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Chapter 10
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Elliot smoothed out the loose hay in the darkness and spread one of the blankets over it.
"You should have brought a lamp," Esmeralda said softly. He could hear the sounds of cloth slipping and brushing against skin as she changed clothes. He was trying real hard not to think about that. Not to imagine what she was taking off … just how undressed she was at any given moment … a few feet away from him in the dark, hay-strewn barn.
Ah, hell, he was thinking about it anyway.
"There's a light switch on the wall," he said. "But only a tenderfoot would use it."
"Que?"
Elliot smiled in the darkness. "Jessi and I used to do this all the time when we were kids. Slip out here in the pitch-dark with our bedrolls and a few snacks. Sit up half the night telling ghost stories and trying to scare the hell out of each other. First one to turn on the light was a coward."
"Ah." He thought he heard laughter in her voice. "So we see who can stand the darkness longer, eh?"
"We could."
"And are you going to try to frighten me with ghost stories, Elliot?"
He finished smoothing the blanket. "Only if you want me to. You dressed yet?"
"Sí." She crept closer. He heard her movements in the hay, felt her warmth, smelled her. "Oh," she whispered, reaching the blanket. "Sí, this is much better." And a second later she was sitting cross-legged, close beside him on the blanket.
Elliot pulled the second blanket over their laps. Then he reached for the Thermos and unscrewed the lid. As he poured, she sniffed. "Mmm, what is that?"
"Hot chocolate. Sara made it. In fact, she was planning to bring it out here to you when I showed up in the kitchen with the same idea."
"No," Esmeralda said softly as Elliot found her hands and pushed the cup into them.
"Oh, yes. She's a sweet girl, and she likes you."
"I do not know what she finds in me to like. I could not be more different from her."
"Maybe that's what it is. No one wants somebody just like them. I mean … take me for example."
She sipped, made a sound of delight, and then resumed the conversation. "What about you?"
"Well, I'm the most easygoing person I know. If I'm known for anything at all, it's my laid-back approach to life, and maybe my sense of humor. I never get upset over much of anything."
"I do not believe that."
"No?"
"No." She sipped again. "Everyone gets upset about things. Some simply hide it better than others."
Frowning, Elliot tilted his head to one side. "I suppose that's true about some. But not me."
She sighed. "You haven't been exactly calm since I've known you, Elliot Brand."
"No, maybe I haven't. In fact, you're right, I absolutely haven't been myself. But that's just it. I mean, here I am, this calm, unflappable guy without a care in the world. And then you come along. You're like a hurricane, blowing in and stirring everything up."
He felt her stiffen beside him as she set the cup aside. "Is that how I seem to you?"
"That and then some. Everything is a major deal with you. You seem to feel things a thousand times more than most people do. More than I do, at least. And I think it's contagious, because since you've been here, it's been rubbing off on me."
"Well, forgive me for having emotions!" she snapped, turning her back to him.
Elliot curled his hands around her shoulders. "See what I mean? I make a simple observation and you get furious over it. I wasn't insulting you, Esmeralda. I … I like that you're completely unpredictable. Keeps me on my toes. It's … it's exciting being around you, never knowing what's going to happen next."
Her head turned, her chin brushing over his hand on her shoulder. "You find me exciting?"
"Hell, you already know that." Elliot drew a breath, let it out slowly. "This probably wasn't such a good idea, my coming out here tonight."
"I … I think it was a very good idea," she whispered. And when he would have taken his hands away, she bent her head, brushed her cheek over his knuckles, and then her lips. "Esmeralda…"
"Shhh," she whispered. Slowly she turned around to face him. Her palms closed on his face, and her lips found his in the darkness. Elliot felt the shudder that worked through him when those warm, wet lips touched his, parted, pressed closer. He groaned just a little and slid his arms around her, pulling her tight and kissing her hard.
When he lifted his head, he whispered, "I want you so much, Esmeralda … but we shouldn't…"
"I want you, too, Elliot. And I know you want to wait … but I don't think I can."
