Comanche Eagle

by Sara Orwig

  During the next hour Crystal and Zachary played the piano and all of them sang, Travis’s and Turtle River’s deep voices blending with Zachary’s tenor and Crystal’s lilting soprano. As she played and sang, Travis stood on the other side of the piano, watching her with his dark eyes that always seemed to see right to her heart. And while she didn’t know whether he would relent and give her the baby she wanted, she knew that he was changing. Some of the barriers were gone. He was friendlier with her and more open and more physical. He flirted; he kissed her often, and he touched her constantly.

  She frequently caught his brooding gaze on her. He watched her with speculation and she wondered what ran through his mind. How many times had she caught his eyes sweeping over her body and she wondered whether it was with desire or, perhaps, reflection about her ability to carry and bear a child.

  He adored Jacob and held him in his arms while they all sang. Jacob tried to sing, blowing bubbles and making strange noises that were drowned out by the adults.

  She looked at the handsome men surrounding her and marveled how her life had changed, remembering the exciting Christmases in Baltimore when there had been presents and food and friends calling, yet in spite of the celebration how often she had felt lonely. She recalled the quiet Cheyenne Christmas with Ellery. They had presented each other with books. Now here she was out on the high plains with three strong, handsome men and a baby. How her life had changed! She looked into Travis’s dark eyes as she sang and she felt a tingle and that singular awareness of him that shut away the world. Everyone else vanished from mind. All that was left was a virile, exciting man who was looking at her as if he loved her. And today, his look made her heart race more than ever.

  Turtle River kept an eye on the roasting turkey and deer, and then it was time for her to get their dinner on the table. As always, Zachary helped while Turtle River and Travis played with Jacob, who was a full six months old and could pull himself up and stand for minutes at a time.

  They sat down to a feast with hot biscuits, blackberry jelly, and a jar of relish given to Crystal by Eloise Knudsen. The turkey was golden brown, only slightly dry, and the deer meat was smothered in sauce and not too tough to chew. But it was her biscuits that Crystal prized. They were golden, fluffy, and not in the least burned. Perhaps she would learn to cook.

  The men heaped compliments on her and ate until she felt satisfied that they had truly enjoyed their holiday dinner. Then they all gave Jacob presents and he looked pleased with each gift, happy to have something to chew on.

  Turtle River gave him a wooden rattle he had carved. Zachary had ordered a large ball for him. Travis presented him with a rocking horse that he had made. Crystal had ordered a new shirt for him and a child’s book of verses that he tried to chew until she retrieved it. Andrew Cain had sent him a small toy steam engine.

  They watched Jacob play with his gifts while Crystal and Zachary cleaned the kitchen, and then all of them went back for more singing. As the short hours of day faded, they ate sandwiches of the remaining biscuits and cold turkey or deer.

  Travis built up the fire and they sat around it while they read. They started A Christmas Carol, and after each man labored with a turn, they asked Crystal to read to them. Travis sat close beside her and wound his fingers in her hair while she tried to concentrate on the story.

  She felt Travis’s fingers stroke her nape, and it was difficult to sit still and act as if she felt nothing. The constant feathery strokes of his warm fingers were erotic and stole her attention from the story spinning in the night.

  She didn’t know what ran through his mind or what his casual, light touches were doing to him, but they were setting her aflame. She loved him, completely, desperately. Yet again, she reminded herself to have patience. He was her lawful husband. He would not leave her. She glanced at him, remembering his telling her that if he wanted pleasure he would go to one of the soiled doves; she knew she didn’t want him to do that. She wanted him for herself, for the deep love she suspected a man and woman could have between them. He had been faithful and true to Elizabeth. He never would have been so crushed and hurt, never would have said he was numb if he had turned to other women when he was married to Elizabeth.

  His fingertips trailed slowly, lazily drawing circles across her nape. Crystal took a deep breath. She wanted to move over onto his lap, to place her arms around him, to feel his arms around her. Instead, she sat still, trying to keep her thoughts on her reading.

