Savage Thunder ww-2

by Johanna Lindsey

  So why did it infuriate him that her camp was wide open to attack? Damned woman was going to get his protection whether he wanted to give it or not. But he wasn’t going after her enemy. If she thought she could talk him around to it, she was in for a rude awakening.

  And yet that couldn’t really be the reason for such stubborn persistence on her part to have him along on this journey of hers. She could hire a dozen bounty hunters for the price she was willing to pay him. Or maybe she wasn’t really willing to throw that kind of money away. Maybe she’d called his bluff with a bluff of her own and had no intention of actually paying up. And maybe he could get out of this mess by demanding the money up front — and look like a fool again if she just happened to have that kind of money lying around? Damned if he would. Once today was one time too many.

  Colt dropped his saddle on the ground so close to the fire Billy was poking at that sparks went flying and the kid had to do some quick slapping at his clothes. Colt didn’t notice. He was staring at that huge cream-and-white-striped monstrosity that stood less than twenty-five feet away, and he wasn’t even seeing the tent, but imagining the woman inside it. Was her hair let down and loose again as it was the first time he’d seen her? Had she peeled off those fine, expensive clothes of hers and put on something — what? What did a woman like her sleep in?

  Colt gnashed his teeth and turned back to his horse again. He would have much preferred that Billy not set up their fire near her tent, but it was done. He didn’t expect to get much sleep tonight anyway, so it didn’t really matter how near he was to her.

  “I’ll be back in a minute, kid. Get rid of that foreign food. I’ll make my own.”

  Billy started to protest, but wisely thought better of it. Colt had had enough forced on him for one day.

  Her provisions would likely stick in his craw at this point, no matter how good they were.

  Billy sighed as he watched Colt lead his Appaloosa off toward the other animals. He wasn’t the only one who watched him. Ever since he had ridden in, every eye in the camp had been on him in varying degrees of curiosity, suspicion, and animosity. These people didn’t know what to make of him, and they certainly didn’t know how to treat him. All they knew was that their lady was determined to have him among them.

  Billy had been approached, treated in a cordial, even friendly, fashion, but Colt’s manner didn’t invite such overtures. Even if he hadn’t insulted the duchess within hearing of half her men, which was reason enough for them to dislike him, his demeanor fairly shouted, “Don’t get close.” And the one who ought to stay the farthest away was the duchess herself, but even as Billy thought it, she left her tent to follow Colt toward the horses.

  Chapter Thirteen

  He knew she was there. He’d heard her approach, though she’d tried to be quiet about it. And he didn’t have to turn around and see her to know it was her. Her scent came to him strongly now, but before he’d smelled her, he’d sensed her nearness, almost like an animal its mate.

  She stood there just behind him, waiting for him to acknowledge her presence. He shouldn’t. The less words he had with her the better. But he didn’t think she’d go away without them. She was too stubborn, this woman. Even though her silence proved her nervousness, she had still approached him, her determination stronger than her uncertainty.

  “You’re wise to keep them close by.”

  It took Jocelyn a moment to get over the jolt caused by the suddenness of his words, and another moment to understand what he meant. She turned to see who had followed her and saw at least four of her guards stationed about the area, and not even trying to be inconspicuous. They had allowed her partial privacy by keeping back a reasonable distance, but they were obviously unwilling to leave her completely alone with their newest guide.

  “They don’t know you yet. They’ll relax their vig-ilance once they do.”

  “You don’t know me either.”

  She shivered at the way he said that, as if it implied a threat. Likely it did and she would be smart to take heed and run like hell. She was nervous enough without him saying things like that. But she didn’t want to be afraid of him. And she didn’t want him to stay angry with her. And she’d never get anywhere with him if she let him frighten her away.

  “We could change that,” she said hesitantly, wishing he would turn around to look at her. “I would like very much to know you better.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I find you. intriguing.” And excit-ing, and immensely desirable, and blast you, Colt, turn around and look at me!