"I swear to God, Esmeralda, this isn't what I had planned when I came out here tonight. I wasn't expecting…"
"I thought that was what you liked about me?" she said softly. "Never knowing what to expect?" And with those words she pulled back, out of his arms, her movements rapid. A second later she pressed against him Once more, but she wore nothing now. He felt her skin, warm and smooth and utterly bare against his hands, his cheeks, his neck. Catching his hand in hers, she pressed his palm to her lips, and then to her breast. "Touch me, Elliot."
He felt her against him. Softness, heat, and the hard pebble of her nipple growing taut against his palm. He shivered all over, fire pooling in his belly, in his groin. "Dammit, Esmeralda, I'm only human, you know." Drawing back, he yanked at his shirt, popping buttons as he wrenched it off and tossed it aside. And then he pulled her to him again, his chest naked against hers this time, and her hands were on him, sliding up and down his shoulders, tracing the length of his back as her mouth trailed fire down his neck to his chest, to his belly.
Kneeling there in the hay, he tipped his head back, grated his teeth, and lost himself to need as her tongue painted hot trails over his belly, and her hands clasped his buttocks and squeezed.
The jeans. He had to get out of the jeans.
Her cheek brushed over his hardness, and then her fingers were busy at the button. He caught her hands, stilled them. "Wait," he managed.
She stopped what she was doing immediately. Elliot took her shoulders in his hands and pushed her backward, until she was lying on her back. He wanted to give pleasure, not just take it. He knew instinctively that no man had ever done that for her before. And he wanted to be the one to show her how it could be. Slowly, gently, he stretched out beside her.
"Why did you stop me?" she asked, confused.
"Because you were going too fast," he told her. Then, leaning down, he kissed her slowly, deeply, and his hands ran up and down her spine as he did. He brought one hand around, between their bodies, and he touched her, opened her, and stroked gently. Her sudden gasp told him she had not expected this. And the subsequent ones told him that she approved. He bent his head to kiss her mouth again, and then her neck, and then lower, to kiss her breast. He kept his attention there, sucking and tugging at the tender crest as his hand continued to caress her below. And Esmeralda trembled, her breaths coming faster and her heart pounding against his chest. Her hands curled in his hair, and her legs parted.
"Elliot," she whispered, "Elliot…"
"Right here. I'm right here." He shimmied out of his jeans, kicking them away as quickly as possible, and then he rolled on top of her, cradling her gently in his arms. "Are you sure you want this?" he asked her.
"Oh, sí, sí!" she cried, and, clutching his hips, she pulled him into her.
Elliot went stiff and still, closing his eyes in rapture as he felt her tightness envelop him. But only for a moment, for she began to move, and he had no choice but to move with her. It would have been death not to, he was sure. Oh, she felt good. Her hands, her mouth, her body, felt so good. Soft and warm. So responsive to his every touch, his every breath.
She moved faster, and he did, as well, sliding deep inside her, withdrawing, plunging still deeper. She held him, and clawed at his back, and her teeth closed on his neck. He thought she was drawing blood, and he didn't care.
It was good. It was all good, all of it. The pain, the pleasure. Her smells and her sounds. He strained harder, moved faster, held her tighter to receive him, and finally his body seemed to explode inside hers. Even as he grated his teeth and pumped his seed into her, she screamed his name and sank her nails into his back, arching so hard against him that he thought he'd melded with her somehow.
And then, slowly, so slowly, her body uncoiled, relaxed. And his eased, his taut muscles softening as his body seemed to melt atop hers. He slid slightly to the side and wrapped his arms tight around her waist. She lay with her head on his chest, and he felt moisture there.
"Are you crying, Esmeralda? Did I hurt you?"
"I don't know what you did to me, Elliot Brand. But it was not hurting me at all."
He smiled very softly. "You never … felt that way before?"
"I didn't know anyone could feel that way," she said.
He stroked her hair. "You've had selfish lovers in the past."
