by Nan Ryan
Elizabeth closed her eyes in deep frustration. How could she scare a man who apparently didn’t care if he lived or died! Her eyes came open. Or was he bluffing? If she got out of the water and leveled the Colt directly at his chest, would that get his attention?
She called, “You’re right, Quarternight. I sure wouldn’t want to miss.” Turning, she started toward the stone stair steps. Her teeth chattering from the cold and from nervousness, she coolly warned, “I’m giving you one last chance. Leave now and I won’t hurt you.”
She couldn’t believe her eyes. The dauntless man continued coolly to lie there on his back, grinning. Well, the steel barrel of the Colt .44 stuck in his ribs would wipe that cocky smile off his face!
Emerging fully from the water, desperately wishing there was something—anything—she could throw over herself to hide her nakedness, Elizabeth determinedly started toward West.
Watching her every movement, he finally set her clothes aside and rolled agilely to his feet. He stood waiting for her, booted feet planted firmly apart, the white towel clutched in his right hand.
He was still smiling.
Her modesty partially preserved by the rapidly falling dusk, Elizabeth stopped several yards from West, raised the gun in both hands, and gave him his last warning.
“Drop the towel, turn and walk away, Quarternight.”
“Lower the gun, come and get it, Mrs. Curtin.”
It wasn’t the answer she had expected. Uncertain what to do, Elizabeth stood there trembling, the heavy gun wavering in her shaking, outstretched arms, the breeze off the river chilling her bare wet body.
Her finger toyed with the trigger and she threatened, “I mean it, Quarternight! I’ll shoot you!”
“No,” he said insolently, “you won’t shoot me, sweetheart.”
“I will, I swear it!”
“You do and every man in camp will be over here before you can get your underwear on.”
Elizabeth knew he was right. In her mind’s eye she saw the entire expedition swarming around the corner. She sighed and began to lower the gun.
West said, “Yes. Just lay the gun down on the grass and you can have your towel.”
“You promise?”
“Would I lie?”
Elizabeth whirled about so that she no longer faced him. She crouched down, reluctantly laid the heavy gun on the ground, and rose to her feet again.
Over her shoulder she called, “Okay. I’ve put the gun down. Now toss the towel to me.”
“Come here and get it.”
White with anger, Elizabeth felt as if she might explode. How could this reckless bastard manage always to get the upper hand? What other man on earth would consider behaving as he did? Edmund Curtin was paying Quarternight a small fortune to escort this expedition, yet he was willing to gamble it away. To lose it all. And that’s exactly what would happen if Edmund were to find out about this little encounter.
Well, unlike Quarternight, she wasn’t willing to gamble away her future. She had to get that towel, get dressed, and back to camp before Edmund or Taos got worried and came looking for her. If they did, she would be hard pressed to explain why she was calmly standing naked with West Quarternight, instead of screaming at the top of her lungs.
“All right,” she said, “I’ll come for the towel.”
“It’s waiting for you,” said West. “And so am I.”
Refusing to face him, Elizabeth started cautiously backing toward West. Immediately, the muscles tensed in his arms and back. Continuing to smile, he blinked and watched the pale, naked woman slowly edging her way toward him, her wet heavy hair pressed to her slender back and dripping rivulets of water down over her bare shapely buttocks.
His eyes roving restlessly over her slender form as she awkwardly backed toward him, he grinned and said, “You’re getting a little off course, Mrs. Curtin. Swing back a little more to your right.”
Elizabeth caught her lip between her teeth, hesitating. But she did as he told her. Feeling like the world’s biggest fool, she moved steadily closer to a man she hated beyond all reason.
Her hand out behind her, she said, “You’ve had your fun. Give me the towel.”
“I’m holding it out to you. All you have to do is turn around and take it.”
Livid, Elizabeth made a couple of frantic swipes behind her with her right hand and heard him chuckle. “My arm’s not that long. You’re still a good twenty feet from me.”
