Wildflower

by Raine Cantrell

  She stirred and the sweet scent of her rose. His sigh was deep. “Why do I forget how lovely and soft and warm you are until I see you again?” he murmured, coming to his knees. “Oh, Jen, I…” Holding her finely sculpted face with both hands, he gently tilted it upward before he lowered his mouth. His tender kiss was an offering of himself that sparked a need to hold her like this always. Lifting his mouth, he used one hand to brush the long strands of her hair away from her cheek.

  “Warm. Always. Jenny, you are all the warmth in the world to me,” he whispered. Tasting her slightly parted lips again, the tip of his tongue wiped up a lingering taste of whiskey. Smiling against her mouth, he kissed the comer of her lip. “Jen, were you drinking?”

  His husky laughing whisper floated over her, sending a ripple of warmth through her. “I missed you.”

  Her hand cupped his cheek, savoring the male texture of his skin. He couldn’t know, and she wouldn’t say, but one by one, the knots of terror inside her began to uncurl.

  Charmas turned his head to kiss the roughened palm that cradled his cheek before brushing his lips against hers, whispering her name. His mouth claimed every bit of softness she offered before withdrawing to savor the taste of her with his tongue. He waited, eyes half-closed, until she opened her own.

  “I hurt you so, and still you forgave me, Jenny.”

  With his features bronzed from the fire, his hair took on a burnished sheen, that one unruly lock of hair centered on his forehead, but she made no move to push it away. To move meant saying this was real. She would dream a bit longer.

  Sensing her dazed look hid something, his eyes, filled with tender concern, searched each subtle shadow of her face. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  Her fingertips silenced him. His look made her feel he had reached into the deepest comers of her mind to discover her secret horror. She couldn’t let him know. Her smile was uncertain; his as intimate as the kiss they’d shared. “Why did you come?” When I needed you so, she added silently, feeling unsteady. In answer his hand glided to her arched throat. One roughened fingertip teased the frilled lace edge of her nightgown. Warm, rippling tremors floated through her.

  “I came for you,” he answered. “I couldn’t leave you thinking you meant nothing to me. You do. Too much.”

  “But how? How did you…?”

  “A friend helped,” he answered curtly, cutting off the questions he didn’t want to answer. The top button slipped open under the play of his fingers. Into the small vee it created, his fingertip traced it and she swallowed deeply against his touch. “Jenny, look at me.” Her eyes seemed to drag themselves from the fire. “How can I leave you?” he groaned as if asking it of himself. “I’ll be running now.”

  “They’ll find you, Sam.”

  “No, not Sam. I was never Sam, Jenny. Char­mas. Say it, Jen,” he coaxed. “Let me hear my name from your lips.”

  Her pulse fluttered wildly against his fingertips. The husky warmth of his voice beguiled her, but no sound came from her. She could only offer her lips to him.

  His hands slid down across her shoulders, caressing and dragging her against his chest. He wanted to lock the scent or her inside him. “I want more than stolen kisses that can’t go anywhere, Jen. I want you against me like this all night, every night. And I came to say good-bye again. I…” Words died when her mouth moved against his throat, her breath a hot impatient sigh.

  “Then leave, Charmas. Go, now, before all that happened these last few days has me telling you how much I need you.”

  “Will you promise me you’ll stay here till I come for you?” He could hear the hunger in his voice and moved away from her. She withdrew into a huddled ball, hugging her knees tight to her chest.

  “For Christ’s sake, Jenny, don’t look at me like that! I can’t not touch you and I can‘t … Damnation! Do I need to say it? You’re not ready. You don’t want me, not anywhere near the way I need you. Don’t you think I know that? Why in hell do you think I stayed away from you all this time? Do you think it was easy? I’m a man that’s been alone too long not to know when he’s found what he wants. You know…”

  “So! Does that make it easier? For me, I mean. I don’t swear at you for arousing feelings in me that I never had. I don’t curse at you with one breath and in the next try to keep you riled up like a stoked fire till you bum out of control. Or get you to a point where you don’t know what you want. But you do all that to me!”

