Copper Fire

by Fayrene Preston

“Then why ? And while I’m thinking about it, where have you been?”

  He almost smiled at her demanding tone. She was a Delaney princess through and through. “Out at Wes McCord’s tent city. I’m very close to finding the evidence I need.”

  She threw up her hands. “Oh, how wonderful! That means you’re that much closer to being dead.”

  This time he did smile. “You don’t have much faith in me, do you?”

  His smile infuriated her, breaking through the thin veneer of her control. “You’re a stupid, stubborn man, Sloan! How can I have faith in you when you refuse to understand that even if your plan to ruin, then kill Wes McCord is successful, you won't win! You can’t!”

  All amusement left him. “On this particular subject, you’re wrong, Brianne.”

  “No, I’m not! Besides, I’ve met Wes McCord, remember? Don’t you care that he may kill you?”

  “Not much,” he said, then realized that he wished he had the promise of a life that was full of loving Brianne. That would make him want to live. But he knew himself. He knew what his life had been before he came to Chango, and he knew what it would be when and if he left.

  “How dare you not care! How dare you risk your life when it means so much to me!” She whirled away to his dresser, picked up the first thing she saw, which was his hairbrush, and threw it at him.

  Just in time he moved his head, and the brush hit the door with a loud thud. “Brianne – ”

  She grabbed his shaving mug and threw it with an accuracy that would have brought blood to his forehead if he hadn’t jumped out of the way. “I wanted you last night so badly, I thought I would die if I didn’t have you! Thanks to you and your damned strawberries, I would have crawled to you if you had asked!” A heavy glass vase found its way into her hand and she hurled it with such force, it shattered against the door.

  He began advancing on her. “Brianne – ”

  “Don’t you realize that I wouldn’t make love with just any man? I wouldn’t hurt and embarrass my grandparents by becoming someone’s mistress on a whim!” Unaware that tears were streaming down her face, she picked up an oval silver-framed picture of dried flowers and flung it as hard as she could. It bounced off the wall and fell to the floor dented.

  “Brianne, someone will hear.”

  “I don’t care!”

  A porcelain pitcher filled with water hurtled past him, smashing with a terrific crash. The basin followed. Sloan turned to watch as its collision with the wall drenched the blue fleur-de-lis wallpaper with soapy water, and streaks of color began to bleed down the wall.

  “I love you, you fool!” she shouted.

  His body jerked as if he’d been shot. He had lost count of the number of women who had told him they loved him. Some had even cried as they told him. But their avowals of love hadn’t touched him in any way.

  For most of his life he’d been so alone, and it had never bothered him. Yet now Brianne was saying she loved him, and he couldn’t even begin to count the number of ways her shouted, angry declaration was touching him.

  Sloan’s arms closed around her, and he pulled her sobbing form to his body. “Oh, Lord, Brianne, what am I going to do with you?” Not expecting an answer, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the armchair in the corner of his room. Holding her, he sat down and settled her in his lap. “Brianne, I’m not worth a single one of your tears. Don’t cry.”

  Her small fists came up to beat against his chest. “Don't you dare tell me what to do!”

  He grabbed her fist and gave a little laugh. “How did you ever manage to reach the age of twenty-one? You have no sense of self-protection. A wolf, a motley and highly suspect group of people on the run, or a man who’s never seen women as anything other than objects to use, enjoy, and then throw away – we’re all the same to you, aren’t we?”

  Sniffing, she raised her head. “Is that the way you see me, as an object that you’ll eventually throw away?”

  Taking his time in answering, he curved his hand around her face, and with gentle fingers brushed the softness of her skin, not stopping until all traces of tears were gone. “No,” he finally said. “Once I had you, I could never throw you away.”

  “Then – ”

  “It can’t be.”

  “Don't tell me that!” she said, indignant, pushing away from him.