She lifted her head, and he sensed her looking into his eyes, though he could barely see her face. "I have had no lovers, Elliot. Men have used me. But never loved me."
"Then they were fools," Elliot said softly and, cupping her head, he drew her back down to rest on his chest. They lay silent for a moment, and Elliot battled the thoughts that kept coming into his mind, finally deciding just to voice them. "Esmeralda?"
"Mmm?"
"If … if you didn't know there could be pleasure for you in … in this … then why did you want it to happen?"
He could feel her lashes brushing his chest when she blinked. "I felt desire for you, Elliot Brand," she told him. "Just because I didn't know it could be so thoroughly quenched doesn't mean that I did not feel the desire all the same."
"Oh." He thought about that for a moment.
"I had other reasons, too," she finally said. Her words sounded like a confession. "But they matter no more. They matter no more."
Elliot nodded. He didn't like thinking it … didn't like feeling it, but man, there was something awfully big coming to life inside him. Some huge, overwhelming feeling about Esmeralda Montoya. The biggest feeling he'd ever felt in his life. He thought maybe this was what love was like. Bigger and more powerful and more frightening than he had ever imagined. And he thought it was no wonder his brothers had all temporarily turned into blithering idiots when it had happened to them. He barely knew what to do next, what to say, what to think. Should he tell her? Was he even sure yet?
No. No, not yet. He needed to think about this some more first.
He snuggled close to her, held her in his arms, and thought this must be the closest to heaven he would ever be.
No one was more in tune with her cycle than Esmeralda. Her aunts had explained it to her more than once, and since coming here and concocting this plan, she had been absolutely certain when she would need to seduce Elliot in order to bear his child.
As she lay there in his arms, feeling more cherished and protected than she ever had in her life, she felt her eyes widen as she remembered her plan. Her carefully calculated plan.
Her hand pressed to her belly, and she blinked three times in quick succession and tried to remember the date … and then she peered through the window high in the hayloft at the moon, in its first quarter and waxing. Oh, no! What had she done? What had she done?
She'd followed through on her plan, that was what. And now she didn't know if it had worked, and she wouldn't know for a couple of weeks yet, and already Elliot was stroking her face, kissing her again, beginning to rekindle the fire she'd never known lived inside her—the one that must have been sleeping there all along, just waiting for the right man to ignite the flames.
Elliot. Oh, Dios, what had she done to poor Elliot? And how would she undo it now?
Elliot woke her gently before dawn, kissing her eyelids until they fluttered beneath his lips. "Shhh," he said. "It's just me. Better get dressed, honey. I don't want the others walking in on you like this."
"Oh. Oh, sí, I will." She sat up, stretching, yawning. When Elliot started to move away, she said, "Where are you going?"
"I'm gonna slip back into the house before anyone stirs awake," he explained. "They don't need to know … about this."
She was quiet for a second, and he didn't know why. Then she said, "You are very wise. If they knew you had been with me this way, they would be very disappointed in you, I am sure."
"Hey…" Elliot hurried back to her, knelt in the hay and gripped her shoulders. The sun was starting to rise now. Beams of deep orange crept in through the single window in the peak to paint her coppery skin and bathe her hair in fire. Elliot stared into her face and suddenly realized what he'd missed by leaving the lights out last night.
Didn't matter. He would see her, drink in every inch of her with his eyes, next time. And he knew beyond any doubt that there would be a next time.
"Don't think what you're thinking, Esmeralda."
She lowered her lids, hiding her eyes. "What do you mean?"
"You think I'm ashamed or something. I'm not. You hear me?" He gave her a little shake, so she looked up into his eyes again. "I'm not. I was only thinking about you. I don't want you feeling embarrassed. It's none of their business. Not yet, anyway."
"Sí. If you say so, Elliot, then I—"
"It's the truth."
She shrugged, and it was pretty obvious she didn't believe him. "Hell, I'll just have to find a way to prove it to you, then, won't I? Hmm?"
She peered up at him, doubt still shadowing her black eyes. "You need to prove nothing to me, Elliot Brand."
