When Passion Calls

by Cassie Edwards

  She had never been in a saloon before. Her knees weak, Melanie pushed the swinging door open and peered inside. Smoke was as thick as a low hanging fog, impeding her complete view of who was inside. But she did not need to see. Shane's voice was loud and clear from somewhere close by, followed by the most definite sound of the shuffling of cards.

  "Oh, no," Melanie said, groaning.

  Inching her way inside and ignoring the appraising looks of the men at the bar and at the tables she was passing, Melanie kept her eye out for Shane. When she saw him, she stopped cold in her tracks, for it was obvious that the man sitting opposite Shane was angry at him for some reason. She inhaled a shaky breath when, just then, all hell seemed to break loose. She stood her ground, afraid to speak or even move.

  "You sonofabitch!" the man with the scar said, leaning over the table as he threw his cards down

  and slipped a hand beneath the table. "You're nothin' but a goddamn cheater. Fancy man, I ain't liked your looks since you sat down here. Somethin' ain't right about you. You dress fancy but I'd say you're part Injun. I've been around enough to know how they hold theirselves. Now I ain't ever liked Injuns or even white men who smell like 'em. Real easy like, hand over all the money you've won from me, or I'll shoot your balls off. My pistol is aimed directly at 'em."

  "Scarface, I've been insulted before and I'm used to it, but I don't think I can tolerate any insults from the likes of you," Shane said, his voice harsh. Quick as a panther, he raised a foot and kicked the man's gun away, then with deliberation and accuracy gave the man a swift kick by planting the heel of his boot into his groin.

  The man scooted his chair back, yelping with pain, then grabbed his pistol and limped from the saloon.

  Melanie watched all of this with dismay, then smiled awkwardly at Shane as he rose from his chair, turned, and saw her standing there. He grabbed his winnings from the table and walked confidently to her.

  "I hope I didn't delay you any," he said, stuffing money in his pockets and puffing on his cigar.

  Melanie scampered alongside him as they left the saloon. "Shane, you could have been killed," she fussed. "I've never seen anyone as angry as that man." She looked incredulously up at him. "Shane, he had a gun on you. If you hadn't been fast enough, I know he would have shot you.''

  "But I was, and he didn't," Shane said, slipping an arm around Melanie's trim waist. His eyes were twinkling. "Damn, Melanie, did you see my winnings? It's more than I ever thought possible. Always before, when I won, it was usually only against one trapper or trader, or the old chief. I've never played with a large group of men before."

  An icy coldness suddenly gripped Melanie's insides. She didn't like Shane's reaction to his victory at the poker table today. Was he going to be more like his brother after all? Would Shane grow to love to gamble as much as Josh? She could smell whiskey on his breath! Would he grow to love to drink as much as his brother? Would becoming a part of the white man's world change him that much?

  They reached the horse and buggy. Silent, Melanie nodded a thank-you to Shane as he helped her onto the seat, then climbed aboard himself. Disillusioned about this man she had sworn to protect and guide, she snapped the reins and rode from the city. She could feel his eyes on her, studying her. She knew why. Since they had met, she had never been this quiet. He had to wonder why.

  Yet he did not ask.

  Shane saw a troubled expression on her face and in her eyes. Did it stem from his having not stayed where she could find him after she left her millinery shop? Or did it stem from his having played poker in the saloon?

  He could not take this silent treatment much longer. When the city was far behind them and

  they were traveling down an isolated road shaded on both sides by stately elms, he grabbed the reins from Melanie's hands and stopped the horses.

  Melanie looked at him, stunned. "Why did you do that?" she asked, her voice shallow.

  "I will drive the rest of the way," Shane said. "Move over."

  Seeing that he meant business, Melanie said nothing. Her eyes wavered when Shane snapped the reins and left the road, moving instead through the forest. Melanie clung to the seat as the buggy weaved around trees, beneath low-hanging branches, and finally came to a halt beside the Rum River, not all that far from the Brennan and Stanton farms.

