by Diana Palmer
She laughed. “I expect it would be uncomfortable, at that.” Her eyes adored him. “Thank you for taking me to the battlefield. I’ve wanted to see it all my life.”
“My pleasure. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.”
She wasn’t. There was a museum and guided tours were available. She noticed that Gene avoided the groups of tourists as they meandered along the paved walkway up to the graves in their wrought-iron square and the tall monument on which was carved the names of the soldiers who died at the spot.
“We’re standing on Crow land,” he explained, nodding down the ridge to the small stream that cut a deep ravine through the green grass. Beyond it was a large stand of trees and an even larger body of water. “Through there was the encampment. Several Native American tribes came together to form an army of several thousand. This fenced area is where the last stand was made. Custer died here, so they say, along with his brother and brother-in-law and nephew. He was shot through the left breast and the temple.”
“I read somewhere that he committed suicide.”
He shook his head. “I think that’s unlikely. If you read his book, My Life on the Plains, you get a picture of a man who is definitely not the type for suicide. One authority on him thinks he was shot down in that ravine, through the left breast, and brought up here to the last stand position by his men. A bullet wound was found in his left temple. The Indians usually shot their enemies at close range to make sure they were dead. It was reported that after a buckskinned soldier was wounded in the ravine, the soldiers lost heart and seemed not to fight so hard. If it was Custer who got shot, then it would explain that near rout. His men were young and mostly inexperienced. Few of them had ever seen Indians on the warpath.”
“I guess it would be scary,” she said, looking up at him with fascination.
“You don’t know the half of it, cupcake. Plains Indians in full regalia were painted—faces, surely, and bodies. Even the horses were painted. Add to that the death cry they all yelled as they went into battle, and the eagle bone whistles they blew, and you’ve got a vision of death terrifying enough to make a seasoned trooper nervous.”
He stopped and looked out over the rolling buttes and high ridges and vast stretch of horizon. “My God,” he breathed, “no wonder they fought so hard to keep it. Look. Virgin land, untouched, unpoisoned by civilization. God’s country.”
“Yes. It really is beautiful,” she said.
The wind was blowing hard and he slid an arm around her, drawing her close. “Want to walk down to the ravine?” he asked.
“Could we?”
“Surely. There’s a trail. Watch for snakes, now.”
He led her down the deceptively long path to the ravine, stopping at each place that marked where men had fallen in battle. He seemed familiar with all of them, and the history. He stopped for a long moment beside one marker.
“My great-great-uncle,” he said, smiling at her expression. “Surprised? Now you know how I knew so much about the battle. His wife kept a journal, and I have it. The last entry was the night before he set out with Custer’s 7th for the Little Bighorn. He probably kept a journal all the way here, too, but the Native tribes scoured the battlefield after the fight, and took everything they thought they could use. Watches, pistols, clothing, even saddles and boots were carried off. They threw away the soles of the boots and used the leather to make other things out of.”
“Tell me about your great-great-uncle,” she said, and listened attentively while they walked back up from the steep banks of the ravine. He held her hand tightly, speaking at length about the battle and its historical controversies.
He took her to the museum when they were through. She wandered through the souvenir shop afterward, oohing and aahing over the exquisite beadwork on the crafts. She paused by a full-length warbonnet and sighed over a war lance. It was amazing to consider how terrifying these same things would have been to a woman only a hundred years before. Gene insisted on buying her a pair of beaded earrings for her pierced ears. On the way home, he explained the wearing of earrings by the various Plains tribes and how you could tell warriors of each tribe apart by their hairstyles and earrings.
“It’s just fascinating,” she said.
Gene glowed with pride. None of his dates had ever liked to hear him hold forth about the battle. Allison not only listened, but she seemed to be really interested. He learned as they drove back that she was a student of Native cultures herself, and she seemed to have a wealth of knowledge about the Mayans. He listened to her on the way back, absorbing little-known facts about the Mayans.
