Comanche Temptation

by Sara Orwig

  “Don’t push me, Luke,” she said, getting up and walking to the window to stare into the night. The wrapper swirled around her, and her long hair swung across her shoulders, a cascade of silky raven strands that made Luke think about burying his face in its softness.

  “I gave your pa a promise to take care of you, and I will, Honor, whether you like the way I do it or not,” he stated quietly, wondering again if all peace had gone out of his life.

  She turned and her dark eyes glittered with anger. “I’m going to bed.”

  “Sit down. You’re angry, and when you get to your room, you’ll think about your pa and you won’t sleep.”

  She bit her lip. The wrapper and the gown had the first buttons unfastened, and he looked at the slight triangle of flesh revealed, still high enough to be chaste, yet his imagination was running away with him as his gaze drifted down over her bodice.

  “Why haven’t you ever married? Have you ever been in love?” she asked him, and he heard the angry challenge and curiosity in her question.

  “Yes, I thought I was in love once a long time ago before the war,” he answered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We were both young, and then the war interfered and she married someone else. Everything I had was destroyed by the war, so I came west. My parents are dead, and my brothers were killed in battles in Tennessee.” Silence lengthened between them, and then she turned toward the door.

  “I’m going to bed. You can take whatever bedroom you like.”

  Luke extinguished the light and caught up with her in the hall to walk beside her. Honor was aware of his height, his shoulder brushing hers. She felt tense, angry with him, and upset over her father’s death. “Pa shouldn’t have done this to either one of us,” she said. “Six years waiting for Jeddy to come of age is a lifetime.”

  “It’ll pass, Honor,” he said to reassure her even as he silently agreed with her.

  “Is six years of this going to be worth the land and cattle you’ll acquire?” Honor snapped, looking up at him as they reached the door of her room.

  His eyes glittered with anger, and she knew she had pushed him. Luke looked down at her, and a muscle worked in his jaw. She could almost see the effort he was making to control his temper as he let out a long breath. “It’s worth getting the land and cattle and it was worth knowing I could help ease your pa’s mind. He’s been good to me, and he was a good man.”

  She inhaled, hurting, knowing she was being shrewish, yet she was humiliated by their arrangement. She waved her hands toward the open doors. “The room next to mine is Jeddy’s, here’s my room, and the big bedroom is—was—Pa’s, and I suppose you ought to take that or I’ll end up keeping it like a shrine, and he wouldn’t want me to do that. There’s an extra bedroom across the hall.”

  He looked around and his gaze swung back to her. “I’ll take your pa’s bedroom, then, if that’s all right with you.”

  Annoyed, she felt a surge of defiance. “Luke, I’m your wife now. This is all yours. You can do as you please, and I have to do what you want.”

  “You’ve had a bad day,” he said, his face darkening with a scowl and his eyes burning with anger. “I’m hanging on to my patience, but stop pushing me. You’re not too old to turn across my knee, Honor.”

  She leaned closer, her anger soaring. “You just try that, Luke McCloud, and I’ll be a widow.”

  Suddenly his mouth pursed and all the anger left his expression. She blinked in surprise. “Are you laughing at me?” she snapped.

  “Hell, no.”

  “You swear a lot, Luke.”

  “Something here is driving me to it.” He caught her shoulders and pulled her to him. “If you want someone to talk to in the night, just come get me. We’ll survive, Honor, and we’ll see the ranch prosper and grow. Now try to cooperate with me just a little.”

  Suddenly the realization that Pa was gone forever hit her again, the awareness of her loss coming without warning. She wrapped her arms around Luke’s neck, feeling again the spill of hot tears on her cheeks.

  “Luke, he’s gone. Every time I remember I lose control. I can’t do this in front of Jeddy.”

  “Just let go and cry. Jeddy will cry with you, and that’s all right, Honor. I know you hurt,” Luke said softly, stroking her head, feeling the long silky hair. “Go ahead and cry. That’s natural and normal, and it’ll help.”

  She stood in his arms, crying silently. Finally he swung her up into his arms and entered her bedroom. He crossed to a rocker and sat down with her on his lap, rocking slightly and holding her. As he gazed around the darkened room, he wondered if the next six years of his life would be a living hell. Whatever happened, it wouldn’t be dull with Honor Roth McCloud.

