The Bride Price

by Ginna Gray

  Wyatt gritted his teeth and held on as the RV bumped over a rutted track that passed for a road. He had intended to sneak out after Maggie was asleep and use the telephone at the campground that night and call Eric. So much for that plan.

  Maggie brought the rig to a stop at the base of a mesa. After working the kinks out of her body with an allover stretch that raised Wyatt’s temperature by several degrees and temporarily wiped his mind clean of everything else, she went about setting up for the night.

  For something to do, he stepped outside with her while she set the jacks to level the rig. He offered to help, but she refused, which was just as well since he still hadn’t the foggiest idea what to do. In any case, his assistance wasn’t needed; Maggie had the routine down to a science. Within minutes she was finished and came to stand beside him on a knoll a little way from the camper.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she said in a hushed voice, following the direction of his gaze.

  “Yes. And so big. It seems to go on forever.”

  An almost full moon hung in the sky, lighting up the empty countryside. You could see for miles in every direction. There was not a light or a moving vehicle or any sign of human life anywhere. Only the two of them and the endless land and sky. And the utter solitude.

  “Is it always like this?”

  “You mean the stillness? Mmm. But things do get lively now and then in the animal kingdom.”

  As if to verify her statement, something rustled in the brush a few yards away. Wyatt looked up and rubbed the back of his neck. At least a billion stars dotted the sky. Somewhere in the distance coyotes began to yip, and even farther away another pack answered. Off to their right an owl hooted, and a second later they heard a soft swoosh and saw him silhouetted against the moon-washed sky, gliding on silent wings in search of unwary prey.

  Maggie had stood like this before, contemplating the awesome mysteries of the desert, but never with another person. Never with a man. She hadn’t realized what a difference it would make to share this vista with another, how much richer and more profound the experience would be.

  She was acutely aware of Wyatt standing beside her, the closeness of their bodies. If she shifted just slightly their arms would touch.

  The night was cool, growing cooler by the minute. In the desert when the sun went down so did the temperature. Along her left side she could feel his heat radiating out, seeping into her, warming her, raising gooseflesh along her skin.

  A trembling started deep within her. She hugged her arms close to her body and gazed out at the moonlit mesas and long, sweeping valleys. Except for the occasional stirrings of the night creatures, all was tranquil and still. They might have been the only two people in the universe.

  Turning her head just slightly, she studied Wyatt. The sharp clarity of his profile against the night sky made her heart bump. He was so handsome and so utterly masculine that merely looking at him made her weak in the knees. She stared at his chiseled lips, his strong jaw. Was this man fated to be her lover?

  Her reaction to him certainly made that seem a likely possibility. She had always known that someday, when the time was right, when it felt right, she would explore that side of her nature. After all, she was a sexual creature. If even half of what she’d read and heard on the subject was true, it was a pleasure like no other, one she’d be a fool to deny herself.

  She’d had an old-fashioned, deeply religious upbringing in Ireland, and it had continued under Asa’s care. The thought of indulging in sex outside marriage gave her twinges of guilt, but since she didn’t intend to ever marry she had no other choice. With her passionate nature it was unrealistic to expect to live like a nun forever.

  Her gaze skimmed over Wyatt again. Moonlight threw his face into sharp relief, etching the angles and planes with blue shadows and silvery highlights. According to Asa, Wyatt was tough and aggressive in business, but he was honest and ethical. Both characteristics were certainly in his favor.

  Another was he didn’t want to get married.

  In addition to all that, he attracted her as no one else ever had. Clearly, if she was going to take a lover, she could do much worse than this man.

  Wyatt turned his head as if he’d sensed her scrutiny and looked at her, his silvery gaze capturing her blue one with an intensity that made her chest feel as though it were being squeezed by an iron band.

  For the space of three heartbeats he merely stared at her. “Maggie,” he murmured. Then, even softer, “Maggie.”

  He turned and cupped his hands on each side of her neck and lifted her chin with his thumbs. Without conscious thought, Maggie grasped his wrists. They were broad and powerful and warm against her palms. Her fingertips threaded through the crisp hair on the top. She stared at him, unable to breathe, unable to move away. “I want you, Maggie.”

