York, the Renegade

by Iris Johansen

  “I’ll try.” She didn’t know if she could hold on herself. He was only a breath away, and she could smell the tantalizing aroma of soap and musk that surrounded him, feel the heat emitting from his taut body. She reached out slowly, tentatively, and touched his hard stomach. He flinched and she look up at him swiftly. “Did I hurt you?”

  He shook his head. “I’m hurting all right and you’re responsible, but that was pure pleasure. Do it again.”

  She touched him once more, letting her fingers explore his warm, firm flesh. He closed his eyes, and his breath became shallow, as if he were holding it.

  His hand suddenly captured hers and pressed it against him. “Don’t move for a minute. It’s too much. I want …” His eyes flicked open and she saw they were glazed with pleasure. His nostrils were flaring slightly and his jaw was rigid. “I can’t wait.” His voice was agonized. He tumbled her back on the bed. “I wanted to take it slow and make it—”

  “Shh.” Her fingers touched his lips. “It’s okay. Just make love to me.”

  He buried his face against her neck. “It’s not okay,” he said hoarsely. One hand traveled searchingly down her body from her throat to her thigh. “I wanted to spend so much more time …” He kissed her hard, yet with a yearning tenderness. “Later. I promise you, Sierra.”

  With trembling hands he removed the last scrap of clothing separating them. Then his lips were moving over her cheeks and neck while his hand crept delicately between her thighs. She inhaled sharply as he probed slowly, gently.

  “You’re ready for me.” He laughed softly with joy and exultation. “Lord, I’m glad. I didn’t think you would be.”

  She had always been ready for him, from the moment he had come into her life. She had been ready for his body and his spirit and everything that made York Delaney the man he was. “I’ll always be ready for you,” she said softly. “Always.”

  He was stroking her. She moaned and arched up helplessly against him. Too much hunger, too much delight, too much …

  He was moving between her thighs, petting her, caressing her. “So pretty, so silky.” She could feel a gentle nudging against the center of her, but she was so enraptured by the loving playfulness of his hands, she paid no attention to it. He leaned forward to kiss her with the same gentleness. A sweetness and a languid heat seemed to enfold both of them in a world of their own. His tongue entered her mouth and played lovingly with hers. Aching. She was aching, hungry, but how could that be when she was being so tenderly satisfied? Still, there was something missing, something she needed.

  Then, with one powerful stroke, she had it. The pain surprised her. The sharpness of it took her breath and caused her to cry out.

  He froze. “Sierra. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not.” The pain was gone and there was only the fullness, the closeness, the beauty and sweetness. She surged upward and he groaned. He threw back his head and arched his spine as if he were being tortured. “Love me, York.”

  He looked down at her with an expression of unbearable torment. “Sierra, it’s getting out of control. I can’t hold on. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You won’t hurt me.” He was the one in pain. She could feel the agony of tension gripping every muscle in his body. Why wouldn’t he give in to it? Then, incredibly, he was moving away, leaving her! “No!” Her hands grabbed his hips, her legs winding about him, holding him to her. “No, York, don’t do this.…”

  “Sierra.” His chest was heaving as though his lungs were starved for oxygen. “You don’t know. I’ll hurt you again.”

  “My choice.” Her voice was fierce as she began to move slowly, seductively against him. “Not yours. Now, York.”

  “Sierra!” His control shattered and he plunged forward, shocking, stretching, filling. Then the fiery rhythm began, and Sierra became lost and yet found. How could that be? she wondered hazily. Impossible? No, nothing was impossible while this miracle of sensation existed. It existed for a long time, spiraling from one brilliance to another.

  She could sense even in the midst of the storm York was trying to be careful, but she wouldn’t allow it. She was wildly delighted to discover a touch of her hand, a teasingly seductive movement of her hips, could make him forget everything but the primitive pleasure she was giving him.

