Copper Fire

by Fayrene Preston

  During the next few hours she set out to increase their chances of coming out of this whole thing alive. She went back to the opening of the box canyon and rearranged the brush as best she could, so that, hopefully, a person passing by might not notice anything out of order.

  Having already taken one bedroll up to the cave, she now stripped the saddlebags, guns, and canteens from both horses, plus the remaining bedroll. It took two trips, but she managed to get everything transferred up to their shelter.

  Then she set about exploring the rest of the canyon. At the far end of the meadow she discovered a small creek that meandered through the stand of willows and cottonwoods. The grass grew lush and thick there. She unsaddled the horses and tethered them so that they could graze and water but so that anyone coming through the narrow passage into the canyon wouldn't be able to see them.

  She was eager to get back to Sloan, but before she did, she thoughtfully scanned the back wall of the canyon and discovered another way out. A steep, rocky path led up its face to the top of the butte. It was already getting dark and she couldn’t see very well, hut unless she missed her guess, the summit would overlook the tent city.

  Impatiently, she glanced toward the overhang where she had left Sloan. She'd climb up to the summit tomorrow. For now she’d been away from him long enough.

  All night long he tossed and turned. Two times he was sick. Brianne cleaned him up and soothed him, bathing his forehead.

  She slept when she could. When she couldn’t, she huddled close beside him under the blankets and talked quietly to him.

  She told Sloan about growing up on Killara and about how wonderful it had been. She told him a story about each member of her family. Often she’d find herself smiling as she talked; once she was surprised to find a tear sliding down her cheek.

  She saved Patrick to talk about last. She told Sloan about how, when they were young, they would play “hide-and-track.” They got so good at it, they finally had to stop playing the game because they couldn’t find each other.

  Those days were gone now, and for the first time in her life, there were no Delaneys to help her. Men were trying to track her, but not for any game. She was all alone. And if she and Sloan were going to survive, she was going to have to call upon every bit of Delaney know-how she’d ever learned.

  The soft voice floated around Sloan, but he heard no words. Waves of heat and cold broke over him. And always there was the pain. It lanced through his head, pulsing, pounding.

  Images of a smiling young Wes McCord swam through the blackness of his mind. “Water,” the image said. “Just follow my directions and you’ll find water.” Then he saw his brother. Agony scored David's face. His leg was swollen to grotesque proportions. “Go on without me,” he said.

  Once the pain stopped, and he saw Brianne. Her beautiful face was pale, and her eyes looked tired. He tried to speak, but his mouth wouldn’t move. She smiled down at him, and he felt her hand gently stroke his brow. “You’re going to be all right,” she said. He shut his eyes then, the blackness and the pain coming again.

  Brianne climbed up to the summit of the butte and eased over until she could see the tent city. Lying on her stomach, she looked down. Distance made the people working near the tents appear as ants, and the burnt-out tents as black spots. There was a lot of activity. That they were reconstructing the city was obvious, but she couldn’t see anything in detail.

  She made her way off the butte and back down to the meadow. She changed the position of the horses, then checked the hidden entrance Dancer had found.

  Nothing appeared disturbed. Gingerly, she made her way out until she could check the trail. Nothing so far.

  Back in the little cave she added aspen leaves to the smokeless fire and boiled beef jerky for a broth.

  Sloan felt the hot liquid in his mouth and swallowed. It tasted good. When in a few minutes he again felt the spoon against his lips, he opened his mouth for more. He heard Brianne’s soft voice say, “That’s the way!” and then the blackness claimed him again.

  He opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was Brianne. She was sitting just beyond him, staring away at the distance. He let his eyes focus on her and he remembered.

  He remembered being beaten, and Brianne shooting one of the men, and tying up Cummings and the man she had shot. He remembered that awful ride, her constant encouragement, and her resourcefulness and cleverness. She had saved his life.

  “Brianne.”

  Her head jerked around, and at the sight of his open eyes her face lit up. “Sloan!” She crawled to his side and placed her hand on his cheek. “I’m so glad you’re back with me. How’re you feeling?”

