Dawson Bride

by T. S. Joyce

  Luke and Jeremiah watched Gable through the flames. I didn’t know what they said with that look, so I asked. “What?”

  “Lucianna,” Luke drawled. “You know we’re going to have to kill him, don’t you?”

  The coward in me shrank away from the idea. “You can’t. He’ll hurt you. We just need to hide forever.” Oh, I could hear how silly I sounded but my desperation to keep my new family pressed me further. “He’s untouchable. Gable tell them!”

  “Luc, I couldn’t do it on my own. He’s untouchable in Britain, but if comes here, we can track him down. We can get close enough. The pack can help me go after him here.”

  I searched each of the brother’s faces one by one in desperate hope that they would tell me they were teasing. “He took everything from me. If he finds out where I live, he’ll take you too. Tracking him will put you in danger.”

  It was Lorelei who looked solemnly over the fire. “They’re right.” Her eyes raked to Kristina. “The boys have experience with people who like to ruin lives. It has made them proficient hunters.”

  I wasn’t above begging. “But you made it out by the skin of your teeth! Who’s to say we’ll be so lucky this time. Lorelei, you have a child to think about.”

  “And what kind of mother would I be if I taught my child to run and hide from the dangers of this life? Things are different out here. You don’t understand it now, but you will. Out here, the pistol is law. If you want to survive, you’d better learn how to wield it. Trust in the men. They are stronger as a pack and their alpha has returned. They’re your only hope at getting through this.”

  All right, I understood what she was getting at. In fact it made a disturbing amount of sense, but I’d been trained to flee for two frightening months and it was a hard habit to break. The lion in me screamed a battle cry against the man who’d so wronged me, but the mouse in me clung tighter to Gable and wished him to stay quiet and safe here with me.

  “We don’t have to worry about it right now,” Gable murmured in my ear. “We’ll take a break from the strain and make a home. There’s no use worrying about things out of our control, remember?”

  “What’s your favorite memory of your mother?” Kristina asked, giving the relief of a new subject other than our impending doom.

  That one was easy. “The night I was shot, she stood up for me for the first time in as long as I can remember. I thought she didn’t love me, but watching her tell Ralston he wasn’t good enough for her baby was proof that she did. She was brave and fierce and it’s how I’ll always remember her. What about yours?”

  “I had this mangy cat named Tiger,” she began.

  “Did it look like a tiger?” Lorelei asked.

  “Not at all. It barely had any hair, was brown as baby shite, and was older than dirt but he was my cat and he was beautiful to me. My mother hated that cat, or so I thought, and told me I was never to bring the wee devil inside our little home. And every week, Tiger repaid her kindness by dropping all the rats he’d hunted at her doorstep, much to my mother’s dismay. Well, I’d break her rules and let him in any time I knew she’d be out for a while and one day I’d forgotten all about him. So when I came into the kitchen and he was up on the table and my mother was sitting right next to him at the table, I thought for sure she’d have my hide. But then I looked at the reason Tiger was on the table and he was drinking out of a milk bowl that my mother had made him. For all she talked against him, she didn’t hate my mangy ratter after all. She’ll never admit that story as long as she lives though. What about yours, Lorelei?”

  And so on it went into the night. My earlier panic was soothed with easy conversation and laughter. It had been a long time since I’d smiled so much, and the stretch on my face felt good.

  The stars were all out and twinkling around their mother moon by the time Gable pulled me toward the barn. The smell of hay and the richness of animal fur filled the air. It wasn’t quite cold enough to start a fire in the hearth, what with all the fur blankets that lined the bed. Plus, I’d learned last night he was roughly the temperature of a blacksmith’s fire, so extra heat would only serve to make me sleep uncomfortably. We climbed the ladder and Gable began to unbutton his vest. I sank onto the mattress to watch, and he smiled indulgently, then turned so I could better see the show.

  “I like looking at you,” I admitted. “I imagined what you looked like when I was on that boat. You know, under your clothes.”

