Each Time We Love

by Shirlee Busbee

  Naked except for his breeches, with a growl of satisfaction he felt her hands moving across his bare shoulders and broad back, her nails scraping his flesh whenever his teeth erotically grazed her nipples. He wanted his hands everywhere on her, and heedless of the damage he was causing to her expensive gown, he roughly stripped her out of it, the garment pooling in a pastel hue around their feet.

  Savanna naked in his arms was the most intoxicatingly erotic sensation he had ever experienced in his life. The feel of her soft, supple flesh under his roaming hands was such an earthy delight that he was shaking from the powerful force of emotions she aroused. He ached for her, ached for her as he had for no other woman. The passionate kisses, the sweetness of her flesh under his lips, the shape and texture of her lovely body beneath his exploring fingers, weren't enough anymore; the demand to sheathe himself, to feel the silken heat of her body close around him, was driving him to reckless heights.

  Only half aware of what he was doing, he turned their bodies until it was Savanna's hips that rested against the desk. His hands on her shoulders, he guided her onto the smooth surface, her long legs dangling over the edge of the desk, her bright hair spread out like a fiery mantle around her shoulders. Poised between her thighs, her soft, lovely body laid out before him, Adam greedily drank in her charms. From the passion-bright gleam of her eyes to the enticing thrust of her bosom and the lush flare of her hips to the tight fiery curls between her legs, she was carnal temptation. Had he ever even dreamed such an arousing sight? Unable to help himself, he bent over her, his lips closing urgently over her breasts, his knowing hands stroking her belly and thighs.

  Burning for him, aching and eager for his caress, beneath his ravening mouth and searching hands Savanna twisted wantonly on the cool surface of the desk, her fingers finding and rubbing the pebble hardness of Adam's nipples. He groaned with obvious delight, but, intent on further exploration, her hands slipped lower, following the dark arrow of hair as it flowed down his body until she encountered his breeches. Gently she traced the shape of his manhood beneath the fabric, her fingers sliding and caressing the hard length of him, her wandering hands inflaming them both.

  It was a remarkably sensual sensation for Savanna to be lying on the top of his desk, her legs splayed on either side of Adam's hips, the wood smooth and cool against her back and buttocks and the velvety heat of his body burning against her breasts and stomach as he half leaned, half lay, upon her. The insistent tug of his mouth on her nipples was an erotic pleasure all its own, but the trembling awareness of his hands sliding slowly up her legs to the curls between her thighs, the feel of her flesh parting as he deepened the exploration of his fingers, had Savanna thrashing from the hungry excitement that welled up within her. Again and again she surged up against his invading fingers, soft mewling sounds coming from her mouth, her head moving wildly from side to side as Adam stroked her to the brink of ecstasy.

  Consumed by the needs of his own body, Savanna's sweet abandonment overpowered Adam. Smothering an impatient curse, he raised himself upright and tugged open his breeches. His dark blue eyes glittering brightly from the storm of emotion which propelled him, he lifted her hips slightly and, head thrown back, eyes closing in exultation, he drove his throbbing shaft deeply within her eager body.

  The sensation of her silken flesh closing hotly around him made Adam sway drunkenly and mutter, like a joyous litany, "Oh, God! Oh, God! Sweetheart, sweetheart, sweetheart...."

  It was savage, primitive joining. There was no finesse about their actions—it was raw, primeval man with his woman; both of them were too snared by the shudders of lusty delight that coursed wildly through them to wonder at this fierce mating. His hands gripped her hips, holding her in place as again and again he plunged into her tight slick channel, the blind, unbridled pleasure she gave him only increasing his frantic movements.

  As trapped as he, Savanna was thrilled by the power of Adam's lovemaking, shaken by the depth of the emotions that spiraled out of control through her. As heedlessly as he, she met every thrust of his big body, soft moans of pleasure coming from deep in her throat every time his shaft drove into her. Eyes closed, body straining to meet his, hands reaching wildly for him, she whirled faster and faster toward completion with every powerful thrust he made. Ecstasy, when it came, stunned her—pleasure spiraling explosively through her, startling a small, shocked scream of delight from her.

