Forbidden Fires

by Madeline Baker

  She glanced at Rafe again. Was he asleep? Her gaze wandered over his bare chest, admiring the vast expanse of copper-hued skin, the narrow ribbon of curly black hair that disappeared beneath the sheet. Her gaze lingered on the wound in his side, just above his waist, reminding her again of how near she had come to losing him.

  A small sigh escaped Caitlyn’s lips as she snuggled under the covers. The room was dim and quiet and she felt a sudden longing for home, even though home would never be the same again. A part of the ranch had died with her father.

  But Rafe was here. Rafe, who had strong arms to hold her, courage to protect her. Rafe, who had been wounded because of her.

  She turned to look at him again and found herself gazing into his eyes. Rafe, she thought, surprised she had not realized it before. Rafe was home. No matter where they were, she would always be home if he were there beside her.

  “Caty.” His voice was low, deep and husky, washing over her like gentle waves.

  Her heart seemed to stop for an instant, and when it started again, its beat had accelerated. She felt her skin grow hot where his hand rested on her thigh.

  “You’re awake,” she said inanely.

  Rafe nodded. “And hungry.”

  “But we just ate,” Caitlyn said, frowning, and then she smiled because he was not talking about food. “Your wound,” Caitlyn murmured, but her protest died in her throat as his arms slipped around her waist and he drew her against him. Her breasts were flattened against his chest, her legs twined with his. She felt the heat of his length against her own, felt the flame of his manhood rise against her thigh.

  Desire unfolded within her like a flower opening to the sun. Her eyelids fluttered down and she took a deep breath. His scent filled her nostrils, his touch surrounded her, setting her pulse racing. Their lips came together, fire meeting fire. Her tongue dipped into his mouth, as gently as a hummingbird sipping from a vine, and she tasted him, savoring the silky texture of his mouth, the heat of his tongue. A slow heat uncoiled deep within her, spreading outward like the ripples in a stream as his hands played over her body, kneading her flesh, sweetly stroking the curve of her hip, the satin smoothness of her thigh, the warm swell of her breast.

  With a seductive smile, she straddled his hips while her hands drew invisible designs over his chest. She bent to kiss him, her fingers threading through his hair, the tips of her breasts brushing against his chest. The sensation of her smooth skin sliding across the hair on his chest excited her and she moved against him, teasing him, tempting him, until he groaned with desire.

  In one quick movement, Rafe rolled over, sweeping Caitlyn with him, and now he was in control. He stroked her breasts, watching the way her eyes grew heavy-lidded with passion, the way her lips parted as her breathing grew more rapid, more erratic.

  She was beautiful, so beautiful. Just looking at her was enough to arouse him; touching her took him to the very edge of heaven.

  She arched beneath him in silent invitation and they came together, her warmth enfolding him, surrounding him, as he filled her, completing her, until fulfillment broke over them in undulating waves of pleasure.

  Rafe woke early the following morning. Caitlyn was sleeping soundly, her face wearing the look of a woman who had been well-satisfied the night before.

  Dressing in the buckskins he had bought the day before, he left the room and walked into the morning sunshine. The soldiers were already up and about. Some were drilling in the center of the compound, others currying their horses or cleaning their weapons.

  Nearing the Army hospital, he decided to go in and pay Scott and Nate a visit. Early as it was, he found the two cowhands already awake. They had pushed their beds together and were engaged in a lively game of five-card stud when he entered the room.

  They exchanged the usual greetings, and then Scott and Nate exchanged worried glances.

  “I think you should tell him,” Nate told Scott. “He’s got a right to know.”

  “Tell me what?” Rafe asked.

  “After the attack, me and Nate found Web in a ditch. He was in a bad way, all shot up, arrows sticking out of him like quills on a porcupine.” Scott’s face paled with the memory.

  “Go on,” Rafe urged.

  “He was in a bad way,” Scott repeated. “Just before he passed out, he said he’d seen a white man with the Indians. He said it looked like Abner Wylie.”

  “Wylie!” Rafe exclaimed.

  Scott nodded. “We didn’t want to say anything the other day when Miss Caitlyn was here, didn’t want to worry her none.”