Elizabeth continued to back slowly toward him, despising him for his ridiculous jesting guidance. “Warmer, you’re getting warmer,” he said, the sound of laughter in his voice. Then abruptly, “No, now you’re getting colder. Move more to the left. To your left. Not that far, ease back a little to your right. That’s it. Aaah, yes. Warmer. You’re definitely getting warmer. W-a-r-m-e-r.”
The nearer his voice, the angrier Elizabeth became, and the more she made frantic, reckless swipes behind her with her hands. At last her outstretched fingers connected with the heavy towel and a little gasp of triumph fell from her open lips.
But before she could yank it from him, West snatched it away, draped it around her bare shoulders, and spun her to face him.
Looking down into her angry face, he said, “Hot. Now you’re hot.”
“I’ve never been colder in my life!” she spat, squirming to free herself.
Against his leanly muscled arms, her struggles were in vain. West smiled in quiet amusement, drew her closer, and kissed her. Her mouth stayed tight and cool beneath his searching lips. When at last the unwanted kiss ended, she lifted blazing eyes to his.
He grinned and teased, “Ah, don’t worry. There’s more where that came from.”
“You fool!” she hissed. “You conceited fool. Can’t you tell that I can’t stand you in my sight!”
His strong arms still encircling her, he said, “Look, if you’ve got something on your mind, just say it.”
“I hate you!”
“Feel better now?”
“Yes, I do.”
An expression of mock confusion on his tanned face, he said, “Let me get this straight. You hate me. You can’t stand me in your sight.”
“Good for you,” she said. “You’ve finally caught on.”
“Well, does this mean that you don’t want to make love to me?”
“You’re not funny, damn you,” Elizabeth said, struggling anew. She was surprised when his arms fell away from her.
Quickly stepping back, she drew the white towel tightly around herself, looking warily at him. She wondered what he was up to now. And immediately found out.
Bending, he swiftly gathered up all her clothes and coolly informed her that if she wanted to get dressed and back to camp before the others grew worried, she would wisely allow him to assist her.
She learned further that his idea of assisting was to loll there on the ground, smoking a cigar, and watching as if he were a ticket-buying patron at the theater.
Awkwardly, Elizabeth struggled to get dressed without fully exposing herself to his penetrating silver eyes. It was not an easy feat. She was turned away from him, but he held her clothes and handed them to her, one article at a time.
If Elizabeth was in a great hurry, West was not. Enjoying himself immensely, he observed her every move, managing to catch captivating glimpses of bare ivory flesh despite all her best efforts to hide herself from him.
“You know,” he mused aloud, “I never noticed that tiny little mole on the inside of your—”
“Why must you always do this to me?” She whirled to face him. “Why don’t you leave me alone?”
Her hands were at the laces going up the side of the rust suede trousers. West had not yet given her the shirt. She wore only the flimsy chemise and the unlaced leather pants. The satin chemise clung to her damp skin, outlining her nipples as if she wore nothing at all.
West instantly came to his feet before her. His swiftly heating silver gaze holding hers, he tossed the withheld shirt over his sho
ulder, reached out, and wrapped her long wet hair around his right hand. Urging her head back, he slowly bent to her.
His mouth hovering a scant inch from her parted lips, he said, “I’m not sure I can leave you alone.” His eyes dropped to her mouth and his hand tightened its grip on her hair. “Are you? Can you leave me alone, Mrs. Curtin?”
“Don’t be absurd,” she said, with far more conviction than she actually felt. “You know I can.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You most certainly do, or at least you should. I realize it’s almost impossible for you to believe, but not every woman in this world wants you.”
“You’re kidding.”
She rolled her eyes, at the same time pushing on his chest. “Quarternight, you’re confusing me with a frightened young girl in a darkened Louisiana death cell. No firing squad awaits us. I’m in no need of a man’s strong arms to shelter me. I’m a married woman with a handsome, loving husband who gives me all the love I need.”
As if she hadn’t spoken, West said, “Kiss me first, then answer.”
“Let go of my hair!” she said irritably, squirming. “Answer what?”
“The question. Can you leave me alone?” He placed a kiss on her parted, startled lips.