  Her eyes wide, Melanie watched Shane jump from the buggy and come around to her side. Her breath was stolen away when he grabbed her by the waist and lifted her from the buggy and half dragged her to the riverbank. Turning her to face him, he glowered down at her.

  "Now do you want to tell me why you're giving me the cold shoulder?" he demanded. "Why have you been so quiet since we left town? What did I do that did not please you, Melanie?"

  Melanie blinked nervously up at him. "I'm sorry, Shane," she murmured. "It's just thatthat"

  "It's just what?" he stormed. "I thought you understood mewhat I was about. Was I wrong?"

  "How could I know that much about you?" Melanie said. "Shane, we truly don't know one

  another at all. Today proved that I don't know you."

  "Why today?" he said, searching her eyes for answers.

  Melanie lowered her eyes. "Oh, Shane, it was the way you enjoyed your winnings so much after that card game," she blurted out. "Your brother Josh is a gambler." She looked quickly up at him. "He gambles and drinks so much of your father's money away! Even my brother Terrance is guilty of the same. Shane, I would hate to think that your life could be guided by such weaknesses! I love you so much, I couldn't bear to lose you to cards and whiskey. I have seen how it destroys a man's moralshis strengths. Please, please understand!''

  Shane was taken aback by the violence of her feelings about cards and whiskey. He had never seen them as a problem, for he and the old chief had always indulged in both in moderation. He had been taught the art of restraint, of willpower. He would never let cards or drinking rule him. He understood the dangers.

  Touched by Melanie's concern for him, understanding now why she had been distant with him, Shane drew her to him and cradled her in his arms. He untied her bonnet and lifted it from her head, then tossed it to the ground. He wove his fingers through her auburn hair, then lowered his mouth to her lips.

  "Never worry about anything taking your place in my life," he whispered against her lips. "You are

  my woman, don't you know? Now that I have met you, you have become my life. Only you."

  A sweet current of warmth swept through Melanie. Unable to resist, she twined her arms around his neck. "Shane, oh, Shane," she whispered, then emitted a soft moan of passion against his lips as his mouth closed hard upon hers. A need familiar to her only since she had met Shane was rising up inside her, spreading and swelling. She clung to him as he lowered her to the ground. The spongy green moss beneath her cushioned her back. Shane's hands, busy disrobing her, were setting fires along her flesh as it became exposed to the afternoon sunlight that was drifting like spiraling, golden ribbons through the trees overhead.

  When Shane leaned away from Melanie as he withdrew her last garment, leaving her shamelessly nude beneath his passion-filled eyes, she could not help being alarmed by her willingness to let Shane remove her clothes. Even more than thatto share another intimate encounter with him. Only he could blot out all reason! Only he!

  "Shane, we mustn't," she said, grasping at sanity for a fleeting moment. She reached for her dress and held it against her body. "Your father . . ."

  "Today is ours," Shane said, easing the dress from her hands. "Tonight is my father's."

  Melanie's eyes widened as he laid her dress aside and began undressing himself. Very soon, he had removed his clothes and was bending over her, reaching a hand to sweep her against him. Melanie was breathless. She was frightened. She

  had never seen a man undressed before and even now she could feel the hardened full length of his manhood pressing against her thigh.

  "This moment is ours," he said, brushing his lips against the nipple
of her breast, causing it to stiffen and throb with pleasure. "Close your eyes, Melanie. Let yourself enjoy the feelings that are blossoming within you. Let me take you to paradise and back."

  She wanted to cry out and tell him that this was wrong, that this was shameful! But she could not find the words. She was being consumed with a hot, pulsing desire. She recalled how he had given her such pleasure before. Her body cried out for the same rapture. She wanted to give him the same, in return.

  "My love," she murmured, arching her body as Shane caressed her skin lightly with his fingertips while his lips and tongue skillfully teased her taut breasts.

  And then he was suddenly sculpting himself against her body, his hardness gently probing between her thighs. Melanie's heartbeat was so wild it felt as though she might be swallowed whole by it as she waited for that moment of his entrance inside her. She bit her lower lip to keep from crying out with pleasure as Shane began caressing her tight core of womanhood while he pressed himself farther and farther within her. A sudden burst of pain made her eyes fly wildly open, but in only an instant the pain was smoothed away into something wonderful as he began moving rhythmically within her.