  He didn’t. He continued to rub down his horse with slow and easy strokes as if she weren’t even there.

  She wasn’t used to being ignored deliberately. It added nothing to a woman’s confidence, and hers was already at a low ebb.

  For a while she watched in silence the movement of his hand over the animal’s flanks and almost became mesmerized, imagining.

  Jocelyn shook those thoughts quickly away and stepped to the front of the horse to stroke its muzzle, admiring the animal for a moment instead of its owner — who still wouldn’t look in her direction.

  She tried again. “Can’t we at least talk?”

  “No.”

  For some reason that flat refusal annoyed her enough to spark her own temper. The man was impossible, totally, completely impossible.

  “Look, I know you’re still angry with me, but—”

  “Angry doesn’t even get close to what I feel, lady.”

  He had straightened and was finally looking at her, and now she wished he wasn’t. Those blue, blue eyes smoldered with some fierce emotion that took her breath away. Fury? She wasn’t quite sure.

  Neither was Colt. He tried to hold onto his anger, but other things kept getting in the way, her scent, her voice — memories. Every time he got this close to a white woman he could almost feel that whip tearing the flesh off his back. With her it was even worse, because despite knowing he couldn’t have her, he still desired her. It shouldn’t be happening at all. It hadn’t happened in three years. In all that time her kind had turned him cold with revulsion and remembrance of what he had suffered because of one of them.

  He was a man who made mistakes only once. So why wasn’t he repulsed by her? Why was his body aflame with the need to grab her and draw her even closer? And why the hell didn’t she back off before he lost what little control he had left?

  “What was it?” he demanded, his tone deliberately cutting. “Had no one ever told you no before?”

  “Not — not at all.”

  “Then why me, Duchess?”

  The contempt he put into her title was the last straw. What intimidation she had been feeling was super-seded by a burst of indignation.

  “Why not you? You did apparently have your price or you wouldn’t be here.” She was being obtuse and knew it, but wanted one more point made before he got around to telling her that. “I won’t release you, you know, even if you do continue with this surly attitude.”

  “Lady, if I thought there was something I could do to get myself fired, I’d do it,” he assured her with a good deal of exasperation. But then his eyes happened to drop to her lips and stayed there for a heart-stopping moment, and he added, much more softly, “Then again — maybe there is something…”

  She knew it was going to happen even before his hand reached for her. She even knew it wasn’t going to be pleasant, that what he intended was to insult her, or hurt her, or something of the like to get himself fired. But he gave her every opportunity to stop him. There was nothing hurried in his movement as his hand stretched toward her neck. And the first touch of his fingers against her nape was gentle, without constraint.

  Up to that point she still could have escaped, but several painful heartbeats later it was too late. His fingers moved up and locked in the thick coil of her hair to trap her and pull her toward him. Yet he did it so slowly that even then she could have done* something, begun to str
uggle, cry out — only she didn’t.

  He probably thought he was frightening her so bad that she was incapable of speech or movement, but the simple truth was she didn’t want to stop him. She wanted the touch of his mouth on hers so much that she was willing to take the hurt with it. She had known that, even when Vanessa had warned her he wouldn’t be gentle with her. If she feared anything now, it was that he wouldn’t kiss her.

  But when he did, it was more brutal than she had counted on. He was serious in his desire to repulse her, perhaps even make her hate him, at the least make her get rid of him. What he didn’t know was that the kiss accounted for only half of what she was feeling. The other half, the incredible excitement taking over the rest of her body, sustained her and allowed her to accept what was given without resistance.

  “You ready to fire me?”

  The question was grated out as his grip tightened painfully in her hair. But she didn’t think he was aware that his hold was hurting her. Her lips were numb and throbbing, her breathing ragged, her knees so weak she could barely stand, while his whole concentration seemed to be centered on her mouth, waiting for her answer, as if it alone would decide what he would do next.

