In His Kiss: Blemished Brides, Book 4

by Peggy L Henderson

  Before Ellie had time to step away, a strong arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her up against a solid chest. Ellie’s legs weakened, the same response she’d had when Lance had held her and comforted her a few days ago.

  No, this wasn’t quite the same response. It was much more intense. This time, her limbs nearly melted in answer to his embrace. Her head drew back slightly, lifting her lips away from his. She sucked in a quick breath, inhaling the strong scent of leather and horses that defined Lance Taggart, and stared up at him.

  His pupils had darkened considerably as his eyes all but smoldered with the way he looked at her. He held her close to his heaving chest with one arm still wrapped firmly around her waist, while his other hand slowly crept up along her cheek. His work-roughened fingers stroked a feather-light trail along her jaw, across her cheek, and languidly wound their way through her hair to the nape of her neck.

  Ellie closed her eyes in response to his tender touch. When his hand stilled, cradling the back of her neck, her lids fluttered open to be met by a deep look of longing in Lance’s gaze.

  His eyes seemed to take her in all at once while intently studying every feature of her face. Her lips parted slightly while her throat went dry with a futile effort to swallow back some unknown anticipation. Lance whispered a curse word, followed by her name, a fraction of a second before he lowered his head and covered her mouth with his.

  Ellie melted against him, every part of her coming alive to the most exquisite sensations that had ever passed through her. Her hands crept up and gripped Lance’s shoulders. His lips on hers were firm yet gentle, even as he deepened the contact. His fingers stroking the back of her neck sent a burst of heat and chills rippling through her at the same time. She leaned into him, her lips parting beneath his in response to his gentle exploration of her mouth. All too soon, he eased away, the palm of his hand lingering along her jaw.

  Ellie blinked and stared up into the dark eyes of the man she couldn’t get out of her mind and heart. Her lips pulsed in time with her heartbeats as the world around her faded away, leaving only Lance and the sensations he brought to life in her. He gazed down at her the way a person might look at a precious possession, not as someone would stare at her with pity for the tragedy that had robbed her of her voice as a child, or thinking she was slow in the mind as a result.

  “Ellie, I –”

  His arm released her, creating an instant draft along her skin. The blanket she’d wrapped around herself when she’d first arrived at Lance’s camp had fallen to the ground some time ago.

  He took a step back and yanked his hat from his head. His fingers raked through his hair before he looked at her again.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  Ellie shook her head. She stepped closer and reached for his arm. She smiled slowly, even as heat crept up her neck and into her cheeks. She pointed at herself, touched her fingers to her lips, then pointed at him and made the sign for ‘one’, guessing at the way to say, “I kissed you first.”

  Lance fisted his hat in one hand. “But I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you.”

  She shook her head again, made the sign for ‘no’ and his gesture for ‘half-breed.’

  I told you. I don’t care who you are.

  Ellie squeezed her eyes shut for a mere second, then inhaled a breath for courage. While her kiss had been something she’d done without thinking, her next gestures required some thought to get right. Since the moment they’d met, she’d thought about nothing but this man. Her feelings for him were more than mere infatuation. No one treated her like a normal person the way he did. No one looked at her the way Lance spoke to her very soul with his eyes, and there would certainly never be another who would kiss her the way he’d just kissed her.

  Ellie squared her shoulders, and with exaggerated force, crossed her wrists over her heart, curling her hands into fists. She stared up at Lance, then pointed at him.

  Lance watched the motions she made. He took a step forward, closing some of the distance he’d created after pulling away from her. Reaching for her, he wrapped his fingers around her arm.

  “You don’t know what you’re saying, Ellie.”

  He stared down at her, that same dark intensity back in his eyes that had been present a few moments ago when he’d kissed her. A faint shimmer of hope gleamed in the depths of his stare, along with the emotion she tried to convey to him without words.

  Ellie pulled her arm from his grasp. She brought her flat right hand up against her chest, then out and away from her, then lifted her index finger in front of her face. Hesitating, she lifted her chin to look at the man who’d stolen her heart the day he’d returned her notebook. She repeated her earlier motion, tapping her fists against her heart for greater emphasis.

  You’re a good man . . . And I love you.

  Before giving it too much thought, she threw her arms around his neck, leaned up, and pressed her lips to his again to prove her point. In her haste, her nose bumped against his, the impact bringing a tear to her eyes. Ellie pulled back to try again, but Lance was quicker.

  He tilted his head at the same time both of his arms wrapped around her and his lips descended on hers. He certainly knew more about initiating a kiss than she. Melting against him for the second time, Ellie savored the feel of Lance holding her tight. The strength of his arms around her crushed her against him, and his kiss intensified.

  Ellie’s fingers dug into his shoulders as she gave herself over to the intense pleasure Lance awakened in her. Time stood still while he kissed her, his hands stroking slowly up and down her back, entwining his fingers in the ends of her free-flowing hair.

  “I think we need more practice at this,” he murmured against her cheek. He leaned his head back, a faint smile forming along the corners of his mouth.

  Ellie stared up at him. She unwrapped her arms from around his neck to tell him he’d been the only one who’d ever kissed her.