After a timeless, dizzy interval, her soft mouth, even as she made murmuring sounds of protest, began to answer the pressure of his. West drew her closer, released her wet, heavy hair, and deepened the kiss. His hands spanned her ribcage, but he held her gently, lightly, allowing her the opportunity to slip from his tender embrace.
If she wanted to.
She did want to. Or at least she wanted to want to, but his marvelous lips were so skilled at kissing, and his tongue sliding inside her mouth brought a hot excitement that was devastating. She was responding in spite of herself. Of their own volition, her weak arms stole up around West’s neck, her fingers grabbed anxiously at the thick black hair that curled over the top of his white shirt collar.
As abruptly as it had begun, the scorching kiss ended. West lifted his mouth from hers and set her from him. While she stared questioningly at him, he handed her her shirt. Then he reached up behind his head, grabbed his collar, and pulled his own shirt up and off.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked.
“I can’t make love to you with my clothes on,” he said matter-of-factly, and his hands went to the fly of his trousers.
Holding her shirt up in front of her, Elizabeth said, “You are not going to make love to me!”
“Sure I am. You gave me the answer I was looking for when you kissed me.”
Shaking her head in denial, Elizabeth said, “No, I never … I didn’t mean … you … you kissed me, and I—”
“And you kissed me back.” He took a step closer and she trembled. His devilish smile returning, he slipped a long tanned finger beneath a lacy strap of her chemise that had fallen down her arm. He said, “Don’t look so worried. I was teasing about making love to you here.” He urged the fallen strap back up onto her shoulder. “We don’t have time tonight and I don’t want to hurry. But I’m going to see you again.”
“Not if I’m lucky and die tonight in my sleep,” she quickly replied.
Anxiously, Elizabeth pulled on the slipover shirt and allowed West to lace up her pants and fasten the silver concho belt around her waist. When he crouched down before her, lifted a bare foot to his thigh and slipped a soft beaded moccasin on, she heard him say, “Remember this, sweetheart, it will happen and soon. We will make love again. I want it. You want it.”
He lowered her foot back to the grass and Elizabeth gasped when he impulsively clasped her hips tightly in his hands, pulled her forcefully to him, and pressed his tanned jaw to her belly.
She stopped breathing completely when he turned his face inward and lowered it until his mouth was directly between her legs.
Through the soft chamois of her britches, his breath was a hot flame on her flesh when he promised, his deep voice muffled against her, “And with you begging me to stop, I’m going to kiss you right here.” Gently, West kissed her there and added, “Until you beg me never to stop.”
27
THE SECOND CURTIN EXPEDITION continued moving steadily on down the old Rio. Through the sprawling city of Albuquerque—located on a high desert plain at the base of the Sandia mountains—they went, then alongside the Bosque Redono, the big reservation in the shadow of the Manzano Mountains into which thousands of unhappy Navajos had once been herded.
Next came Los Chavez. Then Belen. Las Nutrias. Socorro.
Riding the river all the way, they dropped steadily lower into the cacti-dotted desertlands of New Mexico. The changing scenery continued to be stunning. Flat-topped mesas rose majestically from the barren terrain and cracked arroyos cut through stark, jagged hillsides. Lancelike yuccas spiked the broad desert floor, dwarfed by the rugged sandstone boulders rising to meet the clear azure sky.
The river changed along with the topography. At first it had been a surging, fast-flowing stream cutting through deep gorges. Now it was a slow, meandering river winding its lazy way south through treacherous sandbars and quicksand, its banks still canopied with tall, green cottonwoods and silvery willows.
Far more comfortable since exchanging her hot traveling suits and petticoats for the suede pants, cotton shirt, and soft moccasins Taos had provided, Elizabeth was in a genial mood when the contingent stopped for the night at a wide, lush bend in the river fifteen miles below Socorro.
Her lighthearted feelings were due entirely to the fact that she had not been alone with West Quarternight since that horrid evening four days ago when he had sneaked up on her while she bathed. Taos or Grady had driven the wagon since then, and she much preferred Grady’s rambling monologues and Taos’s solemn silence to West’s flirtatious needling.