  Even lost in his own carnal world, Adam heard her scream and his dark blue eyes snapped open and intently he watched her features, exulting in the myriad expressions of astonished pleasure that were revealed. The look of wonder on her beloved face pushed him to the pinnacle, and bending over her, he roughly caught her mouth with his and kissed her. Pounding urgently into her, he discovered for himself that same fierce ecstasy that had overtaken Savanna....

  Passion spent, their bodies joined, he collapsed gently onto her soft flesh. Savoring the tiny aftershocks of pleasure that trembled through her, Savanna welcomed the warm, heavy weight of Adam's body as he lay half slumped over her, his lips nuzzling her neck and collarbone, his hands holding her hips tightly to him as he continued to move lazily against her. It was a wonderful sensation, but as her labored breathing lessened, reality crept into her sated senses. All too soon she became mortifyingly aware of her lewd position on his desk, aware, too of how wantonly she had responded to his drugging lovemaking, and a wave of embarrassment swept over her.

  Shame clawed its way up through her and she was suddenly desperate to get away from him and the memory of this savage, tempestuous mating. Her cheeks flaming with mortification, she shoved insistently against his shoulders and wiggled, her one thought to flee.

  Her increasingly violent struggles brought Adam sharply back from the soft, dreamy haven in which he floated to ugly reality. Bitterly, realizing that he had done his suit no good by his reckless actions, he levered himself away from her. In one swift movement he refastened his breeches and turned to help Savanna, but she would have none of him.

  The moment she was free, Savanna had scrambled off the desk and grabbed up her torn and ruined gown. Not risking a glance in his direction, she clasped the gown to her, her movements jerky and frantic as she tried to put it on. Her thoughts were jumbled, embarrassment and shame making her clumsy as the fabric seemed to have a life of its own, refusing to go where she wanted it to. She wasn't aware of Adam attempting to help her; like a wounded animal, she wanted to escape, and that need was so strong that with a frustrated half curse, half sob, she finally dragged the ill-used gown over her head and, not caring that it gaped open here and there, bolted from the room.

  His eyes bleak, Adam stared at the doorway through which she had disappeared. The urge to go after her was strong, and he had hastily donned his discarded clothing intending to do just that when the thought occurred to him that perhaps now wasn't the best time to confront her with what had happened. She had been wild to escape from him, her embarrassment a palpable thing. Should he give her a chance to recover her ragged composure? Yet did he dare to wait until she'd had time to think about what had happened between them? Time to erect more barriers between them?

  A rap on the door interrupted his considerations and, torn between the fierce hope that it was Savanna and the cold certainty that she would be the last person looking for him at this moment, he flung open the door. Jack Mooney stood there, his rough-hewn features wearing a worried expression.

  "Have you noticed," Jack began, "that there is a storm brewing up outside?"

  Adam hadn't, and waving Jack inside the room, he shut the door behind them. Walking over to the window, he noticed that the sunlight had disappeared and that there were ominous dark gray clouds flying across the previously blue sky. A storm. Adam thought viciously. How appropriate!

  Glancing back at Jack, he said, "I don't think it should trouble us too much. Have you and Toby settled in?"

  Jack nodded. "Yeah. The horses are stabled and"—Jack grinned—"we just got through s
ampling your dinner!"

  Despite his grim mood, Adam smiled. "I trust you enjoyed it?"

  "Right tasty," Jack confessed, his grin vanishing as he continued in a more serious tone. "Storm bothers me. I'd figured originally that me and Toby could conceal ourselves a little distance from the house—just far enough away so that, between us, we'd be able to watch the entire house, yet close enough that if Micajah or Jeremy did slip past us, a shout would bring us running. Storm'll make it difficult. Didn't want to alert that bastard Micajah that we're here, but considering the storm and the lack of visibility it'll cause, think I'd feel better if one of us openly patrolled the house. Might make him think twice about doing anything and we'd still have the surprise of one of us inside the house. Or if you'd rather, both of us inside—whichever you'd prefer."

