By the time she gained the stairway, Lance had already bounded down the stairs and was striding down the hall in the direction of the kitchen. A moment later, as she reached the bottom step, she heard the back door slam.
He was heading for the barn, she knew with instinctive certainty. He was going to leave, to ride away just as he had five years ago when her father had driven him off the ranch. He would leave just like last time, thinking the worst about her. that she was cruel and selfish and totally heartless.
No, she wouldn’t let it happen again! She wouldn’t let him go. Not this way. Not at all. Not after all she owed him.
Her heart pounding in her throat, Summer picked up her skirts and ran.
Chapter 17
When her father was still alive, the barn had been filled with livestock—Sky Valley’s prize thoroughbreds primarily, but also broodmares and milk cows and saddle mounts of visiting guests. Now the large stone structure stood two-thirds empty. The days of the gay house parties that went on for days had ended with the start of the war, and racers were an expense the ranch could ill afford. Those animals that couldn’t earn their keep had been sold, and the three remaining stallions had been turned loose on the range to mix their blood with the smaller, hardier mustang mares in hopes of gaining the best of both breeds.
Lance’s horse was the same roan that had carried him from Belknap into Indian territory and back, Summer saw when her eyes adjusted to the dimmer light, which meant he must have ridden straight here. It had been tied in a stall near the center, rather than turned out in the corrals with the working horses of the remuda.
There was no immediate sign of Lance, but she noticed the saddlebags draped over the stall side rail. If they were his, he must have picked them up on his way through the kitchen.
Just then he came out of the tack room behind her, hefting his saddle. He didn’t look at her as he brushed past her silently, but his jaw was set in a rigid line. He slung the saddle over the rail, then threw a blanket pad over the roan’s back. He meant to ride off, she was certain. Unless she could prevent him.
Summer took a step toward him, then stopped uncertainly, twisting her hands together in regret and shame. How could she have hurt him so? No matter how unintentional, she had shattered his pride, delivered a devastating blow to a man who had only pride to sustain him against a white world that had always tried to beat him down.
“Lance…please, don’t go. Please?”
When he glanced briefly over his shoulder at her, she almost flinched at the hostility in his eyes. “Don’t go? What the hell did you expect me to do? Stay there with your sister screaming at me to get out? With her looking at me like she expected me to rape her? With you telling her what a great sacrifice you made for her?”
The fury, the bitterness, in his tone lashed out at her like a whip, cutting her as she had cut him. Summer couldn’t defend herself, either, not against the bald truth.
He shook his head. “It’ll be easier to calm her if I’m not around,” he muttered bitterly. “If she doesn’t have to be afraid of the murdering breed.” His chin dropping to his chest, he shut his eyes, as if weary of fighting.
Watching him, Summer felt a fierce ache well up in her throat. He seemed to her at that moment to be utterly alone, utterly desolate.
But how could she expect him to be otherwise? She thought about the crushing life of rejection he’d endured as a child, so bleak, so without hope. How had he borne it? How had he come through it with his soul intact? Lance was proud and hard and harsh-tempered, yes, but he was a good man, too, worthy of respect and loyalty. He didn’t deserve the grim fate that life had thrown at him. He should have someone to stand up for him—and she desperately wanted to do it, to let him know that he wasn’t alone anymore. He needed to know…
“Lance…you don’t have to leave.”
He stiffened, and seemed abruptly to remember her presence. His head jerking up, he threw another fierce glance over his shoulder. “You’re damned right about that. I hate to break it to you, princess, but I’ve got no intention of leaving this ranch. I’m going back to the livery and get my things and make arrangements for Nate to take over full-time. Then I’m coming back here. You’re stuck with me, princess.
“Don’t worry,” he added harshly before she could reply. “I’ll bunk with the vaqueros. I’ll spare your sister the horror of living with an Injun right now, until she gets better, but I’ll be damned if I’ll be driven off like five years ago! I’m sure as hell not gonna crawl out of here with my tail between my legs like last time. I’m staying. You’re my wife, whether you like it or not.”
Wincing, Summer clenched her fingers together to keep from reaching out to him. Did he think she was trying to be free of their marriage? But of course he would. She had left Belknap so abruptly, betraying her promise to him, even though she hadn’t wanted to. After that, he wasn’t likely to believe she hadn’t seen an opportunity to be rid of him. And her declaration about sacrifice would only have confirmed his suspicions.
But he was wrong, Summer reflected. She considered herself honor-bound to live up to her end of the bargain. No matter how difficult it would be for her to live as the wife of a half-breed Comanche, she would see it through. In all honor, she couldn’t go back on her word. Yet obviously she needed to reassure Lance of that. She took a step closer, carefully choosing her words.
“Lance…what I said a moment ago…I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. I was only attempting to make Amelia acknowledge what we both had done for her. I…I did sacrifice for her, it’s true. But I would do it again if it meant saving her life, if it meant keeping my family together, keeping this ranch together. I don’t regret my decision. I don’t regret marrying you, Lance.”
