Chase the Fire

by Barbara Ankrum

  A long shuddering sigh escaped him as he slid inside her, savoring the feeling of the tight, slick sheath welcoming him. With slow steady movements, he rocked against her, easing himself deeper into her velvety warmth until she'd taken all of him.

  Libby moaned, her hips straining against his in a steady building rhythm. Heat fused them together. Long, wet strokes, agonizingly slow, quickened the current he felt within her. Her body arched and writhed, trying to get him closer, ever deeper inside her. He drew his hand between them once more and found her. The sounds of pleasure that came from her drove him to the edge of control.

  The netting of ropes beneath the mattress creaked with their movement. The heat lightning from outside flashed against the stark adobe walls of her room in a brilliant clash of light and darkness as his thrusts became stronger and more demanding. He drew back to see her face. She was dazed, as fevered as he, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

  If he lived a hundred years he would never forget the way she was looking at him right then—head thrown back in passion, her heated breath mingling with his in the space between them. Her eyes told him what he needed to know.

  Arms trembling, hands frantic and clinging, hot, slick, flesh against flesh, he lost the last ounce of control he had. His movements inside her became frenzied and his breathing roughened as he approached his own release.

  Libby cried out and dug her fingers into his back, "Chase... Chase—"

  He buried his face against her slender neck. His restraint was gone. With his hands on her hips, he brought her up to meet him fully as he drove into her.

  She could no more have held back the spiraling, mind-stealing pleasure that eddied inside her than she could have held back a brilliant sunrise. The fever and tension inside her mounted unbearably until, like a thread, it snapped.

  Together, in the spiraling eddy that had captured them both, they found their release. The miraculous sensation crested and ebbed within her like a wave crashing on the shore. She cried out and, at the same moment, heard his groan of completion as his body shuddered over hers.

  Spent and shaking, they lay together, both stunned by the violent beauty of their mating. Neither of them spoke, as if they were afraid of spoiling the moment they'd just shared. Instead, they clung together for a long time while their breathing returned to normal and their heartbeats slowed.

  Chase's breath rasped against her cheek as his lips brushed it. He tasted the salt of her tears and raised up to look at her.

  "Libby...?"

  She looked up at him and ran her fingers through his hair, brushing it back from his face. "I'm all right."

  "You're crying. Did I hurt you?" He would rather die than think that he had hurt her again.

  "No, you didn't hurt me. I've never... it was... I never felt that way before."

  They shared a smile and he rolled off her, taking her with him in his arms. "You're not alone there, you know." No woman had ever fit him so perfectly or made him lose control so wonderfully before. "You are so... beautiful." His hands ran sensuously down her spine. "Libby, I never meant for that to happen, but I don't regret it. Tell me you don't either."

  She dropped her cheek to his shoulder with a sigh. "I'd be lying if I said I did." She looked up at him, her shining gray eyes meeting his. "I should have stopped it, too, but I couldn't. I didn't want to. But that doesn't make what we did right."

  "Who's to say what's right or wrong?" he asked, pressing his lips to the top of her head.

  "Oh, this was wrong." She sighed. "But more than that, it was dishonorable."

  He turned her face up with his hands. "Why? Because we finally admitted what we were feeling for each other?"

  She shook her head and slid off his sweat-slick body. "Because of who we are. Because there's no future for us and I'm promised to another man now."

  "You don't owe Jonas Harper anything, Libby. You can tell him you've changed your mind—"

  "I haven't."

  Her words stopped him cold. "You're going to go through with it?"

  "I made a promise to him. This has changed nothing." Except me, forever and always.

  He blinked disbelievingly, hurt pouring through him like a bitter infusion. "How can you say that?"

  Libby buried her face against her arms. "I'm not saying that what we did meant nothing to me. It meant... everything to me. But marrying Jonas isn't about you or me or even my happiness, Chase, don't you see that? It's about Tad and his future. I can't let Tad grow up without some kind of security. Jonas can give him that. I can't. I know that now."

  Chase rolled up on one elbow and faced her. He supposed she had every right to believe that he could offer her none of that. And in truth, he couldn't. Not what Harper could. "And what about your life? Your happiness? It doesn't count?"

