McCrory's Lady

by Henke, Shirl Henke

  Wolf felt her stiffen and pull away the tiniest bit; but he was so sensitive to Eden's every movement, every feeling, that her withdrawal brought him reeling to his senses. Struggling for breath, he put her gently from him, holding her carefully at arm's length.

  “I'm sorry, Eden, I never meant to take advantage of you. God, you've been through enough already with one rotten bastard. Your first instincts about me were right. I should never have sullied you with so much as a glance.”

  She pulled on the lapels of his open-necked shirt. “No! How can you say such a thing after it was me? I did it. I enticed you. I'm the one who's sullied you, Wolf. I'm just a whore who leads men on—”

  “You did nothing wrong!” He cut her off angrily. “You trusted me—just like you trusted Lazlo. We both took advantage. You are not a whore, Eden McCrory, and I don't ever want to hear you say that again! You're the woman I love and—” He stopped abruptly after the words tumbled out, startled that he had spoken them aloud, for he had never dared to admit them to himself before that very moment.

  Her pale, tear-streaked face took on a tender radiance as she reached up and cupped his jaw in her hands, raising her face to meet his. “Could you, Wolf? Could you love me? Even after what I did—what was done to me?” She held her breath.

  “Oh, Eden, you are as far above me as the stars. From the first moment I saw you in that outlaw camp I was struck by your beauty, your courage...I could never stop thinking about you, wanting you...and I never dared hope you would look at a lowly breed, a nobody, a hired killer.”

  “Shh...” She placed her fingertips on his lips, those wonderful, magic lips that had spoken the words she most longed to hear...and this time knew to be the truth. “Now, who's denigrating himself without a reason on earth for it? I don't ever want you to say you're a breed and a nobody—never again, because you are somebody. You're the man I love, Wolf Blake!”

  Chapter Thirteen

  They sat gazing into each other's eyes, seeing something shining and wonderful that their vows of love had just released. Both were too overwhelmed by the circumstances to speak for several moments, content just to hold one another, communicating silently, drinking in the newness of their love.

  Wolf broke the spell at last as he raised his hand, letting his fingertips graze her face and comb through the silver-gold curls at her nape. “Eden, I want to marry you, but I can't offer you the kind of life I've been living—drifting, in constant danger. You deserve better—”

  “Nothing is better than this,” she whispered, reaching up to place a soft, lingering kiss on his lips. “I'll go anywhere with you. I don't care if we have money—only that we have each other.”

  “I won't risk your life by letting you live with a hired gun, Eden,” Wolf said with finality in his voice. “I'm a walking target unless I quit.”

  “Then quit. I know Father can—”

  “I won't accept charity. I'm not marrying the boss's daughter so everyone can say I did it to get your money.”

  Eden stiffened in his arms and her chin went up defiantly. “I don't care a fig what anyone says. Why should you?”

  “A man—if he's any kind of a man—doesn't live off his woman,” Wolf said stubbornly.

  “Then...then what's to become of us, Wolf?” She held her breath, afraid to meet his eyes. It couldn't end this way, not now, not after all she had been through.

  Wolf let out a long, slow breath, then said, “Maybe there is a way. I don't know. I told you I'd never go back after my father's wife died. He sent out word that he wanted to see me. I got a couple of letters…but I never opened them...”

  Eden studied his proud face, the shuttered expression covering a lifetime of pain. “Maybe he needs your forgiveness as much as he wants an heir, Wolf. Did you ever think of it that way?” she asked softly as hope once more bloomed in her heart.

  “I don't want his money—for me, but...hell, Eden.” He couldn't look at the rapt love shining from those clear golden eyes and not feel his resolve melt.

  “You're his only son, Wolf. It belongs to you...and so do I,” she said, moving closer, letting her body speak where words failed.

  Wolf felt the pressure of her soft breasts on his chest as she melted against him. Her hands clutched his shoulders, and her mouth, oh God, her mouth kissed the hot, salty skin of his throat, then moved lower where his shirt collar lay open to brush and nuzzle against his chest.