  Jacob began to fuss and Travis stood at once. “I’ll get a bottle.”

  She passed the book to Zachary to read while she held the fussing baby. Travis returned to take Jacob from her, leaning down and giving her one of his long, intent looks that only she could see. And every time she gazed into his eyes, she could feel the tension between them. The air had a sizzle and the sparkle of the new-fallen snow outside. Only this sizzle and sparkle were silent, invisible, but a million pinpricks to her nerves.

  She handed over Jacob, his big eyes going to his father. She had already changed the babe to his nightclothes. Tucked in the crook of Travis’s arm, he drank his milk and then went to sleep.

  When the men stood to pull on their coats, Travis didn’t reach for his and her heart missed a beat.

  Sixteen

  When he closed the door behind the men, he turned around to face her. His hands rested on his narrow hips and he gave her a level look. “Crystal, I have not changed my mind.”

  Disappointed, yet curious why he hadn’t left with the others, she waited in silence.

  “I am getting damned tired of sleeping in the cold barn.”

  “That’s fine,” she said, trying to hold back a smile. She would have him close to her; and every time they were close and spent time together, her case became stronger and the barriers he kept around himself became weaker.

  “Would you like another cup of coffee?”

  “Yes, and this time I will lace it with some whiskey,” he said, taking a bottle off a high shelf. “Want some, Crystal?”

  “No, thank you,” she answered primly, not missing the flash of amusement in his eyes.

  “Have you ever tasted alcohol?”

  “Champagne once or twice at parties in Baltimore. No whiskey.”

  “And so, I’m sure you don’t approve.”

  “Just don’t teach your son such habits. After years of caring for my besotted father and grandfather, I find nothing appealing in demon whiskey.”

  “If there’s a demon,” Travis remarked, shaking a blanket out on the floor in front of the fire and sitting down cross-legged, “it is not whiskey, but cold. Hell has to be frozen over. I feel I have not slept peacefully through a single night for a year.”

  “That’s your own doing,” she said lightly and received a scowl from him.

  “Come sit down beside me.”

  Humming a tune, she sat near him, turning her back to the fire, tucking her skirt beneath her. The red silk billowed out in front of her. She set her cup of steaming coffee on the floor beside her and felt the heat from the fire on her back. The flames threw an orange glow over him, highlighting his prominent cheekbones, leaving his cheeks in shadows. She could see the firelight reflected in the darkness of his eyes, and the depth of his midnight eyes danced with fires. Anger or desire? Or both?

  She wondered what would happen if she put her arms around him and drew him to her and kissed him. She was tempted to try, but she wanted him to let go of the barriers of his own accord. She needed him to want this marriage with his heart and soul, not because she had used her body to win him over … though it might come to that to get him beyond his fear of losing another wife in childbirth.

  Patience, patience, she reminded herself. He was changing, slowly, but changing. She remembered how cold and angry he had been the day they had married. How hurt he had been. He had been in agony and grief, but he had come out of that, so she could wait. She glanced at him to find him watching her. He reached out to take the end of the red silk
ribbon holding her hair. He tugged it loose and her hair cascaded across her shoulders and back.

  Travis stared at her, emotions warring in him. The minx was teasing him, telling him it was his own fault if he spent miserable, sleepless nights. Hell, it was the fault of death and loss and a strong woman who wanted more from him than he could give! She looked like the barn cat who’d caught the mouse. Had the Mandeville’s party given her that much confidence?

  The fire made her hair look even more red and caught the golden highlights in the long strands. Her green eyes were sultry, dancing with a desire that heated him. It was hell to stay out in the drafty barn, but he knew it was going to be the torment of hell to stay here beside her and not make love to her. He wanted her. He wanted her now and totally. But he didn’t want to love again, didn’t want her to get with child. He shouldn’t have spread the blanket before the fire and sat down with her. He shouldn’t have done a million things he had done lately—touching her, kissing her, holding her close beside him.

