Wildflower

by Raine Cantrell

  She dropped to her knees, ignoring the slight tug against her scalp of hair still caught in his hand before he released her. Drawing breaths that seared her lungs, she waited, then slowly raised her head to look up at him. “Now, Char­mas.” Breathless, demanding, and wanting, she spoke as their fingers tangled at his waist. “No, Charmas. I will.” And she brushed aside his hands, smiling to feel the quiver in his powerful thighs. But for all her words of urgency, her fingers slowed until he caught her head against the cradle of his hips.

  “Christ, Jen!”

  Her lips circled the soft, worn denim and felt the pulsating ripple of tiny shocks pass through his legs. She stilled, her mouth opened, and gently, she blew her breath against him. “You did that to me,” she whispered with a hint of sultry teasing. “Do you know?” she asked, whisper soft, her hand brushing him from knee to thigh, butterfly light, barely touching him at all. “Oh, you do know what you made me feel like that night. I want to show you what fire is like. Bum for me, Charmas. Come bum with me, in me.”

  And without touching him but for her lips, she sang a song of her fire against him, searing his skin through the cloth until his legs were braced wide, hands clutching the long strands of her silken hair, and Jenny couldn’t sing alone anymore. With a last lingering kiss to his deeply indented navel, she rocked back on her knees. One tug of her hands took his pants down and she smiled, hearing the vicious swearing when he was forced to sit and take off his boots. Impatiently, he tossed his boots aside and turned, bringing her down under him.

  His kisses swept her face, her neck, and she felt the wildness, the bruising male strength of his body, all hardness and hunger. His mouth closed over her half-moaning cries, drinking them and taking her beyond the promise of his eyes. Jenny twisted blindly, hands restless to feel the heat and power of him.

  His mouth tore free, courting her need, and it seared the length of her neck till he nipped and licked each arching thrust of her breasts. Her fingers dug deeper into his back, and she felt his teeth close over the taut skin of her belly. She cried out, her body arching high. His hands were strong, stroking her; his mouth never stilled, moving to her thighs. He smoothed the sleek curve of her legs, ragged breaths mingling, and with a touch, her legs shifted open for him. Tension flared inside her, and his fingers eased upward, his mouth, open and hot, sliding across her thigh in a twin assault that made her twist slowly, wanting an end to his torment.

  Could she tell him…? Her thought was lost, gone in that moment of the first exploding burst that he called from deep inside her. She brought clenched hands to her mouth to silence her cries.

  And he felt only the waiting heat he wanted for his own. She was hotter, sweeter, and softer than his wildest dreams. And she moved helplessly against his mouth, tremors rippling over her legs, while he tasted and teased until every shuddering moan became a litany of want. Only when she was ready to come completely apart beneath him did his mouth trail upward to claim her lips.

  Melting, Jenny welcomed his move for final possession, but she tensed as he slowly eased to fill her. Motionless, the hardness of his hips pressed her against the soft wool and the solid floor beneath them. Her eyes flew open, night sky blue, meeting his, demanding with a small twist of her hips that he end the waiting.

  And he smiled, male and satisfied. “Oh, no, Jen. You wanted me to burn for you. I promised to love you like you should be loved. I want the wildness, Jen,” he demanded in a passion-thickened voice. His eyes were mates for the flames beyond his shoulders. “All of it, Jen,” he urged, barely deepening his thrust inside her.

  She couldn’t speak. Her throat had no moisture left. He moved again and her breath exploded with a torn moan. Shaking her head in denial, knowing the wait had been too long, and aroused beyond need, she contracted her muscles, stroking him inside with the liquid heat that had become all of her.

  A violent, shuddering groan tore from his throat. He could not hold it back. Even against the powerful press of his hips, she moved. It was silk and velvet and fire and smoke caressing his throbbing maleness which had him gritting his teeth in the grip of a passion storm that threatened any control he had left. Yet he buried himself deeper, wanting more.