  With a groan he pulled her down with him, onto the cool, mossy earth. They lay, arms and legs entwined, as their kisses grew more voracious. She unfastened his shirt and slid her hands against the hard expanse of his chest as he slipped the buttons open on her soft blouse and pulled it down, baring her creamy shoulders for his kisses. The lacy camisole beneath barely concealed the rose and porcelain perfection of her breasts. His tongue teased the pale pink nipples through the sheer eyelet batiste until she cried out her pleasure.

  Wolf heard her moans and felt the hardening of those perfect little buds until he could no longer endure the cloth separating them from his questing mouth. He freed the camisole from her skirt, then eased it over her head. She raised her arms, helping him bare her upper body.

  When he cupped and kissed her breasts, he murmured, “So perfect, so soft and pale and perfect.”

  Eden arched against him while her hands tore at his shirt, pulling it from his body. As he threw it aside, he stopped and looked down at her. “Are you sure, Eden?”

  “Yes, Wolf, I've never been so sure. Please love me,” she whispered.

  Slowly and gently, giving her every chance to change her mind, he began to methodically strip off their clothing, starting with her boots and stockings, kissing the perfection of her silky legs, then easing her heavy riding skirt down until she had on only her thin cotton pantalets. His eyes devoured the beauty of her body while his hands touched her as reverently as a priest touches a chalice.

  Boldly, she reached for Wolf's belt and whispered with flaming cheeks, “Let me?”

  “My greatest pleasure,” he answered, his voice trembling and hoarse. Her hands went eagerly to work sliding the leather belt loose, then unbuttoning his fly and tugging his tight denims down over his narrow hips.

  Her hand brushed against the hardness of his staff as she freed it. With a small gasp of surprised pleasure, Eden touched it with wonderment and felt him groan in pleasure, letting her do as she would with his body. Lazlo had never given her this sort of freedom, to caress, to explore. She felt bold and wanton while at the same time shy and virginal, for this was so utterly different than her crude deflowering had been.

  Somewhere in the dim haze of consciousness, he finally dredged up the words, “Boots. Boots first,” and rolled up to tug them off, followed by his denims. Then, his hands slid to her hips and he plucked the drawstrings to her pantalets and peeled them over the soft curves of her derriere, leaving her as naked as he was. Wolf studied her small, sleek body, even more intoxicatingly beautiful up close than it had been from a distance that day in Sonora. “You are too beautiful,” he murmured, bending down to kiss her as his hands caressed her body.

  Lying by his side, Eden reveled in his soft caresses of discovery, feeling the stark contrasts of male and female, hard and soft, dark and fair. His skin was bronze all over, with a light sprinkling of ebony hair over his forearms and legs and more on his chest, lowering in a narrow vee to bloom again thickly around his hard, heavy sex. “You're beautiful, too,” she whispered as her mouth followed the quest of her hands, tracing the cunning patterns of masculine body hair.

  Wolf cradled her in his arms, rolling onto his back so that she lay on top of him. He wanted her to feel in control, to set the pace of their union. Her breasts hung enticingly above his face. He suckled one, then the other as she cried out her pleasure; but when he raised her hips and positioned her over his phallus, her eyes opened wide with surprise.

  “Take me into you, Eden,” he whispered hoarsely, “please.”

  She sensed that a narrow
thread of control held him in check; yet he did not impale her, but waited for her to respond. Uncertain of how to proceed, she moved slowly onto him, letting his hands guide her hips until she felt the heat of his sex pushing at the damp, aching core of her body. Every nerve, every fiber of her consciousness seemed to coalesce in that place with such sudden hunger that it took her breath away. With a moan of need, she sank down onto his rigid staff, feeling him fill her.

  Wolf trembled and gritted his teeth until the tendons stood out on his neck. He must keep from spilling himself at once as her tight wet sheath enveloped him in a blinding rush of ecstasy.

  Eden felt a fullness and the stretching of her flesh that made her starved young body move of its own volition. She could not remain still. Tightening her knees as she straddled his hips, she rolled hers experimentally. He let out a ragged sigh.

