The Savage

by Nicole Jordan

  He’d give a lot to change all that. He wanted to make something of his life. He wanted a woman to fill his arms and banish the emptiness inside him. Not just any woman. He wanted Summer. Her or no one.

  It had always been Summer. It was always her face in his dreams. Her scent he remembered. Her honeyed voice he heard in his mind. He thought he might sell his soul if she would just look at him like she wanted him in return. If she could come to care for him the way she cared for her sister. If she would be willing to sacrifice her future, maybe even her life, for him.

  Remembering the hurtful accusations he had thrown at Summer a minute ago, Lance gave a harsh, silent laugh and shut his eyes. He’d been lying when he’d said she didn’t know anything about hardship or bravery. He could see a lot of his ma’s grit in her. Summer had kept the Weston ranch going during the war when other women would have folded, for one thing. She’d shown incredible courage riding into Indian Territory with him in search of her sister. And she’d tackled the backbreaking work of a Comanche woman without a single word of complaint.

  He wished he couldn’t see how hard she was trying. How much she had changed from the spoiled belle who had cut out his heart. He wished he could have saved himself this time. But the past few days had destroyed the last of his defenses.

  He’d been battling the truth for days now. He had fallen again for Summer, this time beyond hope. Tumbled heart-first into her silken web, despite his fierce effort to stop it from happening.

  Against his will, Lance let his gaze seek her out. She was kneeling on the blanket, tying the end of her braid with a strip of rawhide, the way Comanche women did. But the sun had set just enough to bathe her in golden light, turning her sable hair to fire.

  The sight just about took his breath away. He wanted Summer, more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life—but he wanted her to come to him. On her own. Without reservation. He didn’t want to just have her. He wanted to protect her, keep her, guard her, love her. He wanted to win her, wanted to bind her to him. He wanted to make her love him.

  It sure as hell didn’t look as if it would happen anytime soon, though.

  He didn’t know how much more he could stand, how much longer he could keep his distance from her. His body burned with need, with a fierce possessiveness he’d never felt for any woman but her. His heart hadn’t known one moment’s peace in her presence. She had the power to turn his insides to jelly with her beauty, her sensual allure, the grace she had just breathing, damn her.

  His torment didn’t end, either, when a short while later he mounted his horse and pulled her up behind him. Having Summer pressed against his back, her slender thighs on either side of his hips, her warmth surrounding him, was pure agony.

  They rode back to the Comanche village in silence, but every one of Lance’s nerves screamed at him all the while. Every time the movement of the paint horse rocked Summer against him, Lance swore under his breath, cursing her allure and his damnable need.

  Chapter 10

  His restraint shattered the following afternoon. Lance was sitting in front of the tepee he shared with Summer, sharpening his weapons while she labored over the deer hide, when his brother strode up. Lance’s grin of welcome, however, faded abruptly as Fights Bear stopped directly beside Summer.

  The war chief wore little clothing but more decoration than usual. In addition to the eagle’s feather dangling from a scalp lock, he had plaited clusters of shiny red beads into his long black braids, while a necklace of elk’s teeth adorned his bronzed bare chest, and blue-painted shells hung from his ears. His finery had a purpose, Lance realized with a sense of foreboding.

  Standing over Summer, Fights Bear reached down and lifted one of her braids. “Nananisuyake tsop-yaapt.”

  Summer froze like a startled doe, simply staring up at him. Lance could have translated, could have explained that his brother thought she had beautiful hair. But he wasn’t inclined to encourage another man’s appreciation of his wife. From the look of satisfaction on his brother’s face, though, he suspected his caution might be too late.

  A tight fist clutched Lance’s belly, even before Fights Bear turned to him.

  “I would speak with you, Kanap-Cheetu.”

  Returning his knife to the scabbard at his waist, Lance rose silently and entered the tepee, dreading what he knew was about to come. He offered his brother a seat in the rear of the lodge, the place of honor, and waited until Fights Bear initiated the conversation.

  “We are still brothers, is this not true?” he said. “Even though you now live with the whites, the blood of our father runs in your veins.”

