Chase the Fire

by Barbara Ankrum

  Without him.

  His gaze fell to her sore hand, which she cradled in the other one. "What's that?"

  "It's nothing. A rope burn."

  "That's not something to ignore, Libby." He took her hand in his. "Come here."

  "It's nothing really, I—"

  "Libby..."

  Reluctantly, she let him examine her hand. His thumbs smoothed the roughened skin on her palms, carefully avoiding the sore spot.

  He frowned. "Don't you wear gloves?"

  "I did," she replied. "If I hadn't, they would have been a lot worse. It was just this ornery gelding. My hand nearly got caught in the dally knot."

  Chase cursed silently. He'd seen men lose fingers and sometimes hands by getting caught up against the saddle horn in the knot like that. He shook his head and reached for the salve she'd been plying him with all week. Gently, he stroked the fragrant balm onto her palm; then he massaged the rest of her fingers, one at a time.

  Libby allowed it, closing her eyes at the wonderful sensation of his caresses. No one had ever done this for her before and she found she didn't want him to stop. His strong fingers worked their way up to her wrist and arm, stroking, massaging, working out the soreness there.

  She opened her eyes to find him watching her intensely. His hand stopped its movement. Libby pulled her hand from his and felt the heat of color rise in her cheeks.

  "I... I think I smell the biscuits burning," she said without moving, held by his eyes.

  He nodded. "Better go check 'em then, Lib."

  "I... yes." With her heart pounding in her ears, she left him sitting on the bed, watching her go.

  * * *

  Tad and Elliot rode off together toward Three Peaks a short time later. Except for those posted on watch in the canyon, the other men rode off to town for their Saturday night blow out. Libby and Chase shared the supper of corn chowder and biscuits. Though they both ate slowly and talked of inconsequential, safe things, the meal was over all too soon. Chase helped Libby wash the few dishes they'd dirtied. Then he gathered up his things and came back into the common room.

  "I guess I'll head out to the barn," he announced quietly.

  "Yes," she answered, not looking at him.

  He set his saddlebags on the floor beside him and took her by the shoulders. He felt an involuntary shiver race through her. "I just want to say... thank you for everything. I'm beholden to you, Lib."

  Disappointment flashed through her silvery eyes. "Chase... you don't owe me anything," she answered, searching his face. This time there was no malice in her words. Only sadness.

  "You're wrong about that."

  He bent closer and for a moment she thought, hoped, prayed he was going to kiss her. But his lips only brushed her cheek and then he was gone.

  * * *

  Chase angled the letter he'd received from Max Foulard toward the soft yellow glow of the lantern, read it and then, with a frown, crumpled it in his hand. Three weeks ago, the letter would have been cause for a celebration. After all, the news that his modest investments had done well in the recent stock-market surge, nearly tripling in value, should have made him happy. It wasn't a huge sum. Twenty thousand didn't make him rich, but it gave him a base to work from. Max had other news as well: an offer by General Grenville Dodge, a Union surveyor he'd met during the war, to come and work for Dr. Thomas Durant's Union Pacific Railroad outside of Omaha.

  The job offer gave him pause. It wasn't as if such offers had jumped out of the woodwork. In fact, after this whole business with Libby, he had no plans for the future. But he couldn't bring himself to think about any of that right now. He couldn't imagine a future that didn't include Libby.

  The night was full of sounds. A pack of wolves howled in the distance, their plaintive cries hanging on the night air. The hoot owl in the cottonwoods joined in, too. But it was the chirping chorus of crickets that made Chase remember his promise to Tad about Charlie. Tad would never forgive him if the toad was neglected.

  Cursing, he climbed carefully back down the loft ladder and hunted up a couple of fat, black crickets. He wrapped them in a rag and started toward the house. He knew where Tad kept his toad box. It was just a matter of...

  Chase frowned. The lights in the house were still on. Libby had been exhausted. Why was she still up? Maybe, he reasoned, she was having as much trouble as he was getting to sleep.