  She frowned. "I'll be happy. Jonas Harper is a good, respectable man. He'll take care of us and see that Tad gets all the things he needs."

  It surprised him to hear Libby talk about wanting 'things' for her son. It didn't fit with the Libby he knew. But then, maybe he'd been wrong about her. Maybe he'd misunderstood everything. Slowly, Chase pulled her under him again.

  Her hands went up to brace against his chest. "Chase—"

  "What about your needs, Lib?" he demanded, fondling her breast, which instantly beaded into a tight bud. "Can Harper do this to you? Can he make you feel what we just felt together?"

  She looked away and shook her head. "It doesn't matter."

  "Can you live the rest of your life without this?"

  She was startled to feel him grow hard against her belly again. "Chase, don't..." she pleaded, trying to push him off her.

  "Don't what?" he asked, flexing his hips toward hers. "Remind you of what you'll be missing?"

  She grew quiet and looked away. "Yes."

  Silence stretched between them. After a moment, Chase rolled off her and sat with his back to her. He draped one forearm over his knees. "This is still about Lee, isn't it? You can't forgive me for that, can you?"

  A long pause followed. "I've forgiven you," she said at last. "It's myself I can't forgive."

  He turned his head to look at her questioningly. "What do you mean?"

  "Never mind." Libby threw back the covers and started to get up. Chase's hand lashed out and stopped her.

  "Wait a minute. You've got nothing to feel guilty about, Libby. Lee's dead. You're a healthy young woman. He wouldn't have expected you to live alone for the rest of your life, mourning him. You have a right to live again... even love—"

  "The man who shot him?" she asked before she could stop herself. Libby saw the blow had hit its mark and she felt herself wither inside. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said it that way."

  He shrugged and let out a long sigh. "It's true, though, isn't it? But you know, I've often asked myself why it was me that ended up with that locket of yours—why some other poor sap wasn't caught lying in that ditch beside an enemy soldier who only wanted to see his wife one last time. And why, of all things, I was driven to bring the locket to you myself. You know what I decided, Libby?"

  She shook her head.

  "That I came here because I had no other choice, just as neither one of us had a choice tonight. We're two of a kind, you and me. We're both lost as hell and scared of something that could make us happy."

  "I'm being realististic, Chase. I mean, maybe finally, I am. Even if you and I could overcome the problems we'd face, what about Tad? Do you think I could keep your part in his father's death from him forever? Sooner or later he would find out and end up hating you."

  "And what about you? Would you end up hating me, too?"

  She pulled the sheet up around her neck. "Forgiving you and letting myself... love you are two different things. I can't think about the other."

  "Can't or won't?" He pinned her with his eyes while he stood and pulled on his denims. "Watch out, Libby. You just might let yourself be happy for once." He shrugged on his shirt. "You know, sometimes children can surpr
ise you. Sometimes their instincts are a hell of a lot better than ours. Maybe it's because they're so... uncluttered by guilt and all those other nasty things we worry about. They live for today, not for the past or the future."

  She was about to reply when he swooped down and stole one last stinging kiss from her. Shaken, she stared up at him, while his kiss vibrated through her.

  "I'm not the type of man who will beg," he said gruffly. "It's your decision. Harper or me. I'll be waiting. Good night, Lib." Then he turned and walked out the door.

  She lay awake brooding about what he'd said for most of the night and she kept running up against the same wall. It couldn't be right to love the man who'd played such a part in her husband's death. Could it? Yet, despite what she'd told him about not allowing herself to love him, she knew it was too late for that. She loved him already. Did he love her or did he just want her? He hadn't said the words. Maybe he was protecting himself, just as she was.

  And what about Tad? What about the rest of her life?

  I won't beg you, Libby. It's your decision.

  Her heart ached at what she'd seen in his eyes. Making love to him had been a selfish mistake and she wished she could take back all the hurt she'd inflicted.

  Lord in heaven, how could she turn him away? she wondered desperately. But more important, how could she allow him into her heart?