  Rafe nodded.

  “Anyway, me and Nate have given it a lot of thought. Supposin’ old Web was right? Supposin’ Wylie was behind that attack? What are we gonna do?”

  Rafe shook his head. “I don’t know. You boys didn’t see him, did you?”

  Nate shook his head. “No.”

  “You were right not to mention this in front of Caitlyn,” Rafe remarked. “Let’s just keep it to ourselves for now.”

  Scott and Nate exchanged looks and then both men nodded.

  “You’re the boss,” Scott said.

  “Yeah. Thanks for telling me about Wylie.”

  Rafe stayed a few more minutes, and then left.

  Abner Wylie. Rafe grunted thoughtfully. Was it possible that Wylie had somehow teamed up with the Indians, that he had offered them as much beef as they could run off if they would help him attack the herd? Was Wylie so mean-spirited, so set on revenge, that he would not only put Caitlyn’s life in danger, but see innocent men killed? And if it was true, how could he prove it now that Web was dead?

  Troubled, he wandered across the compound and out through the gates of the fort until he found himself in the midst of the Crow encampment that was set up adjacent to the fort.

  A muscle worked in Rafe’s jaw. The Lakota and the Crow were ancient enemies, the hatred between them growing stronger and more virulent when the Crow started scouting for the Army. Rafe could understand the Lakota’s hatred. He, too, despised the Crow for leading the white men against the Indians.

  Farther on, Rafe saw a pair of lodges set up a good distance from the others. As he watched, he saw a lanky, red-headed corporal emerge from one of the lodges, a satisfied smirk on his face as he adjusted his trousers. A short time later, a Crow warrior stepped out of the second lodge, a bottle of amber liquid half-hidden in the folds of a blanket.

  Rafe frowned. Apparently someone was selling women and whiskey to red men and white men alike, and no doubt making a hefty profit from both.

  “What’s your pleasure?”

  Rafe glanced over his shoulder to see a tall man with greasy black hair and stained teeth coming up behind him.

  The man smiled. “Your pleasure?” he repeated. “Whiskey to warm your belly, or a woman to warm your blood?”

  “Neither,” Rafe retorted.

  “Too early in the day for ya?” the man asked amiably. Digging a toothpick from his shirt pocket, he began digging around in his back teeth.

  “Yeah,” Rafe agreed. “Too early.”

  “That’s a shame,” the man said. “I got me a pretty lil Injun gal. She don’t have much fight left in her, but she’s as soft as her name. Summer Wind—”

  “What?” Rafe grabbed the man by the front of his greasy buckskin shirt. “What did you say?”

  “I got me a pretty lil Injun—” the man began.

  “Her name!” Rafe demanded. “What did you say her name was?”

  “Summer Wind.” The man’s face paled at the fury building in the half-breed’s eyes. “Forget it,” he said, trying to free himself from Rafe’s grip. “You wouldn’t like her.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Tent on the left.” The man grinned wolfishly at the thought of selling the Indian girl again so soon. “Hey!” he hollered as Rafe released him and started toward the lodge. “Payment in advance.”

  But Rafe didn’t hear him. His face taut, he walked to the lodge and ducked inside.r />
  She was sitting on a pile of filthy buffalo robes, her long black hair falling in a tangled mass over her bare shoulders and breasts. Even in the dim light, he could see the ugly bruises and welts on her arms and neck, the dark shadows under her eyes. She didn’t look up when he entered the lodge, only fell back on the furs and closed her eyes, at resigned expression on her face.

  “Summer Wind.”

  She shuddered at the mention of her name, but did not look at him.

  “Summer Wind.”

  She recognized his voice then and her eyelids flew open. She stared at him for a long time, and then shame flooded her eyes with tears. Grabbing one of the robes, she drew it over her nakedness. “Go away.”

  Muttering an oath, Rafe lifted her into his arms and held her close. “What are you doing here?” he demanded gruffly.

  “Please, Stalking Wolf, go away. I am ashamed to have you see me like this.”

  “I’m not leaving until you tell me what the hell you’re doing here.”

