Only Mine o-2

by Elizabeth Lowell

  Her name shivered from Wolfe’s lips. It was all he could say as he fought to control the primal pulses that were dragging him to the brink of ecstasy. For the space of several breaths he struggled, not realizing that Jessica was watching him with eyes made smoky by passion. Finally, he let out a long, shuddering sigh.

  «You take the breath from me,» Wolfe said.

  «Then I’ll give you mine.»

  Jessica lifted her face to his, breathing his name into his mouth as they shared a kiss that burned with leashed hunger. Slowly, his hands closed over hers, drawing them across his aching body. With a soft, ragged sound of anticipation, she kissed the corner of his mouth, the pulse beating so strongly in his neck, the muscular swell of his chest. And all the while her hands hovered just above his fiercely aroused flesh, touching him only with her warmth.

  When Wolfe finally could speak, his voice was a rasp that told Jessica how tightly drawn he was.

  «Touch me here, where I ache for you,» he said, pressing one small hand between his legs.

  Jessica cupped and caressed him very gently, sensing the wildness quivering in him. Slowly he drew her hand higher, wrapping it around his potent flesh, urging her to measure him from base to blunt satin tip.

  «There,» Wolfe said hoarsely. «There I am very sensitive. It is there I would feel the shivering of your ecstasy most clearly.»

  Jessica made an odd sound and ran her fingers over his different textures with both curiosity and gentle care. Wolfe felt the trembling of her hands beneath his and smiled darkly.

  «Is there anything else you want to know?» he asked.

  «Yes,» she whispered.

  «What is it?»

  «I want to know how it would feel to have you inside me.»

  «That can’t be. But this…yes…I need your hands, Jessi. I’ve never needed like this.»

  Her hands moved and pleasure coursed heavily through Wolfe. She kissed the muscular curve of his thigh, the sleek warmth of his abdomen, the intriguing hollow of his navel.

  Eyes glittering, half-closed, Wolfe watched her loving him in the only way he would allow. The hushed silence of the room expanded until it became as taut as the instant before lightning arced between sky and earth.

  The clear pleasure Jessica took in Wolfe’s body and her utter lack of fear almost undid him. It took a fierce effort of will for him not to grab her and return the intimate caresses. But he knew if he touched her, he wouldn’t stop until he was buried in her, feeling her ecstasy shivering around him, hurling him into the sun.

  Wolfe’s fingers clenched in the ends of Jessica’s long hair as he felt her warm mouth caressing his skin. Then he could watch her no longer. He could only close his eyes and fight the violent need that threatened to overpower him. Of all the sensual things he had dreamed about his elf, the possibility of her taking such open, heated pleasure in his body hadn’t been one of them. Never had he been more aroused or felt more his own power as a man.

  Then Jessica’s tongue skimmed his blunt arousal. He made the sound of a man in torment. Her head turned swiftly toward him, sending her hair over him in silky fire. As lightly as a sigh, as hot as flame, her hair settled between his thighs. A visible shudder ripped through him.

  «Wolfe? Did I hurt you?»

  He smiled despite talons of need drawing his body on a rack. «Did I ever make you ache?»

  She nodded. The movement sent sensual fire coursing over his erect flesh. He barely suppressed a groan.

  «SweetJessi, it hurts only when you stop.»

  «But how do I touch you now? We are so different.»

  «I’ve never asked that from a woman.» Wolfe looked at Jessica with eyes that were dark blue gems burning. «That kind of intimacy is too much to ask of an innocent elf.»

  «Is it shameful of me to admit I’d rather be wanton than innocent? I find I’m quite…curious.»

  «And I find I’ve never been more aroused. I wonder how much more I can take?» Wolfe drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. «We’ll learn together.»

  «This can’t be new to you.»

  He smiled ruefully. «But it is.»

  «Your duchesses —»

  «Hammer the duchesses,» Wolfe said roughly. «They weren’t mine, nor was I theirs. I was a savage trophy for them. Not one of them gave tinker’s damn for anything but cold-hearted rutting. Not one of them ever gave me half the sweet pleasure you have.»

