Painted Lady

by Roxy Harte

  When Daniel returned from gathering firewood to find her crying, she didn't even try to hide her tears. She huddled into herself, her knees tucked under her chin, her arms wrapped around her.

  He ignored her, not even asking if she was okay. Darn man. Her aloneness seemed even more complete with him sitting right beside her. Worse, he didn't even seem fazed by the events of the last few days. He was focused and determined, every step of the way. She guessed she should be thankful he had enough experience on the trail to keep them safe, but her heart seemed only to find bitterness, even after he had a small fire blazing.

  “Warm yourself and you'll feel better.”

  “I'm not cold.” She lied.

  “Why are you crying?”

  “Isn't it obvious I'm overcome? I've lost my best friend; we were chased by Indians and the militia, fought our way through a sandstorm, scaled a mountain, and now…I am completely and utterly alone. How am I ever going to survive?”

  He looked at her but didn't say a word. He did arch his broken brow, though, which only made her want to throw a boot at his head. “Aargh!” she shrieked, standing. With her hands on her hips, she demanded, “Aren't you even going to comfort me?”

  Daniel had the impudence to laugh at her.

  Lucy lunged at him with both fists, bowling them both into the small campfire. Daniel bellowed and hoisted her to her feet. “Damnation, woman!” He swatted at the fabric of her dress, making certain she wasn't ablaze before grabbing her upper arms and shaking her. “What is the matter with you?”

  “I want you to hold me!”

  His face was a mask of frustration as he stared her down. Finally he said, “There's better ways of getting me to hold you than trying to set me on fire.”

  Lucy swallowed hard, regretting her actions. She'd always been a little foolhardy, but her actions had never hurt anyone. Sheepishly she asked, “Are you injured?”

  “No,” he whispered and pulled her into his arms. “I know it's been a hard day, but the travel we face isn't bound to get any easier. We have an entire mountain range ahead of us.”

  She nodded, liking the way his warmth permeated her entire being. She felt safer already. It was like that with Emma: all either of them had to do was hold the other, and they felt better. She molded her body closer.

  He moaned. “You are going to be my death.”

  Lucy looked up at him, meeting his gaze. “Doesn't holding me make you feel better?”

  His dark brown eyes smoldered with challenge. She couldn't look away…didn't want to. She wanted to get lost in the depths of need she saw there. She wasn't innocent. She understood the look in his eyes. Lust. Oliver had come to her wearing such an expression.

  Her heart pounded harder. She wanted to be held and comforted; was this, then, the price she'd pay for such consolation? If so, she wouldn't let him force or coerce her. Was this what he'd meant when he'd said, “What I desire no one can force; it can only be given freely”?

  Oh she hadn't forgotten. Not the blaze in his eyes or the graveled rasp of his voice when he'd said it. She had quaked inside for long after, hadn't slept. His words brought emotions to heart that she had no words for. She'd felt like she'd been drowning in the thickness of the air. She'd wanted to go to him, to run her fingers over his smooth flesh and kiss his warm, soft lips, but she'd been too afraid.

  She didn't know how she knew, but on a deep level she understood what she'd experienced at the hands of Oliver would be nothing like what she would experience with Daniel. God, she was still afraid, but she did not want to spend another night alone in the wilderness without contact, a hand to hold, a back to snuggle against, a shoulder to bury her screams in should a big cat or grizzly barrel down upon them. She had to be brave.

  She reached up and traced her fingers over his prominent cheekbone. She touched the scar that cut through his eyebrow, and Daniel allowed her to explore his face. He didn't move, not one inch, though she felt his breath, warm and sweet, on her cheek. She grew bolder, going up on tiptoe to capture his jaw between her hands. He watched her silently as she gathered enough bravado to press her lips to his wide mouth, but then it was if the spell was broken.