  “Listen to me and listen well,” he said, deliberately slicing sharp, flinty edges into his words. “I set out to get you in my bed. I figured I had all the advantages. After all, every night I had your delectable body to do with as I wanted. But somewhere along the way you gained the advantage. Every time I touched you, it became harder and harder to stop.”

  “You didn’t seem to have any trouble last night.”

  “Shut up, Brianne, and listen to me. I’m trying to tell you that you’re interfering with my plans, and I can’t have that.”

  She sprang from his lap. “Good Lord, no! No one can be allowed to interfere, can they? This mission of yours is close to being holy!”

  He tilted his head to the side and wearily rubbed his forehead. “God has nothing to do with this, believe me.”

  “You’re the one who’s playing God, Sloan! Can’t you see that? Yes, your brother is dead, and yes, no doubt Wes McCord is responsible, but haven’t you ever heard that according to the Bible, ‘Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord’?”

  “I can’t wait for Him to act.”

  “Damn you, Sloan Lassiter. Damn you for not caring that I love you. Damn you for – ”

  He was out of the chair so fast, Brianne didn’t have time to retreat. He grabbed her arm and shook her. “I care! I care more than is good for either one of us. But, Brianne, that’s as far as it goes.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’ve been empty for so long that I doubt I’m capable of love.”

  For the first time since she had entered his room, she smiled. “I’ll take the chance.”

  “I’m not going to let you.”

  “There you go, dammit, playing God again! Who gives you that right?”

  “No one. I’m taking it. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  She fell silent, eyeing him thoughtfully. His hands still held her arms. “I love you, Sloan Lassiter,” she said quietly, calmly. “And I waited a long time to find the man I could fall in love with. I’m sorry if you see my love as some sort of obstruction, but you’re just going to have to work around it, because I’m not going to go away as you probably want me to.” She glanced toward the big black walnut four-poster. “As a matter of fact, I’m going to spend the night here with you.”

  “Brianne – ”

  “Don’t tell me I can’t, because I won’t go back to my room.”

  “I could carry you.”

  “I’d scream until I woke up everyone in the hotel.”

  “I could gag you.”

  “Then as soon as you left me in my room, I’d take the gag out and come banging on your door.”

  “I could leave the gag in, tie your hands and feet, and leave you on your bed like that all night.”

  “And when Henrietta came to my room in the morning and undid me, I’d come and find you.”

  Sloan groaned and took her face between his hands. “You’re not going to let me try to do the first gallant thing I’ve ever done in my life, are you?”

  Her expression showed both stubbornness and tenderness. “No.”

  His blood was heating at just the nearness of her, but he held himself back. “All right then, but you’re going to have to let me have my way in one thing. You won’t leave this room in the morning carrying my baby.”

  Brianne sensed victory close at hand, and she slowly smiled. “A Delaney loves a challenge.”

  “You’re incorrigible, Brianne. And so damned desirable, you make even my teeth hurt.”

  She put her arms around his neck. “I’ve been hurting too,” she murmured.

  The rich, strong sweetness of his need for her starte
d to pound wildly through his veins and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. Her robe had come open, and through the softness of the gown he could feel her body pressed into his. He was going to come apart inside if he didn’t have her soon. “Let’s stop the pain,” he muttered, scooping her into his arms.

  A moment later they were on the bed tangled up with each other. The need he had kept under control for days now burst free. He was going to have her, and nothing was going to stop him. Not even him.

  When his mouth came down on hers it was with a bruising force and a burning hunger that told Brianne more than words could about the power of Sloan’s passion for her. She accepted his thrusting tongue into her mouth, knowing that her body would soon be accepting another part of him.

  She couldn’t wait. She knew no fear, only a singing anticipation. It was all so simple. She had been born to love this man.

  Impatient for what was to come, she pulled at his shirt, but her efforts to undo the buttons were clumsy. “Help me, Sloan.”