  He knocked on the door, but got no reply. "Libby?" Chase called. Letting himself in, he called again. "Libby?" Her bedroom door was partway open and the room within was dim with candlelight. She'd probably fallen asleep before she'd even turned the lights down, he reasoned.

  After depositing the crickets in Charlie's toad box, he pushed Libby's door open, thinking he'd blow out the candle she'd left burning. A thread of panic seeped into him when he saw that her bed was empty. Her work-soiled clothes were there, cast carelessly on the floor. He picked up her lacy camisole and without thinking pressed it against his mouth and nose, inhaling her scent. He felt his gut tighten.

  "Libby?" Where the hell are you?

  The hinges on the back door complained as he pushed it open and headed toward the privy—the last place he could think of looking. His heartbeat quickened as he strode toward it. What if she was sick and needed help?

  But the privy was dark and empty.

  Overhead, the stars washed the night sky like jewels. The moon was three-quarters full, but bright enough to cast shadows. Chase plunged a hand through his hair and let out a curse, scanning the yard around the house. He cupped his hands around his mouth and was about to cry out for her again, when he was stopped by the glint of moonlight off the water-filled hip bath parked beside the back door. There, with her head tipped back against the copper tub, was Libby, chest-deep in water. And it looked like she was asleep.

  Chapter 19

  Chase's stomach sank at the sight. Normally, she dragged the hip bath into the house, but she must have been too tired tonight. He walked slowly toward her, his loins tightening with every step. Damn. There was no question of leaving her there, for obvious reasons. But how did a man gracefully awaken a naked lady who'd fallen asleep in her tub?

  He knelt beside her. His gaze roamed over her face and shoulders and, though the water appeared black in the moonlight, he could just make out the outline of her breasts just below the surface. Her knees lazed against one side of the tub, partially out of the water. Steam rose off the water in foglike tendrils as it hit the cooler night air. She couldn't have been here too long. Heat suffused his limbs and lower regions, watching her.

  He pulled his gaze to her face. Her hair was bunched up on top of her head in a knot. Her lips, slightly parted, glistened with moisture. Her lashes moved slightly against her cheeks as if she were dreaming.

  "Libby." He ran a finger down her cheek. She sighed and leaned into his caress as a cat might. "Libby, wake up."

  She smelled of lilac-scented soap and heat and he couldn't resist brushing his lips against the softness of her cheek. It was a mistake and he knew it, but he couldn't keep himself from stealing that taste of her. She moaned and, still half-asleep, turned toward him and settled her lips over his in a seeking, answering kiss that shook him to his very soul. He let out a moan and deepened the kiss. Her lips parted, welcoming his tongue and meeting it with her own.

  His breath came hard and fast and he forced himself to pull away from her, cursing himself for being every kind of fool for taking advantage of her this way. Libby's eyes fluttered open only inches away from his. A sharp gasp escaped her as she came fully awake. "Chase!"

  "You fell asleep."

  "I... I did?" She glanced down at the water, glittering in the darkness and made an attempt to cover herself. "What are you doing here?"

  "Crickets. I came to deliver crickets for the toad. But when I couldn't find you, I went looking."

  But as her gaze went back to him, she let her hands fall away from the breasts she'd tried to hide. He'd expected to see fear, or maybe anger,
in her eyes when she woke. But there was nothing close to that in them when her gaze returned to his.

  "I thought I was dreaming... but did you just kiss me?"

  His jaw tightened and he nodded.

  Chase froze as she sat up in the water, letting its protection fall away like a drawn-back curtain. Chase's gaze dropped to her breasts—full, round and perfect—above the cooling water. The chill air puckered their areolas. Her breasts rose and fell with each breath, causing little ripples. Chin up, almost challengingly, she watched him, waiting, daring him to walk away from her.

  He started to sweat. Her eyes told him the things she couldn't bring herself to say and begged him for the very things he wanted to give her. Slowly, her hand came out of the water to touch the scar at his temple with a wet caress.

  He felt his good intentions crumple at her touch.

  "Ah, damn it all, Libby..." His mouth crushed against hers with none of the gentleness he'd shown before, but with a driving reckless hunger that demanded satisfaction.