  Her hands slid up the straining length of his arms, and she planted tiny kisses on his furred chest, rubbing her nose against him. Threading her fingers into the thick richness of his hair, she brought his head down. “Charmas,” she murmured, stopping him from taking her lips. “You wanted me wild and I want you burning.” Husky, richly impassioned, her voice lingered between light kisses. Using her tongue, she stroked his lips, but his teeth caught her full lower lip and drew it slowly into his mouth. Their teasing tongues, dancing from each other’s mouth, played a moment, seconds passing as they were willing to draw out every precious bit of touching they could. She hadn’t believed it possible for him to fill her more completely, but he did.

  A very possessive male smile creased his lips when her eyes widened and he buried himself deeper. “Oh, yes, Jen. Bring the wildness and the fire together with me.” Her legs clenched, holding him still, her hands braced against his shoulders. Aching tension built and then she stroked him, the first ripple spreading greedily, and he claimed her mouth with the same possessiveness that he claimed her body. He almost completely withdrew from her only to plunge deeper, harder, until her urgent cries filled him as she came apart under every masterful stroke he fought now to control.

  Each tiny, tremored explosion never lessened. With each new powerful thrust of his body, molten waves surged, built, and then built higher still. Her fingers made desperate pleas against the twisting silk of his back, finally digging deep and hard into the flexing muscles of his buttocks. She cried out into the unsated demand of his mouth and knew there was no end. She felt pulled to beyond herself, into him, around him, until there was only him. She wanted to share and they were one in flesh, spirit, and the endless shimmering pleasure of ecstasy.

  Long minutes passed before Charmas lifted his head. He stared down at Jenny. He felt himself fragmented into pieces slowly coming together again. He had no words for her, no way to show her what loving her meant to him. She had offered a gift of herself and he stared at the woman who had opened her soul to him. He eased his weight from her, cradling her head upon his shoulder, still searching for words. His leg rested over the incredibly long, trembling length of hers and he drew the soft folds of the blanket around her, kissing her tenderly, savoring the swollen heat of her mouth.

  “Jen, I …” His voice broke, husky, and he was afraid of saying the wrong thing. But he had to try. One word came. “Mine…”

  Jenny’s eyes opened, her lashes dark against the glow of her flushed skin. His word echoed, and filled her with the sense of being two now; no longer were they one. From the dim light reflected from the fire to the sounds of wind and rain, to the steady thrumming of Charmas’s heartbeat and her catchy breathing, came a reminder of time passing. An instantaneous knowledge that made her tense. His arms tightened around her almost to deny her thought. Yet he knew. With a heart overflowing with the need to speak, Jenny turned her head and tasted his skin, smooth, warm, and salty with a male-scented passion sheen. She shifted and he protested.

  “Don’t. Stay and let me hold you. Warm me, Jen,” he whispered, caressing her with one hand from the sweep of long hair to the curve of her hip pressed against him. “I need to tell you … Jen, I don’t know.” Soft laughter rumbled in his chest. “I guess I sound like a fool now. I can’t treasure the gift of you. I haven’t the time or the words. Ten lifetimes wouldn’t be enough to show you how I feel.” He cradled her cheek. “Ten lifetimes wouldn’t be time enough to see beauty to compare with you.”

  Jenny smoothed the lighter flesh above his lip, thinking how right he looked without his mustache, and saw in his glowing hazel eyes that he remembered it all. Every kiss, every cry, every loving moment. She smiled.

  He took her mouth softly, dreamily, sensing the time had c
ome to part. His lips demanded more of her, of time, refusing to end it all.

  Jenny gave him warmth and comfort, but not an invitation to come inside and share her soul again. She promised a gift of herself and had given it, but she could not feed his hunger again.

  With a muttered curse, he broke the kiss. She held him close, but he closed his eyes, sensing her thoughts and wishing to hell he had the courage to walk away before she said them.

  “No, you won’t run from me,” she whispered, hurting for him. “A few minutes more is all I ask. I told you I couldn’t ask you to stay or I would never be able to let you go, and now you know why. I gave you all that I am and asked no more of you, except for now. You can’t give me more than now. No,” she demanded, “don’t close your eyes! Look at me and see what I am.”

  He refused. To see Jenny was to see raw pain. He had faced armed men without weapons, fought for his life and won, but Jenny stripped him with her pain. He pulled away, standing, defeated. He couldn’t look at her until he drew a normal breath that didn’t tear at him. He grabbed his clothes and dressed.