  Wolf fought for control and regained it as he felt her hunger answer his own. He must make this good for her. His hands raised her hips, letting her get the feel of their bodies gliding against each other. When she quickly caught the rhythm he arched up, thrusting more deeply into her as she rode him wildly.

  Her hair had come undone from its loose plait and now curtained them with sun-gilded splendor. Wolf tangled his fist in it and pulled her down for a long, searching kiss. When they finally ended the kiss, each gasping for breath in their ecstatic exertions, he slid his hands around her waist. Raising her up, he cupped her breasts and worshiped them with his hands.

  Eden felt the raw, primitive pleasure course through her and knew at last what it meant to be well and truly loved. Before, she had merely been used. Lazlo had taken, giving nothing in return. But this, this loving with Wolf was glorious, beyond her wildest imaginings. Yet, she craved something...something unknown, unnamed, something more.

  Wolf looked up at her pale, lithe beauty, moving with such graceful abandon, her porcelain skin flushed, her eyes closed in ecstasy. Then, he felt the first clenching tremor begin from deep inside her womb. He cried, “Open your eyes, Eden, love, look at me.”

  Her eyes flew open in wonder as her release from the long-built-up wanting found its culmination. Wave after wave surged through her with every stroke of his body into hers. She stared down at him through passion-glazed eyes, entranced as she felt his shaft swell and his body convulse in wracking shudders. And she knew that he, too, felt this same incredible bliss.

  Eden slumped over his chest, damp and exhausted—and utterly content. He held her, flexing his knees to cradle her against his thighs. “Eden, Eden, I knew it would be good between us, but I could never imagine this.” He kissed her throat, then took her face in his hands and kissed her lips. When he tasted the saltiness of tears on her cheeks, his body stiffened in alarm. “Eden, what is it? Have I hurt you?”

  “No, of course not,” she said in a low choked voice as her hands feathered over his shoulders and her fingers dug into his thick inky hair. “You gave me pleasure I could never have imagined—with you, it was so beautiful...you should have been the first, Wolf. I wasted—”

  He silenced her with a kiss, then held her tightly. “I was the first to make it the way it should be, wasn't I?” At her nod of acquiescence, he continued, “That's all that matters, my darling. You were used and cheated before, but that's all over now. No more tears, promise me?”

  “What about tears of joy, Wolf? Are they permitted?” she asked with a catch in her voice.

  “I suppose.” His own voice was none too steady at the moment, which he covered by kissing her eyelids and cheeks until all the tears were gone.

  “We're overdue at the reservation. Dr. Torres will be worried,” Eden said at last, as reality intruded on their idyll.

  “I still think it's too dangerous for you to be on White Mountain. Would your father let you go if he were home?”

  She shrugged. “But he isn't—and you're with me. You're all the protection I'll ever need, Wolf.”

  * * * *

  Prescott

  Leonard Potkin was six feet one inch tall, sallow skinned and full of himself. Smoothing blunt fingers over his thick head of wavy silver hair, he placed a natty bowler hat on it, straightened his brocade waistcoat over a thickening middle, and descended from the morning stage. After the ghastly trip from Santa Fe, he felt he looked remarkably presentable, certainly more than good enough for a backwater territorial capital like Prescott. But as the senior investigator for the Bureau of Indian Affairs' southwestern division, he did have a certain image to maintain. The smiling group of Western bumpkins dressed in starched shirts and buttoned suits must be the official welcoming committee. At least they were punctual. The stage crossing this godforsaken wilderness had not been.

  “Gentlemen,” he nodded as a rather dapper-looking young man with dark hair and regular features offered his hand.

  “Mr. Potkin, I'm Councilman Edward Stanley and these are my legislative colleagues, Councilman Brockton Styles, and Representative Reese Smithe.” Two older men shook his hand gravely. “And this is Mr. Clement Algren, owner of the Arizona Miner.”

  Amenities were exchanged all around as the men escorted their guest toward a large open carriage waiting around the corner from the busy stage office. As they rode down the broad expanse of Montezuma Street, so typical of frontier towns with its rows of saloons and dance halls, Potkin ignored the rustic scenery and turned to business.