  Chapter 20

  The sound of guitars, strolling mandolins and lively chatter filled the air at Three Peaks as Chase pulled the buckboard to a stop next to the large corral where a host of buggies were parked. The corrals were festively decorated with red, white and blue banners. Pole-hung lanterns were ready to light the place at nightfall.

  Smoke billowed fragrantly from the two barbecues at the side of the hacienda where beef sides turned, sizzling with dripping grease over the fire. Another fire sported a huge black kettle of beans. Beneath the shade of the willowy aspens, long plank tables had been set up atop barrels and covered with white sheets and patchwork quilts. The yard was already crowded with people. Some of the oldest families of Santa Fe were there: the Delgados; the Ortizes, who had seven children; Jose Sena and his wife, Isabel, who, wearing a black lace mantilla, looking every bit the prosperous rancher's wife. Libby tried to imagine herself taking her place among them in society, but the idea held little appeal.

  The diminutive scout and Indian fighter, Kit Carson, who'd ridden down from Taos, was there, too. As usual, he was surrounded by admirers and trailed constantly by young Billy Bonney, a boy of Tad's age, who had several times drawn Tad into games of tops in the streets of Santa Fe when Libby had taken her son to town. Libby nodded to Billy's mother, Mrs. Antrim, who ran a neat boardinghouse in town.

  There, too, was the marshal, John Pratt. He and his wife, Cynthia, were talking with Nora, who was laughingly fending off a sneak attack by four of the Winfield children. Libby watched Chase's gaze take it all in: the rambling buff-colored hacienda, the rich barns and corrals, the expense Jonas had gone to for this party.

  Chase's jaw tightened as he wrapped the reins around the brake handle and jumped down to the ground. Except for Straw's constant banter from the back of the buckboard, their ride here would have been—like the day that preceded it—silent. Chase had only come here at El's insistence that he needed to get off the Double Bar H and have some fun. From his grim expression, Libby guessed that fun was the last thing he expected to have. Libby tore her attention from him and searched the crowds for Tad.

  El pulled up beside them on his horse and adjusted the string tie at his neck. "Looking for anyone in particular?" he asked, teasing Libby.

  She grinned guiltily. "I can't help it. Tad's never been away from me this long before."

  "He was with Nora, who adores him, and about a dozen of those Winfield children," El reassured her. "Believe me, he's been in good hands."

  "He probably didn't even miss me," she admitted with a smile.

  "Oh, I wouldn't be too sure about that. Look."

  Tad came racing toward the buckboard, just as Chase was handing Libby down from it. Jonas wasn't far behind.

  "Ma!"

  Libby scooped him up in her arms and gave him a spinning hug. "Ohhh, you! I missed you so much!" she cried.

  "Me, too. Hi, Chase!" he called over his shoulder. "Guess what, Ma? Jarrod Winfield taught me how to pitch horseshoes and Jackson traded me a cat's-eye marble for a rock I found that had plain old mica in it and Miss Nora's old white, barn cat had kittens! Four of them and she said I could have one if I wanted...." His voice trailed on, telling Libby all the excitement he'd had in the two days he'd been gone.

  A pang of desire hit Chase as his gaze fell to Libby. She looked beautiful with her flaxen hair pulled back neatly into a chignon and her cheeks rosy with excitement. The elegant magenta silk gown she wore had drop shoulders, a tightly fitted basque and a full skirt. It suited her hourglass figure perfectly. The fact that it was a gift from Harper, however, made Chase wish she were wearing nondescript trousers and a boy's shirt again. And as Harper approached, his pleased, possessive look sweeping over Libby, Chase wished it even more.

  "Hello, Elizabeth." Jonas's deep voice rumbled from his barrel chest. A catlike grin lit his face as he kissed her cheek. "You look... radiant, my dear. Lovely. If I do say so myself, the choice of magenta for your gown was the right one."

  "Thank you, Jonas. Your place looks wonderful."

  "Nora's doing, I'm afraid. She's had Tad and all those Winfields hopping to all week."

  "Are we the last ones here?"

  "Not at all," he answered, "but I'll admit, I've been anxious to see you."

