"You don't want to do this."
"Why not? You're a woman. A beautiful woman at that. What more could a man want?"
"I've never done this before. I wouldn't be very good at it. When we got back to the camp, I'd accuse you in front of everyone."
"I've been accused of worse."
She couldn't imagine what could be worse. "I'll keep on accusing you until your men cringe at the sound of my voice. I'll make the men so miserable they'll quit."
He moved a little bit closer. "You're making me very warm.
She didn't want to make him warm. She wanted to cool him off.
"I'll lie still. I won't help you. It'll be like making love to a corpse."
The very idea made her skin crawl. She hoped it would have an equally chilling effect on Luke.
"Beggars can't be choosers."
She couldn't believe she'd misjudged him. Could he really mean to assault her? If so, why didn't she feel frightened? Why was she afraid she might like his lesson too much to lie still?
"I bet you'll be a pretty hot number once I thaw a little of that royal ice in your veins," he said, his lips almost touching hers. "I hear blue-blooded females like jumping from one bed to another after marriage. Just consider this your initiation. You couldn't have a better teacher. I've had lots of experience."
She could believe that. As handsome as he was, he probably had half the females in the West panting after him. She'd been on the verge of doing the same thing until she realized he didn't have a heart. She wondered how many other women had made the same mistake.
He kissed her. He simply took her mouth captive. She tried to resist, but she couldn't move. She could barely summon the will to resist. His lips were warm, soft, and very persuasive. It was inconceivable to her that he could make her a willing participant in this lesson, and yet she felt her anger fading, the rigidity leaving her muscles. Any moment now, she'd start kissing him back.
She jerked her head to one side, breaking their kiss. "Stop," she said.
When he ignored her plea, she tried to bring her hands up to scratch his face. Anticipating her intent, he grabbed her wrists, and pinned them to her sides. "You wouldn't want to ruin my face. Think of all the women who'd be disappointed."
"I'd be thrilled," but she wouldn't. He had a wonderfully handsome face. She would have enjoyed kissing him if he'd wanted to kiss her for who she was. Knowing he was teaching her a lesson took all the pleasure out of it. She struggled to break his hold on her, but it was useless. His strength made a mockery of all her attempts.
So did his kisses.
And his closeness.
She felt the heat of desire coiling sinuously within her, lazily and languidly, like the smoke from burning incense. It flowed through her body, sapping her physical strength, her willpower, her desire to resist. She felt scorched by the pressure of his body against hers. Her breasts had become so tender the material of her dress felt rough against her nipples. But it was his knee, thrust between her legs, that most affected her. Never had her body felt like it did now.
She felt so alive, she thought she would jump out of her skin.
She'd never thought of herself as a sensual person. She'd been taught duty and decorum all her life. Love and sensuality were for the common people. In less than five minutes, Luke Attmore had been able to destroy both illusions. She didn't care that she had promised to marry another man. She could think only of the man who held her in his embrace, who ignited her body with his kisses.
She reveled in Luke's touch, in the feel of him pressed hard against her, in the wild sensations that whirled through her body as his lips scorched trails of liquid heat over her mouth, throat, shoulders. Nothing mattered any longer except
With paralyzing suddenness, Luke released her and stepped back. She stared at him, unable to comprehend why she should feel as she did-lost, abandoned, and terribly hurt.
"I never intended to hurt you," Luke said, his voice rough, his hands balled into fists at his sides. "I just wanted to show you everything is different now, that you can't go on living like you always have, that you can't depend on the same people and institutions to protect you.
He sounded as if he was giving a prepared speech. He looked as stiff and wooden as he had been hot and aggressive only seconds before.
"We'll start back immediately."
He walked away so quickly, Valeria expected to see him break into a run.
For a few moments she couldn't move. The shock that held her immobile was quickly succeeded by mortification. If Luke hadn't stopped at that very moment, she would have turned his lesson into something quite different. She even wanted to give in to him. She couldn't imagine how such a thing could have happened, how she, Valeria Badenberg, a princess of the royal blood, would willingly have allowed herself to be ravished on the ground like a common slut.
Her entire body shivered with revulsion. At least she hoped it was revulsion. She feared it was from the shock of plummeting from the heights of passion to the depths of deprivation. No, she didn't feel repulsed. She felt deprived. Embarrassed. Mortified. Humiliated. She didn't know how she could face Luke after this. His behavior was dishonorable, but hers had been no better. Regardless of the words she'd uttered, despite her struggles to escape from him, deep down she had wanted him to make love to her.
Make love!
That was an insane thought. Love didn't come into it on either side. This longing was nothing but pure lust. She'd been taught her entire life to expect that kind of reaction from men, but she'd never expected to experience it herself. She would bear her husband heirs because it was her duty, but nothing about Luke's embrace felt like a duty. She'd felt excited. The anticipation of what was to come had heated her blood to a boil. She had lusted as much as Luke.