  “You know what you want, all right. You don’t want to admit it, but don’t lie and say you don’t know.”

  Though low, his voice was whiplike. It was better like this. Better he left. She would never see him again and with him all the dreams would die like an untended fire. But why had he asked her to stay here and wait for him? In a muffled voice, she asked him as much.

  With his gaze riveted on the fire, he sat close without touching her.

  “The man that helped me escape has friends with him. They all know me, Jen. They’re waiting over at Bent’s Flat for me to come. And Jen,” he added with deceptive calm, “I heard his name mentioned. Did you know he was here?”

  The underlying anger in his controlled voice told her who he meant. He was going to ride with Jonas. Trembling, she said, “Does he know? Did you—”

  “See him? No. They just mentioned him. That’s why I want you here where I’ll know you’re safe. They’re the men who stayed with me and Mave.”

  It hurt to hear him say another woman’s name in that soft, caressing way of his. “You think they killed her and left you to take the blame?”

  “Nothing else makes sense.”

  “And you’re going to ride with them tonight? You’ll trust them?” She couldn’t ask about Jonas and what part he played.

  “That’s right. I need to find out the truth. I’ve got something they want. That’s the way it has to be. You’ve always known that, Jen.”

  “Have I?” she asked bitterly. “I wonder sometimes what I know about you, me, and, well, all of it.” She took a deep breath, gazing intently at the fire. “He was here.”

  Grabbing her, half knocking her over before he dragged her body against him, Charmas swallowed rage. Very softly, he asked, “Did he hurt you?”

  “No,” she whispered in a small voice, nuzzling against the solid feel of him holding her, chasing what haunted her. Rubbing her face against the soft cotton of his shirt, inhaling the male scent of him, trying too desperately to deny the truth of Jonas being here, she told him her secret.

  “He was dead.”

  “Jonas? What the hell are you saying?” For a moment rage blinded him. “Did Ben kill him?” Charmas shook his head as if to clear it. “What the hell am I saying, Jen? If he was here,” he said in a deliberate manner, “no one killed him.” He looked at Jenny, who shuddered with fear. “Don’t be scared, Jen. I won’t ever let him near you again. I swear that to you. He’ll never touch you again.”

  “Not me. He wants Robby.”

  Her voice was muffled against his shirt as he rocked her, soothing her with whispered, meaningless sounds. How long would they all wait for him to return to Bent’s Flat? Time ticked by in his mind. He couldn’t leave Jenny and yet, he needed to go. Jonas was not going to escape him this time, but he couldn’t tell her.

  “Charmas, when will it end?” she pleaded.

  Threading his large hands into the silken strands of her hair, he tilted her head back. “I’ll make an end to the nightmare for you. There’ll be nothing left for you to fear.”

  “You need to leave now, don’t you?”

  He knew there was more she wanted to ask him but wouldn’t. Wishing he could say no, he forced himself to nod. Her wide-eyed searching look made him feel a pain that twisted his gut.

  Fear closed in on Jenny. Could she deny how shaken her trust in him was by his admission that he would meet Jonas? How much faith could she have in his promises? And she felt vulnerable to him as never before.
r />   “Don’t say more, Charmas. Just go. Please.”

  “You’re always telling me that, Jen. Don’t. Stop. Leave.” A half smile teased his lips, contradicting the smoldering look of his eyes. “When will you say to me, ‘Charmas, stay’?” And he realized how desperate he was to hear those words from her as proof that Jonas meant nothing to her. He had to know she cared enough for him never to betray him.

  Touching the strong pulse beat of life in his throat, feeling the heat and promise and life beneath his skin, she slowly raised her eyes to the square firm jaw and rubbed her head against him lightly. She felt tom, storing every sensation, every caress, every moment of passion like the parched earth soaked in life-giving rain. He could destroy her by betraying her trust. His very leashed waiting was a gentle, persuasive force that made her decision.

  “Come with me, Charmas. I do want you. I need you, too.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Charmas wrapped his arms around her. Amber-flecked eyes glittered as he looked deeply into deep blue ones, then he smiled, bringing his forehead to rest against her own. There was no sense of time, or hurry. Only need. Jenny would be his.

