by Nan Ryan
"Kane," she repeated, and ventured another two steps.
"Kane," he finally managed, removing the long-ashed cigarette from between tight lips, his hot gaze locked on her seductively clad body.
"You recall how you told me of your fantasy?"
"Yes. Your hair brushed over your—"
"And I indulged that fantasy, didn't I, darling?"
"You did."
Natalie smiled and floated down to him. She stopped when she reached the second step from the bottom. She stood just above him, her scantily draped torso on the level of his upturned face. Smiling, she lifted a hand and removed the black Stetson from his head. Dropping it on top of the newel post of the banister, she said, "I have a fantasy, Kane."
Kane swallowed hard. "Tell me."
Natalie inhaled deeply, toyed with his stiff shirt collar, and said, "My fantasy is to see your very dark, very bare body on my very white bed in my very white room." She shuddered a little, as if envisioning it. "You lie there on your back, perfectly still and relaxed, and allow me to make love to you."
She turned then and slowly ascended the stairs.
"Damnation!" cursed Kane as the smoked-down, forgotten cigarette suddenly burned his fingers. Frantically looking around for an ashtray, Kane saw none, crossed anxiously to the front door, and sailed the smoke out into the snow.
Slamming the door with a resounding bang, he threw the heavy bolt lock and climbed the stairs so swiftly, he intercepted a softly laughing Natalie. Sweeping her up into his long arms, he pressed his hot face into her free-flowing red hair and growled, "Woman, you are the devil's own daughter."
She kicked her bare feet and giggled. "It's heaven I'll take you to when you're naked in my bed."
Natalie hurried into her dressing room while Kane disrobed. She gave her hair a few more strokes of the brush, then unstoppered her most expensive perfume and nervously dabbed the fragrance over her pulse points and between her breasts. Pinching her cheeks for color, she let her eyes drift appraisingly over her body.
Determined to be as seductive as possible for Kane, Natalie rushed into the bathroom, took a spanking-clean washcloth from a neat stack and dipped its corner into a basin of icy cold water. Lowering the bodice of her satin gown, Natalie bathed her soft nipples with the cold cloth until they stood out in chilled, rigid points. Gown pulled back up, Natalie nodded approvingly at the sight of hardened nipples standing out beneath the white satin. She turned and went out to Kane.
The effect she hoped to have on him was at once eclipsed by his effect on her.
His clothes lay in a pile on the deep white carpet. One black leather boot sat upright; the other lay on its side. Over the foot of her intricately carved bedstead hung his buckled cartridge belt, smooth black leather swinging gently. Sunlight glinted on the brass bullets it held, but the heavy black Colt was missing. It rested on the white marble-topped night table near Kane's dark head.
Kane lay on his back in the very middle of the white bed. As naked as Adam. Long legs crossed at the ankles, one arm folded beneath his head, the other resting on his furred chest, he was all any warm-blooded woman, who ever dared to daydream of a handsome brown Adonis, could ask of the gods of love. He was as perfect a specimen of manhood as ever lay naked before an awed, aroused female.
And Natalie, looking upon him lying there, all dark and gleaming on her sun-brightened white bed, brought a hand up to clutch at her throbbing throat. Her eyes shamelessly went to his groin; to that maleness nestled amidst a thick brush of tight, black curls.
She drew a shallow breath and went to the bed.
"Kane," she said softly, and sat down facing him, a hand stopping him when he started to lower his arm from beneath his head. "No, darling. This is my fantasy. You must do as I say."
All his love in his eyes, Kane spoke softly, "I will. Just tell me."
Natalie slowly leaned toward him and kissed the corner of his mouth. Lips resting there, she murmured, "I want you to lie quietly and let me love you, Kane. Don't reach for me, don't pull me down, don't stop me when I touch you." Before he could reply, she again kissed him, licking at his mouth, nibbling gently on the fleshy inside of his full bottom lip, toying with him while her long, free hair covered his face in a cloak of red silk.
Kane closed his eyes and enjoyed it.