Valeria was anxious to return to the wagons. No one there would know what had passed between her and Luke, what she'd thought and felt. The presence of others would help return her disordered thoughts to normal, shield her from the assault of these new confusing emotions. But she couldn't hide from the knowledge that something of enormous importance had taken place. She'd had an experience that made her a different person. No, that wasn't it. It was an experience that exposed a part of the person who'd existed inside her all these years without her knowledge.
Her future was unknown, unfamiliar, uncontrolled. She'd been depending on Luke to help her learn how to live in this dangerous country. Now she'd learned that she herself was part of the danger she faced.
That was the most frightening thought of all.
"You have to be careful going down," Luke warned. "It's easier for the horses to climb on loose rock than to descend."
He was relieved they had to travel single file. That way he didn't have to look directly at Valeria, to pretend nothing of any consequence had happened.
"My horse is surefooted," she replied.
She'd been snapping at him since they'd left the clearing. He couldn't blame her. He might have taught her a valuable lesson, but he had done it at the expense of her pride, and he wasn't unfeeling enough to think pride unimportant. Pride in his work, in his success, was all he had. He'd stopped wanting more. He had a terrible feeling Valeria had started him hoping again.
That would be the worst mistake of his life.
"He's an outstanding horse. So are the rest of your horses. I can see why you wanted to bring them with you." He kept talking, trying not to think, but it didn't work.
He couldn't forget one moment of what he'd done on that mountain top, what he'd made happen in his arrogant assumption that he knew what he was doing and had both himself and Valeria under control. He'd started out to frighten her a little, to make her aware she had to be more careful, less trusting, that she couldn't just head off on a long ride with a man she didn't know because she was bored. But his laudable intention of teaching her a lesson had turned into something quite different.
"I have more horses," she said. "Otto insisted I leave the mares in New Orleans
. Several were about to drop their foals."
"How many did you bring?"
"Seventeen."
That was a perfect example of what he meant. No sensible woman would travel halfway around the world, burdened not only with incredible quantities of furniture and china, but with in-foal mares. And this was a woman he wanted to make love to.
Okay, it wasn't love. He'd never been in love. He couldn't love. He didn't want to love. But the emotions between him and Valeria were unlike anything he'd experienced with the dozens of women he'd known. He felt confused and he was never confused about anything. His feelings were always straightforward and uncomplicated.
Not this time.
"I hope you don't intend to hire me to bring the rest
of your belongings to Rudolf's ranch after you're married."
"I don't know what I'll do, but you can he certain I won't hire you to do it."
Good. He would have refused anyway, if she'd asked. "I don't know anything about Rudolf's house, but I doubt most of it will be suitable."
That was part of the problem. He felt sorry for her. She might be a silly, vain woman, but she was what the men around her had made her. Then they'd thrust her into a world she knew nothing about and left her to survive on her own. Isabelle and Drew could take care of themselves under just about any circumstances, but Jake would never have let them head off across several thousand miles alone. If he couldn't go himself, he'd have made sure at least two of the orphans went along.
Yet Valeria had been practically abandoned by an uncle who knew somebody was trying to kill her. For all he knew, her future husband was no better. Luke might not have any real feeling for his adopted brothers, but he'd never ignore somebody trying to kill them. He had a little honor left.
Maybe that was why he felt protective toward Valeria. "How much longer will it be before we reach Rudolf's ranch?" she asked.
"At least two weeks."
"Are you sure it won't be sooner?"
"It'll probably take longer."
That worried him more than it apparently worried Valeria. He'd started kissing her to prove a point. He'd kept kissing her because he wanted to. And not just because he wanted to make love to her. Because he wanted her to want to make love to him.
This wasn't just sex. That's what scared Luke.
A long time ago he'd decided he wasn't worth much.
His parents might still have been a little bit in love when they conceived Chet. But by the time they got around to Luke, they'd felt nothing but loathing and disgust for each other. It had spilled into their relationships with him. Not even Jake and Isabelle had been able to dissolve the feeling of worthlessness that had hardened and crystallized around his heart before he was able to think well enough to know what was happening.
That was why he'd become a professional gunman. It was the perfect profession for a man who felt nothing, wanted nothing, expected nothing. He was accustomed to living without love. He'd cut himself off from feelings.
Yet a tiny flicker of hope remained alive. Against all reason, Valeria's presence had caused that flicker to grow stronger. Valeria, of all people. She was as empty as he, a pretty, decorative vessel representing an outmoded way of life. She saw the rest of the world only as it related to her. Such a woman could never truly love anyone, certainly not anyone like Luke. They were too much alike, each taking, using, and casting aside.
"Do you plan to bring your horses to the ranch?" Luke asked. He had to do something to keep from thinking.
"Yes. I was hoping to breed them for sale."
"They're too light-boned for ranch work. You need something like my horse."
"I realize that. I'm planning to look around for suitable stock to mate with my animals. Maybe I'll start a new breed."
"Don't you mean your husband will start a new breed?"
"Rudolf has no interest in horses. I've planned the coatings of every horse I brought with me."