  Sliding her arms around him, cherishing the feel of his solid strength and heat, Jenny felt needed beyond words. Her tension eased, for Charmas had come and with him was a fire to chase winter’s lonely coldness. Lifting her head, she nibbled his strong jaw. Her hands pressed his spine, urging him closer.

  How long had he waited? To Charmas, it was a lifetime. His teeth closed delicately over her ear. Tracing the shape with the tip of his tongue, he laughed softly. Slow thrusting strokes that spoke of the joining to come had her clinging to him. His fingers slid beneath the straight silk of her hair to hold her head for his possessive kiss. He longed to savor every taste he could call from her. His tongue was the invader that tasted her first, feeling each of the small ridges lining the roof of her mouth, swirling down to fence with her own until she opened to him. It was more than her lips parting and hungering against his mouth. It was all of her, coming up tight against him, responding, until he felt enveloped with her sweet heated imprint. It wasn’t enough. This would never again be enough.

  And Jenny knew the ache of her own buried hunger. His teeth and tongue played with a fierce tenderness over her mouth, making her cry out, defenseless against the need he could call from her. She clung to him, trembling, her body softening as he took what she had already surrendered. Shudders passed through them, around them, melding them together. Her soft cries were taken and swallowed, only to come back as groans from deep, deep inside him.

  He lifted her slightly, his hand splayed wide on her hip, molding her against him, letting her feel how much he wanted her. And then he eased his mouth away like he was tearing his soul free. “Jen, tell me you’re sure now. Now, Jen,” he whispered, not certain he could still the rampage of desire she’d set free.

  “Can’t you feel the want inside me, Char­mas?” She arched into him, looking up when his body’s shudders caressed her own. “I can’t walk alone.” She saw nothing but gliding flames reflected in his eyes. “Come and love with me, Charmas. Show me how deep the sharing can be.”

  “Where?” It was more sound than question as he swung her up into his arms.

  “The other side of the kitchen,” she murmured, locking her arms around his neck, lips, open and warm, tasting his skin. His breath faltered and playfully, her tongue traced the cord that throbbed with his life’s blood.

  “I’d try for a room with a bed,” he growled with mock anger. “But if you do that again, Wildflower, it’s gonna happen right here.”

  Her joyous laughter was muffled against his shoulder. The taste of him was as powerful and drugging as the sultry heat flowing over and inside her. Jenny looked up, puzzled when Charmas stood in her small room surveying the narrow bed.

  “Oh,” she whispered, glancing from the bed to him.

  “Yeah, oh,” he repeated. “Jen…”

  “The blankets are soft, Charmas. The fire is banked, but if you add a few logs it will flame high and I’ve wanted to love you by the fire.”

  He swore softly under his breath, dipping her body so she could grab the blankets. Where had his Jenny gone? The shyness, the … Why the hell was he bothering to question the why of anything? She was here, willing, wanting, and teasing him beyond rational thought with her whisper to hurry and set her down so she could fix the blankets.

  He tended the fire, then removed his gunbelt, careful to set it within easy reach. Shyly then, Jenny, kneeling on the soft wool blanket, called to him. He turned and was still. Jenny was clothed in the gold flame of fire and her long silken brown hair. “Why?” She was clearly puzzled. “I…” He cleared his throat and tried again. “You just surprised me. I thought…”

  “That I would feel shame. No, Charmas,” she said softly. “I couldn’t make love with you if I couldn’t come to you freely. I have only the gift of myself to give you and you’ll share your warmth with me. Together, for a bit of time, there will be no loneliness for either of us.” In a very sure move, but one Charmas didn’t know the cost of, she raised both hands and gently swept aside her hair. For a heartbeat, she appeared uncertain, then raising her head proudly, she rose in a lithe motion.