  «I have?» Jessica whispered. «By touching you where you’re most different?»

  Wolfe smiled and stroked his thumb over her lips, the only way he would permit himself to touch her.

  «That, and earlier, when you went down my body as though I were a warm spring and you were bathing in me.»

  «But you are.» Jessica drew her cheek against the hard masculine flesh that defined Wolfe’s hunger. «And I am.»

  «Bathing in me?»

  «Yes.» She turned her head and caressed him with her other cheek.

  «Keep that up,» he said in a thick voice, «and there will be as much fact as metaphor in what you say.»

  Jessica paused, then smiled secretly as she understood. «That would be only fair.»

  «No.»

  «Yes.» Her head moved again, but this time it was her mouth that caressed him rather than her cheek. «Did you not bathe in me?»

  Wolfe groaned something in Cheyenne as his whole body clenched.

  «You are very hard, my Wolfe.»

  The sound he made wasn’t recognizable as a word, which was just as well. He was certain the word would have shocked her.

  «You’re very warm,» she whispered, testing his heat with the tip of her tongue.

  «You are a tease,» he said in a thick voice.

  «Am I? Your blood is running heavily. I can feel it.» Jessica trembled with the answering rush of her own blood. «It beats more fiercely here than in your neck.»

  Wolfe didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He had never imagined how violently exciting it might be to experience his body through Jessica’s eyes, her hands, her words.

  Then the gentle, curious, incendiary heat of her mouth discovered him. With a murmuring sound of pleasure and surprise, she surrounded him. Wolfe’s fingers clenched deeply in the covers as a wave of unspeakable pleasure exploded through him. He fought to control the wild pulses of his release, but even as he fought he knew he would quickly lose.

  Wolfe barely had enough strength to drag Jessica back up his body and bury his tongue in her mouth. Then he tasted himself and her and groaned as though he were being torn apart.

  The leap and shudder of his flesh beneath her hand awed Jessica. She felt the spreading, silky heat of Wolfe’s fulfillment and knew that she was touching the beginning of life itself. She returned his kiss fiercely, wishing that life within her.

  «I didn’t mean to shock you like that,» he said when he could draw a whole breath again. «When you kissed me so intimately, I all but lost control.»

  «You didn’t shock me.»

  «Bloody hell I didn’t. You tasted me.»

  «Yes,» Jessica whispered. «That was the best of all. You taste like tears, only more silky and mysterious.»

  Her words went through Wolfe like dawn through night, transforming and renewing him in the space of a single rushing breath.

  «You’re going to be the death of me, elf,» Wolfe said huskily, rolling over until he had Jessica caged between his body and the bed. «But first, I’m going to be the death of you.»

  Jessica didn’t understand until she felt Wolfe’s mouth on her breast and his hand sliding down her body to seek the scented petals of the flower that opened only for him. She was already sleek, sultry, hungry, for pleasuring him had aroused her. The first brush of his fingers made her gasp. The second made her cry out. The third sent a silky heat spreading between them.

  The fourth sent her to the sun.

  16

  Although Wolfe’s expression had been rather grim when he came in from outdoors, the sight of his wife spooni
ng chili into a big serving bowl made him pause. The slow, very male smile he gave her as he peeled off his leather work gloves told Jessica that he was remembering what had happened between them in the hushed silence of dawn three days ago — and every night since.

  As Wolfe took the big bowl from Jessica, he slid the palms of his hands over the back of her fingers. Because there were other people nearby, he didn’t bend to take her soft mouth in a kiss. But he wanted to, and the catch in her breathing when his palms touched her skin told Wolfe that Jessica wanted the kiss as much as he did.

  «How’s the little man doing?» Wolfe asked Willow, turning away from the temptation of Jessica’s mouth.

  Willow looked up from the shallow basin where she was carefully bathing the baby, who seemed to be enjoying the warm water and his mother’s touch.

  «Ethan Caleb Black is doing wonderfully well,» Willow said, smiling.

  «Ethan, huh? You finally decided.»

  «It was Caleb’s father’s name.»

  «Big shoes for the little one to fill,» Wolfe said. He looked appraisingly at Willow. «Are you sure you should be up and working so soon?»