  “I'm either feeling better or I’m dead.”

  She sat back on her heels. “Humor. That’s good.”

  “It's not humor. It’s the truth.” His voice was weak, raw.

  She was so happy that he was talking to her, she had to touch him. She combed her fingers through his hair. “I understand,” she crooned. “You've been through hell, haven’t you? But you’re going to be all right now. I’m going to take care of you.” She paused. “Are you hungry?”

  He thought for a moment or two, his gaze steady on her. “I don’t think so.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at the fire over which a spit turned. “I trapped a rabbit, but it's got a way to go yet before it'll be ready. In the meantime, you should have water.” She reached behind her for a canteen, held it to his lips, and waited while he drank. When he finished, she set it aside and smiled down at him. “I’ll give you some broth in a minute.”

  “I remember having had some.”

  She nodded, thinking that his voice was getting stronger. “You’ve been so sick. It was the head injury.”

  “Cummings did a job on me.” His eyes roved over her. “There were times when the pain was so bad I thought I was going to die and I’d never see you again.”

  With an expression of tenderness on her face, she leaned over him. “I wasn’t going to let you die.”

  He brought a somewhat unsteady hand up to touch her cheek. “You were wonderful.” He saw something like surprise come and go in her eyes, and he continued. “I can’t think of another person, or for that matter an army of people, who could’ve done what you did.”

  She was suddenly uncertain. They weren’t making love, and yet he was looking at her as if – “I did what I had to do.”

  “I’ve never been so scared in my life as when I saw you step into that tent, Brianne.”

  “Nothing was going to happen to me.” “Of course not. You’re a Delaney, right?”

  “Right,” she said softly.

  “I hadn’t realized how much life had come to mean to me until I nearly lost it.” He paused. “I hadn’t realized how much you’d come to mean to me.” She felt the faint stirring of hope, but she was still hesitant, realistic, because he was badly hurt and he needed her … for now. “Do you really mean what you just said?”

  “I’m very much afraid I do.”

  “But for how long, Sloan? Until you’ve recovered? Until you go back east? How long?”

  He smiled tenderly. “Redhead, I suspect that eternity may be too short for the loving we’ve got to do.”

  Don’t miss the enthralling sequel to this book, Silken Thunder, also by Fayrene Preston, and part of the concluding trilogy of THE DELANEYS, THE UNTAMED YEARS.

  THE DELANEY DYNASTY

  Three of Bantam’s bestselling romance authors, Kay Hooper, Iris Johansen and Fayrene Preston, have established a unique event in romance publishing – the creation of the Delaney Dynasty –a family filled with fascinating male and female characters whose love stories are deeply sensual and unforgettable. Each author’s work stands alone, but read with the other books is part of a panoramic picture of a colorful, exciting, and heartwarming family.

  The stories of the members of the Delaney Dynasty began with the publication of THE SHAMROCK TRINITY, the first trio of contemporary love stories of
the Delaney brothers – Rafe, The Maverickby Kay Hooper; York, The Renegadeby Iris Johansen; and Burke, The Kingpinby Fayrene Preston. These three romances received such wide acclaim and generated such a clamor for more stories of the Delaneys that our authors soon gave us the next three contemporaries –THE DELANEYS OF KILLAROO: Adelaide, The Enchantressby Kay Hooper; Matilda, The Adventuress by Iris Johansen; and Sydney, The Temptressby Fayrene Preston.

  The authors’ fascination with the Delaneys grew and, particularly, they were captivated by the daring and romantic ancestors who started it all. Thus, the Delaney historicals were created, one of which you have just read.

  Setting the stage for the trilogy THE DELANEYS, THE UNTAMED YEARS, though, was THIS FIERCE SPLENDOR by Iris Johansen. In the pages that follow we are giving you excerpts of THE DELANEYS OF KILLAROO, THIS FIERCE SPLENDOR, and two of the other books of the trilogy THE DELANEYS, THE UNTAMED YEARS. We hope these excerpts will tempt you to get any of the books you may have missed … as well as to look forward to the second and last set of historical novels that will follow up THE UNTAMED YEARS and be published in the late fall of 1988.

