisses to her breasts and delicate ribs, Cole knew he could tease her, taste her, kiss her all over, which was what he had wanted to do since the first moment he saw her.
He could do all he desired in the darkness of this forest fortress and she couldn’t make a sound.
Her body would signal her distress.
Or her passion.
Cole’s hot mouth finally left Marietta’s breast. With the tip of his tongue he licked a path down the center of her chest to her small waist. He teased at her belly button and felt her hips rise slightly. He turned his head and laid it gently down on her flat belly. He felt her fingers tangle in his hair, felt her stomach jerking beneath his cheek.
He smiled in the darkness.
Then he slowly raised his head, turned his face inward and pressed a tender kiss to her bare belly. Her fingers released his hair. He felt her relax. He cupped her hips in his hands and brushed kisses all over her stomach, moving steadily down. And he was pleased when she reflexively moved her legs a bit wider apart, instinctively offering herself to him.
Cole kept one hand lying on her prominent hipbone and placed the other underneath her pale left thigh. He pushed her leg up until her knee was bent, the sole of her foot resting flat on the discarded clothing.
He turned his head and kissed the inside of her thigh and at the same time urged it outward, the action clearly commanding her to let her thighs fall completely apart.
Marietta, assuming he meant to come into her now, responded as if he had spoken the words aloud. But her body quivered in surprise when Cole put his hand between her legs. She felt his lean fingers gently raking through the curls of her groin, parting them.
And then, to her shock, she felt his hot breath on the ultrasensitive flesh he had exposed and she knew that his face was close, very close. She was even more shocked when his lips, warm and soft and gentle, kissed her there. A sweet, tender caress that made her throb and left her wanting more.
Much more.
Marietta tensed and held her breath, waiting, wondering what Cole would do next. And then she had to fling her arm across her face and bite the back of her wrist to keep quiet when he kissed her again.
This time his mouth was wide open and hot upon her. When he touched her with his tongue she instantly felt as if she were on fire. That an inferno was blazing out of control between her parted legs and she could only pray that Cole’s loving mouth would extinguish it before both were incinerated.
A highly excited Marietta lay there on her back in the thick darkness while the lover of her dreams passionately kissed her where she’d never been touched by anyone before. She wanted to scream her joy and cry out in her ecstasy. She wanted to shout his name in abandon, over and over again. She wanted to see his handsome face buried intimately between her open thighs.
She gasped and bit her wrist and whipped her head from side to side as Cole leisurely licked her, lashed her, loved her. Her heart beating double time, her thighs trembling and jerking, Marietta raised onto her elbows, panting helplessly now, gazing down at him, trying desperately to see.
She couldn’t really see anything, could just make out the outline of his dark head and wide shoulders. She sat up fully, leaned back on stiffened arms, both knees raised now and open wide, while he continued to thrill and shock her, his marvelous mouth and talented tongue turning her into a volcano of heat that surely had to erupt if she was to live through this.
Cole could tell when he had Marietta so hot she was about to climax. He couldn’t let that happen. Not here. She could cry out and alert the Comanches. So he gave that hot, wet, pulsating button of flesh one last plucking kiss and raised his head.
He scooted agilely up, took hold of her arms, kissed her mouth and lowered her onto her back, never taking his lips from hers. With his weight supported on a braced forearm, he reached between them, gripped himself and put the tip of his erection just inside her.
He withdrew his hand and slid slowly, carefully into her. His lips at last released hers and he exhaled loudly with pleasure. Marietta cupped his face in her hands and kissed him into silence as they lunged and thrust together in urgent, rapid rhythm. Wet with perspiration, their bodies slipping and sliding sensuously together, they moved in perfect unison, the pleasure spiraling quickly toward complete sexual delirium.
Cole felt himself coming, gritted his teeth and slowed his deep thrusts in an effort to hold back. But Marietta began to pant and then to viciously bite his slick shoulder, and he knew that her release was imminent. He urged her head up off his shoulder, forcefully took her chin in his hand and kissed her hard, purposely swallowing her cries of ecstasy.
They stayed locked together, kissing and bucking and shuddering until their shared orgasm ended completely and they were totally drained and sated. Even then, their relaxed bodies remained entwined, but their lips finally parted and both gasped for breath.