  “Charmas, why did you call me Wildflower?”

  “You’re like a wildflower, Jen. You’ve seen them covering the hills in spring. They bloom blood red and when you get close, dose enough to touch, the centers are golden. There’s a light, teasing scent to them that never really leaves a man, not even in winter when the snow and wind bring cold that comes inside and stays. But the wildflowers are strong. They know, come spring, they’ll live again with sun and soft rains and warm earth to cradle them.” And very softly then, “Was that you, Jen? Was I the only one to see you flower?” He’d gone too far. He started toward her, one hand raised to touch, and she backed away. He stopped. “I didn’t mean that. I should’ve known with you it was only for me.”

  Jenny slipped into her nightgown. The rain slashed against the window. It was driving gray sheets as she moved close, peering out. A chilling draft came from the wood frame, but she didn’t feel it. She couldn’t be chilled by a mere bit of air. Charmas gave his heat and now he had taken it away. Without turning, for his hazy reflection was there beside her in the glass, she said, “I hope you find all you’re looking for, Charmas.”

  “You put up a goddamn wall faster than a sod buster, Jen! I dreamed of you, lady. I wanted and didn’t touch. I—”

  “You can hurt me beyond any pain I’ve known, Charmas.” The words were strong enough to silence him. “Is protecting myself wrong? If it is,” she added, facing him, “I can’t help it. That’s a part of what I am.”

  “You don’t bother mincing words, do you?” But his anger faded. She looked like a lost child in the white enfolding drifts of lace-edged cotton, her long hair tangled but falling down past her shoulders. “I can’t blame you, Jen.” It wasn’t what he wanted to say. She stood there, watching him with wide, dark eyes. With an impatient muttered oath, he thrust his hand through his hair. “Jen, I … maybe I envy you for being able to be honest not only with me, but yourself. It’s not over between us. I…”

  Anger exploded. “It is! I’m still married. I would never have let you stay with me so long if I knew he was alive. I thought Jonas was dead. You asked and prodded and had to know. You want my every secret, Charmas? I thought he was dead because I’d shot him!”

  “Is that where your guilt about me came from?” he asked.

  “Yes. Not that it matters now. You said yourself that you had no right to think about me or want me, and you thought he was alive. What happened? Tonight I told you he was here and that didn’t stop you, did it? Or does knowing what I am make me easy for taking? No! Don’t come near me! I’m telling you, you have no rights, Charmas.”

  “And if I kill him, Jen? What rights does that give me?”

  She backed against the wall, shaking to see the blaze of deadly anger in his eyes. He didn’t mean that. He couldn’t, she told herself, shaking her head. Didn’t he hear? Didn’t he listen at all?

  “Answer me, Jen.”

  “I … I … c-can’t.” He moved close, imprisoning her. Did she dare call out? One look at the rage in his eyes made her afraid to open her mouth. What kind of fool was she to have dared raise this man’s rage? She truly didn’t know him.

  His lips curled in a sneer. His breaths were deep, exploding sounds. “Have I suddenly changed, Jen?”

  “You f-frighten m-me.”

  “I can see that for myself,” he hissed, the heat of his eyes suddenly rivaling that of the fire. Half-closed, they studied each shadowed fear on her face. “Don’t make me leave you afraid.”

  Leaning close, anger gone, he captured the heady woman’s scent of her before his mouth courted hers. “Kiss me, Jen,” he coaxed, “warm me before I need to leave you. Sweet. You taste of me and wildflowers and wood smoke.” Her plea brought his soft laugh. Scattering his kisses, rocking against her, he confessed, “I can’t leave you angry. It’s a cold that would kill me.”

  His voice faded and her thoughts fled. His lips seemed to memorize her face, gently, slowly, like a breeze bringing a whisper of movement against banked coals, tenderly fanning it to flame. For a moment she fought against her need. One insane moment when she thought to ever deny him and herself again. His lips closed over her mouth like a butterfly settling, moving. She opened herself for him, a sheen of sweat dampening her skin with his slow stroking moves on her hip.