  His raspy voice stroked over her like a caress. Maggie trembled. She couldn’t look away from those mesmerizing eyes.

  She could have rebuffed him. She could have made a flippant remark and broken the spell. She did neither.

  Perhaps it was the magic of the moment—this place with its awesome beauty, its humbling immenseness. Maybe it was the residual excitement of what had been a perfect day. Or perhaps it was years of suppressed desire catching up with her.

  In truth, she was shocked and a little frightened by the raw hunger that gnawed at her. She felt the pull of that need drawing her inexorably toward him, like steel shavings to a magnet. Her hands tightened on his wrists as her body swayed nearer to him.

  This was what scared her, what made her hold back—the extreme emotions, this irresistible attraction over which she had no control. As though she had no say in the matter, no will. Maggie liked—no, needed—to feel in control of her life.

  “Wyatt, I...” She swallowed hard, and caught her lower lip between her teeth. Caution fought with need, fear with a yearning so strong she ached.

  “Say you want me, too, Maggie,” he whispered. “God, I need to hear you say it. I see it in your eyes. I can feel it here.” The pad of his thumb pressed against the throbbing pulse in her neck. “And here,” he added in that soft, caressing voice and laid his hand over her left breast. “But I need the words, Maggie.”

  Her crazy heart went wild beneath his touch, caroming and booming like a kettle drum. Her knees began to tremble, and she tightened her hold on his wrists.

  He wouldn’t force her; she could see that in his eyes. She had always known it. If they became lovers it would be her choice.

  As long as she didn’t let herself get swept away, if she made a conscious decision to do this, then she was still in control, she told herself almost frantically. They could simply enjoy each other for the length of this trip—no ties, no commitments, no emotional attachment. At least...not beyond this potent attraction.

  Wyatt watched her, waiting, his eyes willing her to agree, his expression almost fierce with longing. “Say it, Maggie,” he urged in a rough whisper. “Say you want me, too.”

  Maggie stared at him. She saw the hunger, the intensity, the caring in that strong face, in those beautiful eyes, and she knew what her decision would be. What had been a dilemma only moments ago was now clear. She turned her head slightly and snuggled her cheek against his palm. “I want you, Wyatt,” she whispered. “Now. Tonight.”

  She felt his hands tighten around her face. “Ah, Maggie. My sweet Maggie.” He dipped his head and took her mouth in a long searing kiss. The caress was so hot, so sensual, she swayed and hung on tighter.

  Breaking off the kiss, Wyatt scooped her up in his arms and held her high against his chest. Their faces were mere inches apart, their gazes locked. “You won’t regret this. I swear it,” he vowed. Then he kissed her again, and with their mouths still fused together he walked toward the camper.

  Inside, he carried her into the bedroom and slowly placed her on her feet. Never taking his gaze from her face, he began to unbutton her shirt. Maggie stood still as stone, her breathing shallow, he
r eyes wide and a little dazed. A pulse fluttered madly at the base of her throat.

  “I want you so much,” Wyatt murmured in a velvety voice. “I feel as though I’ve been waiting for you forever.” The buttons undone, he gently tugged the tail of her shirt from her jeans and spread the garment wide.

  He drew in a sharp breath, and for several seconds he simply looked at her. “God, you’re beautiful. So tiny. So perfect.” He raised his hand and ran the backs of his knuckles over the pearly flesh that swelled above her ecru lace bra. Maggie shivered. Wyatt smiled.

  “You feel like satin,” he continued in that same smooth voice. “Soft, warm satin.” He watched his dark hand move against her pale flesh, and his pupils expanded until only a thin ring of silver surrounded them.

  He pushed the shirt off her shoulders and tossed it aside without looking where it landed. Maggie shivered again.

  “Cold?”

  “No, I, uh...it’s just...this is all new to me. I-I’m not sure what to do.”

  “Ah, Maggie. Sweet, innocent Maggie,” he groaned with something close to reverence. He drew a deep breath and closed his eyes, and she felt a shudder ripple through him.