  He glanced down at her, too aware of her slender body in his arms, her thighs across his, her hip pressed tightly against him. She had turned to hold him, her soft breasts pressing him, and he felt on fire, knowing he had to think about dealing with the ranch and the men and Acheson because if he let his thoughts follow his inclinations, his body would respond swiftly and in a manner all too obvious to Honor.

  Finally she quieted as he rocked her. “You don’t have to do this, Luke.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  She sat up and stared at him, her hands on his shoulders. “Why didn’t Pa just make you my guardian?”

  “Because your uncle has blood ties. He could have voided your father’s request and had himself appointed guardian.”

  “Six years is forever. I’ll be old!”

  “No, you won’t. You just think that right now.”

  “When I’m eighteen I’m of age, and then Uncle Stanton can’t be appointed guardian.”

  “Honor, until Jeddy is grown, you won’t be safe running things on your own, and your father knew it.”

  She stared into space and finally settled against Luke again. In a short time he heard her even breathing and felt her relax as the tension left her shoulders, and he knew she was asleep. He carried her to bed, leaning forward to lower her gently. His breath caught as he looked down at her, and he was swamped with a need to stretch out beside her and pull her into his arms.

  Instead he removed her slippers and pulled a cover over her, his hands brushing over her lightly. He traced his finger along her cheek and looked at her mouth. He remembered kissing her, and his body responded and tightened, his manhood growing hard. Mrs. Luke McCloud, in name only. Heaven help him remember that! He couldn’t think about six years, only tomorrow.

  The next day she rode primly beside him in the wagon as they went to Montello to see the sheriff. On the wide, dusty main street, Luke slowed the team. He jumped down and went around the wagon to lift Honor down. His hands closed on her waist, and she placed her fingers on his shoulders as he swung her to the ground. She wore another black dress today, as he knew she would for months to come, yet with her dark coloring, they were flattering. “Honor, I’ll talk to Branigan. You go get the supplies you need at the general store, and I’ll pick them up when I’m finished here. If you want to look at material at the dry goods store or anything else, I have several errands before I’ll be through.”

  “I want to talk to the sheriff with you.”

  “No. You don’t want to have to go to court and tell about Acheson, do you?”

  “No,” she said, frowning and shaking her head.

  “You go on and stay out of trouble.”

  “I always have until I met you,” she said saucily and tossed her head. Her hair was plaited in one thick, long braid, and the smooth dark strands flat against her head drew attention to her face. He realized she was turning into a breathtaking beauty with her large, dark eyes that had a thick fringe of long lashes, her full red mouth, and prominent cheekbones. She was slender and willowy, and he felt a pang, wishing circumstances were different and he were free to court her.

  Luke turned abruptly and strode across the boardwalk, his spurs jingling while he tried to keep his gaze on the doorway. Unable to resist, he glance
d at the posters tacked to the wall, seeing only a small part of his face showing now because of other posters nailed over it.

  Opening the door, he entered the office the sheriff shared with the barber and the tailor.

  In the front, the sheriff’s office was divided from the barber’s by a low railing with a wide opening. To the right of the door was the sheriff’s desk and behind that was a small room with one cell.

  On the other side of the barber’s area another space was partitioned off by a railing where the tailor worked. Sheriff Whit Branigan’s lanky form was draped on a chair tilted back far enough to defy gravity. His dusty boots were propped on his scarred wooden desk as he laughed at something Jake Moffit said while Henry Beaudine trimmed Jake’s thick black beard. In a far corner, Olin Swenson was bent over a black coat as he sewed.

  Branigan looked around, and his laughter died as he gazed at Luke. The sheriff’s pale brown eyes narrowed, and he swung his feet to the floor and sat up, his hand dropping casually toward his hip and the holster belted around his middle. “Coming in to get a haircut, squaw man?”

  As anger surged in Luke, he forced himself to keep calm and strolled toward Branigan. “Want to step outside and take off your belt and badge and say that?” he asked quietly.

  Branigan drew a deep breath. “What do you want? You here to get a haircut?”