  «Lying in bed is for people who are sick. I’m not.»

  Frowning, Jessica looked up from the pan of cornbread that was staying warm near the stove.

  «In England, the women stay in confinement for several weeks after giving birth,» Jessica pointed out.

  «Figures,» Wolfe said. His voice was rich with disgust for the aristocrats of Great Britain. «The whole lot of them is as useless as teats on a boar hog.»

  All Willow said was, «The longer you stay in bed, the weaker you are when you get up.»

  «You look tired,» Jessica persisted.

  «I’ve been a lot more tired. Ask Caleb.» She picked up Ethan and wrapped his bottom in a soft cotton diaper as she continued talking. «Ethan and I had a nice long nap this morning, didn’t we, button? And after lunch, we’re going to have another one.»

  Wolfe shook his head, but it was in admiration rather than disagreement. «And here I thought that Cheyenne women were tough. Caleb must have been standing under a whole sky full of lucky stars the day he found you.»

  Jessica bent over the pan of cornbread, rearranging the clean cotton towel so that no warmth could escape. The fussing wasn’t necessary, but it gave her an excuse to hide her face until she was certain that none of the hurt she felt at Wolfe’s comments would show in her expression. Even knowing that he hadn’t meant his words as a backhanded slap didn’t remove the sting of them.

  She had begun to hope that he was accepting their marriage. Since the night when Wolfe had discovered the source of her fear of men, marriage, and childbirth, he had been the affectionate companion of old. He had also been a restrained, generous teacher of the ancient arts of sensuality.

  But now Jessica realized Wolfe hadn’t accepted her as his wife. Nor was he likely to do so. His contempt for the aristocracy was as deep in him as his blood.

  Jessica had been born into that aristocracy. Wolfe never forgot that, not even when in the grip of a passion for her that made him shake. It was why, after three nights of the most intense sensual explorations, Jessica was still a virgin. She was born of the aristocracy, which made her the kind of woman with whom Wolfe might play sensuous games, but not the kind of woman he thought was fit to be his true mate.

  The wind flexed against the house, testing its strength and reminding the men inside of what awaited them after they had eaten. A faint scratching sound came from the windows, particles of ice or grit flung against the glass by the strengthening wind. As one, the men stopped eating and exchanged wary looks.

  Without a word, Wolfe stood and went to the back door. Ignoring the ice-tipped wind, he walked away from the house until he had a clear view of the sky around the mountain peaks. The air had an odd sheen to it. The wind was alive, potent, and smelled of winter.

  Although it was barely noon, the elemental harmonies of wolf packs on the prowl shivered through the forest.

  Motionless, silent, Wolfe stood and absorbed all the subtle messages of sky and earth, wind, and wildlife. When he turned and came back inside, his face was impassive and his eyes were bleak.

  Caleb watched Wolfe sit down. «Well?» he asked softly.

  Wolfe hesitated, then shrugged. The truth would come on the wind no matter what was said or not said now.

  «It’s making up to snow.»

  Caleb muttered something Jessica chose not to overhear. Quietly she set down another pan of warm cornbread and a bowl of chili.

  «How hard?» Caleb asked.

  «It’s going to be a real Hell-bringer.» Wolfe’s voice was very soft, but very certain.

  «Then nobody rides but me. It’s too easy to get lost in a blizzard.»

  «I’ll start bringing in the cows and calves,» Rafe said, ingoring Caleb. «My bullwhip makes the horses too skittish, but it works like a charm on those cattle.»

  «I’ll ride shotgun for you,» Reno said. «Thank God not too many calves have been born yet. They’ll be a lot safer in their mother’s bellies. Have the mares started foaling yet?»

  «No,» Wolfe said. «Mysteeldust will probably be the first. Once she foals, the rest won’t be far behind. When they start dropping their foals in a blizzard…»

  Caleb narrowed his eyes but said nothing. There was nothing he could say that would turn back the cold northern wind.

  «Once we get a rope on my mustang,» Wolfe continued, «Ishmael will make sure the rest of the herd follows.»