  His hand wrapped around the back of her neck, jerking her nearer, preventing her escape as his lips met hers. His lips might be as soft as rose petals, but they had the bite of thorns as he forced her to open her mouth. She cried out, only to find her mouth filled with his tongue. Oh God. Oh God. She didn't fight. How could she when his kisses melted on her tongue sweeter than honey from a pot? Oliver had never kissed her like this…and she wasn't about to allow the memory of the man who smelled like a dead fish ruin this moment.

  She longed to sweep out her tongue, just to try for herself what it would feel like, but she didn't dare.

  He pushed her down into a soft bed of pine needles, their fragrance wrapping around her. Leaning back, she couldn't have ripped her gaze from his even if they were being preyed upon by a wild animal. His dark-chocolate irises held promises. There were secrets to be discerned, if only she allowed him to reveal them to her.

  “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

  She panted, digging her hands deeply into the pile of evergreen quills. Their prickly sharpness against her palms was a relief to the thick taffy feeling pulling low in her belly. She didn't understand, but she wanted to discover. “I don't want you to stop.”

  He'd followed her down and was lying stretched out over her. He was heavy, but not too heavy. She liked how it felt to be pressed beneath him. She enjoyed the sensation of her breasts crushed into him with each breath.

  She knew what would come next. She was prepared for it.

  For now, this was heaven. She was in no hurry for him to ruin everything by sticking his wee thing inside her. Not that she would ever tell him she thought of it as tiny, but she'd seen a stallion's and she'd seen Oliver's, and by comparison, it seemed men surely got worked up over something so small.

  Daniel lowered his mouth to hers, and his kiss enticed her to yield to curiosity. She slid her tongue from her mouth and traced his lower lip. Oh my. He opened his mouth, spurring her forward, and she ascended to paradise as their tongues dallied together. Oh, oh. How incredibly lovely. She pushed her tongue deeper, and when not satiated, she sucked his lower lip into her mouth and suckled his flesh. Her eyes rolled back, her pleasure was so great.

  He responded in kind, kissing her harder and more fully, demanding more and more of her mouth. Clutching his shoulders, she knew the moment was at hand. She could feel the tension building within the man.

  He pushed away from her and straddled her.

  Daniel looked at her with a fiery intensity as he rubbed his hand over her dress. He squeezed her small breasts. Daniel rubbed his hands over her ribs, his thumbs pressing hard against her abdomen. She gasped when he reached her pelvis, and closed her eyes.

  She couldn't bear to watch as he pushed up her dress around her hips. She scrunched her eyes tight, waiting for him to fumble with his pants. She tried to spread her legs, knowing she should make room for him, but he was still straddling her.

  Didn't he know it wouldn't work that way? He needed to be between her legs.

  She didn't move. She waited. Patiently.

  “What are you doing?”

  Lucy cracked open one eye. He hadn't taken off an inch of clothing. She bit her lip. If he thought for one second she was going to explain how—No!

  “Waiting?” she whispered.

  He let out a short laugh. “Easy now.” He pushed her dress higher, exposing her. Oh God, he was looking. He ran his hands over the bare skin of her pelvis, which made eddies of pleasure explode under her skin. She gasped but couldn't look away, though she'd only been brave enough to open the one eye.

  He parted her thighs, then pushed his knee between hers. She thought she knew what to expect but panicked when he pressed her flesh open with his thumbs, exposing parts of her never meant to be seen. She'd certainly never looked down there and knew onl
y other women had suffered such a view when delivering a troubled child, refusing to be birthed.

  “Oh! You shouldn't.”

  “Shouldn't I?” He smiled, his eyes glowing with a mischievous glint.

  Her lips parted, but no words came out. Her mind was swirling with worry and fear, though she wasn't certain why she was so flustered, other than that what he was doing was surely wrong. He must know that already.

  He ducked his head and licked her. Down there.

  “No!” she cried out, trying to push her knees together. “What are you doing?”

  He didn't allow her to close her legs, and when she tried to sit up, he used his arm as a bar to hold her down.

  “Relax,” he whispered, his breath falling both warm and cool against her sensitive flesh.