  A deep chuckle sounded from him and he shrugged out of his cotton shirt. “And does my body match your imaginings?”

  “No.”

  A worried look slashed through the blue of his eyes.

  “Your body is much more dashing than anything I could think up.” I lifted up on my knees and reached for him, then traced the smattering of scars across his shoulder. “You’ll tell me about these someday, won’t you?”

  His nostrils flared slightly as he inhaled. “Someday.”

  I unbuttoned his pants and unsheathed his erection. “I can wait.”

  Lifting my dress over my head, Gable knelt down in front of the bed and gripped my waist. His hands were warm and strong against my skin. He looked like he wanted to tell me everything that had ever been, but instead, he cupped my face and stroked my cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. He kissed me languidly, lapping at my lips until I melted against him. With a wicked grin, I pushed away from him and gave him my back. Then, lowering myself onto my hands and knees, I spread my legs wide and watched his reaction over my shoulder.

  He’d gone still, and his eyes round. The man seemed helpless to take his attention from between my legs as he stood slowly. With his pants in a pile near my dress on the floor, the bed creaked as he positioned himself behind me.

  “Lucianna,” he rumbled, my name reverent upon his lips. He slid his hands around my waist and forced an arch in my back until my pelvis tilted up for him.

  Slowly—agonizingly slowly—he slid into me. I sighed happily when I felt his hips against my backside. I was sore, but didn’t hurt like last night. Already, my body seemed to be adjusting to take Gable’s girth.

  “Here,” he murmured against my ear as he nibbled it. “Like this.” He took my hand and guided it between my legs.

  I could feel him sliding slowly in and out of me, feel the wetness he’d conjured there, feel the sensitive spot he’d discovered last night. I’d never touched myself like this before, but Gable kissed my shoulder blades and pressed my hand against myself more firmly. It was hard to feel shame when my mate was so open.

  His rhythmic thrusting quickened and filled me with a desperation to relieve the pressure he was building inside of me. The sound of his thighs hitting mine made me cry out in ecstasy, and when at last I detonated around him, he froze, hovered over me. He groaned and breathed my name, and his powerful hips jerked as he spilled into me.

  We stayed like that for a long time, locked together and depleted. He never stopped kissing my back and neck, and when at last he pulled out of me, warmth trickled down my thighs.

  “Stay there,” he said low, and then he pulled a clean strip of linen from his bag. Gently, he cleaned me, then blew out the lantern and tucked me against the curve of his stomach.

  I’d known what he was for an entire day and still, the expected fear never made an appearance. Being like this, with him, under the umbrella of safety his body provided…it only served to make me need him more.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Gable

  Talk of avenging Lucianna and her family scared her. I’d make it up to her by keeping the time until then as happy as possible.

  “Hup!” I clacked the reins against the back of a mule and he gave me more. With my brothers and I all working, the fields would be ready in time to get the seeds down just when Luke felt it was right. The man had a sixth sense about that kind of stuff, just like Da did when he and Ma lived in the country.

  I’d start building her a house in the evening hours when our days’ work was done. For too
long, the homestead had fallen on my brothers’ shoulders, and even now, with the added help of their wives, which made a tremendous difference, there was still plenty to do. If we pooled our efforts and worked hard, this could be our best year yet.

  Luke had sold most of the cattle last season in an effort to bring in a big haul of cash so he could hunt down the woman bent on Kristina’s slow destruction. It left us with too few cattle left to breed a good herd. Some of the bounty money would have to be used to buy more stock, but Jeremiah assured me that had always been the plan. They’d grown crafty while I was gone and eeked out a profit from a small ranch where many were struggling. It probably helped they each had the strength of three men and could see their work just fine in the dark.

  Enough of the fancy lumber was left over from Kristina’s ex lover’s apology that we’d finish half the house with it at least. I’d have to cut the rest, which would take time, but that extra bedroom may come in handy someday. The barn was fine for now, but I’d seen the country manor she was living in and that sprawling property wasn’t even the main London home she lived in.