  “I understand why Acting Governor Gosper could not be here, but frankly, gentlemen, I am surprised that Mr. McCrory isn't with your group. It was at his insistence, after all, that this arduous investigation was undertaken,” Potkin said, noting the sour looks on Algren's and Styles' faces.

  “McCrory's an Injun-lovin' troublemaker,” Representative Smithe pronounced in his crude local twang.

  “Now, Reese, we can't be disparaging one of the territory's leading businessmen,” Stanley interjected smoothly. “Mr. McCrory will present his case at the banquet in your honor this evening, Mr. Potkin. The acting governor will be in attendance as well.”

  “Case, indeed,” Algren harrumphed. “McCrory wants to coddle these savages. I've been out to that reservation and I can tell you, Mr. Potkin, they live just like animals.”

  “McCrory has brought some very serious charges of malfeasance against the White Mountain agent, Caleb Lamp,” Potkin said evenly, surprised at the vehemence of Smithe and Algren. Then, the stentorian voice of Councilman Styles interrupted.

  “Lamp is indeed a political embarrassment, a greedy little man whom President Hayes should have quietly replaced.”

  “But first a worthy candidate for the position must be chosen,” Potkin replied with pompous solemnity, casting his eyes from man to man.

  “I'm certain there are any number of men who would be qualified,” Edward Stanley said cautiously. “Your Mr. McCrory wants the job. Indeed, he made no bones about it in his charges against Agent Lamp,” Potkin said, testing the waters, growing increasingly certain of what the majority of the capital felt.

  “McCrory would be suicide for the territory,” Representative Smithe yelped. “Damn fool would give them heathens their head until they murdered us all in our beds.”

  “Colin McCrory does let them wander onto his land and slaughter his cattle at their whim,” Councilman Styles added slyly.

  “Really?” Potkin stroked his pointed chin speculatively.

  “Actually, Mr. McCrory has a sort of arrangement with the Apache leaders to let them take cows for food during times when rations are short at the reservation,” Stanley interjected.

  “It's caving into the demands of criminal bullies, that's what it is, and if Colin McCrory is put in charge of White Mountain, soon we'll have a full-scale uprising on our hands. Apaches will raid from here to the border, unchecked,” Styles pronounced.

  “Still, Secretary of the Interior Schurz considers him an important personage. McCrory is one of the wealthiest men in Arizona Territory—and politically, he is reform minded and unaligned, qualities President Hayes and h
is secretary both admire.” Seeing Councilman Styles stiffen with affront, Potkin oiled the waters with practiced skill. “But, of course, the administration would never appoint an Indian agent without consulting the territorial authorities. It would seem there is a local consensus against McCrory.”

  “Few men in Arizona have cause to love Apaches, I fear,” Stanley said with regret in his voice.

  “You are going to hear out McCrory, then?” Algren asked, his pudgy hands obviously itching for note pad and pencil.

  “Of course, gentlemen. Isn't that what an investigator is supposed to do? Colin McCrory has won some influential friends in Washington, where I'm afraid they aren't touched so directly by Indian—er—difficulties. But we shall see, we shall certainly see.” Potkin preened for the rustic politicians. Frontier oafs.

  Inside their carriage, another passenger's thoughts were every bit as disdainful and calculating as Leonard Potkin's. If Win can't kill McCrory, I'll have to discredit him before this pompous ass makes his recommendation.

  * * * *

  “I bet that miserable little weasel Stanley won't dare face us after the despicable way he treated Eden,” Maggie said as they alighted from their carriage in front of the Alarcon Restaurant.

  “Oh, he'll be there,” Colin replied grimly. “This is politics, after all, and he wants to be the next governor.” His voice was tight and dangerous.

  Maggie looked at his set, angry face and felt the apprehension that had been building all afternoon blossom. “Colin,” she said, placing her hand on his arm, “don't do anything rash. He's not worth it. He'll be there hanging on his mother's arm, using her for moral support. She's the one who really wants to be governor.”

  He laughed grimly at that. “That old harridan's crossed swords with you, too.” As if Mariah wasn't enough. Sighing, he added, “I know this is a very important meeting if I'm going to get the agent's job away from Lamp. I won't do anything stupid.”