  When it passed, he looked at her with such adoration she felt as though her insides were melting. “Sweetheart, you can’t imagine how it makes me feel to know that no other man has touched you. It doesn’t make any sense, and I know it’s unfair and chauvinistic. Hell, I never cared before how experienced a woman was. I never even gave it a thought. But with you somehow it’s different.” Smiling softly, he smoothed back a curling strand at her temple and gazed at her as though she were the most precious thing on earth.

  “There are no rules, sweetheart.” Slipping his arms around her, he drew her close and buried his face in the fragrant cloud of hair at the side of her neck. “Just follow...” He strung a line of nibbling kisses down over her shoulder, then reversed the path back up to her ear. “...your instincts.”

  “But...should I—”

  Nimble fingers plucked open the hooks on her bra, and her thought processes stumbled to a halt. A second later the scrap of lace hit the floor and Wyatt’s warm hand closed around her left breast. His fingers squeezed gently, lifted, kneaded. Maggie’s breath rasped in and out in short pants.

  Wyatt pulled her close again, and the slight abrasion of his cotton shirt against her nipples drew a low sound from her that was part sigh and part moan.

  “What were you saying?” he whispered in her ear.

  “I...um...” Maggie grappled through the fog of passion for a coherent thought. “I...I just wanted...to know if I sh-should...unbutton your shirt?”

  She felt him smile against her ear. His tongue traced the tiny swirls while his fingers popped open the snap on her jeans. The zipper slid down with a soft whir.

  “Just do what feels right.”

  What feels right? Maggie clutched his shirt with both hands. She closed her eyes and let her head loll back in languid response to his nibbling caress. Her breath came in shuddering gasps. Sweet Mary and Joseph, everything felt right. Everything felt wonderful.

  Not in her wildest fantasies had she dreamed she could feel this way—so awash with pleasure that she ached, so utterly free, so exquisitely alive. It was as though every cell, every molecule in her body had sprung to attention, her senses suddenly fine-tuned, responding with acute sensitivity to every tiny stimulus.

  A fire burned low in her belly and radiated outward. Her skin felt hot, her nipples tingly and raw. The brush of his fingertips across the swollen nubs was a sweet agony that wrung a cry from her throat.

  Wyatt eased her jeans down over her hips, hooking his thumbs into the tops of her bikini panties on the way and whisking them along, too. Maggie swayed and had to clutch his head for balance, when he dropped to his knees before her and slipped the garments over her feet and off, along with her sandals.

  He rose slowly, kissing his way up her legs, pausing on the way to nuzzle the nest of auburn curls at the juncture of her thighs. Maggie made a small sound and fisted her hands in his hair. If there was pain Wyatt paid it no mind. He trailed his open mouth leisurely across her belly, dewing the silky skin with his moist breath. He delved his tongue into her navel then moved up to trace a wet line along the underside of her breast. Maggie cried out and her legs gave way.

  Before she could fall, Wyatt surged to his feet and swept her up in his arms. Bracing one knee on the mattress, he laid her down as though she were made of fragile glass. He paused only long enough to examine her flushed face and drop a kiss on her mouth. Then he stood, and with frantic haste he snatched off his clothes, all the while watching her watch him through feverish eyes.

  Then he was there, stretching out beside her, pulling her close, and they moaned in unison as they experienced a shock of pleasure as warm flesh met warm flesh.

  In a frenzy, hands clutched and stroked, legs entwined, teeth nipped, tongues soothed, mouths rubbed and kissed and explored.

  Maggie was lost, awhirl in a maelstrom of sensations, caught in the magnetic pull of passion and want. Rational thought was beyond her. All she could do was give herself over—body, mind and soul—to the irresistible longings that pulled at her. She was so immersed in voluptuous feelings they seemed to run together, one delicious sensation blending into the next, until her whole body pulsed and burned with a need so great she couldn’t bear it.

  Writhing on the bed, she clutched Wyatt’s back and cried out—for what she didn’t know.

  “Easy, sweetheart. Easy,” he murmured, rising above her.