Natalie, making certain her gossamer-draped breasts rested enticingly on his naked chest, continued to press whisper-soft kisses to his lips while her hands framed his face, stroked his ears, his temples, his firm chin. And Kane lay dutifully still, arm folded beneath his head, wondering how long he could endure her sweet torment.
Natalie abruptly lifted her head, tossed her hair back off her face, and sat up. "Kane, you're beautiful," she whispered, her hands raking through the thick, black mat covering his broad chest. "So beautiful"—she leaned down and pressed warm lips to the hollow of his throat—"that I love to look at you. To touch you. All over. May I do that, Kane?"
"God, yes." Kane's drawling voice was low and strained. "But I'm not pretty, Natalie. Men aren't—"
"You are, Kane." She raised her eyes to his. "No…" she warned when he brought his arm from under his head, "don't reach for me, Kane. Not yet." Kane's hands flattened on the white sheets and he gritted his teeth.
But he sighed when soft, gentle fingers played along the muscular ridges of his chest, moved back up to skim the tops of his shoulders, then traveled down his arms. And he winced when those hands stroked his tight belly and brazenly slipped lower, to touch, to caress, to arouse. To send the hot blood rushing into his already rigid masculinity.
Bold emerald eyes locking with shocked blue ones, Natalie stroked, gently squeezed, and felt her own blood scald through her veins at the touch of his flesh, which radiated fierce, animal heat. Her brazen hand continuing to pleasure him, Natalie leaned over Kane's heaving chest and began pressing warm, moist kisses to the flat muscles, the heated flesh, the curly hair.
Kane, eyes still wide open, watched in nervous ecstasy while this goddess of desire led him skillfully toward the heights of passion. Natalie put out her tongue and licked a sweet, wet path along the heavy black line of hair going down his flat abdomen.
Kane held his breath.
Natalie laid her check on his flat stomach. "Kane," she whispered, "you're holding your breath."
"Yes," he gasped, "I'm terrified you'll stop."
Natalie brushed a kiss over his hipbone. "Breathe, my love, I won't stop. I'll never stop loving you."
Kane released a tentative breath and let his eyes come to rest on the fiery head bent to him. Her hand had released him and now played in the damp hair of his groin while her lips continued to move ever closer to that stiffened shaft of desire pulsing on his brown belly not an inch from her nuzzling mouth.
And then Kane's heart stopped beating, because Natalie lifted her lovely, glowing face and, looking directly into his passion-darkened blue eyes, told him, "I want to love you the way you loved me. Tell me that I may."
Kane choked. Couldn't speak. Couldn't say a word. Could only watch in fearful, expectant awe as the woman he loved lowered her open lips to him. His eyes slid closed. His agonized breath came bursting from his chest and his hands left the bed to tangle in Natalie's long, red-gold hair.
Kane allowed himself this forbidden ecstasy only a short time. For only a brief, blessedly awed moment he lay there beneath her, his toes curling, his fingers gripping her head, his belly contracting. Fleetingly wishing he could lie there stark naked on her soft white bed, with Natalie's warm mouth enclosing him, for all the rest of his life, Kane abruptly pulled her up led he explode in a gushing climax.
With swift agility he sat up, lifted the white satin gown over Natalie's head, and, still holding it in his right hand, lay back no hoarsely entreated, "Climb astride me, baby."
Natalie murmured softly, "Yes, Kane, yes, darling," and swiftly straddled him, guiding him into her. Kane groaned with pleasure, feeling the moist tightness swallow him up. Satin ni
ghtgown slipping through his fingers, Kane's brown hands came to Natalie's hips while his eyes went to where the two of them were joined.
His dark body was melded with her ivory skin. Hard male flesh with soft female flesh. Raven curls with red. God's two gloriously different creatures, now one. Joined in the age-old act of physical loving.
Kane sighed and lifted his gaze to Natalie's flushed face. There was a wicked wildness in her huge emerald eyes and her soft, wet mouth was sensuously open. Her tousled red tresses spilled about her bare shoulders, and her breasts, their pink centers diamond-hard, bounced seductively with the movements of her rotating hips. Her hands gripped his ribs as she rode him expertly, rhythmically, hotly.