  His smile faded. He still held her close, but his arms relaxed around her.

  “I’m not the right man to kiss you.”

  Ellie reached her hand up to touch his cheek. She gazed up into his eyes, waiting for him to really look at her. Then she nodded and poked her other finger into his chest.

  You are the right man.

  Hopefully, her gestures were enough to make her meaning clear.

  “Your aunt will have me shot for this. No doubt she’s already frantic back at the ranch, wondering what savage things I’m doing to you.” His lips curved in a wolfish grin.

  I won’t tell her.

  Ellie returned his smile. She gazed up at him, then repeated her declaration of love. The look in his brown eyes communicated all she needed to know that she had the same effect on him, even if he might not be ready to tell her. The muscles along his jaw twitched, as if he was fighting with a choice he couldn’t make.

  “What happened that has you upset enough to come all this way out here?”

  Clearly, he was trying to change the subject. How could she explain that she didn’t fit in with anyone in her aunt’s social circle anymore than she had fit in at the outpost?

  Ellie shook her head and strung gestures together to convey that her heart had been hurt, including the signs meaning women and her aunt.

  “I saw you had visitors today.” Lance nodded in understanding. He always seemed to understand, even when she couldn’t make the correct motions with her hands and he needed to fill in the full meaning of what she’d meant.

  A cold burst of wind sent a chill down her spine, and she shivered. Lance broke eye contact with her by picking up the blanket she’d dropped earlier. He held it up, stared at it for a moment, then took her hand as if he’d reached some kind of decision.

  Wordlessly, he led her toward his shelter, which offered some protection from the cool breeze. Standing before it, he squeezed her hand and smiled.

  “I don’t have a flute to play you a song, but would you care to share the blanket w
ith me, Ellie?”

  He slung the blanket around his shoulders, then held it open in an unspoken invitation for her to step closer. Ellie glanced up at his smiling face. She nodded and stepped into his embrace. The heat from his body instantly warmed her and the blanket he wrapped around both of them shielded her from the elements.

  Ellie’s heart beat faster. She stood pressed up to him. What now? Her brows raised in a question.

  “Among my mother’s people, it’s a custom for a man to stand outside the lodge of a woman who’s caught his eye and offer to share a blanket. It’s a way to make his intentions known that he wants to know her better.”

  Ellie’s eyes, along with her smile, widened. Lance was truly interested in her. She gestured with her hands.

  Then what happens?

  Lance returned her smile. “If she’s agreeable for the man to court her, she’ll stand there with him, and they talk. He might play the flute for her to attract her attention, but as I’ve said, I don’t have a flute.” He chuckled. “And even if I had one, I don’t think I’d know how to play it so it sounded like music and not a dying steer.”

  Ellie leaned in closer. It didn’t matter that he didn’t have a flute. He didn’t need one to attract her attention. He already owned her heart.

  What sort of things do they talk about?

  Lance shrugged. He caught her right hand that she’d used to form her question in his. His thumb caressed her palm before he spoke. “He might tell her what a great warrior he is and how many horses he owns.”

  Ellie tilted her head, scrunching her forehead in an inquisitive stare. Her heart nearly burst with happiness. If only she could talk and truly laugh with him at this moment.

  “Trouble is,” Lance continued, “I’m neither a warrior nor do I own any horses aside from my saddle horse.”

  She shook her head. What did it matter how many horses he owned? At least it wasn’t important to her, and it was plain as day to see that he wasn’t a warrior, at least not one in the Indian sense. Lance was more a white man than an Indian, even with his darker skin, but he was just as familiar with his Lakota heritage.

  Ellie placed her palms together, then opened them like a book. She pointed at her eyes and then at him. She held her right hand above her eyebrows and pointed to the left with her index finger, then brought her hand in front of her eyes, pointing up, combining the signs for white and man. She added the sign for house.

  Why do you live as a white man? Where did you learn to read and write?

  Lance’s features hardened and he tensed next to her. He shifted the blanket more firmly around her shoulder to shield her from the breeze. Ellie placed her hand on his chest, his heart beating firmly through the fabric of his shirt.

  “I was taken away from the reservation when I was a boy, along with other boys and girls of similar age. The government came and convinced some of the elders that it would be good for the children to go to school to learn how to become productive members of white society.”

  His jaw visibly clenched and unclenched. He gazed out across the meadow into the hills before returning his attention to her. The corners of his lips formed a faint smile. Ellie reached up to touch his cheek, encouraging him to continue.

  “The day the soldiers came to take us away and put us on a train heading to Pennsylvania was the last day I saw my grandfather alive, and the last time I was considered a Lakota.”

  But you received schooling.

  Lance squeezed her hand. It was clearly painful for him to speak about his past.

  “No amount of schooling can turn me into a white man on the outside.” He covered her hand that still touched his cheek. “It never mattered to me that people looked at my dark skin with suspicion, or that I never put down roots anywhere. It’s how I chose to live my life . . . until now.”

  Ellie met his sincere gaze, her eyes locked on his. They didn’t need to communicate with spoken words to understand each other. Lance was as misunderstood around people as she was.

  Tell me more.