  He shifted, turning his back to the fire and looking away from her while he sipped the hot coffee, clinging to the cup as if it were a lifeline. And she had the good sense to keep quiet. If she had been one of those chattering females, he would be up and gone.

  He was aroused, rock hard, aching to love yet torn. And always, he came full circle to the same decision he’d made last summer. He would not love again. Not ever. He didn’t want to lose her in childbirth.

  “Don’t you ever fear anything?” he asked, his voice threaded with anger. She slanted him a mischievous look that made him draw a deep breath. Her straight brows arched and a faint smile curved her mouth.

  “Of course, I do,” she replied. “I was shaking so badly that day you came to the house to propose that it was a wonder I didn’t fall right down in front of you.”

  “Hell, no. You tried to shoot me. That isn’t exactly total fear. Most women would have been screaming and hysterical.”

  “I detest losing control, and screams and hysterics would not have helped in the slightest.”

  “I think I like it when you lose control. Though thank heaven, the gun wasn’t loaded,” he added dryly and she blinked, a faint flush tinting her cheeks even pinker.

  “I’m sorry about that. I’ll always regret it, but I was desperate and I had no idea you had Jacob in your arms.”

  “You didn’t see him?”

  “No. For goodness sake! All I could see was you and your anger and your dark eyes.”

  He finished his coffee, but his desire for her did not die as the fire burned down. The silence between them lengthened until, humming, she rose and moved around the room, putting out the lamps until the fire was the only light left. He watched her walk around him, ignoring him, looking happy, and he realized she looked far happier than when she’d come to live with him.

  She sat back down, facing the fire, her back to him. Her skirt billowed as she pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. “I sit here a lot at night and get warm before I go to bed.” Her voice was soft, seductive, sliding over him and taunting his stretched nerves.

  If she were unhappy over his rejection and refusal to father a child for her, she didn’t show it. Far from it, he thought. She looked happier every day that passed. It annoyed the hell out of him because he was growing more miserable with each new day.

  No, that wasn’t totally true. Today had been a good day, and she had gotten him through a holiday that he had dreaded. He was healing, his grief becoming a thing of the past. Today had been good; yesterday had been good. A lot of days were very good. It was the nights that were torment, moments away from her when he was torn with thoughts about her, longing for her.

  “Oh, hell. Come here, Crystal.”

  He pulled her into his arms and leaned down to kiss her. Her lips were soft, opening to his, her tongue stroking his. His pulse roared and he wanted her, ached for her. He pulled her onto his lap and held her with one arm while his other hand went to the row of buttons that ran down the front of her bodice. He twisted them free while he kissed her, hungry for her softness and warmth and passion.

  He pushed away her dress and then leaned away. He removed her chemise, gazing at her breasts in the firelight. He cupped her small, high breasts, flicking a glance at her. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted; her hands wound in his hair, her fingers moving, tugging slightly, stroking his nape. Her right hand drifted down to unbutton his collar and her eyes opened lethargically, desire flaming in their green depths.

  She pulled his shirt over his head. He released her to shrug out of it and then cupped her breasts and flicked his thumbs over her nipples, drawing circles, watching her as her eyes closed again and she moaned. Then she looked at him. Her gaze was direct, honest, and hot. She wanted him as much as a woman could want a man, and her desire showed in her clear green eyes.

  She wound her arm around his neck and leaned forward, tilting her head up to kiss him. He felt her soft bare breasts against his chest, her slender body in his arms. He kissed her hard, the kisses wild, both of them wanting each other desperately.

  She pushed away, and it startled him. He had never known her to stop him, and she wanted a baby. Puzzled, he looked at her as she scooted away from him and stood up. With tantalizing deliberation, she pulled up her dress.