  Then she herself forgot about seduction as tension began to mount within her to dizzying heights. Her head thrashed back and forth on the pillow, and she had to bite her lip to keep from moaning. “York …”

  “I know.” His voice was harsh with passion. He was lifting her into each thrust, striving for greater closeness, more depth, a merging so complete, it was unbelievable. Slick and hot and hard. “Soon, love.”

  It was no longer soon but now. Here. Rapture and closeness. A joining that gave joy and ecstasy and, at last, peace.

  York’s body was heavy as it lay on hers, trembling in the aftermath of that storm of emotion. She was trembling, too, and she couldn’t seem to come to terms with the fact that it was really over. How could something so powerful have subsided in one glorious burst of sensation? Then she felt a stirring within her and knew it wasn’t over. “York?”

  He raised up, resting his weight on his arms on either side of her. His eyes were still smoky with need and slightly bewildered. “It’s never happened to me before.” He laughed a little. “I want you again and I haven’t even left you.”

  She smiled up at him. “What’s the problem? We’ll make love again. I’m just getting the hang of it anyway.”

  Something flickered in his face and his lips curved in a gentle smile. “Oh, no. You’ve done enough seducing for one night. I think it’s time I took charge for a change. You’re too generous for your own good.”

  A lock of dark hair had tumbled over his forehead and she felt a sudden urge to brush that lock away with loving possessiveness. Why not? Perhaps for a little while she could even pretend he belonged to her. “Deuce said you’re a man who takes charge.”

  “When I’m allowed,” he said dryly. “With the two of you that’s not always possible. This time, however, I’m going to insist. I can wait now.” He flexed slowly. “I hope.” He bent swiftly and kissed her. “But I’ll stay here for a few minutes, if it’s okay with you. You feel so damn good.”

  “I don’t mind.” She loved it. In some ways it was even better than the wild joining that had gone before. She felt part of him.

  He pulled away slightly. “You’re so little. Are you sure I’m not hurting you?” His hand caressed her belly.

  “You’re not hurting me. I like it.” Lord, she loved him. She loved his gentleness and his caring and the way he was looking at her as if she were very special. It was like being sheltered beneath the red velvet canopy of her childhood dream. As long as he held her like this the dream existed.

  He was smiling faintly as he looked down at her. “Hey, come back to me. What are you thinking about?”

  She sighed contentedly. “A canopy bed. I was thinking you remind me of one.”

  His smile widened to a grin. “Well, that’s different anyway. You mean I’ve finally wooed you away from the notion that I’m a peacock? Praise be and hallelujah!”

  “At the moment. Why can’t you be both?”

  “I imagine you’ll give me no choice.” He kissed her again, long and lovingly. “I’m leaving you now. Thank you for your hospitality, love.” He shifted off her and she instantly felt vulnerable and alone again.

  He pulled the sheet over them and drew her back into his arms. She nestled close, her cheek against the warm hardness of his chest. “Anytime,” she said. For the rest of her life, she thought: anytime, anywhere, anyplace.

  “I wish you wouldn’t say that. I’m having a rough enough time trying to be patient.” His lips drifted over the delicate skin at her temple. His voice abruptly lost its lightness. “This isn’t a panacea, you know. We’re going to have to discuss this takeover move on your part.”

  “I didn’t think it would be a panacea
, but it did help,” she said as she tightened her arm around his waist. “You’re happier now and so am I.” She lifted her head to look at him with sudden uncertainty. “You are happier, aren’t you?”

  He was silent for a moment, then pushed her head back on his shoulder. “I’m happier,” he said gruffly. “I don’t have any idea how I’m going to feel when I’m able to think again, but I’m happy as hell right now.”

  “Then we’ll work the rest out later.”

  She rubbed her cheek lovingly against him. She didn’t want to think of later. Right now he belonged to her. It couldn’t last, Sierra told herself, but this present was worth any price she might have to pay in the future. Something rough scratched against her cheek. The silver necklace. She reached up to touch it, running her fingers over the smooth turquoise. It was warm from his body heat and felt almost alive.