  “No. I’m here to report a murder. Rake Acheson shot and killed Horace Roth, day before yesterday.”

  Whit Branigan rested his hand on the grip of his revolver while his brows arched and he shook his head. “You must have the wrong information.”

  Luke felt a sinking in the pit of his stomach because he didn’t want Honor pulled into this in any way, even for the briefest testimony, but it looked as if it would be impossible to avoid involving her. He moved closer until he was facing Branigan across the desk. “Honor Roth was there. Rake Acheson held her in front of him so Horace couldn’t shoot, and then Rake shot and killed Roth.”

  Whit Branigan shook his head, and Luke’s temper rose. Whit was Rake’s man, a former employee, but he was still accountable to the law, and he had to uphold it.

  “Sorry, but she must have mistaken someone else for Rake in the excitement. Rake Acheson is in San Antonio and has been there for the past four days. There’s no way he could have shot Horace Roth.”

  Six

  Luke reached the desk in two angry strides. Whit went for his revolver, yanking it up as Luke leaned over and punched him. The Colt clattered on the floor as Whit crashed against the wall. Luke leaned over the desk. “I’ll go to the U.S. Marshal. Rake Acheson can’t escape the law.”

  Whit’s face was flushed, his eyes burning with hatred as he stared up at Luke and rubbed his jaw. “He has half a dozen people who will swear he was with them, so go on and talk to the marshal.”

  “Thought you said Acheson isn’t back yet, so how do you know who will swear to what?”

  Whit smiled. “You and I both know he’s in San Antonio, and he’ll have people who will say he’s been there since Wednesday. It’ll be the squaw’s word against Rake’s, and you know how much anyone will listen to a Redskin around here. Course, she is the best-looking Injun in three hundred—”

  Luke was over the desk, coming down on Whit, who quickly tried to back away. Luke hit him again, slamming his fist into Whit’s jaw. Whit slumped to the floor and Luke stood up, squaring his hat on his head and turning to stride outside.

  He stood on the walk and saw Honor across the road talking to Thad Wilgert. He had turned into a tall, handsome man, nineteen years old now, the son of Jefferson Wilgert, a prosperous man who owned the only bank within a radius of thirty miles. Thad Wilgert leaned down to say something to Honor, and her face flushed. Thad was leaning forward, his face thrust at Honor, his hands on his waist.

  Suddenly Honor’s fist shot out and caught him squarely on the nose. He staggered back, his hands flying to his face. Luke began to run. Honor held up her skirts and her chin as she stepped off the boardwalk to cross the street.

  Luke met Honor while Thad stood on the boardwalk, a handkerchief to his bloody nose.

  “What did he say to you?” Luke snapped.

  “We said hello,” she said evenly. “Let it go, Luke. I don’t want a fight. I also don’t want a lecture about being a lady and not hitting him.”

  “What did he say to you, Honor?”

  “Good morning. That sort of thing,” she replied, keeping her head down and hurrying toward the wagon.

  Luke caught her arm and turned her to face him. “You tell me, or I’ll beat it out of him,” he demanded, seeing the spots of color in her cheeks and hearing the anger in her voice.

  “I’ll not have you fighting my battles for me. Men are too violent when they’re angered. It’s not worth your fighting him.”

  “It is if he said something to you that he shouldn’t. Tell me, Honor, or I’ll ask him.”

  “No!” She blushed and looked away. “You’ll embarrass me even more if you do that. Please let it go. I’ve heard comments all my life and learned to live with them. If I hadn’t, Pa would have been fighting someone constantly.” She looked up at Luke. “We’re Indian, and that makes a difference to a lot of these people.”

  “You have friends all over this state. Your house was filled with them yesterday. And I don’t want Thad Wilgert doing anything to upset you when you come to town. It’s time he learned that.”

  “His pa is a powerful man around here, Luke. You shouldn’t aggravate him. Let’s go home. You’ll just make life more miserable for me when I come to town.”

  “Is this why you seldom rode to town with your pa?” Luke didn’t wait for her answer, knowing what it was from the look of anguish on her face. He turned on his heel and strode toward the bank as she hurried along beside him.

  “Luke, please listen to reason.”

