Trail of Passion (Hot on the Trail Book 7)

by Merry Farmer

  “We’ve been getting closer lately,” he began. “A lot closer.”

  “I know.” Lucy giggled, slowing her steps and letting her oxen walk on by themselves so she could fall into step beside him. “Isn’t it wonderful? I never dreamed that I would meet someone so… so magnificent on the trail. And you’re a very good kisser.” She made her last observation in a whisper, her cheeks pink with pleasure.

  Gideon’s knees went weak. He was caught between the urge to explore mating habits of the North American Prairie Pioneer and preemptive agony if she should reject him. Just because he deserved that rejection didn’t mean it would be easy for him to face it.

  “You’re not bad yourself,” he murmured, then opened his mouth to say more.

  “There’s just something so wonderful about kissing somebody, isn’t there?” she rode over him. “That feeling of being so close to them, the way passion just flares all through you, those naughty, delicious feelings that build up inside of you and make you wonder what else you dare to do.” She took his hand, and her eyes blazed with a willingness to dare a great many things.

  Desire hit him like a burst of wind from the storm ahead of them. “Yes.”

  “Josephine says that kissing leads to other things,” she whispered even lower, leaning toward him. “She says it’s dangerous. I don’t know. I like a little danger myself. I’ve always liked danger. Just like Aunt Virginia. She’s not afraid of passion either. Doesn’t passion make you simply glitter with power? With the feeling that you can do anything?”

  “Absolutely.” And right then, the things that Gideon wanted to do with the surge of power that coursed through him were by no means socially acceptable. He wasn’t sure he cared.

  “I’m certain that’s why the first pioneers headed west,” Lucy went on. “Rushing into danger, conquering unknown territory. Freeing their passions. Why, I’m certain it made them feel as powerful as could be.”

  Her words were underscored by a loud boom of thunder ahead.

  As worked up as Lucy’s speech had made Gideon, and as loudly as his body was shouting for his brain to take a backseat for a while, sense leapt to the forefront.

  “I’m not sure I like the look of those clouds,” he said, voice rougher than usual.

  Lucy faced forward, frowning as she studied them. A heartbeat later, she burst into a joyful smile.

  “Danger,” she breathed, finding and clasping his hand. “Let’s face it together.”

  Minutes later, Pete came riding down the line of wagons. “Storm’s coming,” he warned them. “Hunker down and take shelter. Looks like it’s a bad one, and I’d rather ride it out than try to push through.”

  “Riding out a storm,” Lucy exclaimed as Pete left. “Now that’s dangerous.”

  “We’ll do more than ride it out.” Gideon let go of her hand and motioned for her to run up and gain control of her oxen. “I have another experiment I’ve been anxious to try.”

  “Really?”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, as everyone repositioned their wagons to keep the loose horses and other animals from escaping, Gideon led his oxen to the side of the trail, motioning for Lucy to do the same. The wind picked up as they steadied both pairs of oxen, and with it came the first raindrops. Thunder continued to rumble and roll as lightning cut through the dark clouds ahead of them.

  Gideon dashed to the back of his wagon, throwing open the tailgate. The crates full of his chemicals were stacked in two neat rows on either side of the wagon, leaving a long, narrow strip of empty space down the middle. His trunk was pushed all the way to the front of the wagon, and the long, metal lightning rods he’d brought rested within arm’s reach.

  “I remember, you said those were lightning rods.” Lucy had to raise her voice to be heard above the increasing roar of the wind. “What do we do with them?”

  “We drive them into the ground,” he explained, scrambling to undo the twine that held them together in a bundle. “There aren’t very many of them, but there should be enough to draw lightning away from the wagons. I’m surprised that none of the wagons whose bows are metal have been hit in the last few storms we’ve run through.”

  “That would have been terrible,” Lucy said, but her eyes betrayed that she would also have found it exciting.