  «Hell,» Caleb said in disgust. «The last time I tried roping thatsteeldust of yours, she ran rings around me.»

  «Quick little thing, isn’t she? Smart, too.» Wolfe’s smile faded. «If I can’t talk to her —»

  «Talk?» interrupted Jessica.

  Caleb smiled oddly. «In Cheyenne. It’s the damnedest thing I ever saw. Wolfe can go up to a mustang and ‘talk’ to it and half the time it will follow him like a big dog.»

  «That’s what the Cheyenne call them, Big Dogs,» Wolfe said dryly. His voice changed. «If thesteeldust won’t listen to reason, and we can’t get close enough to rope her, I’ll have to try creasing her with a bullet.»

  Jessica looked unhappily at Wolfe. She knew thesteeldust was the core of the horse herd he hoped to build.

  «I’ll do what I have to,» Wolfe said.

  BY thethe third day of the blizzard, the men were exhausted from lack of sleep and long hours spent riding under the most miserable conditions imaginable. Jessica made gallons of stew, rafts of cornbread, and lakes of coffee. She kept all of it hot in the kitchen no matter what the hour, for she never knew when one of the men would walk in the back door shivering with cold and hungry as a spring bear.

  «Go back to bed,» Jessica said to Willow.

  «You’ve been up cooking since dawn. It’s late afternoon now. You must be exhausted.»

  «I’m fine. I’m stronger than I look. I always have been.»

  Willow looked at Jessica’s drawn face and understood what was bothering her.

  «The men will be all right, Jessi. They’re used to riding wild country.»

  A tight nod was Jessica’s only answer. She didn’t know how much Caleb had told his wife about the problems they were having with so many wolves prowling in the storm, with the contrary cattle, and with cows calving at the worst possible time. Not to mention the wind itself, edged with thousands of icy teeth that ripped into flesh and stole the very warmth of life from livestock and man alike.

  But Jessica knew all of those problems, for Wolfe had told her more than he knew with his terse answers and eloquent silences.

  «If only the bloody wind would stop,» Jessica said suddenly.

  «Yes. If only. At least it’s not snowing any more,» Willow said, walking to the window. She picked up the spyglass she had put there. In the magnified circle of its view, she looked across the pasture, counting horses under her breath. It was impossible to be certain through thewaisthigh curtain
s of snow, but she thought the count came up short.

  «What is it?» Jessica asked, coming to stand by Willow.

  «At least four of the mares are missing.»

  «Ishmael will bring them back.»

  «Not if they’re foaling,» Willow whispered. «No stallion will disturb a mare when she quits the herd to give birth.» There was a tense silence before Willow added, «I saw at least one wolf. The packs are moving again.»

  For an instant, Jessica closed her eyes. She had seen Willow’s Arabians when they were brought to the home pasture. Even heavy with their unborn foals and thick with winter coats, the mares had an elegance of form and movement that enchanted Jessica. The thought of those mares lying down in the cruel wind to give birth while wolves circled hungrily around made her feel ill. The mares would be all but helpless, captive of the need to give birth. For a time, they would be almost as vulnerable as the foals being pushed from warm wombs onto frozen ground.

  «The foals…» Jessica whispered.

  Willow looked through the spyglass, saying nothing.

  «Can you see any of the men?» Jessica asked.

  «No. They’re probably combing the forest for cows. When the wind started coming from the northeast before dawn, the herd drifted out of Eagle Creek Basin.»

  With growing tension Jessica waited while Willow searched as much as she could see of the pasture through the swirling snow. When she collapsed the spyglass with barely restrained violence, Jessica knew that the mares were still missing.

  «I don’t see thesteeldust anywhere,» Willow said finally. «I think the foaling has begun.»

  «Dear God, no,» Jessica whispered. «We can’t lose thesteeldust now. Wolfe was so relieved when she came to him as though she understood he would keep her safe.»

  Willow set aside the spyglass. «I nursed Ethan a few minutes ago. If he cries before I come back, just —»

  «No.»

  The curt refusal startled Willow.

  «Stay with your baby,» Jessica said tightly. «I’ll check on the mares.»

  «I can’t let you do that. The cold is too dangerous.»