  Lucianna deserved better and I aimed to give it to her.

  Luke brought me a canteen of water and I took a long swig. “What?” I demanded at his cool glare.

  “You going to visit Oupita?”

  “Dammit, Luke.” I tossed the canteen out of the way and put the reins over my shoulder again. A short whistle trilled from my lips and moved the mule, but my green-eyed shit-stirrin’ brother didn’t get the hint and followed along beside me over the uneven clumps of dirt.

  “I’m just sayin’, she’d like to know you’re safe. Probably. She might actually be disappointed you’re not dead.”

  “I have a mate now, Luke. What possible reason would I have to be going over there and stirrin’ things up?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. For closure? You came back to us full wolf, Gable. You have to start pickin’ apart the reasons why you ran. Jeremiah and I, we don’t have one bad thought about you runnin’ off, joining a war that didn’t concern us. We don’t have a bitter taste in our mouths about the years you just didn’t feel like coming back home either. But now that you are, it wouldn’t be terrible if we could get the old Gable back. Or hell, a fraction of the old you.”

  “We were just kids. I don’t need closure with her.”

  “How do you know?” Luke stomped away. “Nice eyes!” he yelled over his shoulder.

  “Nyaaaaah!” I snarled.

  Even the mule was starting to panic and it couldn’t even see me through its blinders.

  Oh, should I? Should I go visit the girl I left without so much as a goodbye? Should I revisit what a coward I’d been when I left and rode off to go fight in a war that had nothing to do with her or her people? I cursed loud enough for Luke to hear it. I hadn’t thought of the girl in years and now a hundred summer memories dredged up from the bowels of my mind. I didn’t feel anything for her anymore. All of my energy and devotion was for Lucianna. My mate made me happy, she satisfied me, she understood and accepted me. And what had my relationship with Oupita been like? We fought like titans.

  Thoughts of the girl made me long for the numbness of the wolf. What could possibly come from seeing her again? Lucianna’s plea to stay human drifted through my mind. Of course I’d do anything for her. She deserved everything I had and more, but what could digging up the past do to improve my control over the monster in me?

  An apology.

  The answer was so simple. Oupita wouldn’t accept it in a thousand years and I wouldn’t blame her one bit, but I could say the words and let the guilt go. It would leave one less thing rattling around in my brain and tempting me to go animal. I could see her happy and moved on, and I wouldn’t have to feel like I ruined her life anymore.

  ****

  I woke before the rooster. Through the rustling of my clothes, Lucianna slept soundly within the warm folds of the bearskin blanket on our bed. Even if I was doing this for her, guilt tugged at me. Maybe I should’ve told her. But if I told her she’d worry it meant something, and it didn’t. I wasn’t doing this to go revisit an old flame. I was doing it so I could own my demons and become a better man for her. No. I couldn’t put that kind of worry on her heart. She’d lost everything and I didn’t want her for one minute thinking she’d ever lose me. I climbed down the ladder and pulled my horse from his stall. A saddle would be too loud but I was all right without one. I was just as comfortable riding bareback.

  I hadn’t a hope that Oupita would be waiting at our meeting place from when we were younger. She might have waited there for a couple of weeks, but eventually she’d figured it out. She was an intelligent woman. I’d have more luck heading to the reservation the Ute had been driven to. Her family belonged to a small band of nomadic Indians, but she’d probably hooked up with a bigger tribe on the reservation. My Ute was rusty, but hopefully I could get by with just understanding the language. If not, enough of them had English. I’d find a way to track her down.

  For old time’s sake, I rode right through the lands she used to live in with her tribe. They traveled where food was, but the area was central to their territory. Usually I could pick up a scent but they likely moved on years ago. Not much hope for that today. The sky was overcast and it brought out the rich green of the new grass that had sprung up after a winter of stagnancy. My horse snorted and bobbed its head as I pulled up to a long dead campfire. I narrowed my eyes. It wasn’t steaming, and when I dismounted, it wasn’t warm to the touch, but a fire had been made here recently. I rubbed some of the ashes between my fingers and scanned the clearing. Surely they weren’t still roaming around out here somewhere.