“You’re good,” he said when he drove up in front of the Manley house just after dark. “Damned good. Where did you learn all that?”
She smiled wistfully. “I just read a lot and kept my ears open, I guess,” she said, neglecting to add that she’d climbed over Mayan temples where she and her parents had been assigned. The smile faded as the memories came back. “I had a good time, Gene. A really good time. Thank you.”
He drew her to him. “So did I.” He searched her eyes in the dim light from the dash. “We’ll say our good-nights here,” he said softly, letting his eyes drop to her mouth. “The way we kiss might shock them.”
As he whispered the words, his lips slowly parted hers. They didn’t take, they coaxed this time. Moist, aching pressure teased her mouth open in a silence that grew with strained breathing. He moved, so that her head fell back against the seat, and his face followed hers, his mouth still teasing, provoking, tantalizing until she was trembling.
“You set me on fire,” he groaned as the need finally broke through. The pressure of the kiss pushed her head hard into the back of the seat, and she felt him shiver as his tongue slowly thrust past her teeth. He groaned again, one lean hand sliding down her throat to her breast under the shirt, over the thin tank top. “Stop wearing bras,” he managed unsteadily. “They just get in my way.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. He was kissing her again, and this time his hand slid boldly right under the fabric. His thumb rubbed tenderly over her hard nipple, his moist palm cupping the firm underside of her breast. She moaned and he lifted his head.
“Satin and velvet,” he said, his eyes glittery as they met hers. He deliberately pulled her tank top and bra out, so that he could look down at her taut, bare breast. “Yes,” he said huskily, but without touching her this time. “You look as I knew you would. Pretty breasts. Tip-tilted and exquisitely pretty.”
Her lips parted, but she was beyond shock. She shivered and actually arched toward him, so aroused that she wanted his mouth on her, there.
But he saw what she didn’t—the curtains moving at the window. He released her reluctantly and lifted his head. “I can’t touch you there,” he said quietly. “Not now. We have an audience.”
“Oh,” she stammered, all at sea.
He lifted his invading hand back to her cheek and searched her eyes for a long moment. “We’ll be good together,” he said quietly. “You know it, too, don’t you?”
She should tell him, she thought. She should... “Yes,” she replied instead.
He nodded. “I won’t rush you,” he said. “But I won’t wait a great deal longer, either. It’s been too long for me.”
She didn’t know what to say. She shifted a little, still on fire in the aftermath of his ardor.
“Good night, sweet thing,” he murmured, kissing her closed eyelids. “You’re very special.”
He drew back then and helped her out of the Jeep, keeping his arm around her as they walked back to the porch.
“Your guardian angel is hanging back,” he mused, smiling down at her. “Is she giving up?”
Her heart leaped. “Sort of. She’s engaged, you know.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “So she is.” He tapped her cheek. “I’ll never be,” he said suddenly. “
You know that, don’t you? I enjoy being with you, and physically, we burn each other up. But I won’t lie and promise you happy ever after. I’m a confirmed bachelor.”
Her heart didn’t want to hear that. She forced a smile to her mouth. “Yes, I know.”
He nodded slowly, searching her eyes. He couldn’t let her get her hopes up. Marriage was definitely not on his agenda. He was still having hell coping with his past. And there was one very good reason why he didn’t want to procreate. Bad genes could be passed on. He shifted. “Good girl. I’ll pick you up tomorrow night and we’ll go to the rodeo. I know I said next week, but I don’t want to wait that long. Do you?”
She shook her head. “No. Not really,” she confessed.
“Then I’ll come for you at six.” He nuzzled her face and kissed her softly. “Good night, pretty thing.”
She smiled up at him a little wanly. “Good night. Thanks for the trip, and my earrings.”
He twitched them, watching them dangle. “They suit you. See you tomorrow.”
He was gone at once, without another kiss and still without looking back. She went into the house, smiling as Winnie came to meet her.
“We’re just putting supper on the table,” Winnie said. “Have fun?”