  “I am honored to call you brother, yes,” Lance replied warily.

  “Then I claim the privilege of brothers, and ask you to share your wife, the white woman you call Tahma.”

  The fist in Lance’s stomach squeezed tighter. He didn’t answer, knowing he could never agree to his brother’s request.

  At his silence, Fights Bear grinned. “I offer you any one of my wives in exchange, all of them. You may have your choice, even of my favorite.”

  “Why—” Lance cleared his throat of the sudden restriction there. “Why do you wish this, Wasape Naaohrutu?”

  “I would enjoy the novelty of sleeping with a white woman such as yours. I have taken white captives before, but none that were willing. I think I should like it.”

  Lance fought the need to ball his hands into fists, struggled to keep his voice low and not reveal the turmoil raging inside him. His brother would never understand the fierce posses-siveness he felt for Summer. He could only explain her white background and hope Fights Bear would accept it as justification for refusal.

  “But she is white, brother. She does not understand our customs. To her, sleeping with another man, even though that man is her husband’s brother, is adultery. She only understands the white law that makes adultery a crime.”

  The congenial look on Fights Bear’s face faded. “You consider the white laws stronger than the laws of the People? Perhaps you have turned traitor!”

  “No,” Lance replied grimly. “I still honor the laws of the People. But Tahma is not one of us, and I have given a vow to protect her. She would not wish to share your bed.”

  “Since when are the wishes of a mere woman more valid than those of a war chief!”

  “They are not, of course, but my wishes are the same as hers. I do not wish to give you use of her.”

  “You are selfish, Sharp Lance!”

  “Perhaps so. It gives me pain to refuse you, Fights Bear, but I regret I cannot share her with you.”

  His expression thunderous, Fights Bear rose abruptly to his feet. “You came to me, asking for my aid, to ransom the sister of your wife, and I agreed. But I will give you help no longer,” he declared, his tone infuriated. “You choose to follow white laws over those of the People. You are not Comanche! You are welcome here no longer!”

  With that, Fights Bear turned on his heel and stormed out, leaving Lance to grit his teeth in fury.

  He wasn’t aware that Summer had entered the tepee until he heard her ask softly, “What’s wrong?”

  Lance looked up sharply, and she caught a glimmer of something protective and fiercely intimate in his eyes, before his usual mask shuttered it. “Nothing that concerns you.”

  “Are you certain? You were arguing with your brother about something just now, I could hear you.”

  Without rising, Lance snatched up the nearest blanket and began fashioning it into a bedroll.

  “Lance? What is it? What are you doing?”

  “Packing,” he ground out. “Fights Bear wants us to leave the camp.”

  “What?” Summer drew a sharp breath. “Why?”

  “It isn’t important.”

  “Not important? But—” She broke off in confusion. It was crucial they remain at the camp until Amelia was rescued—but before she could protest, Lance’s growling voice interrupted her chaotic thoughts.

  “Don’t
worry. Fights Bear can deny us the use of his lodging, but he can’t force us from the village. He doesn’t have the authority. Not even the peace chief does. We’ll find some other place to stay.”

  Summer shook her head. She didn’t want a lesson in Comanche protocol. She wanted to know what had put the seething expression on her husband’s face. “But…what about Amelia? How will we find her without your brother’s help?”

  “You let me worry about that.”

  “I…Lance, I don’t understand…Why was Fights Bear so angry? What did he say to you?”

  “He said,” Lance replied through clenched teeth, “that I was no longer Comanche. That I wasn’t welcome here any longer.”

  “In heaven’s name, why?”

  “Because I wouldn’t share you with him, dammit, that’s why!”

  Uncomprehending, she stared at him. “What do you mean, share me?”

  “He covets you, princess. He wants to sleep with you.”

  “What?” Her voice was a reedy whisper.

  Lance threw her a hostile glance. “Do I have to explain it in graphic detail? Comanche custom allows a man to sleep with his brother’s wife. Sleep as in ‘fuck,’ not ‘slumber.’ Fights Bear thinks it’s his right to have you in his bed.”