Luke wasn't sure he believed that. Other than wanting to ride, she hadn't shown an overwhelming interest in her horses. He supposed it was different when you were a princess. You didn't muck out stalls, shoes horses, deliver foals, make poultices. Servants did all that. All the more reason for him to snuff out that foolish flicker of feeling as quickly as possible.
He'd always been a sensible man, able to think and act rationally in any situation. But he had begun to worry that he couldn't control himself when it came to Valeria. He ought to make sure he wasn't around her any more than necessary. If he wasn't careful, he would do something very stupid.
Worse, the drivers would know he'd done something stupid, and he couldn't stand that. He had to maintain the upper hand. He couldn't be vulnerable. That would threaten his position, and he couldn't allow anything to do that, especially not Valeria. He shuddered at the thought of people's reaction to the news that flint-hearted Luke Attmore had fallen in love with a princess. Men would laugh over their whiskey in fifteen states and territories. They'd trade versions at every bar and saloon in the West. They'd stop each other on trails to exchange the news for extra laughs.
No, he had to stay away from Valeria, and he had to start tonight.
Valeria was thoroughly irritated. She'd spent half the night awake, thinking about what had happened between her and Luke on that mountain. It hadn't taken long to stop blaming everything on Luke. He'd chosen a very crude method to illustrate the dangers of her new world, but it was her feelings about the kiss that kept her awake.
Something beyond good looks and physical attraction, though they were dangerous enough, fascinated her about Luke Attmore, and she had to find out why. She had gotten up early, had her breakfast before Otto and Hans had emerged from their tents, and supervised the saddling of one of her horses. She meant to ride with Luke today. She intended to keep riding with him until she figured out what it was about him that appealed to her so strongly.
"Luke rode out an hour ago," Zeke had just told her. "He's switching jobs with Hawk."
"What job?" she'd asked.
"Hawk usually rides ahead, checking out the trail, looking for a good spot to camp, keeping a lookout for danger."
"But Luke promised not to leave my side."
"He figures I'm just as good," Zeke had said.
He might be, but he wasn't Luke, and that was all that mattered.
"You sure you don't want to ride in the coach?" Zeke asked about every fifteen minutes. He refused to ride next to her. Every time she tried to come abreast with him, he spurred his horse forward. She'd accepted that she'd have to talk to his back if she wanted to talk to him at all. They were riding in the middle of the caravan, her coach in front of them. He rode about a dozen feet off to the side to avoid the dust kicked up by the mules' hooves. It had rained a little during the night, but not enough to keep the dust down.
"I'm quite sure," Valeria replied. "If I'm going to die of the heat, I don't want to do it closed up inside that coach. It's too much like a coffin."
"Nobody ever died of the heat who acted sensible."
Her clothes were too hot, but at least she had a hat with a brim wide enough to keep the sun from beating directly down on her.
"I'm trying to learn to act sensibly," she said, "but it'll take a while."
"Maybe you should have stayed where you were."
Zeke disliked her and everything she represented more even than Luke. She'd never considered herself or her family evil, but nearly everybody in America acted as though they were criminals.
"I had no a choice," she said. "My countrymen decided they didn't want us around anymore."
"We don't want you around either."
"You can get rid of me by going back to Bonner," she snapped.
He looked around at her, his big black eyes a little wider than usual. "You learning to snap?" "If I don't, I'll get trampled."
"Your kind will get trampled anyway."
She didn't need to ask what he meant by your kind. She'd heard more than enough of his opinion of women,
especially white women, most particularly European white women. "I intend to learn everything I can so I won't get trampled," she said. "I wanted to talk to Luke about that today."
"If you're counting on Luke to bring you up to the mark, you'll wait a long time."
"Why? He's lived here all his life. He knows the country better than anyone else."
"Even me?"
"Even you."
She had no idea what Zeke knew, but she was tired of his bullying.
"I can tell you anything he can," Zeke said. "Will you?"
"No."
"That's why I want to talk to Luke."
"Luke doesn't like women like you."
She wondered what Zeke would say if he knew what had happened yesterday. She couldn't be certain Luke felt anything more for her than physical attraction and mild interest, but he did feel something. And if her intuition tuition was right, that interest was behind his decision to change jobs with Hawk.
"Maybe I should talk with Hawk."
"He won't say anything. Hawk hates white women, too."
"I thought his mother was a white woman."
"He doesn't hate his mother."
"Since neither you nor Hawk will talk to me, I suppose I'll have to ask the drivers."
"Luke won't let you talk to the drivers." "Since he's not here, he can't stop me." "I'll stop you for him."
She didn't know any of the drivers well enough to feel comfortable asking them questions, but it angered her that Luke and Zeke thought they could stop her from talking to anybody. "I suppose there's a reason for this." "You'll have to ask Luke."
At that moment she saw a rider top a ridge several miles ahead.
"I think I will," she said and put her horse into a gallop.
Zeke shouted and started after her, but she was riding her favorite thoroughbred today. There wasn't a horse in Arizona that could keep up with him once he reached full stride. She just hoped he didn't stumble on the rough terrain.
And she hoped the man in the distance was Luke.
Luke Page 14