“Oh, yes. He knows a lot about the Custer Battlefield, doesn’t he?” she asked.
“Indeed he does. Did he bore you with it? Marie says he drives them crazy spouting history.”
“But I love it!” Allison said, surprised. “History is one of my hobbies. I found it fascinating.”
Winnie’s eyebrows went up. “My, my, imagine that.” She grinned. “Way to go, tiger. You may land that feisty fish yet. Come on. I’ll feed you.”
The remark gave Allison hope, and she needed it. Her conscience was bothering her. She really should tell Gene the truth. If only she could be sure that he wouldn’t turn around and walk away from her for good.
* * *
The next day, Allison decided that the best thing to wear to a rodeo—since her one pair of jeans was in the wash—was a blue denim skirt with sporty pull-on pink sneakers and a pink T-shirt. But she wore a lightweight rose-patterned sweater with it, because she hadn’t forgotten how cool it had been in Billings after dark. She pulled her hair into a ponytail and tied it with a pink scarf. Then she sat down to wait for Gene, because she’d dressed two hours early for their date. Every few minutes she involuntarily checked her watch. The instrument was so much part of her uniform when she worked that she felt naked without it. Despite the innovations in modern medicine, a watch with a sweep second hand was about the most advanced equipment for pulse monitoring available in the primitive areas where she and her parents had worked.
Winnie’s mother had been invited to a baby shower for a friend’s daughter, and Winnie was going out with Dwight. They left just a few minutes before Gene arrived. True to her word, Winnie didn’t make a single remark about the date. She just hugged Allison and smiled sympathetically. That was no surprise. Winnie was in love herself, so she certainly understood how it felt.
Gene arrived exactly on time. He was dressed for a casual evening, in jeans and hand-tooled black leather boots with a blue Western shirt and a turquoise-and-silver bola. He wore a new black Stetson tonight with a moccasin headband, and he was freshly shaved and showered.
He smiled down appreciatively at the way she looked in her skirt and T-shirt with her silky black hair in a ponytail. His body had given him no peace for the past few days, going over and over the sweetness of Allison’s response to him and the joy he’d felt in her company. They shared so many common interests that he actually enjoyed talking to her. Not that the way they exploded when they touched was any less potent. Not for worlds would he have admitted how much he’d looked forward to tonight. Looking at her made him feel good. Being with her was satisfying and sweet. And, unfortunately, addictive. He was going to have to do something about it; the sooner the better. She couldn’t be staying much longer, and she was beginning to interfere with not only his work, but his sleep. He found himself thinking of her constantly, wanting to be with her. He was acting like a lovesick boy and he didn’t want to disgrace himself by letting anyone know. The sooner he got her out of his system physically, the sooner he could get back to normal and deal with his worst problems.
The odd thing was that since Allison had been around, he hadn’t worried so much about his parentage or that will that had changed his life. In fact, he was more at peace than he’d ever been. She gave him the first peace he’d had in weeks. Months. He felt as if there was no problem he couldn’t overcome when he was with her. And that was disturbing. Really disturbing.
He pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind. “You look cute,” he murmured dryly. “I like the T-shirt.”
It read Women’s Revolutionary Sewing Society. She’d found it in an out-of-the-way shop, and she loved it. She grinned up at him, her eyes warm in her oval face with its exquisite peaches-and-cream complexion. “It appealed to my sense of the ridiculous. Do you really like it?”
“I like the way you fill it out better,” he said quietly, his eyes admiring her breasts and darkening with memory. “Is that skirt going to fall off without a belt?” he added, frowning at the way it fit in the waist—very loosely.
“I’ve lost a little weight in the past few weeks,” she said noncommittally. “But it will stay up. I couldn’t find my belt.”
Of course not. It was still in Central America, along with most of her other belongings. That brought back vivid memories of how she’d left foreign surroundings, and how the media had followed her. Being seen in public could put her in jeopardy, but it was unlikely that Gene would introduce her to anybody from the press. She relaxed, shifting restlessly as she pushed the worries to the back of her mind.