  Maggie barely heard him. Driven by instinct, she wrapped her legs around his hips and urged him closer.

  “Slow down, my love,” Wyatt gasped, trying to hold back. “I don’t...want to hurt you.”

  Maggie was beyond caution, beyond reason. When she felt his hard flesh nudge that intimate part of her that throbbed and burned for him, she instinctively arched upward. Wyatt’s control snapped. Braced up on his arms, his head thrown back, he gritted his teeth and sank into her with one silken thrust.

  The sudden burst of pain was white hot and startling, pulling a sharp cry from her. Stilling instantly, Wyatt raised up on his arms and looked at her with worried eyes. “Are you all right? I can stop if—”

  “No! Don’t stop. Please.” Already the discomfort was fading to merely a sensation of pressure, and as Wyatt began a tentative rocking movement she felt the pleasure building again, demanding, driving her toward some elusive pinnacle.

  In a delirium of pleasure and need and frustration, Maggie clung to Wyatt, meeting each thrust, reaching... reaching...reaching.

  Then, suddenly, they seemed to soar into an abyss of purest ecstasy.

  Moments later Maggie lay utterly still, her head thrown back, her breathing harsh and rapid as the firestorm of pleasure eased into tiny, pulsing aftershocks. She felt limp as a wet rag and so deliciously sated she could have died at that moment with no regrets. She wasn’t sure that she hadn’t. Sweet Mary and Joseph. She’d had no idea!

  Awash with sweet lassitude, she gazed dreamily at the ceiling and stroked her palms over Wyatt’s slick back, a contented smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

  A tiny grunt of displeasure escaped her when he began to rouse himself. Not wanting to relinquish the wondrous feelings that coursed through her, she tightened her arms around him to hold him close, but he ignored her urging and raised up on his elbows. He bracketed her cheeks with his hands. A slight frown puckered his brow, and his silvery eyes held concern as his gaze swept over her face.

  “Are you all right?”

  She threaded her fingers through his hair and gave him a sultry smile. “Oh, aye. I’m fine.”

  “Did I hurt you very much?”

  “‘Twas nothing, and a small price to pay for what came after.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure. Saints preserve us, if I were any better I couldn’t stand it. I didn’t know such pleasure existed.”


  The furrow on his brow eased a bit but he still did not look convinced. “You would tell me, wouldn’t you, if—”

  “Och, man, why are you making such a fuss?” Out of patience, she shoved at his shoulders, and he rolled off her. Sitting up, she swung her feet to the floor and sent him an exasperated look over her shoulder. “I’m small but I’m not made of spun glass, you know.”

  Wyatt looked insulted. “You were a virgin,” he said huffily. “The first time is never easy. Any man with an ounce of decency feels responsible when he takes a woman’s innocence.”

  His words touched something deep inside Maggie, but the sweet rush of emotion frightened her, and she pushed it aside. “Is that all?” she replied with a roll of her eyes. “Well, there’s no need for you to feel responsible or guilty. ‘Twas bound to happen sometime. If not with you, then someone else.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Wyatt didn’t like that at all.

  His eyebrows snapped together. “Thanks a lot. You really know how to make a guy feel special,” he snarled at her back.

  Maggie leaned over to pick up her T-shirt, and his gaze followed the curved knobby line that marked her spine, all the way down to the shadowy cleft at its base. Distracted, he stared at her delectable bare bottom, his anger momentarily forgotten.

  Straightening, she pulled her shirt over her head and rose. The hem barely reached the tops of her thighs. Wyatt’s mouth went dry as he watched her stuff her feet into those ridiculous bunny slippers and walk away into the kitchen.

  “Well, don’t take it personally,” she said over her shoulder, going up on tiptoe to pull a glass from the cabinet. “You said yourself, it wasn’t normal for a woman to reach my age without any sexual experience. All I meant was, it was just a matter of time.”

  Pulling his gaze away from her legs, he shook off his erotic thoughts and sat up, scowling at her through the doorway as she filled the glass with water and drank it. “So what you’re saying is any man would have done. I just happened to get lucky and be here at the right time. Oh yeah, that really makes me feel better.”