As it had been when her lips were upon him, Kane felt that this surely must be the ultimate in bliss. And he wanted it to last. To endure. He would hold back for a long, long time. He would he here and let this brazen beauty ride naked astride him forever. He would withhold his—
"Ba—baby…"he groaned helplessly as all his dreamy intentions were lost in the surging climax pumping hotly into her.
Natalie, near the edge, let herself go with him. Her joy matched his. Together they reached the apex of ecstasy, rocketing high up into a sexual nirvana of their own making, reveling briefly in a hot heaven of love before exploding completely to float weightlessly back to earth.
Natalie collapsed atop Kane and they lay there in the bright Colorado sunshine, panting, resting, silently thanking each other.
Natalie, still astride him, knees hugging his ribs, hands gripping his shoulders, cheek pressed to his damp, heaving chest, said lazily at last, "Kane."
"Yes, baby?"
"How did you like my fantasy?"
Kane chuckled and his lean fingers slipped from her narrow waist to move up over the rise of her bare bottom.
"Beats the hell out of mine."
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Ashlin Blackmore calmly buckled his gunbelt. He placed not one but two fully loaded heavy Colt .44-caliber revolvers down into the leather holsters on his black-trousered thighs. He stood before the tall beveled mirror in his sun-splashed bedroom, pale, slim fingers resting lightly on the silver-plated gun handles.
Like a gunfighter soon to be pressed into action, Ashlin Blackmore practiced his draw. Dexterously, he drew, reholstered, and drew once more, gleaming steel clearing black leather with respectable swiftness.
He had never in his forty-one years fired a gun for any purpose but sport. And that had been target practice or fox hunting in his native England. He had purchased the six-shooters when he had first arrived in the Colorado Territory but had worn them for a brief time only, feeling foolish and vulgar as he strolled down the wooden sidewalks, the heavy revolvers impeding his step.
Quickly he had made friends with the townsfolk, and, convinced Cloudcastle was not a dangerous place for a respected English nobleman, Ashlin had hung up his guns… and also had quickly formed a secret liaison with the feared Leatherwood brothers.
The Leatherwood clan's reputation for meanness had intrigued and impressed Ashlin. He had wasted little time in recruiting them, certain he would find a need for them in the future.
Ashlin again reholstered his gleaming Colts and his lip thinned angrily. The Leatherwoods were not mean and fearless after all. And now he, Lord Blackmore, a titled, aristocratic blueblood, was forced to go out and duty his own fine hands. He would have to kill the old Ute shaman himself.
Ashlin eyed himself speculatively in the tall, clear mirror. And he began to smile.
He was not afraid of some superstitious old savage. He would ride quietly, secretly up into the mountains, hunt down the meddlesome old chief, and shoot him dead. That done, he would head for the Cliff Palace, fill his black saddle-bags with gold coin, and go for Natalie. He had been patient with Natalie much too long. It was time she learned who was master, who was servant. Today was as good a time as any.
Ashlin's lips slowly curved wider into a sly grin and he nodded, pleased, at the reflection in the mirror. He saw a handsome blond man attired in black, a brace of pistols on his hips. A man sure of himself and of his future.
By sundown he would be at Cloud West making lewd love to Judge Natalie Vallance on a bed scattered with shiny gold coins. He would take her by force if necessary, show her he could be quite different from the acquiescent gentleman of the past. He'd seen the way she unwittingly responded to the lusty male presence of the crude, insolent Kane Covington. Maybe that was what she preferred. Perhaps, despite her intelligence and gentility, she longed to be enslaved by a strong, ruthless male.
Ashlin's evil smile broadened and his right hand slid from gunbutt down to the erection straining against his tight black trousers.
He would be delighted to see that Natalie got her secret wish. He would have her at his feet by midnight, whimparing and subservient. He would conquer her with old tricks that would be entirely new to her. By the time they took their wedding vows, the very prim and proper judge would be reduced to an obedient, wide-eyed plaything, catering to his every whim, gladly indulging his every hunger, eagerly learning and being rewarded by her master.
Just like Belinda Baker.
Shortly after eleven in the morning, Natalie and Kane rode away from Cloud West. Despite her efforts to hold him there past noon, Kane, with only a small, silencing kiss, had risen from the white bed, stepped into his buckskins, and said, "Put on your pants, sweetheart. We're leaving."