He glanced around. “Where’s Winnie?”
“Out with Dwight. Didn’t you know?”
He laughed curtly, and without any real humor, his lean face full of mockery, his pale green eyes narrow and cool. “Dwight doesn’t discuss his social life with me these days.”
She moved closer to him, and because of the heels on his boots and the lack of them on her sneakers, she had to look up a lot farther than usual. He smelled of spicy cologne, a fragrance that made her pulse race almost as much as being close to him did. “He might, if you didn’t make it so difficult for him,” she said gently, and with a smile that took the sting out of the words.
He’d have thrown a punch at any man who dared say something like that to his face. But somehow it didn’t offend him when Allison said it. One corner of his thin, disciplined mouth twitched and his eyes sparkled with faint amusement as he looked down at her.
“You standing in a ditch?” he asked unexpectedly. “Or did you get wet and shrink overnight?”
She laughed, her whole body on fire with life and love and his company. “I’m wearing sneakers.”
“Is that it?” He looked down at her feet in pink tennis shoes. “Dainty little things,” he mused.
“Nobody could ever describe your feet that way,” she replied with a meaningful glance at his long boots.
“I throw away the boots and wear the shoe boxes,” he agreed pleasantly. “Mrs. Manley isn’t here, either?” he added, glancing around.
“She went to a baby shower.”
He drew a slow breath, feeling a contentment he could hardly remember in his life stealing over him as he stared at her. “No lectures from your mother hen before she left with Dwight?”
She shook her head.
He chuckled. “She really has given up!”
“Yes.” She searched his face quietly, loving every strong, lean line of it, its darkness, its masculinity. She could have stood looking at him all day.
His eyebrow jerked. Her delight was evident, and it made him bristle with pride. “We’d better go,” he said after a minute.
&nb
sp; “Yes.”
But he didn’t move, and neither did she. His eyes fell to her mouth, its pale pink owing nothing to lipstick. He caught her by the waist and drew her lazily against him, bending to brush his lips softly over hers in a delicate kiss that aroused but didn’t satisfy. She tasted of mint and he smiled against her soft mouth, liking the hungry, instant response he got. Her arms moved up to hold him and he half lifted her against him in an embrace that made her think inexplicably of Christmas and mistletoe and falling snow, because she was warm and safe.
He wasn’t thinking at all. The feel of her in his arms had stopped his mind dead. Everything was sensation now. Warm, soft breasts flattened against him, the floral scent of her body, the trembling eagerness of the soft lips parting under his rough mouth. His body stiffened as the first wave of desire hit him.
He forced himself to lift his head. He had to catch his breath, and she seemed similarly occupied. He searched her wide, stunned eyes for a long moment, until his heartbeat echoed in his ears like a throbbing drum.
Her face was beautiful. Her exquisite complexion was softly flushed, her lips were swollen and moist from the long, hard contact with his mouth. Wisps of black hair trailed around her rosy cheeks, and her hazel eyes looked totally helpless.
“It might be a good idea if we go, while we still have a choice,” he murmured ruefully. He put her back on her feet and let her arms slide away from his neck. God, she was potent!
“Yes, it might,” she agreed gently, equally affected and having a hard time dealing with it.
He waited while she locked the door and escorted her to the Jeep. “If you stick around long enough, I’ll buy a car,” he murmured when they were driving off.
“I like the Jeep,” she protested. “And it must come in handy on the ranch.”
“It does,” he had to agree. He glanced at her, frowning. So many secrets, he thought. She was mysterious, and he had a terrible secret of his own, about his real father. It would be better for both of them if he took her back to Winnie’s and didn’t see her again. But he couldn’t seem to force himself to do that. Whatever happened, he had to have her, even if it was only one time. He knew instinctively that it would be different with her than it ever had been before; that it would be a kind of ecstasy he’d never known. He ached for her now. It was too late to stop it.