  “My Jenny. Jenny warm. Jenny sweet. My woman. My fire and my life.”

  Husky whispers that denied the hard, driving force of his body. She sensed the wildness, the raw savage need of him that found her answer. His woman. She was. She wanted to be. Even as she answered his hungry kiss, she knew the urgency of his need to leave her. It communicated itself to her.

  He kissed her with a feverish impatience that would not be appeased by this, by anything more than the opening of her soul once again. But the softening of her body chased sane thoughts away.

  Her arms would not be denied the feel of him. She had to bring him closer. His mouth throbbed its need, but she felt it nowhere more than in the maleness pressed against her belly. He was all that existed. All that mattered. There was no later, no Jonas, no tomorrow, only now and Charmas. And she drank avidly of his ardent offering until his tongue gently touched the swelling heat of her lips.

  “You’re shaking, Jen,” he whispered, nuzzling her cheek.

  She smiled, hiding her fear. She kissed his ear, letting her mouth drift with soft, hot touches to taste the texture of his corded neck. “Salty.” She licked his skin. “Charmas, will you go?”

  He groaned in answer, finding the tiny pulse in her throat. “I can’t walk away from this. You know that. And there’s more I can’t tell you now.”

  She buried her fear deeper. “I know.” Her fingers slid through his hair, holding him, then lightly brushed back that unruly lock. “I need to know you’ll be safe. Don’t let Major Allison find you till you have the truth.” Her direct gaze met his. Kissing him one last time, needing his taste to savor against the loneliness, she held back tears. “You must go. Now.”

  He swept both hands down her slender body from her shoulders to thigh and settled them on her hips. Cradling her tight, dying inside, he refused to think of all he’d never told her, all that would make him lose her. Too much time had passed. He had to go and too many words had been left unsaid. “Jen, I need—”

  “Hush, Charmas. Hush.” Shaking inside, she called upon her last reserves of strength. “Don’t say more. Please. Just go.”

  He imprinted one last savage burning kiss on her swollen mouth and for a long moment gazed at her before he stepped back, releasing her. He could only hope she wouldn’t betray him now.

  Jenny didn’t see; she closed her eyes, but he was still there before her. Fire-bronzed skin and eyes filled with pain that reached for and found their mark. Her scream was silent. Then the heat was gone. She didn’t hear a sound, but the coldness was where he had been. Hugging herself hard,
she leaned back against the rough wall, feeling nothing. She couldn’t get warm. Char­mas Kilkenny had wanted warmth, wanted her fire, and now, now he had taken it all with him, and she didn’t know if she could trust him.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Charmas kept to the gray drizzled shadows of the compound until he reached the corral where his buckskin huddled against the stable’s overhanging shelter. At the softest of whistles, the horse, tossing his head, trotted over to the fence. Minutes later the buckskin was fully saddled and Charmas mounted, heading across the river to Bent’s Flat.

  He kept his thoughts on the men he was to meet, knowing they might not be waiting. But then, he knew he had what they wanted. Huddling deeper into his jacket, he refused to think of Jenny. She was life with all its promise … and he rode to vengeance.

  The night brings many sounds to a man who has spent his time running. A man who intended to see morning learned to be aware.

  He didn’t like the feeling of unease that sat heavily upon him. He had angered the man during his escape, for he had refused to kill the young soldier guarding him.

  Now holding the worn butt of his gun in the palm of his hand, the fact of having killed before—killed in cold blood—came over him in a rush. He closed his eyes and Jenny came to him. Life.

  The closer he got to the settlement, the more he smelled trouble. A wry smile teased his lips. Trouble had a breath all its own. It could be Jenny’s warm, flowering scent, the kind of trouble the true man buried inside Charmas had looked for all his life, longing to find it, or it could be the kind of trouble that strung his gut in tense knots as he thought about meeting and killing Jonas Latham. His breath stilled, his body tightened, and he slowly eased both. Whichever way trouble was coming, he was willing to face it.

  It went beyond what he owed Jenny to free her as he promised from the nightmare Jonas made for her. It was Mave Allison, too lovely and young to have died by the animal lust of one of five men. No, he corrected himself, now there were only four left. He spurred his horse and rode into town.