  A crack of thunder broke the quiet and a moment later the black sky was lit by a jagged streak of lightning. As if the lightning had been a signal, the heavens opened up and heavy rains lashed against the earth. Hoping that the storm wouldn't last more than a few hours and doubting that Micajah would have formulated definite plans already, Adam said calmly, "Why don't you two familiarize yourself with the house until the rain lets up, and then we can decide our strategy for the night. If the weather is a factor for us, I'm sure that even if Micajah were lurking about, which I doubt, the rain would affect his plans also."

  Jack nodded agreeably. "I'll get Toby."

  Midnight came and went and still the storm raged. If anything, it had increased in violence and power, and the strong wind that accompanied the driving rain and flashes of lightning made the house creak with odd noises. The whine and snarl of the blowing shrubbery against the roof and the sides of the building intensified the cacophony of sound, making it impossible to hear anything but the noise of the storm itself.

  Jack and Toby were busy making their rounds of the house, discreetly checking doors and windows. Savanna was no doubt asleep in her room, and having dined earlier with Adam, Elizabeth was at present contentedly knitting a shawl out of fine cashmere thread. Adam, feeling like a chained tiger, was locked in his study, glaring murderously at the snifter of brandy in front of him.

  The savage emotions inside him matched the fury of the storm roaring outside, and taking a long gulp of his brandy, Adam was undecided whether to blow out his brains or strangle Savanna. Maybe both, he thought with a savage smile.

  He was already half drunk, and while he had no intention of harming either himself or Savanna, he was fighting against the urge to bound up the stairs and smash his way into her room. She had to be made to understand the situation, he decided blearily. She must realize that he loved her and that there was no way in hell that he would ever allow her to divorce him. Did she think that it was just any woman he threw on his desk and made such frantic love to? She was his wife, goddammit! He took another long gulp of his brandy. She was going to stay his wife and she was also, he vowed with a black scowl, going to stay in his bed.

  Brandy fumes deadening his senses, intent on his own grim thoughts, the racket of the storm drowning out any warning, Adam wasn't aware of the stealthy opening of the window behind him. Didn't hear the muffled sound as a dark figure climbed into the room and crept up on him.

  At the last moment, though, some sixth sense must have warned Adam and he spun around, staring half surprised, half resigned, into Micajah's contorted features, a stout club held menacingly in one beefy fist. A powerful sensation of deja vu swept over Adam and the blind instinct for survival made him lunge at his enemy, but the brandy had dulled his reflexes and Micajah's club was already descending....

  Chapter 23

  When Adam regained his senses the next morning—at least he assumed it was the next morning, since the sun was shining—it was to find himself once again in the ignominious position of being tied across the back of a horse. The brandy he had drunk last night, coupled with the less-than-gentle kiss of Micajah's club, had given him a damned devilish headache. Gritting his teeth against the pounding ache in his temples, he tried to take his bearings.

  It proved an impossibility, his view of the world being predominantly the ground alongside the horse and a slight forward and rear angle. It was apparent, however, that he was Micajah's only prisoner, and the blind terror that Savanna might have met with a similar fate lessened.

  He was, he guessed, in one of the many swampy areas which abounded in lower Louisiana and he caught occasional glimpses of palmetto leaves and the knobby knees of bald cypress. He also, with even less enthusiasm, caught sight of several alligators sunning themselves along the edges of the murky bayou Micajah seemed to be following and he shuddered, hoping Micajah didn't plan to feed him to one of those snapping-jawed giants.

  That Micajah intended to kill him was a foregone conclusion. Adam's only confusion was the fact that he wasn't dead yet. Why was Micajah keeping him alive?

  He found out several hours later when Micajah finally halted their horses where Jeremy was waiting for him. While Jeremy tied the horses, Micajah loosened the bonds that held Adam to the horse and threw him on the ground. With his hands and feet still tightly roped together, there was little Adam could do but attempt to struggle into a sitting position.