  Gideon couldn’t help but laugh. She was unique, that was certain. He believed her a hundred percent when she said she enjoyed danger. He’d never met any woman, anyone at all, who was as free and adventurous as she was. His own spirit of exploration couldn’t hold a candle to hers. There was no telling what sort of trouble they could get into between his brain and her spirit.

  Trouble had never looked so good. The charge of Lucy’s smile as he handed her a few lightning rods was as good as being struck by lightning himself.

  “We have to spread them out as much as possible,” he instructed her as the rain whipped up around them. “Drive them into the ground as hard as you can. Watch me plant the first few.”

  He nodded to her, then dashed several yards out to the side from where their two wagons were parked. The rods were designed to Benjamin Franklin’s specifics, which included pointed ends. It made them all that much easier to thrust them into the ground like javelins. The sunbaked prairie had enough give to keep the first rod upright once he’d planted it, so he rushed on to a fresh spot, a dozen or so yards away to plant the second.

  “Oh, I see,” Lucy called to him, wiping her hair out of her face as the rain flattened it. “I’ll go this way.”

  As she darted back across the trail to the field on the other side, a sudden fist of fear gripped Gideon’s chest. The thunder was rolling closer now, and the rain lashing at him. What would he do if they didn’t get the rods planted in time and Lucy was somehow struck down? It would be his fault for encouraging her. Another splash of blood on his hands.

  He couldn’t think about it. He could only continue his mad race against time, shoving rods into the ground far enough away from the wagons to keep them safe. When he ran out of rods, he dashed back to his wagon to pick up more, then sprinted out to Lucy’s side of the field. She was having more trouble planting the rods than he was, so as soon as he jammed the last handful into the ground, spaced wide enough to protect as much of the wagon train as he could, he raced to Lucy’s side.

  “What in tarnation are you doing out there, fools?” someone called from the jagged line of wagons. “You’re gonna get yourselves killed.”

  Another crash of thunder sounded, too close for comfort. It reminded Gideon all too much of the blast of cannon-fire, the pop of their experimental canisters opening as soldiers advanced. The memory of the smell of chlorine gas as it spread toward the doomed fighters nearly caused Gideon to choke as rain drummed down on him.

  “This is the last one,” Lucy shouted, oblivious to the nightmare that had snuck up on him. Her brilliant smile, the way she ignored the soaking rain and barely flinched at the sharp bolts of lightning cutting down from the sky so close to them, brought him back to life.

  Gideon reached her, and together they thrust the final rod into the ground. As soon as it was done, he grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the wagons.

  Lucy laughed with delight as she ran across soaked prairie grass. It grabbed at her skirt, trying to slow her down, but nothing was going to slow her down at this point. The only thing more exciting than the storm raging around her was the sight of Gideon sprinting toward the wagon. He was so mild-mannered when he was sitting at the campfire, working on Graham’s wooden leg or conversing with the others. Running as he was now, wet with rain and fiery with determination, he seemed every bit the bold, brave hero.

  By the time they reached his wagon, she was as breathless with the images of him forming in her mind as she was with the danger the storm presented. The tailgate of his wagon was already down, so he leapt inside with one, deft movement, then turned to pull her in behind him. They worked together to lift the tailgate and secure it in place, then to pull the canvas tight around
the back of the wagon to keep the rain out.

  “Leave a little gap so we can see if the lightning rods work,” she instructed him.

  Their shoulders were pressed together and their fingers stumbled over each other’s as they secured the canvas. It was enough to leave Lucy giggling with excitement. They managed to tighten the canvas just as a gut-wrenching flash of lightning hit one of the rods she’d placed two dozen yards from the wagon train. She couldn’t help but whoop with joy. “It worked.”

  “Of course it worked.” Gideon joined her laughter. “It’s a scientific principle of conductivity.”

  It could have been pure luck, but she didn’t mind. She twisted to face Gideon, wiping wet hair from her face. He was panting right along with her, whether from running so much or the danger of the storm or another kind of danger that suddenly stared her straight in the eyes, she didn’t know. The world was chaotic outside of the wagon, but inside, there was only one thing she wanted.