  He licked again, settling between her legs like a cat before a bowl of cream. She couldn't dare watch. Oh God! She couldn't not watch.

  The thick taffy feeling pulled deep, seeming to start at his lips and heave new awareness through her before jerking up her spine. She felt like she was going to be ripped in two, but then a deep pleasure would settle over her limbs, knitting her back together. “Daniel. You shouldn't. Daniel, you must not do this. I am most certain this is wrong!”

  Oh God. That feels so good.

  Suddenly the taffy turned to bolts of lightning shooting through her, making her hips jerk. She was going to die. He was killing her! Oh God, oh God, oh God! Her eyes flew open. The trees above her head seemed brighter green, the birds' song sounded like angels descending, and the lightning buckling her spine became a tornado that scooped her up and tossed her into the clouds… And then she was floating, ever so gently, ever so lovely. “Oh. My. Oh that was lovely.”

  She met Daniel's gaze, saw the burn in his eyes had bled to a slow simmer. He smiled at her slowly, looking at her over the flat rise of her stomach. The dress was still bunched around her rib cage, and she thought she ought to jerk the fabric down and hide herself. She didn't.

  Chapter Four

  Lucy awoke alone. She called his name, and her breath made a white cloud in front of her face. A fire burned nearby, and she huddled by it for a moment, listening. She found him near the horse.

  He'd removed the litter, had both trunks open, and was going through their contents. He was taking the most valuable of the gowns and corsets, folding and tucking them into canvas bags. She narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing?”

  “The horse isn't going to able to haul and climb, so I'm packing him with as much as I can. As it is, we're looking at walking the whole damn trail.”

  “I s'pose the stuff you're taking you are planning to sell for profit?” She thought about the corsetry decorated with peacock feathers. It was so beautiful. And the red velvet dress. What she wouldn't give to have a dress so fine. Of course, he'd seen their value too and had probably packed them first.

  “I reckon so.”

  “And I know you were planning on splitting the profits with me?”

  He looked over his saddle and caught her gaze. “I'll share the profits.”

  When he finished, a large number of items—dresses, corsets, and a pair of women's boots with a high heel, the like of which she'd never seen—still littered the ground.

  “What is left over, you plan to leave?”

  He tied down the canvas packs with rope, cinching the rope tight, acknowledging, “Yep,” before turning his attention back to preparations to get back on the trail.

  Lucy crawled on her hands and knees to the pile and started rummaging through the mess. She found a bright yellow dress and a black one that were stunning and at the very bottom of the pile a dress fashioned from the deepest, most luxurious ruby velvet she'd ever seen. She wanted them for herself. It made no sense, but she certainly couldn't leave them littering the trail. She found a fancy square of fabric and stretched it out before piling the items she wanted to keep in the middle. She included the boots, knowing they were entirely unsuitable for crossing the mountain or any other practical purpose she could think of. But they were beautiful. In no time, she had everything packed into a fat, tidy square. When Daniel was ready to head out, she picked up the bundle and balanced it on her head.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Carrying out the rest.”

  “You think you're going to climb that mountain, balancing that bunch of clothes on your head?”

  “No thinking to it. I already decided I am.”

  Daniel shook his head. “I won't let you kill yourself over some frilly dresses and undergarments you have no use for.”

  Lucy shrugged. “Who says I have no use for them? You may have taken the best of the best to sell, but what's left over is still worth something.”

  “When you get tired enough, you'll dump that pack.”

  “Maybe.”

  * * *

  The trapper's trail was narrow, steep, and at most times precarious.

  Even though the lightly worn path followed the natural gait of the animals he tracked, Daniel worried constantly about his horse…and the woman, though he admittedly took the many frequent rests to allow the horse to acclimatize to the altitude and not for the sake of the woman. She held her own, even with the damn pack on her head, making him wonder about her life back East.

  She certainly didn't behave as any slave he'd ever met before.

  For one thing, she wasn't afraid or timid. He liked her willingness to meet his gaze and speak forthright. She got a little too chatty now and again, though, especially when she was tired. Her latest series of questions were a prime example.