  The Delaneys of Killaroo: Adelaide, The Enchantress

  by Kay Hooper

  He probably wouldn’t have noticed them except for the koala. It wasn’t, after all, unusual to see a horse at a racetrack, or even a girl walking beside a horse. And it wasn’t that unusual to see a koala in Australia.

  But he’d never seen one with four leather gloves covering its paws and riding a horse.

  He didn’t know much about koalas, but this one seemed a fair example of the species. It looked absurdly cuddly, with tufts of ears and a round little body, button eyes, and a large black nose.

  Shane Marston turned his astonished eyes from the koala to the horse that walked quietly, obediently, beside the girl holding his lead rope. He wore no blanket or leg bandages, and seemed not to mind the koala clinging to his back.

  The girl stopped just inside the wide barn hall and dropped the lead rope, and while the horse stood calmly she held out her arm toward the koala, calling, “Sebastian.”

  The little creature reached a gloved paw toward her, not completely releasing the horse’s mane until he could grasp her arm. Then he left the horse in a smooth transfer to the girl’s back, his limbs firmly around her neck.

  Shane stood very still, gazing at the girl and feeling the shock of her voice still echoing in his mind. It was the sweetest, most gentle voice he had ever heard, and it touched something inside him, something that had never been touched before. His throat felt tight and his heart pounded, and he was bewildered because suddenly he couldn’t breathe very well.

  She was not thin, but she was small and looked amazingly fragile. Her skin was very fair, almost translucent. The only color she could boast of was the vibrant red of her short hair; and though that hair was a badge of passion and temper, in her face was reflected only gentleness and calm.

  She was not, he realized on some uncaring level of himself, a beautiful young woman. Her mouth was too wide for beauty, her eyes too large. Yet that tender mouth would always draw the gaze of a man, and those dark eyes would haunt his dreams.

  “You want to meet her?”

  Shane started at the sound of Tate Justin’s voice. Tate didn’t wait for an answer, but started walking forward.

  Shane fell into step beside him, eager to meet the girl with the soft, gentle voice and the fiery hair.

  “Addie.” Tate smiled rather sardonically. “A guest of ours wants to meet you; he’s an American horse breeder. Adelaide Delaney, Shane Marston.”

  Shane, peculiarly sensitive to undercurrents, saw something flash between them, something genuinely humorous on Tate’s part and somewhat pained on hers.

  She turned to Shane, looking up at him. “Mr. Marston.”

  Shane held the small hand, instinctively gentle, his fingers tingling again while a faint shock registered at the back of his mind. Her name …Was it possible? No …half a world away… “A pleasure, Miss Delaney,”he said, releasing her hand when it occurred to him that he had held it too long.

  “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted,” Tate said, and then walked away.

  She gazed after him for a moment, then gave Shane an easy, friendly half smile. “You’re interested in Australian horses, Mr. Marston?”

  “Shane. And yes, I am.”

  “Breeding stock, or racers?”

  “Primarily breeding stock.” Shane reached out to pass a hand down Resolute’s sloping shoulders. “He’s a fine animal.”

  “Yes, he is.” Her voice gentled even more with the words.

  Shane chuckled suddenly and gestured to the koala asleep with his chin on her shoulder. “And unusual, since he allows the koala to ride him.”

  “Sebastian’s the unusual one.” She reached up to trail a finger along the koala's foreleg, and a tufted ear twitched sleepily. “He was orphaned young, and instead of climbing trees he took to people and horses. Some people, mind you, and some horses. He’s a bit temperamental –but then, so is Resolute.” She smiled. “I believe American racehorses sometimes choose odd stable companions?”

  “They certainly do,” Shane said, remembering the moth-eaten cockatoo at his stable.

  Shane looked down at her lustrous coppery curls and felt his heart turn over. He was conscious of an abrupt sense of urgency, a fiery prodding along his nerve endings.