  He glanced down at her. “You’re my wife, now, Honor. I want people to respect you.”

  “Some of them never will because I’m a half-breed.”

  “Then they can keep their damned mouths shut and be polite—” He broke off as Thad Wilgert stepped off the boardwalk, saw Luke, and paused. He was dressed in a brown coat and trousers, a white linen shirt that now had a few spatters of blood.

  His blue eyes were angry. “Morning, McCloud. Congratulations on your marriage to the fiery Miss Roth.”

  Luke moved closer, his hands hanging loose at his sides. “What did you say to my wife, Wilgert?”

  Startled, Thad Wilgert’s eyes widened, and he glanced from Luke’s head to his toes and back. His face flushed and he shrugged, clenching his fists and partially raising them. “I don’t remember.”

  Luke swung, hearing Honor screech beside him. His fist connected on Thad Wilgert’s jaw with a dull crack, and Thad sprawled on the street. Luke stood over Wilgert, who shook his head and rubbed his jaw.

  “Treat my wife with the respect you treat any other married woman around here, or you’ll have to answer to me.”

  “You’ll hear from my pa—”

  Luke leaned down. “That’s fine, sonny, but someday you’ll have to grow up and fight your own battles.” He turned away, taking Honor’s arm and walking across the road, ignoring the clusters of people who stared at them in silence.

  “I hate coming to town,” Honor said under her breath.

  “Do you have some things for me to pick up at the store?”

  “Yes. They’re stacked just inside the front door.”

  At the wagon Luke turned her to face him. “Honor, you’re to tell me if anyone’s disrespectful to you.”

  “You’d have to fight half the county,” she said bitterly. “Why do you think Pa left Jeddy and me home so much of the time? Let’s go, Luke.”

  He lifted her into the wagon and strode inside the county store. Women who were shopping and the men sitting at the front of the store all stared at him, conversation ceasing as the bell jingled over the door.

  “Morning, Luke,”
Clayton Northhampton said, striding around the counter. The stocky owner of Northhampton General Store wore a white apron. He was heavy enough to cause the floor to creak with each step of his booted feet. He shook hands with Luke and motioned to the goods at the front of the store. “There’s everything she bought.”

  “I have a few more things,” he said, glancing at a cluster of men. “Morning, Hugh, Samuel, Dodd.”

  “Morning, Luke. Congratulations on your wedding,” Samuel Bentley said solemnly, and the others murmured congratulations.

  “Thank you,” Luke replied, lifting a sack of potatoes to his shoulder and picking up sacks of sugar with his other hand. He carried them to the wagon, glancing at Honor sitting with her chin lifted.

  With Honor waiting patiently on the wagon seat, Luke completed his errands, going to the smithy to get a sledge-hammer repaired, stopping at the wheelwright to replace a wagon wheel, then finally leaving town.

  As the wagon moved along, Luke lifted his face to the breeze. The morning sun was climbing, warming the air. Meadowlarks trilled and grasses bent beneath the wind as dazzling white thunderheads shifted and changed shapes against a deep azure sky.

  “I talked to the sheriff. Rake Acheson is in San Antonio and has people who will swear he’s been there for the past four days.”

  Honor turned abruptly to stare at him. “They’re lying!”

  “I know they’re lying, but a lawman will have to listen to witnesses unless someone can prove they’re lying. He’ll have to believe them.”

  “Even when I say Rake Acheson was on our land?”

  “That’s right. It’s your word against Rake and his witnesses. What witnesses do you have?”

  She lapsed into silence and rode quietly beside him. “That means he’ll get away with killing Pa,” she said, anger lacing her voice.

  “Don’t forget your promise, Honor.”

  “It isn’t right, Luke!” she exclaimed. To Honor’s horror, she burst into tears. She wiped her eyes angrily, turning her head away from him. He must think he married a weeping fountain of a woman. She couldn’t remember crying in all the years before Pa died, but now the slightest reference to Pa seemed to bring an onslaught of tears. And she kept hearing Thad Wilgert’s voice, his sly gaze roaming over her, “… you opened your legs fast enough once your pa was gone …” She hadn’t wanted Luke to fight Thad, but when he punched Thad, she had felt a swift rush of satisfaction.