  Feeling incredibly slow, Summer raised a hand to her forehead. “But…he already has several wives. Why should he want me?”

  His lip curled. “Don’t play innocent, princess. You always did have a way of attracting men like bees around a honey-pot.”

  Summer thought the accusation totally unfair. She might have unwittingly caught his brother’s eye, but she’d done nothing to encourage his attention. Her behavior toward Fights Bear had been entirely circumspect, nothing that could be considered even remotely flirtatious or enticing. Indeed, she had kept her distance precisely because she was half-afraid of the powerful Comanche warrior.

  “I didn’t deserve that,” she said unsteadily. “I’ve never even spoken to your brother, much less given him any suggestion I might welcome his advances.”

  “Maybe not, but he wants you.” Viciously he finished tying a rawhide string around the bedroll and started on another. “Fights Bear demanded my cooperation in exchange for helping find Amelia.” Lance swore audibly. “I already agreed to pay him a fortune in horses. That’s more than enough. I’m not giving him you, too.”

  Summer took a deep breath. “I don’t believe it is only your decision to make.”

  Lance went suddenly still. He turned his head slowly, fixing her with his dark gaze.

  Summer swallowed hard at the look in his eyes. “A-Amelia is my sister. I think perhaps I have a right to be involved in any decision that affects her fate.”

  “You’re figuring on fucking my brother?” The question was soft, almost casual, but it held a tension as volatile as gunpowder.

  Summer winced at his crude language, yet she couldn’t allow Lance’s jealousy—if that was what it was—to concern her; the situation was far too grave. She needed instead to worry about how serious Fights Bear’s ultimatum was.

  Forced to consider the question, Summer closed her eyes. Could she do it? Could she give herself to a fierce Comanche warrior simply because he claimed it as his right? What if the alternative was losing Fights Bear’s support? What if her refusal possibly cost her sister’s life?

  Bravely she raised her chin, trying to muster her courage. “If that…is what it takes to insure your brother’s support, then yes, I’ll sleep with him.”

  In a single fluid motion, Lance surged to his feet. Summer took a startled step back, too late to prevent him from corralling both her wrists in one hand.

  “You would whore for your sister?” he asked in that same lethal tone.

  The question stung as if he’d slapped her. She realized Lance’s fury had swelled to a dangerous level, but she couldn’t allow herself to be intimidated, not with so much at stake. Tilting back her head in disdain, Summer returned Lance’s gaze, measure for measure.

  “I suppose you could call it that,” she replied grimly. “I expect some people would say that is precisely what I did by marrying you. Whore for my sister.”

  For a full five seconds Lance stared down at her. A full five seconds that gave Summer the opportunity to regret her ill-judged assertion. A full five seconds before Lance’s temper exploded.

  His black eyes glittering and wild, he wrapped a hard arm around her waist and jerked her against him. Her heart gave a sudden lunge as she stared at his dark, rigid face.

  “I won’t share you!” He growled as he abruptly lowered his head.

  His lips, hard and vengeful, slanted over hers, forcing hers against her teeth, assaulting her with a fierceness that stopped her breath.

  Alarmed by his fury, Summer fought to be free, but Lance controlled her struggles by tightening his grip, so that her arms were crushed between them. When she tried to turn her head, his fingers clamped on her chin and held it so he could enter her mouth with his tongue. It swept inside, hot and fierce, brutally lustful.

  His kiss was a ruthless act of aggression, a seizure that punished, that dominated, that ravished without ardor. He kissed her as if he were taking what belonged to him, roughly, hurting her, seeming to want to hurt her, his mouth violent with need against her unyielding one.

  Summer pushed against his bare, muscled chest to no avail. Her world reeled. She whimpered a muffled cry of protest into his mouth, but his fierce tongue only plunged in more deeply, subduing her, forcing her to open wider, robbing her of breath.

  Lance’s rage was beyond control. She was his wife, goddammit; she belonged in his bed, not his brother’s. He deepened the brutal kiss, determined to brand Summer as his own. She would feel him, taste him, think of him, when she gave herself to another man.