  “No,” she answered breathlessly, surprising him as much as herself. She didn’t want him to hurt her any more, but she wasn’t giving up on him yet either.

  His eyes came to hers, perhaps trying to figure out if she was just stubborn, or just plain crazy. And then his body tensed as reality intruded, and he said in a softly ominous tone, “Tell him to get his hand off me.

  If I take care of it, he’s not going to be much use to you for a while.”

  She blinked to see Robbie just behind him, his big hand on Colt’s shoulder. Colt hadn’t looked at him, was still looking at her, but she doubted that Robbie’s size would have made any difference in what he’d said. Far from it. He was ready to get violent, wanted to get violent. And she knew it even if the big Scot didn’t.

  “It’s all right, Robbie. Mr. Thunder was just. proving a point to me. Nothing for you to be concerned about.”

  The brawny Scot hesitated in indecision. However much he had witnessed of that punishing kiss in the dim light supplied by the numerous campfires behind them, it was enough to make him doubt her reassurance. How could she have forgotten that her men were near? Of course, she didn’t have to explain herself to them, but still.

  And then she realized that Colt’s fingers were still twisted in her hair, holding her in place, and that likely was why Robbie was still concerned. It had escaped her notice, and probably Colt’s too, when Robbie interrupted them. But when she nudged her shoulder where Colt’s wrist touched to subtly remind him, he didn’t let go. And one look at his eyes proved he hadn’t forgotten he was holding her. He wasn’t going to back off, not for any reason.

  She didn’t understand what motivated him now. Did he want to provoke a fight with her men, hoping that would get him fired? Or was this just another means to frighten her, to show her that her men were no real protection, not against him anyway? Whatever his reason, she didn’t like it.

  If she remonstrated with him and he ignored her, that was going to cause a fight. If she forced Robbie to leave while Colt still held her in his grip, then she was giving him free rein to start up again where he had left off. But if she did nothing, then Colt would do something, and Vanessa would never forgive her if she let him hurt her favorite guard. And she had little doubt about who would be getting hurt. Robbie might be a big, brawny man who had seen service in Her Majesty’s Royal Highlanders, but there was nothing of cold, merciless steel in him, whereas everything about Colt Thunder cried danger.

  There was no help for it. “I do appreciate your concern, Robbie, but I’m perfectly safe in Mr. Thunder’s company. You may leave now — and take the other gentlemen with you. I will be along in a mo-ment.”

  Made into an order, he had no choice but to com-ply, however reluctantly. “As you wish, Your Grace.”

  The moment Robbie let go of Colt and turned away, Colt released her. So that was all he had wanted.

  Blast the man for making her worry about his intentions.

  “That was utterly despicable of you,” she hissed as she put a hand to the back of her head to rub her sore scalp. “And I don’t mean what you did to me, though that was despicable too. I don’t doubt that you are capable of meting out a good deal of damage to my men, but to take that means of provoking your dismissal is cowardly, and whatever I thought of you, sir, it was not that you were cowardly.”

  “And what do you think of me now?” he asked in a low, hard voice.

  She took a step back from him, well aware he was referring to what he’d done to her. What did she think, besides the fact that he could be merciless in getting what he wanted?

  “I think you are a very determined man, Colt Thunder, but then I am known for that quality myself.

  And I hate to disappoint you, but your little demonstration didn’t work. I still need you.”

  She walked away from him then, but what she did to him with those last words was ample revenge for that kiss. Her definition of need and the one his body interpreted were not the same, but it kept him awake the entire night anyway, half of which was spent hurting.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Ferme la!”

  “Hein? Espece de salaud, je vais te casser la gueule!”

  “Moncul!”

  “Good Lord, must we wake up to such swearing?” Jocelyn demanded irritably as she turned over in the furs. “What are they fighting about this time?”

  Vanessa, who stood at the tent opening watching the commotion outside, shrugged. “I think Babette insulted his cooking again. You know how touchy Philippe is about his skills.”