  Tad pulled on his mother 's arm, desperate to show her the barn kittens. "C'mon, Ma. There's a little black one that's—"

  "Tad," Jonas said a little too sharply. He frowned and laid a hand on Tad's shoulder. "Your mother will be along in good time and it won't do to be yanking her by the arm as if she were a yearling calf." He pointed off in the direction of the barn where a swarm of boys were hitting a metal hoop with a stick. "You run along now and play with your friends."

  Tad blushed furiously and looked up at Libby, confused.

  Speechless at Harper's disciplining of her son, she bent down and gave Tad a peck on his cheek. "You go on. I'll be along directly. We'll pick out the prettiest of those kittens for you to take home. Okay?"

  Tad managed a smile, but his joy had dimmed with Harper's taking-down. He turned and ran off toward the other children.

  Libby couldn't bring herself to look Jonas in the eye. Instead she glanced at Chase, who was visibly seething over Jonas's dismissal of her son.

  Jonas took her hand and patted it, clearly misunderstanding her anger for embarrassment. "Don't worry, my dear. His lack of manners is perfectly understandable considering he's been fatherless so long. A boy like Tad needs a firm male hand. I'll see he gets it."

  Libby's teeth ground together. Tad's enthusiasm had been perfectly understandable, considering he hadn't seen her in days. She would have to set Jonas straight about how she intended Tad to be raised. But this wasn't the time.

  Jonas nodded to Elliot then glanced at Chase who was unhitching Blue from the back of the wagon. "Mr. Whitlaw, I'm glad to see you're on the mend."

  "I'm doing fine, thanks to Libby," he replied.

  Jonas didn't flinch. "Yes, she's quite a woman, my Elizabeth," he answered, offering her his elbow.

  Libby hesitated. "Oh, I brought some plum duff," she said, reaching for the cloth-covered pan at the back of her wagon.

  Jonas took it from her hands and passed it to Chase. "I have some people to introduce you to, my dear. I'm sure Mr. Whitlaw won't mind carrying it in for you, will you, Whitlaw?"

  Chase sent him a scowl and took the pan. "Not at all." He touched the brim of his hat to Libby and smiled meaningfully. "Ma'am."

  Libby returned his smile nervously then allowed Jonas to lead her off to the party.

  "I don't like that bastard," Chase grumbled to El, who'd
come to stand beside him.

  "That makes two of us. When I came to Nora's for dinner with Tad, he spent half the time grilling me about you."

  Surprised, Chase turned to El. "What did you tell him?"

  El laughed. "Nothing, of course. But I think you make the man nervous."

  A bitter smile curled Chase's lips. "I wonder why? He's got what he wants."

  "Could be the way the object of his desire looks at you."

  Chase glanced sideways at him. "Do me a favor and tie Blue up over by the barn, near the water trough, will you? I'm gonna get rid of this pan and see if there's anything to drink stronger than lemonade over there."

  "The day's young, Chase," El warned, taking Blue's reins.

  "Don't remind me," he tossed back over his shoulder as he walked away.

  Nora had planned a full day of events aimed at keeping the children entertained. Sack races, foot races, even a greased pig-catching contest. To no one's surprise, men and women joined in the fun, participating in their own three-legged races and tobacco-spitting contests. Nora and Elliot entered the three-legged contest together, much to the delight of the children. They ended up in a tangle on the ground halfway to the finish line, laughing hysterically. Tad and Jarrod Winfield reigned victorious, defeating all the eminently clumsier adults.

  Jonas served as judge in the dessert contest and, amid jesting cries of partiality, picked Libby's plum duff over all the others.

  It was, however, the target-shooting contest that peaked Chase's interest. Over the rim of a strong cup of Switchel, a drink made with rum and molasses, Chase watched the men line up for the contest. Among them was Jonas Harper. The prize: a fifty-dollar purse of entry-fee money. Intrigued, not by the prize, but the opportunity to go up against his nemesis, Chase quietly retrieved his Henry rifle from his saddle and joined the others.

  "That's a fine-looking rifle," Jonas commented, eyeing the etched brass breech. "But can it shoot as good as it looks?"