  “I like this,” she said softly. “It looks strong and durable, yet the workmanship is exquisite. It surprised me when I saw you wearing it.” She chuckled. “Considering your aversion to peacock comparisons, I thought you’d hate jewelery.”

  “I do. I’ve just worn the necklace so long, I’d feel uncomfortable without it. My mother put it on me one night when I was about six. I was in the hospital and I guess she thought it would make me feel better. It belonged to Rising Star and was supposedly blessed by the shaman of her tribe. I guess my mother would have tried almost anything to help me at that point. She knew I was terrified. I’d just found out I was going to die.”

  Sierra’s head lifted swiftly. “What?”

  “I’d been ill all my life. People were always telling me I mustn’t run like Rafe and Burke. I mustn’t get too tired. I mustn’t ride anything but the gentlest of horses.” His mouth twisted in a bitter smile. “My life was full of mustn’ts. I never understood why until I entered the hospital when I was six for tests and found out I had a heart ailment that was going to kill me before I reached my teens.”

  Her eyes widened with horror. “They told you that?”

  He shook his head. “I overheard the nurses talking outside my room. My mother was furious, but she didn’t lie to me when I asked her. She knew I would find out eventually. She just told me she and my dad were doing everything possible and I must help too. The next night she brought the necklace to the hospital and gave it to me.”

  How terrible it must have been for both mother and son, Sierra thought. The little boy frightened and helpless in the face of something he couldn’t possibly understand. The mother also frightened and unable to offer her son even the protection of ignorance.

  “Well, it must have worked,” Sierra said. She tried to keep her voice steady. “You’re obviously healthy as a horse now. Did the medical world make one of their breakthroughs about that time?”

  “No. I just grew out of it. When I went back to the hospital when I was twelve for tests, they found that I was perfectly normal.” He shook his head. “They called it one of those freak recoveries, a miracle cure.”

  A miracle, she thought. If that miracle hadn’t happened, York wouldn’t be here now. She would never have met him, never have loved him. It was impossible to imagine a world without York. Strange and terrifying. She shivered and instinctively dropped her head back on his chest so she could hear the throb of his heart. It was reassuringly strong and steady, and she felt a surge of relief. He was well now. How idiotic to be frightened of an ailment that had corrected itself over twenty years ago.

  “Your parents must have been ecstatic after worrying all those years,” she said, “and you must have felt you’d been given the world on a platter.”

  His hand tangled in her sleek hair. “I don’t think I really believed it at first. It was hard to realize there was a future out there for me. When I accepted the fact it truly was in the cards, I went a little wild.” His chuckle held a note of dryness. “Hell, I went crazy-wild. I think my parents had it easier when all they had to worry about was me keeling over from heart failure. I just couldn’t settle down to being a part of Killara like Burke and Rafe.”

  “That was probably a natural reaction. They couldn’t expect you to go through something like that without being scarred.” She didn’t know how he had survived at all. What a nightmare of a childhood he must have had with that nemesis constantly in the background. “I bet they didn’t mind one bit.”

  “Well, let’s just say they were very understanding. So were Burke and Rafe, for that matter. I was damn lucky to have them.”

  And she was damn lucky to have him. Sierra was swept by a wave of love and thanksgiving so strong, she couldn’t speak for a moment. He was alive. Her throat was achingly tight as she lifted her head to look at him. “I’m glad you decided to stick around until I came along.” She carefully kept her tone light. “You know how important learning something new every day is to me. You’ve contributed enormously to my education tonight.”

  He gently cupped her face in his hands. His expression was very grave. “Not nearly as much as you have to mine, Sierra. I hope you don’t regret it.” The gravity vanished as a teasing grin touched his lips. “But I believe you told me you promised yourself you would learn at least one new thing.” He suddenly rolled her over. “You’d be surprised at how accomplished a tutor I can be. Why should we stop at just one?”