  Hammer blows of desire thudded inside him, not rapidly but slowly, then slower still. The firelight licked over her; her skin flushed with passion, the smooth rise of her dusky rose nipples a rich, puckered contrast. His breath caught; he wasn’t sure he was breathing at all. But his eyes would not be denied the pleasure of feasting on Jenny and they touched the taut swell of her hips, the slightly convexed curve of her stomach, and lower still, to the tempting, rich dark gleam of the hair below. Her long legs, with the power to control with a mere touch the wildest of horses, rippled under his gaze. And then her arms rose and she called to him with velvet and fire and all her woman’s longing.

  His fingers shook finding the buttons of his shirt and he looked down, not sure, losing himself with thoughts of the unexpected changes in her.

  And Jenny, forcing herself to his side, brushing his hands away to open his shirt, knew she had to make him understand the way it should have been for her and never had. Until he had come. Sliding the soft cotton from his shoulders, her caresssing palms lingered on the warm, smooth feel of his skin, soothing the puckered scar on his shoulder. She kissed his throat again, lightly brushing her body against him.

  And she snapped whatever control he had left. His mouth took all she offered with a savage intensity. With a muffled groan, the force of his kiss bent her back over his powerful arm and she clung to him, the soft, supple move of her body sending fire to lick his insides. He shifted his stance, bringing her against him, molding her with hands spread wide over the taut sweet curves of her buttocks. Jenny, all fever, showing him, wanting him, giving. And he took with a kiss that slowly deepened, stroking her tongue with his until she trembled against him and cried out wanting more.

  He couldn’t taste enough, couldn’t touch enough of the woman he held. His lips slanted across her face, wooing and greedy, and she moaned, running her hands along his back, testing the powerful flex of muscles that rippled under her hands and then, to her delight, arched against her for more. Filled with a hot restlessness, she felt his hand, slightly rough, sweep the curve of thigh, hip, and rib, and then so gently cup one breast. For a stilled, breathless moment, he held her so, his lips buried in the curve of her neck, whispering her name over and over.

  And when the rippled tremors began with force, one over the other, he lightly brushed his thumb over her full, hard nipple. His nail grazed the most sensitive skin, feeling the tiny ridged puckers, knowing the full ache of her need for him. But he needed time to slow the force shaking him. Nibbling the skin of her shoulder with his teeth, holding a small bit of skin, he used his tongue to love bruise the flesh he marked for his own.

  And Jenny was fire, softening yet again, flame rippling over and agains
t him. Charmas tasted the heat of her flesh, inhaling the lingering scent of floral soap, and savored the discovery of the small mole his tongue circled. And she shook like the aspens, bending to the strength of the wind, curving to fit the rugged planes of his body.

  “Touch me, Jen. I’ve waited so long for you.”

  Gripping his shoulders, she was suddenly afraid, and he waited until she let her fear go, her body’s lithe, graceful move another caress. With the tips of her fingers, she teased the soft skin behind his ears, arching back, urging his lips downward, in want and in offering. And then she smiled, feeling the curve of his mouth form a grin too as his tongue flicked with maddening slowness along her collarbone. His body slowly rocked against her, the coarse hairs of his chest both pleasure and torment against the aching fullness of her breasts. And longing rose higher inside her. Tight little knots formed and her legs tightened, her hips suddenly driving hard against him.

  “Don’t, Jen,” came his harsh whisper. His hands slid down, holding her hips away from him, fingers tightened for a moment before his lips claimed the tip of her breast. Grazing his teeth lightly, tugging the round, hard core of dusky rose sweetness into his mouth, he felt the storm that erupted within her. With ever-changing pressure of lips and tongue, he suckled and worshiped first one breast, then the other, until she cried out his name in ragged breathless need.

  His mouth stilled hearing her voice. “Char­mas, I can’t. I’m crying inside with needing you. Don’t…”

  He lifted his head, lips following the taut’ arched expanse of her neck, gently cradling her in his arms. “Hush, Jen. It’s all right. I’ll feed the hunger, but my way. I’ve needs, too.”

  But it wasn’t enough. She couldn’t stand and rocked against him fiercely. “No.” Her teeth made a foray of sharp little bites, instantly soothed by her moist tongue on his chest. “Now. Now, Charmas,” she throatily pleaded, teasing his pebbled nipples. His hand tangled in her hair, and she fought his drawing her head back and away.