  Addie frowned a little and touched his arm in a seemingly instinctive gesture. “Are you all right?”

  He looked down at her, feeling her touch clear through to his bones. “Yes. I suppose I haven’t recovered from jet lag yet, that’s all.”

  The dark eyes searched his briefly, but she nodded and dropped her hand. “It was nice meeting you –”she began.

  Shane smiled broadly. “Oh, I’ll be around for a while,” he said. “In Australia –and on the tracks. You’re riding this afternoon?”

  Addie nodded. “Yes, and tomorrow.” She didn’t seem surprised that he knew she rode. “Then up to Sydney with Resolute for the weekend races.”

  Shane bit back what he wanted to say. “I see. Well, I believe I’ll watch you ride today.” He grinned. “Should I bet on you?”

  Seriously, she said, “I intend to win.”

  “Then I’ll bet my kingdom.”

  She laughed a little, the sound once again running through Shane like a haunting song, then waved casually and walked away. He stood stock still for several minutes, gazing after her. Suddenly aware of the increasing noise that heralded the beginning of the afternoon races, he headed toward the track.

  Addie had just won the last race on a horse improbably named Catch Me If You Can. She went through the routine of unsaddling, weighing out, and speaking to a delighted owner and a somewhat stunned trainer. Then, tiredly, she headed back for the changing room. She showered and changed into jeans and a light blouse.

  Shane was outside, waiting for her.

  “I won some money,” he said, smiling at her. “And I was hoping you’d go out with me somewhere to celebrate.”

  “I’d like that.” Addie was a little surprised by her instant acceptance, and frowned briefly. “Let me check on Resolute first, all right?”

  “Where would you like to have dinner?”

  Addie started a little. “Oh, wherever you like. Somewhere casual, please; I travel light on the circuit, so I never pack dressy things.”

  “Fine. We can go in my rental car, and pick up your Jeep later.”

  “All right then, and thanks.”

  “My pleasure.” He watched her lock up the Jeep and pocket her keys, then took her arm courteously as they headed toward the parking area near the stables.

  Shane didn't try to fool himself into believing that manners had compelled him to take her arm; he was, in fact, very well mannered. That had little to do with it, however. He had taken her arm because he knew he’d go out of his mind if he couldn’t touch her even in a polite and casual way. And tho
ugh it might have seemed just that outwardly, he was very conscious that there was nothing casual in his reaction to the touch.

  He felt a sizzling jolt when he touched her, his breath catching oddly and his head becoming curiously light. The strength of his own feelings disturbed him, not in the least because she seemed almost too frail to withstand the powerful force of such vital desire. And it did no good at all to remind himself that she was quite obviously a strong woman; her soft voice, her shimmering halo of silky red hair, small size, and magical gift with animals made her appear ethereal, and all his male instincts urged him to believe in frailty rather than strength.

  Shane had always taken his attraction to women lightly in the past; he enjoyed their company, whether casual or intimate. He had a great many female friends, and the lovers in his past tended to remain firm friends after the affairs had ended. Though in a position of comfortable wealth and gifted with blond hair and green eyes that caused the American tabloids to persist in referring to him as “the sleekest, sexiest Thoroughbred in racing circles,” Shane had never cared much for casual sex.

  Not since his experimental teens had he taken a woman to bed without first having genuinely liked her –and if those invited declined, they never lost Shane as a friend.

  What he had seen and heard of Addie, he certainly liked. He liked the frank gaze of her dark eyes, her quick smile and fluid grace. Her voice held a strange power to move him; and her gift with animals and –apparently –people fascinated him.

  Yet, for all that, he knew almost nothing about her. Nothing to explain why his very bones seemed to dissolve when she looked at him or spoke to him. Nothing to explain the rabid fear he only just had managed to control while watching her race. Nothing to explain this urgent, driving need to touch her.

  Shane knew what desire felt like, and he had even known the feeling to occur spontaneously when first meeting a woman –but that was like comparing the rumble of thunder to the violence of a hurricane.