"I think I do. But you let me worry about that." He leaned close, kissed her lips gently. "You, um … you thought any more about … about going back?"
She shrugged her shoulders. "The pendant is gone," she whispered. "Even if I wanted to go back, I could not, not without the pendant. And even if we did find it, it might not work its magic again."
"That's all true," Elliot said. "But if we find it, and if it would work … would you want to go back?"
She searched his eyes, then lowered her head. "I don't know what you are asking me. I… To go back might well mean facing death. But I don't intend to remain an unwanted guest in your home, either, Elliot. That's what you really want to know, yes? Don't worry. I am strong. Even in this time, I can find a way to get by. And I will."
"Oh, hell," he muttered. "You get something in your head, you're just like a bulldog with a steak, you know that, Esmeralda?"
Her dark brows rose.
He shook his head. "Give me a few minutes, and then come in. I'll be in my shower by then, and no one will be the wiser. Much as I'd like to stay out here and talk some sense into you, I have to get cracking. It's my turn to make breakfast."
She lowered her head, shook it slowly. "Your family does not want me at their breakfast table."
"Yeah, well, I want you there. Besides, it'll just be Chelsea and Garrett, Sara and little Bubba. The rest won't be around for hours yet."
The sun climbed higher, lit her face better. Elliot saw her clearly. She looked scared. Scared and sad and alone, in spite of her tough talk.
"Please?" he asked.
Lips thinning, she finally nodded. "Oh, all right."
Elliot grinned. "Good. See you in a few minutes, then." He bent down, kissed her again, and then scrambled down the ladder and into the house.
The Brands' idea of breakfast was, Esmeralda thought, enough to feed a working man for a full day. Around the table, everyone seemed strained. Well, everyone except Sara, who bubbled with excited conversation that seemed sincere. And Bubba, of course, who told silly jokes he'd learned from one of his uncles.
"What do Bozo the Clown and Kermit the Frog have in common?" he asked, grinning.
Since he aimed the question at her, Esmeralda said, "I don't know. What?"
"They have the same middle name!" Bubba shouted. "Ha! Get it? Bozo the Clown, and Kermit the Frog? Ha ha!"
Elliot slapped his h
ands on the table and laughed out loud. Chelsea smiled weakly at her husband, who said, "That's a good one, son."
Esmeralda only shrugged and tried to figure out why Sara was laughing as hard as Elliot was. "I have to tell that one to my class, Bubba. They'll love it," Sara said.
Then the laughter died, and things went back to being strained. Chelsea smiled often and tried to make conversation, but her worry was plain in her eyes each time she glanced Elliot's way.
Garrett, too, seemed very concerned about his brother. He looked ill with worry. And as for Elliot, he couldn't have been more obvious, though Esmeralda was certain he didn't mean to be. He was so cheerful this morning, smiling nonstop and heaping food onto his plate as if it was going to be a long hungry winter. His eyes met hers often across the table, and they always stopped there, lingered there, darkened.
Lord, he even hummed or whistled between eating and talking.
No wonder his family looked worried. Oh, sure, they had seen through Esmeralda from the start. They knew what she wanted. They'd been right.
But she had changed her mind. No land was worth breaking the heart of a man as decent, as kind, as wonderful as Elliot Brand. She was going to let it go. She was not going to force him to marry her. Not now.
It felt good to have finally figured out the right thing to do. And yet it hurt, too. Because she knew she was going to have to leave here. A frightening prospect, yes, in a world she knew so little about. But a sad one, too … for the idea of leaving Elliot Brand did odd things to her heart.
The back door burst open, and Jessi Brand came charging through. "Well, I don't know how you did it, Esmeralda, but you sure were thorough in your research!" She slammed a fat sheaf of papers down on the kitchen table.
Esmeralda looked at them, then at Jessi. "I don't know what you mean," she said.
"Research," Jessi snapped. "Study. You studied everything about our family history, every detail, just so you could make this insane story of yours seem authentic."
THE OUTLAW BRIDE Page 13