  Catching sight of Adam, Jeremy smiled nastily and, leaving off his chore, promptly came over and gave Adam a swift, vicious kick in the ribs.

  "Seen any more snakes around, mister?" he demanded sourly, the expression in his eyes making it clear that he hadn't forgotten Adam's earlier ruse. Giving Adam another brutal kick, this one at the side of his head, he muttered, "Why, I think I saw one just now!"

  Coldly Adam regarded his tormentor. "You could be right, but then again, could be I'm looking at a two-legged snake myself."

  Jeremy started to kick him again, but Micajah growled, "Leave him be and help me get these horses unsaddled. We'll have time enough for him later."

  Grumbling, after shooting a sullen look at Adam, Jeremy followed Micajah's orders and began to take care of the horses.

  Propping himself up against a tree, Adam looked around, but beyond confirming that he was deep in a swamp, he had no idea where he was. He and his captors were on a narrow spit of land surrounded on three sides by an endless body of brackish water, the surface covered with scummy green growth. Tall, gnarled cypress draped with ghostly gray-green Spanish moss loomed up intermittently from the murky depths as far as the eye could see. Behind him there was nothing but the jungle-like growth of the swampy forest, and he wondered grimly if this was to be his last resting place.

  A fire was burning merrily in the center of the camp, and from the confident air about Micajah and Jeremy, Adam surmised that this was a place they were familiar with and that they didn't expect any retaliation, either. His mouth twisted. Micajah seemed to have planned well.

  Sipping a cup of coffee, Micajah walked over to Adam. Smiling down at him, the pale blue eyes gleaming with satisfaction, he asked, "Want to know why you're still alive?"

  Adam shrugged. "You'll tell me when you're good and ready."

  Micajah grinned, nodding his shaggy head. "Think you're a smart fellow, don't you? Tricking ole Micajah that way. Making a fool out of me. Making me believe that you were really Jason Savage when you're only his brother-in-law, Adam St. Clair." Squatting down beside Adam, Micajah took another drink of his coffee. "Can't blame you much for pretending to be Savage—I'd have done the same thing—but as for marrying Savanna..."

  His amiable mood vanished and something ugly flickered behind his blue eyes. "Now, I just can't have that. I alwus figured that me and Savanna would pair up—once she got used to the idea." He shot Adam a sly look. "Still figure it that way."

  "So why am I still alive?" Adam asked coolly.

  "Ah! Now that's a good question," Micajah responded evenly. "You see, you're my bait... it was too risky to search the house for Savanna last night, but I left her a little note...."

  Adam stiffened. "A note?" he said with commendable composure in spite of the f
ear and rage that rioted through his body.

  "Yeah! A note." Taking another sip of coffee, Micajah glanced around. "This here place is known as Gatorhead." He pointed to a half-rotted stump at the edge of the swamp. "Used to be a great big ole gator head nailed to that stump. Only one way into this place and that's the way we came in. Lot of us fellows from Crow's Nest used to hide out here—Savanna came with Bodene once or twice when he'd bring in supplies. Of course, that was a long time ago, before he got all respectable and when Savanna was a child, but she won't have no trouble finding her way."

  His dark blue eyes mocking, Adam asked interestedly, "And why would Savanna want to come to Gatorhead?"

  Micajah smiled. "Why, to rescue you, of course!"

  Adam's heart sank. But it wasn't because Savanna wouldn't come after him that had caused his heart to sink and a feeling of helpless anger to surge in his veins; what he feared was that she would come after him. She might very well want to skewer him herself, but she'd never allow even her worst enemy to remain in Micajah's hands. Keeping his features bland, he replied calmly, "Which still doesn't explain why I'm still alive. You could have killed me at any time, but you didn't. Why?"

  "Well, now, you see, Savanna don't exactly trust me," Micajah said in all seriousness. "She wouldn't jest take my word for it that I'd release you once she came to me—she'd want to see you, to convince herself you really were alive." He smiled happily at Adam. "She thinks I'm going to do a trade—you for her!"