  On a moan of yearning, Libby wrapped her wet arms around his neck and drew him closer until her breasts flattened against his hard chest and soaked the front of his shirt. Without a thought to reason or consequence, her lips moved over his, demanding, feeding the fire already raging inside them both. It was too late to deny the intensity of what was between them. Even if she'd wanted to turn him away, she was utterly incapable of doing it. His kiss had stolen her senses and robbed her of all will, but to be here in his arms.

  Without breaking apart from her, he stood, bringing Libby with him. He drew her ever closer, until she was crushed up against the steely, unyielding length of him. She felt an almost violent tremor pass through him. Sliding his hands down the slick length of her, he cupped her buttocks and drew her hips to him. His arousal pressed hard against her belly. He slanted his mouth and his kiss settled deeper, more provocatively against hers, while their tongues mated.

  If it was cold, Libby didn't feel it. Her body was on fire for him. He broke the kiss long enough to reach for the flannel wrapper she'd left draped over the end of the tub and wrapped it around her. One arm slid beneath her knees and Chase lifted her in his arms, heading for the house.

  "Your shoulder—"

  His mouth captured hers again, silencing her protest and making it clear he was in no pain from the effort. He yanked the door open and kicked it to make way for the two of them. Like her breath, his came fast and hard and they shared air as his mouth hovered a whisper above hers.

  "We've both wanted this for a long time. You know that, don't you?" he asked.

  "Yes" was her breathless reply.

  He carried her to her room and set her on her feet in front of her bed.

  "But tell me to stop right now, and I will," he said.

  "No." The word was whispered against the skin below his shoulder as she pressed her lips to him.

  If it hadn't been for the caress in his jade green eyes and the sudden awe in his expression, she would have felt vulnerable, exposed, standing naked before him. He slid the wrapper off her shoulders and wadded it up in his fist. With slow, sensuous strokes, he dried her, dragging the flannel over her still-damp body. Her hands touched his shoulders, feeling his strong muscles bunch and flex beneath her fingers.

  The soft fabric rasped over her breasts, her hips, her stomach; and his warm hand trailed behind it, exploring, discovering her. When he was finished, he tossed the wrapper to the floor.

  Libby's head dropped back as his palms cupped and lifted her breasts. He dropped his mouth first to one, then the other, taking each nipple into it with reverent passion.

  Suddenly, he drew her against him again and buried his face in her hair which had pulled free of the knot and now covered her shoulders in a blond froth. She tightened her arms around him, her hands playing over the ridges of muscle on his back and along his spine. His shirt was wet where she'd touched it, but his skin was hot beneath the fabric.

  "Ah, Libby—"

  She pressed her index finger to his lips, silencing whatever he'd been about to say. "Don't—" she whispered.

  He took her face between his two large hands. His gaze took in every detail and told her there would be no turning back for either of them this time. His look was predatory, utterly male and sent a shiver of pleasure through her. She didn't want him to stop.

  Beyond caring what was right or wrong, she could only proceed where her heart led her—into the quiet storm of his lovemaking.

  With his arm behind her neck, he lowered her to the bed, then lay down on top of her. Crushing her into the feather mattress, he again claimed her mouth with his. She met him halfway, shaping her mouth to fit with his. Tongue, teeth, lips ground together in a desperate hungry feast. His body was rock hard and his hips arched into the cradle of hers.

  She reached up to fumble with the buttons of his shirt, needing the feel of his skin against hers, but he didn't have the patience to wait. He ripped his shirt open, buttons popping off and rolling on the floor in little circular spirals. Before he had even shrugged the garment off, her hands were beneath the fabric, touching, exploring his heated skin. They trailed lovingly over the healing scar at his side, the bandage that still covered the wound on his back.

  He let out a moan of pleasure and rubbed against her, caressing her breasts with his hair-dusted chest.

  "Love me, Chase. Just this once. I need to know—"

  "In my mind, I've done this a thousand times"—his tongue laved the still-damp skin near her ear—"like this." Raining kisses down her throat and chest, he slid downward until his mouth closed over one swollen nipple. He sucked and gently bit the tender place with the edges of his teeth while his rough palms caressed her belly and moved lower, ever lower.