  “She’s not really going to smash his face in as she just threatened, is she?”

  “She does have hold of one of his frying pans, but then so does he. Right now they’re just glaring at each other.”

  “Do call her off, Vana. I’ve warned her time and again about fighting with Philippe. Where does she think I can replace him if he quits because of her? She is the one I ought to replace. The trouble she causes—”

  “She keeps things lively, you’ll have to admit, and the men happy, I might add. And why are you so touchy this morning?”

  Jocelyn ignored that question. “Just call her off before my breakfast is ruined. Why are the lamps still lit?

  What the deuce time is it, anyway?”

  Here Vanessa chuckled. “I would imagine it’s about six o’clock of the a.m. Your sweet Mr. Thunder woke the camp about thirty minutes ago. He said something about our pulling out by sunrise so we

  ‘wouldn’t waste daylight.’ “

  “Sunrise! Is he mad?” Jocelyn cried.

  “I would hazard a guess that he just wants to reach the end of his obligations with all possible speed. At this rate we ought to reach Wyoming in no time a’tall.”

  “I’ll speak to him.”

  “Good luck.”

  “Just what do you find so amusing about this, Vana?”

  “I warned you, my dear, did I not? That man is going to do his utmost to make sure you regret hiring him. Guide indeed. He’s a born slave driver, is what he is.”

  Vanessa left then to make sure the French in their party did not come to civil war. But she was back in a moment with Jane, who carried in a bowl of warm water and a clean towel. Babette was conspicuously absent, no doubt warned she had incurred Jocelyn’s displeasure, so Jane laid out Jocelyn’s clothes for the day before departing again.

  Jocelyn remained under the covers, fighting with an irritation that had nothing to do with the recent conversation. Her lips felt puffy and sore, and a mir-ror would no doubt show them to be swollen. How was she going to hide something like that? And if Colt saw it, he would know he had actually hurt her. He would never understand then why she hadn’t fired him on the spot. And what could she tell him if he demanded an explanation? That she enjoyed
being manhandled? Or the truth, that she wanted so much to have him be her first lover, she could overlook last night’s rough treatment?

  “Well? He’ll be pounding on the — ah, tent flap, if you’re not up and ready to leave at his appointed time.

  Or is that what you had in mind? Should I leave so the coast is clear?”

  Vanessa was most definitely not helping matters with her dry humor this morning. She loved to rub it in when she was proved right about something, and Jocelyn supposed she felt this ungodly early rising was proof that Colt was still getting even for the way she had trapped him into working for her.

  “If he does come around knocking, that’ll be just too bad,” Jocelyn grumbled. “I’m not leaving until I’m good and ready.”

  “What’s this? Are we preparing for our first argument with the chap already? Do I get to listen?”

  “Vana!”

  “All right,” the countess conceded as she came to sit at the bottom of Jocelyn’s furs. “I’ve made my point, I suppose. But why are you so touchy this morning?”

  Jocelyn sighed. “I didn’t sleep well.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “Not particularly,” Jocelyn said as she turned over, and then she flinched to hear Vanessa gasp when she got her first good look at her face.

  “Good Lord, it’s already happened! When? Why didn’t you tell me? And you’re still in one piece, thank God. Well, at least now we can dispense with that ruffian’s services.”

  “Nothing happened.”

  “Rubbish,” Vanessa snorted. “I know a well-kissed mouth when I see one.”

  “That’s all he did, and he did that so I would fire him.”

  “Did you? No, of course you didn’t, or he wouldn’t still be here. But. well, did you at least make some progress?”

  “Progress?” Jocelyn felt like laughing. “Vana, he didn’t kiss me because he wanted to. He was trying—”

  “Yes, I heard. To make you fire him. But was it… what you expected?

  “Expected? Yes. Wanted? No. He made it as brutal as he could, and I hope his blasted lips are just as sore this morning!”