  His dark head was lowering slowly toward her and she could sense the tension charging his body. She began to feel the same languid breathlessness she’d known such a short time before. Her arms slid lovingly over his shoulders and around his neck. “No reason in the world,” she murmured.

  Eight

  The early-morning sunlight polished York’s dark hair to a deep sheen and revealed the stark perfection of his profile against the pillow. Beautiful, Sierra thought. If she lived to be a hundred and fifty she’d never see a sight more beautiful than York lying relaxed and asleep after a night of love.

  And it had been love, she told herself. Not only on her part but on his as well. There had been too much tenderness, too much emotion behind every caress, every word, to have been mere lust. Yet never once during the night had he admitted to feeling more than desire. She had known seducing him would be a gamble, but she had thought it would be worth it. Now, as she stood looking down at York with a love stronger than anything she had ever imagined, she wasn’t so sure. Passion had only honed her love, giving it a two-edged sharpness. Even if York did love her, it didn’t mean he’d immediately confess it and ask her to stay with him. He was a complicated man, and there were aspects of his personality that were a mystery to her.

  She let out a long breath, hoping to release the tension that had been building within her. The dice had been thrown, and all she could do was wait until York awoke to see if her gamble had come up seven or snake eyes. She turned and walked swiftly to the door.

  She closed it behind her carefully, and started down the stairs. She didn’t want to be in bed beside York when he woke. In that first moment there would be no barriers, and what if she saw only regret? It would be better to wait and erect a few barriers herself before she had to face that possibility.

  Rising Star’s eyes seemed to hold both compassion and understanding as Sierra paused on the landing to look up at her. “Well, I did it,” she whispered. “These Delaney men aren’t easy, are they? Wish me luck.” No answer. What had she expected anyway? Still, she did feel a little more tranquil as she continued down the stairs to the kitchen.

  Deuce was standing by the counter reaching for the coffeepot. He looked up as she came into the room. “Coffee?” he asked.

  “Please.” She got down two cups and saucers from the cabinet and set them on the counter. “You look much better than you did yesterday. Hangover all gone?”

  “It wasn’t the hangover, it was the blow to my self-esteem that laid me low.” Deuce poured the coffee into the cups. “However, a night at the gambling table with a few of the miners soon put me right. I had a very successful evening.” He looked up at her. “And how successful was y
our night?”

  She felt the color rise to her cheeks. She had known when she’d asked Deuce to leave last night that he’d had his suspicions. “I don’t know. We’ll have to see.”

  “This isn’t what I meant when I told you to let York take charge, you know.” Deuce grimaced. “It was a very dangerous gamble, Sierra.”

  She lowered her gaze to her cup. “He cares about me. I know he does.”

  “York won’t accept any love that threatens to tie him down,” Deuce said. His voice was warm with sympathy. “He loves Killara and his brothers, too, but even they may not be able to hold him. There’s a good chance you may be backing a losing horse.”

  “I hope not.” She lifted her cup to her lips, still not meeting his eyes. Every word Deuce had said had pricked her like tiny sharp needles. “I had to try, Deuce. I didn’t have any choice.”

  He sighed. “Sometimes we don’t, love.”

  “Is there enough coffee in that pot for me?” York suddenly asked. He stood in the doorway.

  Shock jolted through Sierra’s body. He must have awakened immediately after she had left the bedroom. She turned to see him standing in the doorway. He wasn’t looking at her at all, but at Deuce. She experienced a strong sinking sensation that made her feel sick. Snake eyes. The dice had turned up snake eyes.

  “Plenty,” Deuce said. “Get another cup and saucer, Sierra.”

  “I’ll get it.” York strode across the room, still avoiding Sierra’s gaze. She found herself avoiding his as well. She didn’t want to see the pain and awkwardness she knew must be there. As he filled his cup he was only inches away from her. She could feel the heat from his body and see the tension that was gripping him. “How’s it going, Deuce?” he asked.