  “We’ll stop. I don’t want you stomping off to a cold barn or roaming the windy night. And I don’t want you to love me until you are certain of what you want. And you’re not yet. You may reach the point where you can’t say no. But I won’t. I don’t know passion fully, so I can stop and tell you no.”

  “Crystal, I keep coming back to the same impasse—”

  “I know you don’t love me and you won’t; but when you come to bed, I want you to feel that you’re willing to get me with child. You have to live with your fears about losing another wife.” She smiled at him, her lips curving invitingly. “I think you’ll come to agree with me. I can wait.”

  “What I went through was pure hell. And it was for Elizabeth as well.”

  “I know it was,” Crystal replied solemnly. “But that tragedy doesn’t have to happen again. Maybe you should sit here for a while and let me get to sleep before you come to bed. That way, we can keep from touching each other.”

  He wanted to yank her into his arms and kiss away her maddening reason and calm. Yet he knew she was right. He was not ready, not as long as he feared pain and loss.

  He sat quietly, listening to her clothes rustle, sounds that tormented him as his imagination worked wildly. He listened to clothing sliding over her, dropping, until he would have welcomed the cold barn. But not for long. He thought about Crystal. She was virginal, had never known a real courtship, might not have known any courtship with the fellow in Baltimore. She was being cheated.

  Was she right about being strong and able to bear children? She didn’t know the answer to that any more than he did. Elizabeth had expected only the best.

  He stretched out on the blanket and fell asleep in front of the fire, only to waken in the middle of the night to a cold room. He came awake at once with a soldier’s ability to pull out of a deep sleep instantly. He placed more logs on the fire, building it up again. Then he picked up the blanket and crossed the room, looking at Crystal, whose hair was flung over a pillow.

  He pulled off his boots and shirt and slipped beneath the covers, wanting to pull her into his arms. He could smell the sweet scent of rosewater. He couldn’t resist reaching out to wind his fingers in her hair, and he thought about the prospect of another baby. And of loving her. Maybe he already did.

  He stared at her in the darkness, exploring the depth of his feelings for her. How strong did they run?

  Travis turned on his back, recalling their moments together, knowing half the day now his thoughts were on Crystal instead of on the ranch or the livery stable. If she had another baby, she would have to give up her justice of the peace office.

  How deep did his feelings go for her? If he had
to leave her now, would he care? He would care a hell of a lot. It was no longer a matter of having a mother for Jacob. It was far more than that, and she was becoming vital to him.

  He turned his back to her, staring into the darkness. He hadn’t wanted to love again, but he might already be deeply in love with her.

  For the next two months into February, Travis was in torment. Unable to concentrate on his work, over and over, he would find his thoughts drifting to Crystal. Crystal, walking down the street toward the livery stable from the courthouse, her chin high, a slight sway to her hips that he found fascinating. Crystal, her green eyes sparkling when she greeted him or Jacob. Crystal, playing with Jacob, laughing, her hair tumbling around her face, looking dishevelled and appealing.

  When he was off in the distance, feeding cattle, he could see the bright flame of her hair as she hung wash on the line. At night, he watched her sleep after tormenting nights of lovemaking that always stopped too soon … her kisses, her breasts filling his hands, her green eyes darkening with passion like storm-tossed seas.

  He had sworn he would never love again, yet here he was, tied in knots by a headstrong, determined woman.

  Devil take it! He pounded a horseshoe, sweating in the heated room in spite of the cold day while he thought about Crystal, and knew it was another hour before she would be through at the courthouse.

  Since the Mandeville’s party, people had grown friendlier. At least, some people had. The Knudsens accepted Crystal fully and that helped with others, but there were still plenty who would never associate with a half-breed no matter who his wife and friends were.

  He paused, staring at the blazing fire and seeing only her while he debated what course to follow. Jacob was eight months old and becoming more of a joy every day. He had taken his first wobbly steps and now had a vocabulary of several words. Another baby would be good, and good for Crystal since she wanted one badly.