  His eyes blazed when he suddenly raised his head. Dimly she saw the harsh, almost cruel look of arousal on Lance’s face. The skin was pulled tight over his high, prominent cheekbones; his white teeth were bared like a beast’s.

  “You don’t want my brother, princess. He won’t be easy on you. He’ll simply take you like chattel, spend his lust on you, and throw you back to me.”

  As if to graphically demonstrate, Lance’s powerful body bent over her, forcing her back against his arm. His knee parted her legs, shoved hard against her femininity beneath her deerskin skirt, threatening her with his overwhelming strength. Yet somehow his assault did more to arouse than threaten. All Summer could manage to think about was their wedding night, the memory of Lance’s thigh moving roughly between hers, giving her her first taste of ecstasy.

  He bent her ruthlessly over his arm, but try as she might, she couldn’t seem to care about the pain that shot through her. She felt terrifyingly weak, knowing full well she was at Lance’s mercy. And yet, incredibly, at the same time she felt powerfully feminine, aware that she had driven this strong man to lose his rigid control. She could feel the hunger in his muscular body. His obsidian eyes were wild, fierce, naked in intent, his face dark and taut with both rage and physical need. He meant to take her; she could see it in his violent look, feel it in his brutal embrace.

  And yet his possession was what Summer wanted, what she yearned for. It was all too possible that she would be forced to share his brother’s bed, and she desperately wanted Lance to be the first. He was her husband. She wanted to belong to him.

  Through a haze of awareness, she heard his threatening growl. “Fights Bear won’t pleasure you beforehand. He won’t do this…”

  In two swift seconds, Lance had ripped the buttons from the calico shirt she wore and pushed it open, baring her breasts. His hard fingers closed roughly over a soft mound in a grip that should have hurt but didn’t. She could feel her nipple swelling painfully against the callused pressure of his palm, but she could only gasp at the sensations his touch awakened in her.

  “He won’t kiss you here…”

  Lowering his head, Lance closed his lips hard over her nipple, making Summer cry out
in surprise as a jolt of fire ran from his mouth and streaked to every part of her body. It wasn’t a caress but a branding. His plundering mouth was hard and hot and compelling, and made her tremble with helplessness.

  She was dimly aware of a white-hot excitement flooding through her, of the tightness rapidly building in her lower belly. Her hands coming up to clutch the rough blackness of his hair, she arched against him, caught in a tangled web of need. Lance tormented her breast, suckling as though he would devour her, and forced a shuddering moan from her.

  Then suddenly he was kneeling at her feet, shoving up her leather skirt over her pale naked thighs, up to her hips, to bare her lower body. Summer froze in shock as she realized she was completely revealed to him. Her heart hammered as he hauled her close and his hot mouth found the dark curls between her legs.

  “W-What…?”

  She made a strangled, senseless protest, but Lance wouldn’t stop his feverish assault. He blamed her for the violent need inside him, blamed Summer for this fierce wanting that ate at his reason. The yielding primitive scent of her made his groin grind, made him so hard, he thought he might explode. Fiercely he tightened his grip on her hips and pressed his open mouth against her succulent flesh.

  She jerked, whimpering, as his probing kiss invaded her, as his hungry lips explored the heated center of her womanhood. Mercilessly his searching tongue stroked the most vulnerable part of her in a lash of pleasure that was almost cruel. Summer arched wildly under the sensation so exquisite and unbearable that her entire body quivered. She wanted to demand that he stop, that he cease tormenting her, but the dark head between her burning thighs was giving her the most frightening pleasure she had ever known. His face pressed into her, both hands gripping the curves of her hips, compelling her surrender, making the anguished pleasure inescapable. She screamed softly at the mounting, burning frenzy swelling inside her.

  Lance could feel her passion building like a raging inferno, hot enough to match his own. A convulsive shudder shook him, and he cursed at the difficulty of tearing aside his loincloth. He was so swollen with need that he thought he might die if he didn’t have her now, at once. Releasing his throbbing length, he lowered Summer on shaking limbs that could no longer support her, so that her knees straddled his thighs, her bare breasts rubbed against his naked chest.