  Lance hesitated before he continued. “The school tried to remove the Indian in me and the other children. When we arrived, we were stripped of our buckskins and made to wear the confining and uncomfortable white man’s clothes. The boys were forced to have their hair cut, taking away our identity and we were given new white man’s names.”

  What was your name before?

  Lance smiled. “My grandfather gave me the name Hunts with a Lance. The schoolmaster called me Arthur.”

  Ellie smiled broadly, scrunched her nose, and shook her head. He definitely didn’t look like an Arthur. Lance suited him much better, even though it wasn’t a conventional name.

  Lance chuckled before his face sobered and he continued his tale. “Speaking any words in our native tongue was forbidden, and we faced severe consequences if we were caught speaking anything but English, or practicing any of our customs. Some of us boys resorted to sign talk in secret.”

  Ellie made the sign for ‘white man’ again, and then father.

  “I never knew my father. He left my mother before I was born. When I ran away from the school after enduring it for a couple of years, I took his last name, Taggart. That’s all I know about him.” He grinned despite his harsh tone. “And because I hated being called Arthur, I shortened my Lakota name to Lance.”

  What about your mother?

  Anger flashed briefly in Lance’s eyes, then softened again when he looked at her.

  “My mother died in a raid on our village when I was very young. The soldiers killed most of the men, and took the surviving women, children, and elders to the reservation. I haven’t had any good experiences with soldiers. With every encounter, they’ve taken a part of my family from me.”

  Lance ran his hand along the length of Ellie’s arm, his features softening again as he gazed at her. The hardness of his eyes when he spoke of his past vanished the longer he studied her.

  “Seems that, for once, something good’s happened to me that’s had to do with the army.”

  His fingers grazed along her chin, and he dipped his head to lightly touch her lips with his.

  Ellie pointed at herself. Me, too, she mouthed.

  Mahto barked somewhere behind her, and Lance straightened. His horse snorted, grazing contently where Lance had left it. To the west, the sun had begun its descent into the horizon, leaving clouds colored in hues of reds and purples, while further to the east, the oncoming darkness promised more rain in the night.

  Lance stepped away from Ellie. He pulled the blanket from around his shoulder and wrapped it around her.

  “I have nothing to offer you, Ellie.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Ever since I first saw you, something drew me to you. My grandfather always told me not to ignore when something spoke strongly within me, but I don’t know what to do about you.”

  Ellie reached for his hand. She pointed at him, then placed her palm over his heart and brought his hand over her own.

  You care for me, and I care for you. That’s all I need.

  Lance gripped her hand. “I train horses, Ellie. I move from place to place. I have no home or way to provide for you. I can’t give you the kind of life you deserve.” He paused, his grip tightening. “And you’ll be shunned for being with a man of mixed blood.”

  Ellie stared up at him, shaking her head.

  But you love me. Tell me you love me. It’s enough for now.

  Ellie made the gestures with her hands. Right now, she needed her notebook to truly convey what she needed to say to him. She was already shunned for her inability to speak. They would find a way to be together. He was an excellent horse trainer, and sought after by several wealthy ranch owners, from what she’d heard. He’d have no problem finding work or providing for a wife. In the distance, thunder rumbled.

  Lance crossed his wrists over his heart with his hands fisted. The anguished planes on his face softened with his grin. “You’re a stubborn woman, you know that?”

&nbs
p; Ellie smiled and nodded.

  “I can’t lie and say I don’t have these feelings for you, Ellie. What I feel for you came out of nowhere and ambushed me, but telling you that you own my heart is all I can offer you at the moment.” He touched her cheek and placed a soft kiss on her lips, then glanced at the sky. “Right now, I need to get you back to the ranch.”

  Ellie shook her head. I’d rather stay here with you.

  Not even her father had kept her confined to her quarters at Fort Peck the way Aunt Fiona kept her in the house, or had made her sit and attempt meaningless conversations with women who did nothing but talk about her behind her back while pretending to be her friend.

  Lance smiled, took her hand and led her to his horse.

  “I need to figure this out, for both of us.” He helped her into the saddle, then swung up behind her.

  Ellie leaned against his chest while he guided his gelding back toward the ranch. Mahto bounced ahead of them, leading the way. The dog always seemed to know what was going on, and clearly approved of taking her back to her aunt. For once, she didn’t share the dog’s enthusiasm.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lights flickered at the bunkhouse and shone through the windows of the main residence as Lance guided his horse through the creek and toward the ranch. Several lanterns hung from the overhang on the porch of the large house, illuminating the swing in front of the window.

  Ellie shifted, bringing her back more firmly against his chest. Without thinking, his arm tightened around her middle, holding her closer than he’d done the entire ride out of the hills. In a few moments, he’d have to let her go completely and hand her over to her aunt.

  The sun was merely a faint glow on the horizon, the sky a dark blue with a few streaks of red left to give off a small amount of light. Another few minutes, and it would be completely dark.

  Mahto ran around the horse’s legs, giving off a few barks, as if announcing that they had arrived safe and sound, and that Ellie was back. The door to the ranch house swung open, and a figure in a long skirt rushed out and down the porch. A man followed close behind.