  “Where were you born?”

  “Texas.”

  “You've never been a slave.”

  “Nope. My parents were slaves before they were free, and I saw how badly that scarred their lives. I'll never be a slave.” He watched her face as he answered, saw how her gaze cast down and she fought to control an unnamable emotion. “Tell me about your master.”

  A tear slid down Lucy's cheek. “Emma never felt like no master, not to me. It seemed most times like we were sisters—only difference between us was the color of our skin—at least until she married.”

  “Her husband treated you less than kindly?”

  Lucy swallowed hard. “Never in front of Emma. Why'd you leave Texas?”

  “Things started changing. I can't live anywhere where it's not believed all men are equal. Mostly I ride between California and Mexico. There's plenty of work, and I don't have to lie about who I am or what I believe.”

  Lucy stopped walking and swayed on her feet from exhaustion. Daniel steadied her. “A little farther, darlin', just a little farther. Then we can rest.”

  He coaxed her along another five miles, talking softly, encouraging her to tell him about Emma and their life before Oliver had joined the family. He wasn't sure he wanted to know anything about the relationship she'd had with Emma's husband, but in her exhaustion, she revealed all.

  “He spelled my choices out clear enough. I could be willing or unwilling; the outcome would be the same.” She stumbled. “The first time I was so guilt ridden. Emma was my friend.”

  “She owned you. Would you stop talking about her like she was some goddamn saint?”

  Lucy spun on him and slapped him, tears falling over her cheeks. “She was my best friend! And I was hers. I shouldn't have let him do what he done. I should ha' died first rather than betray her.”

  Daniel jerked her to him and crushed his mouth against hers. “Better you are not dead.”

  Lucy pushed against his chest, but he held her tighter. “I didn't like what Ollie did to me. I didn't like lying to Emma.”

  “All that is past now.”

  Lucy closed her eyes against him, too tired to struggle, and Daniel lifted her into his arms, carried her to a large, smooth rock outcrop, and sat down with her still held close. “Look.”

  He knew the moment she did. “Oh. My.”

  A large lake lay at the base of the mountain, the water a dee
p azure in the quickly fading light. On the far side of the water, the mountains rose again, appearing dark and rugged against the orange blaze of setting sun. She sighed and relaxed against his chest.

  “You have a bright future ahead of you, Lucy. Don't muddy it up dwelling overlong on the past.”

  She looked up into his face, and though hers was streaked with dirt and sweat, he thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world. He stroked her face, wanting to kiss her. “I should make camp before it gets dark. Will you be all right sitting here a moment?”

  She nodded, and he hurried to make a small fire.

  Lucy pretended to watch the setting sun, but it was only a sun, and though it was surely a beautiful sight, she found her gaze drawn to the man. She smiled beneath her hand and remembered how he'd made her feel when he'd licked her there. Just thinking about it made a place low in her stomach tighten with need.

  She liked to watch him work, no matter what he was doing. He'd tied the horse, laid out the bedroll, and was gathering wood to make a fire. It didn't take him long. He squatted and piled the wood. She loved to watch his hands most of all. Strong and sure, he arranged the wood. He struck a flint. He cupped the rising smoke and bent near to coax a flame to life with his breath.

  She wanted to feel the pulled-taffy feeling again.

  She wondered if she could make him feel as good.

  She got up then walked to him, and as he coaxed the fire stronger, she undressed. Darkness had fallen around them completely, and his face glowed in the fire's light. He hadn't noticed what she was doing, he'd been so intent on his task. She liked that his eyes widened when he finally glanced at her. “Lucy?”

  “I didn't like it when Ollie touched me. I didn't have a choice with him.”

  He stood and reached her in three strides, pulling her to him. She lifted her face to offer him her lips and found him smiling. “I like the fact that I can choose to be with you, if you would find that pleasing as well.”

  “Very,” he whispered against her cheek. “Are you saying you find being with me pleasing, then?”

  She didn't answer.