  I released the dry, dead embers, and the dust traveled west on the wind. The smells in the clearing were so old, it was hard to recognize any of them with any certainty. The grass wasn’t tall enough to break under careless footfall and point me in the right direction. The Indians had a way of appearing and disappearing as they pleased and leaving little evidence of their rhythm and way of life.

  I walked west with the wind. My horse followed without pulling the antics he did the first day. He was content to be in the wilderness and not confined to a corral for now. My nose missed nothing. Not a bunny ran for brush, not a field mouse escaped my attention. A thousand smells sifted through the lining of my sensitive nose, and instinctively I sifted through the ones I didn’t care about until only a few remained. I didn’t pick up anything important until well after mid-day. The smell of tanned dear hide, horses, and the sweet scent of ceremonial smoke gave the Indians away. Only problem was I couldn’t tell if I’d found the right tribe. While my brothers and I had always been on good terms with the Ute, other bands feared what we were and weren’t as friendly.

  The seven large painted tipis told me I’d found the right people. Artwork differed from nation to nation and Ute painting and beadwork was no different. I left my horse tied to a low hanging branch and slid silently around the tree line.

  “Mahtuhgurch Sahdteech,” a pair of women chanted.

  They pointed to the north and I stepped carefully so as not to disrupt the stretched skins they worked upon. It had been years since I’d heard the nickname the Ute had given my brothers and I. A rough translation said I was a Dog of the Moon. I liked that nickname much more than the one I was given on the battlefield. The Gable stripped my humanity away. It was a painful reminder of how people, other soldiers, had seen me.

  Oupita stood in a clearing next to a black horse. With a delicate touch she tied feathers into its mane. I crouched in the cover of the trees and rubbed my jawline with distracted fingers. She’d changed. She wasn’t the pin thin Indian girl from my memories anymore. She was a woman. I’d expected her to look just as she did when I left for some reason, and the surprise kept me to my hiding place in the shadows. She wore her hair long, and its shining black tresses cascaded down her long, cream-colored deer hide dress. She wore yucca fiber sandals and hummed quietly to herself. When she
turned, her belly was swollen with child. She bent to pick up a woven basket and rested it on her hip.

  I leaned forward out of the shadow of the trees but pulled back at a sound.

  A man approached. His hair was long and braided into two trailing lengths over his shoulders. He wore a breechcloth with leather leggings over moccasins, and Oupita lit up like a new moon when he stopped in front of her. Saying something low, he flashed an easy smile. His hand rested on the swell of her belly as he kissed her. When he left her with a backward glance, she giggled and watched him leave with an adoring gaze.

  “Why ain’t you on the reservation?” I asked as she turned.

  Her gaze crashed onto mine, and the look of fury on her face brought chills to my skin.

  For a full minute she stood frozen like the rivers in winter. She was still just as beautiful with her dark, intelligent eyes and full lips. Her chest heaved with the shock I’d brought to her. She pulled the basket in front of her belly, like a shield but still, I couldn’t keep my eyes away from the promise of life there.

  “Where’s your Ute?” she asked in a rich voice.

  I plucked a blade of new grass and fidgeted with it. I stood slowly. “Haven’t had much use for it.”

  Disgust and accusation decorated her tone. “You lost it.” She ran her dark eyes down the length of me. “You look different. Sadder. Tired.” She cocked her head and studied the scars across my face. “I see your war brought you everything you hoped.”

  Jeremiah must’ve told her why I’d gone.

  “The biggest part of that war revolved around slavery, Oupita. I thought if I could make a difference and win it, people would look at the slaves differently. Better. I thought that open mindedness would trickle down to you, to your family, to your people.”

  She tipped her chin higher. “Why didn’t you tell me that before you left? Why didn’t you tell me goodbye?”