  She surged toward him, throwing her arms around his neck as best she could in the cramped space, crates piled on either side of her. Her mouth crashed into his in time to a crack of thunder just outside of the wagon. That boom shocked her into gasping instead of kissing him, but as soon as the shock wore off, his arms clamped around her and he kissed her in earnest.

  Nothing had ever felt so electric in her life. Gideon held nothing back, as if the ferocity of the storm had awaken passion in him. He kissed her with abandon, pouring so much heat into the joining of their mouths that she wasn’t sure she could handle it. Then again, her body responded on instinct alone, bypassing her brain in an attempt to one-up his energy. None of the frivolous dangers she had sought out before could begin to compare to the urgency of what she wanted now.

  And she did want it.

  Another crash of thunder boomed nearby, and Gideon broke their kiss, leaning back against one wall of crates.

  “No, don’t stop,” she begged him.

  “That’s the problem,” he panted. “I won’t stop.”

  He was completely transformed. Wild, pulsing desire sparked in his eyes. Forget the lightning or the chemicals, Gideon was the most dangerous thing within a hundred miles. Her heart wanted to laugh at the very thought.

  “Then don’t stop,” she said. “Don’t stop for one moment.”

  He let out a breath, his shoulders dropping, a flash of surrender in his eyes, as if he’d been relying on her to be the resistance they should both put up in the face of what so clearly needed to happen between them. With a short shake of his head, he let that go and flowed into her.

  Their lips met again, but this time there was a deeper tenderness underlying the urgency of passion. Rather than clasping around her back, his hands gripped her sides, sliding down to yank her blouse up from the waist of her skirt. He met the barrier of her corset and growled in frustration. She was too busy fumbling with the buttons of his trousers to give him much help, but when he twisted to lay her down in the narrow space between the crates, she gasped and giggled.

  There was barely enough room for him to kneel between her legs as he attempted to peel her bodice aside, focused on getting to the hooks of her corset. She had to give up trying to free him from his trousers and shirt to keep her arms out of the way of his mission. She heard a rip, then the fabric around her chest loosened, and she laughed.

  His serious concentration snapped, and he laughed as well. “I don’t think it’s going to work,” he panted. “There’s not enough room, and our clothes are too wet.”

  “Do we have to take off all of our clothes to… do it?” she giggled. Her body seemed to answer her with a definite ‘no.’

  “It’s certainly more pleasurable if we do,” Gideon answered, but his eyes told a different story—a story of how he didn’t care if they were wrapped up in thick woolens for winter, as long as the important bits were accessible.

  “Then maybe we can save that for next time,” she sighed, reaching for him.

  Whether it was the suggestion of a next time or her expression—which she was certain left nothing to his imagination—Gideon gave up his resistance and bent down to kiss her. His lips were warm and demanding, and the way he teased his tongue into her mouth—thrusting in a way that hinted at a whole other kind of invasion—left her eager for more. She wasn’t so naïve that she didn’t know what the increasing ache between her legs meant, and she certainly knew enough about the world to know the only thing that could ease that ache.

  They were both crazy with panting and desire as another bright flash of lightning hit nearby. It only pushed her on. She squeezed her arms down so that she could grab hold of her skirt and begin inching it up as Gideon continued to kiss her. He managed to work the hooks of her corset free, breaking a few as he did, and shoved it aside so that he could rain kisses on the damp fabric of her chemise over her breasts. Her mother would die if she knew what she was doing right then. Her Aunt Virginia might just applaud.

  Both of them dissolved out of her thoughts completely as Gideon yanked her chemise down so that he could close his mouth over one of her bare nipples and flick it with his tongue. She gasped and shuddered at the sensation, gulping with an extra jolt of excitement as lightning struck so close she felt the hair on the back of her neck rise. Gideon had one hand braced at her side to hold himself above her as he teased and tortured her breasts, but the other one slipped down to join her in hiking up her skirt.