  “I ran away from our People,” she said, her voice muffled against his shoulder. “After you were banished, no one would speak to me. My own father would not acknowledge me, and so I ran away. It was a foolish thing to do, I know that now. But I thought if I could find our brothers, the Cheyenne, they might take me in.”

  Summer Wind shuddered convulsively. “Instead, the man, Beech, found me wandering across the plains, half-dead. He nursed me back to health and then brought me here.”

  “How long have you been doing this?”

  “I do not know. It seems like a very long time.”

  “Do you want to stay here?”

  “No!”

  Rafe nodded. “Let’s go then.”

  Summer Wind shook her head, fear evident in her expression. “Beech will not like it.”

  “I don’t give a damn what he likes. Where are your clothes?”

  “I have none.”

  “He can’t keep you naked all the time.”

  “No, but he keeps my clothes in his lodge so I will not run away.”

  Rafe touched the ugly bruise on her arm. “Did he do this?”

  “Yes.”

  He swore softly as he lifted her to her feet, then removed his shirt. “Here, put this on.”

  Summer Wind did as she was told. His shirt was warm and fell almost to her knees and as it covered her nakedness, she felt a rush of hope. Stalking Wolf was there. He had come to save her from a life of shame. Her eyes moved over him. She had forgotten how very handsome he was, how tall, how strong.

  She frowned when she saw the bandage swathed around his middle. “You’re hurt.”

  “It’s nothing. Let’s go.”

  Beech was waiting outside, his arms folded across his chest. He frowned when Rafe stepped out of the lodge, followed by Summer Wind.

  “Hey,” Beech exclaimed. “Where do you think you’re going with my whore?”

  “She’s not yours any longer,” Rafe said curtly. “Now, get the hell outta my way.”

  “Not so fast, half-breed. You can’t just waltz in here and walk away with my livelihood.”

  “Watch me.”

  “They got laws against stealing,” Beech whined.

  “They’ve got laws against what you’re doing, too,” Rafe retorted sardonically.

  “They do not!”

  “Then I’m making one.”

  “Like hell!” Beech reached behind his back, withdrawing a long-bladed knife from the sheath on his belt.

  Summer Wind’s eyes grew wide as Beech advanced on Stalking Wolf. Her eyes flew to the bandage at his side. He had been wounded, she thought, and not long ago, else he would not still be wearing a bandage.

  Rafe swore under his breath. Every time he got involved with Summer Wind, someone came after him with a knife. But this time he was unarmed.

  He grabbed a stout stick from the ground, using it to parry the other man’s knife thrusts. Beech attacked and retreated, attacked and retreated, his thin lips pulled back to expose his rotting teeth.

  And then Beech got careless. It was the moment Rafe had been waiting for. He swung the stick in a high arc, and brought it crashing down on Beech’s wrist.

  With a howl of pain, Beech dropped the knife and Rafe was on him, his fists swinging relentlessly, driving into the man’s face and throat. There was a sharp crack as Beech’s nose broke and blood washed over Rafe’s hands. Beech went limp and Rafe released him and stood up. As he struggled to catch his breath, he saw that a crowd had gathered.

  “What the hell’s going on here?” The question came from a short, barrel-chested soldier wearing captain’s bars.

  Briefly, Rafe explained what had happened, and the captain nodded. “You’d best get the squaw out of here,” he suggested. “My men won’t be too happy about your making off with their only source of entertainment.”

  Rafe nodded.

  “All right, men,” the captain said. “Let’s break it up. The show’s over.”

  Rafe let out a long breath, wondering what he had gotten himself into. He saw the gratitude in Summer Wind’s eyes, and behind the gratitude he saw the stirrings of old feelings. For the first time since he had heard Summer Wind’s name on Beech’s lips, he thought of Caitlyn.

  He doubted if all the fast talking in the world would be enough to get him out of this.

  Caitlyn stared at the Indian girl who stood near the window clad in Rafe’s shirt. She was at a loss for words. She had listened patiently to Rafe’s explanation, hardly aware of what he was saying as she took in the girl’s bare brown legs, the way her breasts filled the front of the shirt, the way her black eyes adoringly followed Rafe’s every move. She could hardly believe her ears when Rafe said Summer Wind would be going back to the Circle C with them.