Weak, but gloriously gratified, the naked pair lay there in each other’s arms. Their hearts beating as one, they kissed and sighed and wondered if making love could ever again be half so exciting.
The darkness, the danger, the forced silence had made the spontaneous lovemaking all the more thrilling.
Twenty-Six
Come morning the Comanches were gone and Marietta was in a buoyant mood. She was glad to be alive. Glad Cole was alive. Unusually cheerful, she laughed and talked and looked at Cole with newfound admiration. He had proven to be quite resourceful, quite heroic. She insisted on hearing every detail of how he had managed to elude the rampaging Comanches.
Cole was modest. He told her there had been nothing to it. He had learned, back in the war, how to evade and confuse superior forces. He had used those tactics to shake the Comanches. Not much to tell, really.
“But I thought the Indians always stole the horses,” she said.
“Well, now, I couldn’t allow that to happen, could I?” he said, turning to smile at her. He patted the butt of the scabbarded repeater rifle. “I had this little equalizer with me. I used it to hold them back until I could get an opportunity to lose them.”
Marietta’s mood was still lighthearted and agreeable as they approached the little village of Tascosa early that afternoon. Cole told her they would stop in Tascosa and buy some supplies. He didn’t ask her to behave and not turn him in. He knew she wouldn’t.
Marietta remained pleasant and compatible as they walked down the wooden sidewalks of the village. They passed a blacksmith shop, the post office and a surveyor’s office. At Tucker’s General Store, they stepped inside.
Marietta browsed while Cole picked out articles of merchandise. Most were supplies needed for the remainder of the trip. But, watching from a couple of aisles away, Marietta caught him choosing a couple of items that were unquestionably gifts meant for a woman. A soft white shawl and a delicate locket.
Marietta quickly turned away, pretending she hadn’t seen him select the presents. She smiled to herself. When he gave the gifts to her, she would remember to act surprised.
Back on the trail she remained happy and talkative. She wanted to hear more about how he had eluded the Comanches.
“It’s just a miracle that you got away from them,” she said with admiration, hoping he would elaborate.
He did not. Making light of it, Cole turned, shrugged and said, “My biggest chore was locating you in the darkness.”
“I’m glad you found me,” she said, recalling how they had behaved once he had found her. It had been sooo thrilling.
Marietta was less than thrilled when, late that afternoon, they rode up to a small shotgun house on a barren strip of land six miles south of Tascosa on the banks of the narrow Tascosa River.<
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“Why are we stopping here?” she asked, frowning.
“To visit two of my favorite ladies,” Cole replied with a boyish grin. “I’ll tell you all about it later. You’ll like them, Marietta. Mrs. Longley is the salt of the earth and her daughter, little Leslie, is the sweetest child you’ll ever hope to meet.”
Marietta was dismounting when “little Leslie,” shouting Cole’s name, came flying out of the clapboard house. Marietta’s jaw dropped. Little Leslie was no child. She was a beautiful, flaxen-haired, lithe-limbed young woman who leaped into Cole’s outstretched arms and kissed him.
Marietta stood with her arms crossed over her chest while Cole plucked the lovely girl up off the ground and swung her around and around, both of them laughing merrily. By the time Cole lowered the blonde to her feet, Marietta had decided that she didn’t much like little Leslie.
Leslie clung to Cole’s hand and gazed at him with adoring eyes as he said, “Leslie, this is Marietta. Marietta, meet Leslie Longley, the prettiest little girl in all North Texas.”
Leslie punched him playfully on the arm and said, “Cole Heflin, I am not a little girl! I turned eighteen last winter.”
“Why, that can’t be,” he said, shaking his head as if in disbelief.
“I swear it’s true,” Leslie said. “Just look at me. I’m all grown up.” She turned this way then that.
Marietta cleared her throat.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Leslie, tearing her gaze from Cole. “Where are my manners? I’m pleased to meet you, Marietta. Any friend of Cole’s is welcome in our home. Won’t you come inside out of this hot sun?”
“Thank you, Leslie,” Marietta replied, wishing they had not stopped to visit the Longleys.
But she had no choice, they were here and she would have to make the best of it. While Cole got a couple of packages out of his gear, the fresh-faced Leslie extended a hand, directing Marietta up the front walk. Marietta nodded and walked on toward the house. Leslie and Cole followed.