  His long fingers found the silky triangle of curls at the vortex of her legs. Her eyes flew open and she found him watching her with the same fierce expression she'd seen often on his face. It was a look that frightened, yet thrilled her.

  Chase watched her eyes roll shut and her lips slacken with pleasure at his touch. Her hips moved against his stroking palm in an ancient rhythm. Chase trailed his tongue across her quivering belly and back again to her breasts. She whimpered. She was hot and ready for him, but he wouldn't take his pleasure too soon. He wanted it to be good for her, because he sensed the act never had been before. He wanted to remember every touch, every brush of her lips against his skin, the soft, pillowy weight of her breasts in his hand... every sigh his touch evoked. And oh, how he loved to touch her.

  Their joining was as inevitable as the fate that had brought him here. He could no more stop himself than he could stop breathing. She was water to his thirst, filling the deep, aching well that had been growing inside him since the war.

  He would show her, even if he couldn't tell her, what she meant to him. With every kiss, every stroke, he wanted to make up for all the hurt he'd given her, all the pain she'd suffered. He would love her until she couldn't think, or speak, or remember all the reasons she shouldn't be with him—until all that was left was the fiery dance of their mating.

  Libby couldn't believe what he was doing to her. Exquisite, shattering feelings rocked her from head to toe, centering deep in her womanhood, curling like a ball of fire and spreading out in tongues of flame. Of all the imaginings she'd had, all the sinful, reckless remembrances she'd harbored, this went beyond them all. He was driving her wild with wanting and she was desperate to feel him inside her. She moaned his name, but he muffled the sound with his mouth, wresting one long, wet kiss from her.

  He pulled away long enough to tug his boots off, then stood to undo the buttons on his trousers and slid them down over his lean hips. Her eyes widened when she saw his arousal. It awed her that she could stir such a need in him and that he could do the same to her.

  Then her gaze fell to the terrible scar on his right thigh. Her breath caught in her throat. She'd seen it once, that night when he'd been wild with fever. But then it had seemed paltry compare
d to the injuries he fought to survive. Now, if indeed it symbolized everything that stood between them, she no longer cared. She wanted to reach out and touch it, heal it—take away the pain he'd gone through.

  He stood above her, watching these thoughts play across her face. "It's an ugly scar," Chase said, glancing at his leg.

  She shook her head and reached for him. "How could it be ugly if it's part of you?" she asked as he stretched his body out on top of hers. She enfolded him in her arms.

  "Ahhh... I walked around half-alive before I met you," he murmured, nuzzling her breasts. His lips played against her skin, sending shivers up and down in her. "You make me feel whole again. You're a part of me, Libby, you always will be."

  Libby felt her heart lurch painfully at his words, but his stroking hand pushed all thought from her mind. She felt the hard, silken heat of him against her leg. Satin and steel, he was. He wanted her as much as she did him. Chase let out a convulsive shudder as her fingers brushed, then closed around him. He moaned, pressing his face into the curve of her shoulder.

  "Libby... what you do to me..." he murmured. "Can you feel it? Can you feel how much I want you?"

  Leaving a fiery, damp trail of open-mouthed kisses in her wake, she answered him, exploring the firm muscles of his chest, teasing his salty nipples with her tongue the way he had hers. With untutored strokes, she discovered the part of him she craved.

  "Ahhh... yes," he sighed. "Just like... ahh..."

  All the while his hands roved over her breasts, gently squeezing them, rasping the tightened dusky crests with the flattened palms of his hands. Like flint against steel, their hands skimming over each other's body, feeding the growing fire within them until it burned white hot.

  With a growl, Chase rolled back on top of her, the limits of his control finally snapped. He wasn't gentle as he pushed her legs apart with one knee, then settled commandingly between her thighs. He dipped his mouth down to pull one nipple fully into it, teasing the bud with his teeth. She gasped his name before he captured her mouth with his own. Then he taught her tongue to explore his mouth as she had the rest of him.