She had been in West’s company only briefly at mealtime. On those occasions she had avoided him totally when possible and had fixed him with a frosty stare when it was not. Still, she longed to get even with him and had spent a lot of her idle time silently plotting revenge.
Just when she least expected it, the golden opportunity fell right into her lap.
It was after supper at the river encampment south of Socorro. Everyone was lazing about, full, half sleepy. Elizabeth, sipping the last of Grady’s strong black coffee from a tin mug, looked languidly about and realized, suddenly, that West was nowhere around. She said nothing and continued to sip the coffee and look out at the placid river.
But when she heard Grady telling Edmund over their endless game of checkers that West had gone downriver for a bath, her fingers tightened on her mug and it was all she could do to keep from smiling foolishly. Instead, she stayed just as she was for a few minutes more.
Then, setting the tin mug aside, she rose to her feet, stretched her arms high over her head, and yawned. She sauntered over to Edmund, touched his shoulder, and casually announced to both men that she was going to lie down in the wagon for a short rest. When she came back, she would take on the checker game’s winner.
“Be careful,” said Grady and Edmund in unison.
She looked up and her eyes met the alert black ones of Taos, standing at the water’s edge. He nodded his head. She turned and strolled away in no discernible hurry, thumbs hooked into the waistband of her britches.
But as soon as she was out of sight, Elizabeth let out a loud exhalation of breath and began to smile. She quickly changed directions, heading toward the river south of the camp. Pushing low limbs out of her path and shielding her face from the slap of willow branches, Elizabeth could hardly contain her excitement.
Mr. Weston Dale Quarternight was about to get a dose of his own devilish medicine. She was turning the tables. Now he was going to find out that it was no fun being the one caught without clothes. Let him squirm in embarrassment and shame. See how he liked it!
It didn’t take her long to find him. She just followed the sound of that unmistakable baritone voice. He
was singing loudly:
“Yo ho ho, you and me,
Little brown jug do I love thee,
Yo ho ho, you and me …”
Elizabeth’s heart began to drum with excitement when she caught sight of the dark head, the bare brown shoulders. West was out in the middle of the river, blissfully unaware he was not alone. Best of all, his clothes—including his underwear—lay on the grassy banks.
Clamping a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing aloud, Elizabeth knew victory was within reach. Even should he catch sight of her, she was closer to his discarded clothing than he was. Elizabeth stayed where she was for a moment longer, screwing up her courage.
Then carefully, quietly, she sneaked out into the clearing, keeping a watchful eye on the unsuspecting man caught up in the pleasure of his evening bath. West continued to sing as Elizabeth moved silently forward toward his clothes. When she reached them, she swiftly scooped them up from the ground and immediately felt light-headed and dizzy with power.
She wouldn’t alert him to her presence. She would do to him what he had done to her. Let him continue to make a fool of himself while she calmly spied on him. Wait patiently until he finally looked up, saw her, and tried to cover his shame!
Grinning from ear to ear, Elizabeth clutched West’s clothes to her chest and eased down onto the grassy banks to wait. Eyes sparkling with mischief, she found it was very satisfying to be the one with the upper hand. For a change, she was in charge. She was playing a cruel joke on him and enjoying every delicious moment of it!
Her laughing eyes trained on West, she kept them there, afraid to look away even for a second. She certainly didn’t want to miss the expression on his dark face when at last he looked up and was surprised to find he was not alone.
West continued to sing and to soap his dark chest in obvious ignorance of her presence. When he ducked under the water’s surface to rinse himself, Elizabeth’s eyes remained on the spot where his dark head had disappeared.
But West didn’t come up.
Elizabeth watched and waited and felt her bright smile becoming a little forced. Lifting a hand to shade them, she squinted her eyes, growing mildly uneasy. Why was he staying under so long? Had something happened to him? Had he perhaps hit his head on the rocky bottom and was lying unconscious under the water?