  He answered her plea. The buttons went flying as he wrested the shirt from his body. Moments later her gown was cleanly ripped from neck to hem, and its ribbons and fabric lay on either side of her, along with her robe. Then the rest of his clothing came off with the same speed and carelessness.

  When he settled back beside her, and the flesh of his hard body touched hers, Brianne gasped. She had never felt such heat. It seared her skin, it burned through to her bones, setting fire to every nerve along the way.

  Her gasp penetrated through the thick haze of desire that descended around Sloan. But his hand had already closed around one breast, and his head was lowering toward an urgently tight nipple. His need for her was potent and raw, something solid in his gut, an inescapable part of him. He was so hungry for her that he couldn’t stop himself. He closed his mouth around as much of her as he could and began to pull and draw from her.

  She was the essence of woman – sweet and feminine, untamed and passionate – and without being asked parted her legs. She was giving herself to him without condition, without inhibition. He had to fight the rush of power that came to him at the thought. Rolling to between her thighs, he moved himself against the waiting cradle. Her legs came around his back, her hands dug into his hair. When he switched his attention to the other breast, she clasped him tightly to her.

  He felt enveloped by her. As he sucked ravenously from her nipple and felt her silken limbs around him, he realized that her sweetness and wildness was both inside and outside him. His need for a more complete joining was suddenly so urgent, so great, he began to shake.

  Holding him as tightly as she was, she felt the tremors. “Sloan?”

  He raised his head to look deep into her eyes, even while positioning the head of his shaft at the opening of her waiting warmth. “I’m going to try to be as careful with you as I can, Brianne, but … I’m not sure – ” He was going to die if he didn’t get inside her, he thought. He began easing into her and felt the silken muscles gradually enclose him. “I will be careful,” he managed to mutter from between clenched teeth in an effort to strengthen his resolve.

  Her hands on his back, she could feel the sweat breaking out on his skin and the rigid tension of his muscles. His restraint was torturing both of them. She wanted him, all of him. “Sloan, don’t be careful,” she whispered.

  “You don’t understand.…” God, but his insides felt as if he were being clawed with a fiery pitchfork. Already he could feel her pulsations, but he had to go slowly. He would soon be at that thin barrier. He wouldn’t be able to stand it if he hurt her. Yet he didn’t know how he was going to live to draw his next breath if he didn’t sink his entire length into her now.

  Her hands slid down to cup his buttocks. “Please,” she begged, “I want you inside me… all the way inside me … deep.”

  Control broke. He drew his hips back, then plunged into her with one strong, ramming thrust.

  Brianne felt a flash of pain, then a rush of ecstasy so consuming, the pain was forgotten forever. She twisted and bucked beneath him, becoming a wild thing. She took his powerful body and returned the pleasure he was giving her, completely open to suggestion or action. She was in the grips of a devastating tension. She clung to him, unable to let go. Something momentous was about to happen to her.

  Sloan rode her hard, surging deep into her, knowing that he couldn’t hold out much longer. He gathered her to him, preparing for the moment when he must withdraw from her.

  Sensing his intention, she gripped him tighter. He called out her name in a combination of frustrated surrender and gratification. He lifted her hips and drove into her. Their fulfillment came very quickly, powerful, complete, and sizzling hot.

  She had defeated him, he thought as he held her tight to him while she slept.

  He had never meant to allow himself to want her so much. He had never meant to lose control so completely that he would empty himself into her. But being inside her had been an ecstasy that he had never before experienced. How could he have deserted her when heaven was within seconds of his reach? To a man used to living in hell, heaven was too strong a temptation to deny.

  He pulled her closer into him and she murmured his name in her sleep.

  Brianne and heaven … one and the same thing.

  Chapter 12

  At the house on the edge of town the dresser mirror reflected the images of the two people who lay on the bed across the room, their arms and legs entwined. Anna’s skin gleamed white against Wes’s darker tone.