  "Relax," Shane whispered, his breath hot on her cheek. "Enjoy."

  As Shane continued tantalizing her with his hands and mouth, Melanie moaned softly. Lifting her legs and locking them together at her ankles about his waist, she began to move against him, moving her hips to meet his eager thrusts.

  His mouth seared into hers with intensity, causing delicious shivers of desire to race up and down her spine. Her body was turning to liquid, melting into his. . . .

  Shane was molded perfectly to the curved hollow of Melanie's hips. As she responded to his touch, thrusting her hips toward him, he pressed deeper within her. Gathering her buttocks within his hands, he relished the softness of her skin against his flesh. The air heavy with the promise of what was to come, he was hardly able to hold back any longer that which he had desired from the moment he had seen Melanie. The need was ravaging him, heart, body and soul. White heat was traveling through him, vibrating in his bloodstream.

  Taking a moment to get his breath before the final plunge into rapture, Shane drew his mouth from Melanie's lips and leaned back to look down at her. As his hands smoothed damp, perspiration-laced tendrils of her hair back from her face, their eyes met and locked in an unspoken understanding, a promise of ecstasy.

  A surge of pleasure welled within Melanie as Shane gathered her fully against him again and began more heated strokes within her. She clung

  to him, pressing her lips to his sinewy shoulders. She closed her eyes, her breathing becoming rapid as she felt the wonders of rapture spilling over inside her, drenching her with warmth. She clung to Shane, only half aware of making whimpering sounds, as his body shuddered maddeningly into hers, then lay quietly against her.

  Overwhelmed by the ecstasy, tears splashed from Melanie's eyes. She slowly opened them when she felt Shane kissing the tears away, then seared her lips with a kiss of fire. She clung to him, radiantly happy.

  The aroma of medicine was almost overpowering as Shane sat at his father's bedside. A lone candle flickered on the nightstand beside the bed, casting dancing shadows on Jared's ashen face. Shane sank a washcloth into a basin of water, lifted it and wrung it out, then gently applied the dampened cloth to his father's brow.

  "That feels good, son," Jared said, wheezing. "First I'm hot, then cold. If I didn't know better, I'd say my old ticker was about to give out on me. Every breath I take is such . . . such an effort."

  "Father, you're going to last forever," Shane said, yet doubting his words. His father had worsened since he saw him last. He had not only slept the afternoon away, but most of the evening, as well. It seemed to be not only an effort for him to breathe, but to stay awake. "You'll see. You're much stronger than you give yourself credit for."

  Jared reached a trembling hand from beneath his layer of blankets and patted Shane on the knee,

  appraising him as he looked him up and down. "Melanie has good taste in clothes," he said, chuckling. He winked slowly. "And men, also. Shane, don't let her slip from between your fingers. She'll make you a fine wife. It's as though she's been waiting for you to come back. She hasn't given any other man the time of the day." He chuckled beneath his breath. "Not even your brother Josh. Seems there's a lot of friction between them two. Ever since they've known each other they've argued about this or that."

  He coughed, almost turning blue from the effort, then again patted Shane's knee. "But I saw how she looked at you, son. She adores you. Take advantage of it. Marry her. She's right for you." He closed his eyes as his words faded away. "Yep, she's right for you."

  "Father?" Shane said, alarmed at how quickly his father seemed to drift back into sleep. He dropped the washcloth into the basin and took his father's hand and held onto it tightly. "Father, are you all right?"

  Jared laughed a strangled sort of laugh and opened his eyes slowly. "Don't fret none," he said, nodding. "I'm not going to leave you just yet. We've much more to talk over, you and I."

  Shane inhaled a shaky breath, relieved that his father had not slipped into a sound sleep again after all. He smiled down at his father, wanting so badly to share his moments with Melanie with him, knowing that he would be happy.

  But it did not seem the proper thing to doto tell a father about having made love only a few

  hours ago with the woman of his father's choice. These sorts of things were talked about between close, best friends, but not between fathers and sons.