  She said a quick prayer of thanks for the split-crotch drawers that fellow pioneers had recommended she wear for convenience as Gideon’s fingers delved into the thatch of curls between her legs. She wasn’t sure if the sound she made when he raked across a certain spot came from her or some wild animal. Whatever the case, it only encouraged Gideon, and he brushed that spot again. She moaned, and once he’d found it, he began a slow, circular stroke that sent her spiraling up on a wave of passion and pleasure.

  Lightning cracked nearby, and the shock of that combined with Gideon’s touch made her feel as though she’d been struck. Her body unraveled in waves of pulsing pleasure, and she let herself cry out freely as the storm battered the canvas around her. The joy of the sensation was pure, heady, and pulled up so much love from the depths of her soul that she would have done anything to keep Gideon in her arms forever.

  He must have sensed her surrender to him. Moments later, she felt him wedge himself between her hips, hot and hard. There was little room between the crates, but he managed to find her center and thrust with a soul-deep groan of delight. Lucy felt only the barest fraction of resistance. The rest was nothing but surprise and wonder as he filled her. Whether it was the newness of the sensation or the fact that her hips were so constricted that she couldn’t spread them wide, she was certain she felt every inch of him fully.

  And how beautiful it was. The pulsing tension of his joining with her was bliss itself. His rhythm was a revelation of just what kind of power a man could have. She closed her arms around him, gripping his lower back and inviting him to take more, thrust deeper. He sped up as the tension she could feel all through him increased. The wildness of their coupling was everything she could have dreamed the first time experiencing this secret of human nature would be.

  Her mind only had time to touch on her heart’s gratitude that her first time was with wonderful, smart, brave Gideon, when he let out a roaring breath, his thrusts growing more pitched before slowing quickly. He let out a long sigh as he finished and sank to cover her with his weight and heat.

  Outside the wagon, the storm began to move away. There was still thunder and an occasional flash of lightning, but the loudest noise came from the increase of rain on the now soaked canvas above them. Lucy kept her arms and legs clamped around Gideon, surprised that she enjoyed the crushing weight of him so much. She could still feel him between her legs. That alone made her want to laugh loud enough to challenge the storm.

  “I should figure out how to move,” Gideon mumbled at length.

  “No, you shouldn’t.”
She hugged him tighter. “I like you right where you are.”

  He held his breath for a moment, then let it out—along with any remaining tension—on a laugh to match hers.

  Chapter Eight

  The only thing that shocked Lucy about her blatant disregard for everything that society would consider good or proper or moral was how little she cared. She figured she should have at least a pinch of remorse over how enthusiastically she’d made love with Gideon during the storm. Surely she should mourn the potential loss of her reputation along with the loss of her virginity. Just a little?

  She sighed with contentment as she blinked herself out of sleep more than a week later, after crossing the Platte River. The camp was quiet, morning birds calling to each other across the rolling grass. She slept in her own wagon, and for good or ill, Gideon slept with her. Her back was nestled against his chest, and one of his arms draped around her. She felt the steady tickle of his breath against her neck as he slept on. It was a shame that they were both fully dressed, but with the rest of the wagons clustered close as one group prepared to peel off and head to Denver City, they hadn’t dared to do anything that would make noise.

  Which wasn’t to say that they hadn’t found other ways to sneak around and find some time alone together. Two days after the storm, they had finally had a chance to make love without clothing or impediments, far off in the tall grass beside the trail where no one could find them. Gideon had hinted that he’d gotten the idea from other members of their wagon train who he’d spotted doing the same thing the day they went riding. So much for rigid propriety on the Oregon Trail.

  The only things that kept the journey west from being a scintillating, captivating dream were the troubles Estelle was having once word leaked that she was a former slave and the mischief that the orphans kept getting into.