  Raising his head, Wes gently stroked away damp strands of hair from Anna’s face. Through parted, well-kissed lips, her uneven breath came sweet and soft. “You may never admit to me how much you love the way I make love to you,”he murmured, “but I can tell. Your sweet little cries tell me. And the way you pulse around me when I'm inside you tells me.”

  “I despise the way you make me feel,” she said softly. “I’ve told you.”

  He smiled down at her. “But how can I believe you, Anna, my sweet? You claw and scratch so prettily when I fill you.”

  “I’ve got to go, Wesley.”

  He rolled over on his back and gazed up at the ceiling. “Not yet. Bring me the hairbrush.”

  After a brief hesitation Anna levered herself up and walked over to the dresser to get the brush. But on the way back to the bed she paused to pick up her dress from the floor.

  “No,” he said. “Don’t get dressed. Come back here just as you are, naked and lovely.”

  A blush spread across Anna’s fair skin, but she returned to him.

  He slid into a sitting position, took the brush from her, then pulled her down to sit in front of him. “Considering the things I do to you, and the things I’ve taught you to do to me, you should be past blushing, don’t you think?” He began to gently draw the brush through the long golden fall of her hair. “Hmmm?”

  She didn’t answer, and he continued brushing her hair.

  Anna studied Wes's face in the mirror. She would never understand him, she thought. How could a man be so hard as to blackmail an unwilling woman into his bed, and on the other hand, be so gentle with her when he got her there? He had never, not once, not even when he had taken her virginity, hurt her.

  Feeling the brush glide through her hair, she closed her eyes. Brushing a woman’s hair was an extraordinary task for such a man as Wes McCord to perform. His gentleness and his attentiveness to her pleasure confused her. With her father’s debts over her head, he could have taken her as roughly as he wanted. He didn't have to show her any consideration. No, she thought, she would never understand him, nor did she want to. She hated him with all her heart.

  She felt him take her hair in his hands and lift it so he could run the brush beneath it, and she opened her eyes. He looked so utterly absorbed in his task, yet there was something in his face she had never seen before. He almost looked worried. “What's wrong, Wesley?”

  He glanced up and met her eyes in the mirror. “Why do y
ou think something's wrong?”

  “The look on your face.”

  He chuckled. “More ugly than usual, huh?”

  “You’re a very handsome man. You could have practically any woman in this town.”

  “But I don't want any woman in this town, only you,” he reminded her softly. He tossed the brush aside, lifted a mass of her hair into his hands, and began playing with it. “You know that, don’t you? Surely I’ve told you enough times.”

  “Yes.” His eyes were on her hair now, so she went back to watching him in the mirror.

  Several minutes of silence stretched between them while he fanned her hair back and forth across her naked back, making designs out of the golden lengths. “There was a man in the cafe last night that I used to know years ago. I don’t know how long he’s been in town, but one thing’s for sure, he’s here because of me.”

  “Did he tell you that?”

  With his hand he swept her hair forward over her shoulder, baring her back to his gaze. “He didn’t have to.”

  She saw his brows draw together in a frown as he softly stroked his fingers across and down her bare back. A shudder went through her at his touch. “Who is he?”

  “His name is Sloan Lassiter.” He bent and pressed a kiss between her shoulder blades.

  “I – I’ve met him. He’s been in the store.”

  He quickly lifted his head so that he could see her face in the mirror. “Did he question you about me?”

  “No.”

  His attention returned to her back. “Good, tell him nothing.” He drew a finger down her spine, then back again.

  In a helpless reaction Anna sucked air in between her teeth. Hoping he hadn’t heard, she asked, “What does he want?”

  “I don’t know, but I'm going to find out. In the meantime, I know what I want.” He touched his lips to the side of her neck.

  “Wesley, don’t! I don’t have time.”

  He turned her around so that she lay in his arms. In that position her hair completely covered one breast. “Yes, you do,” he whispered, smoothing his hands down the cascade of her hair, contouring the length of it over her nipple and down her stomach. “Yes, you do.”