  "What do you want to talk about?" Shane asked, moving his chair closer.

  "Tell me again about your life as an Indian," Jared said, his eyes wavering. "Tell me about those sonofabitch white men pretending to be Indians who killed everyone, about the Indian chief who took you away from the scene of the massacre. Did you ever call him father, Shane? Did he become a substitute father for you?"

  Shane firmed his jaw as his eyes clouded with memories. It had not been that long since he had said his last goodbyes to the old chief, a father to him for so many years. And now he was so close to saying another goodbye, this time to his true father.

  It tore at his heart, this torture of having to say so many goodbyes so often!

  "Chief Standing Tall did not take me to raise me as his son," Shane explained. "I was raised with another family. The old chief and I became close, but never did I call him father."

  "Tell me about this old chief and what he taught you," Jared said, gasping for breath as a sharp pain shot through his lungs, then his heart. He tried to stay calm, not wanting to alert Shane that the pain was so severe.

  These last few moments were too precious.

  Shane began his story again, repeating everything that he had told his father earlier. He

  ignored Josh as he came into the room and sat down at the bed opposite him, watching him with intent interest as he related the story of his Indian life.

  Melanie paced back and forth in the parlor, the fire on the hearth warm at her side. She flipped her hair back from her shoulders as she looked up at the ceiling, sighing heavily. Something told her that she should be with Shane, that he needed her. Was it his father? Was he worse? Or was she concerned over leaving Shane alone with Josh and his humiliations and insinuations?

  "Melanie, you're going to wear a hole in the carpet if you don't stop that damned pacing," Terrance said, pouring himself another glass of whiskey. He slouched down on the sofa, already glassy-eyed and lightheaded from too much to drink. "Sit down, damn it. You're driving me crazy."

  Melanie stopped in mid-step and turned to look down at Terrance. She shook her head, disgusted at the sight of him. "Must you drink so much?" she said, glaring at him. "How can you even be aware of what I am doing? You're almost drunk again, Terrance. Don't you have any pride? Don't you see what you're doing to yourself?"

  Terrance returned her glare with one of his own as he tipped the glass to his lips again and
guzzled down the last of the whiskey. He looked Melanie up and down, seeing her as too ravishingly lovely in her fully-gathered pale green silk dress with its low-cut bodice. Shane had also seen how lovely she was and had taken advantage of it. Had he come back not only to claim his portion of the Brennan riches, but to get his hands on Melanie, as well, to gain control of her portion of the Stanton riches?

  Melanie and Shane had surely shared in more than purchasing a new wardrobe for him this afternoon, for she had come home with stars in her eyes! Even now her cheeks were pink and her eyes were glowing. Had things gone farther than kisses between them? Would Shane dare . . . ?

  Yes, he thought angrily. Shane more than likely had coerced her into intimacy! He had been raised in the wilderness, hadn't he? He had no more morals than a damn savage!

  "You condemn me for drinking while you gallivant around town with a man who was raised by Indians, surely even thinks like one?" Terrance said, angrily tossing the glass against the brick fireplace, shattering it. He rose to his feet and grabbed Melanie by the shoulders. "Melanie, where's your pride? Where?"

  Beneath her brother's accusing eyes, Melanie felt a hot blush rush to her cheeks. She was recalling her afternoon with Shane, and where it had taken themto paradise, just as Shane had promised! And she would not let her brother make it ugly! She loved Shane. He loved her. In time, they would shout to the world of this love!

  "Shane Brennan is more man than you can ever be. Ever!" Melanie said, jerking away from Terrance.

  She went into the foyer and grabbed a shawl.

  "And as for how much time I spend with Shane, and where," she stormed. "That's none of your concern."

  Stumbling, Terrance went after Melanie just as she stepped outside onto the porch. He leaned heavily against the doorframe. "Damn it, Melanie," he shouted. "Where are you going?"

  "To Shane," she said, squaring her shoulders proudly. "Where else?"

  Terrance groaned. He doubled a hand into a tight fist and slammed it into the wall beside him.