  Because she could not quite handle this startling bit of news, Caitlyn changed the subject.

  “I went to see Scott and Nate,” she said. “They’re both looking much better, but the doctor wants to keep them in bed for another week.” Ordinarily, the fact that her men were recovering so well would have made Caitlyn smile, but she could not smile now, not with Summer Wind standing there, looking vulnerable and in need of comfort.

  Rafe nodded. “Caty, why don’t you sit down? You look a little pale.”

  “I’m fine,” Caitlyn said. She looked at Rafe, her eyes searching his. Why have you brought her here? she wanted to cry. Why is she looking at you like that?

  “I’m going to take Summer Wind over to the infirmary and have the doc take a look at her,” Rafe said. “We’ll be leaving tomorrow, early.”

  Caitlyn nodded, too numb to speak. It was easy to see the Indian girl still cared for Rafe. Did Rafe still care for Summer Wind?

  She went to the window and watched her husband and the Indian girl cross the compound. She’d been living in a fantasy world, Caitlyn thought dully, foolishly assuming that Rafe loved her just because he enjoyed sharing her bed. Would he leave her now that his first love had come back to him? Would she be able to let him go?

  Chapter Sixteen

  They had been on the trail for two days, a long two days.

  Caitlyn rode in silence, her thoughts turned inward. Rafe had left what little money he had with Scott and Nate. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to tide them over until they were well enough to return to the Circle C. The state of hers and Rafe’s finances preyed on Caitlyn’s mind. She had been counting on the money from the sale of the herd and now, instead of returning home with over nine thousand dollars, they were broke. She had made several scathing remarks about the Indians who had stolen over eight hundred head of prime cattle and killed four men, but Rafe did not share her feelings. He lamented the loss of the men, but he was philosophical about the loss of the herd.

  “They’re hungry, Caitlyn,” he had said, referring to the Indians as if that justified everything.

  “We’re liable to go hungry, too,” Caitlyn had retorted unsympathetically.

  Rafe had looked at her for a
long time, his eyes sad. “I lived with the Lakota, Caty,” he reminded her. “The buffalo are disappearing. The People are hungry. What would you do if your children were crying, your parents were starving? Dying?”

  “I’d get a job,” Caitlyn had retorted, but she had known her answer was unfair, and that Rafe’s point had been well made. Nevertheless, the fact remained that the money she had been counting on was gone. The Circle C needed repairs, the bank loan had to be paid off, and the payroll had to be met.

  But those were not the thoughts that haunted her now. For the tenth time in an hour she gazed surreptitiously at the Indian girl. Summer Wind was beautiful. Her freshly washed hair was thick, black, and glossy, making Caitlyn feel that her own blonde hair was washed out and lifeless in comparison. Summer Wind’s skin was a smooth reddish brown, her eyes large and dark, fringed by sooty lashes. And her figure was faultless. She stayed close to Rafe, taking every opportunity to touch him. And because she spoke very little English, they conversed in Lakota, making Caitlyn feel like an outsider.

  Resentment swelled in Caitlyn’s heart as she saw Summer Wind smile at Rafe. She resented the Indian girl’s presence in their lives. But stronger than her resentment was the jealousy that boiled in her veins, deep and hot and ready to explode. She had never experienced anything like it before and it frightened and repelled her.

  Rafe was well aware of Caitlyn’s turbulent emotions; his own were equally unsettled. He had thought all his feelings for Summer Wind had died with Hump Back Bear, but he discovered he was not immune to her beauty or her smile. She had been the first woman he had ever had affection for, and he was surprised to find he still cared for her, though not in the same way he cared for Caitlyn. But he had no time to try and untangle his feelings now. They were in hostile country, and he needed to keep his wits sharp and his eyes open. He could not afford to relax his vigilance by letting himself ponder the two very different women riding beside him.

  Summer Wind took over the preparation of dinner that night. She was accustomed to skinning game and cooking it over a camp-fire. Caitlyn made no objection when Summer Wind took the rabbit from Rafe’s hand, but Rafe saw the flicker of anger in Caty’s eyes. He shook his head ruefully, wondering how the Lakota warriors who had more than one wife kept peace in the lodge.