Now she rode ahead of him, defeated. It was still an hour until noon. There was nothing more she could do to detain him. She was sure that he loved her, but Kane could still be a hard, uncompromising man. Repeatedly she had warned him of the danger of disturbing the Manitou gold, yet he remained unmoved.
"I love you, Red," he had murmured, nibbling on her ear while she held him fiercely, tightly to her naked breasts, "but I don't share your superstitions. The gold is there for the taking and I intend to help myself." His mouth had moved down to the gold chain around her neck. His tongue followed the delicate chain to the shimmering yellow medallion resting in the hollow of her throat. "Didn't this little trinket come from the Cliff Palace?"
"Yes, but—"
"You're white, honey. You took some of the gold and nothing bad has happened to you."
"No," corrected Natalie, "I did not. I have never taken anything from the Cliff Palace. Tahomah gave me the medallion, but he told me that—"
"Sweetheart, I lived with the Comanches for more than a year. They were forever predicting my demise because I refused to believe in their myths and fables. I'm still here." He raised his dark head and smiled down at her.
"Kane," she lifted loving fingers to the bruise beneath his left eye. "Don't you love me?"
"I do. You know I do." He grinned and added, "So much that I want to give you everything a woman could ever desire."
"You're all that I desire, Kane."
But Kane did not fully believe her; she could see it in his brooding blue eyes. The memory of another life, another love, had not been completely vanquished. Kane was not entirely certain that she would not behave like the avaricious, fickle Susannah. He was not yet secure in the knowledge that she loved him—would always love him—whether he be rich or Poor.
Natalie, silently riding ahead of the dear, foolish man for whom she feared, unconsciously rotated her aching right shoulder. Thoughts on Kane, she was unaware she was doing it, hardly realized that the small gunshot wound was bothering her.
Kane saw the reflex action and immediately spurred Satan up beside her. "That shoulder hurting bad, sweetheart?"
She smiled at him. "Not really, Kane. A little sore, but…"
Kane frowned. "We're near the hot springs. A good soaking would ease it."
Natalie's emerald eyes lit up immediately. "Yes! That's exactly what I need." Surprised that Kane had suggested it, she thought not of her wound, nor of the healing powers of the springs, but of the time it would kill. One last delay. One more chance to save Kane fr
om impending danger. One final opportunity to keep him safely with her as high noon approached.
Elated that she'd been handed another reprieve, Natalie gave Blaze a slap of the long reins and altered her course toward Escalante Canyon. Kane followed. In moments the pair rode around the ragged up thrust of jutting rock and into the steep-walled canyon.
Inside it was dim and chilly. But high, high above, the Colorado sun beat down through a cloudless blue sky. And beneath that glaring sunshine, heavy banks of snow, thawed by the warm chinook winds, began to shift and move. Deep melting had begun, slicking the jutting, dangerous slopes. Setting the stage for disaster.
Kane and Natalie hurriedly dismounted and, hand in hand, walked toward the small man-made stone enclosure hugging the flat floor of the dim canyon. Natalie commented on the workmanship of the spring house. Kane proudly pointed out that just inside the opening was a small room for dressing and undressing.
They ducked in out of chill air and onto the flat, rocky apron of the gurgling springs.
"Oh, Kane, let's hurry." Natalie's fingers flew to her belt buckle. "I can't wait to feel that heat."
Kane grinned, but shook his dark head. "You hurry, honey. I'm not getting in."
"You must." She turned to him. "It would be good for you too. Tell me you're not still a little stiff from all you've been through."
Kane's lean fingers went to the buttons of her tight pants. "You worked all that stiffness out of me, Natalie." He shoved the trousers down over her flaring hips. "I'll sit here and watch you."
"Suit yourself," Natalie said, disappointed, twisting her long red tresses atop her head. But she didn't stay disappointed for long.
Splashing naked down into the thigh-high bubbling, vaporous water, she sighed with delight. Kane, crouching down beside the steamy pool, sat on his heels and watched, squinting to see through the thick clouds of rising white vapor.