His bronzed features turned hostile again. “Don’t lie to me, Summer! You can’t tell me you’re not ashamed of me—of being married to a breed.”
That wasn’t entirely true. She was afraid of what the future held, yes. And she was ashamed of the wanton way Lance made her feel. But she wasn’t ashamed of him.
“No,” she asserted with as much fervor as her unsteady voice would allow. “I’m ashamed of my sister’s behavior, of my own, but I’m not ashamed of you, not at all. I’m grateful to you.”
“I don’t want your goddamned gratitude!”
“Then…what do you want?”
He was silent for a moment, and when he answered finally, his voice was so low, she could scarcely hear. “I want you to honor our wedding vows.”
He stood waiting with that bleak stillness, waiting for one more rejection, expecting a response she wouldn’t give.
“I mean to, Lance.”
He turned to look at her, his face hard and still, his eyes narrowed and burning. “Your sister’s safe,” he reminded her. “You don’t need me any longer. You’ve got no reason to remain my wife.”
“I won’t break my word.”
“No?” The word was a cynical drawl. “Why should I believe that?”
“Because it’s true,” Summer said simply.
He gazed at her, his eyes still wary, distrustful, still wounded.
Summer took another step toward him, moving close enough to touch him. There seemed only one way to make him believe, one way to heal his hurt. Reaching up, she pressed her palm gently against his cheek and raised her lips to his.
He didn’t really kiss her. His mouth was cool and hard and angry, a conscious defense against more pain.
When he lifted his head, his gaze narrowed threateningly. “Don’t start something you’re not willing to finish, princess.”
She recognized the dangerous note in his warning, but still she ignored it. She knew Lance well enough now to know what would happen if she continued to press him, if she tested his control further. He would explode with fury, with passion—which was precisely what she wanted. She might be playing with dynamite, but just now he desperately needed proof of her willingness to honor their marriage vows. He needed evidence of her p
ledge of loyalty. And she would give it to him.
Determinedly she slid her fingers around the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. “I know exactly what I’m doing, Lance.”
“Damn you…” The hoarse groan was barely audible.
As if against his will, he lowered his head again and took her mouth, this time savagely. Yet within that brutal kiss, there was pain, an aching vulnerability that touched her soul in a way nothing else ever had. Summer returned his kiss wildly, opening to him fully, to his thrusting tongue, to his hungry need.
She was startled when Lance abruptly broke off their embrace. Without a word he grabbed her hand and pulled her behind him toward the rear of the barn, and Summer let out her breath in relief and triumph. She knew what would follow. When he pushed her inside a large box stall filled with clean, sweet-smelling straw, she went willingly.
Her heart was pounding as Lance shut the door behind them and turned to her. They would cause a scandal if they were caught coupling in public in broad daylight, where any one of the hired hands could discover them, but she didn’t care. Her body felt hot and tight and eager, and she wanted exactly what Lance wanted. To have this clamoring sexual hunger eased by his physical possession.
Summer gasped softly when he hauled her into his arms and kissed her hard, but she responded eagerly, her sharpened senses assailed with the hot, thrilling scent of him. She gasped again when, abruptly, unexpectedly, Lance pushed her backward across the width of the stall, until her back was pressed against the far wall. His hard body crowded her, intimidating her, and she had to grasp the soft chambray of his shirt to catch her balance.
“So you think you know what you’re doing?” he demanded mockingly, his eyes hard and bitter.
“Yes,” Summer answered, panting for breath.
“You’re gonna let me take you right here? Like some whore I paid to fuck?”
She winced at his crudity, but she didn’t back down. “Yes—I mean no—”
“I didn’t think so.” His drawl was harsh, cynical.
“What I mean is, not like a…a fancy woman. I’m your wife, Lance. And I’ll thank you to remember it when you make love to me. Now, hush up and kiss me.”
Reaching up, she tried to pull his head down, but he held himself back, his eyes sparking with fury. “You want me to act like a savage so you can hold it over me.”
“No…I don’t care if you act savage.”
“You wouldn’t want me to take you like this, standing against this wall.”
Her eyes widened fractionally in surprise at the realization that it could be done that way, but then she smiled at her ignorance. “Yes, I would. I wouldn’t care.”
His mouth curved in a sneer. “You don’t know what you want, princess.”
“I know I want you,” she murmured, half-shyly, half-defiantly.
His obsidian eyes, so threatening and angry, flared with predatory heat. “Yeah? Well, you’re going to have me.” A fiercely male intent was plainly written on his harsh features, yet Summer hesitated out of concern for him, not herself.
“Are you sure it won’t hurt your wounded ribs?”
“What’s wrong, princess? Losing your nerve?”
“No. Are you losing yours?”
Her challenge was like throwing oil on a fire. Those black, piercing eyes held hers as he slid his hand between their bodies. She could feel him unfastening the buttons of his pants, feel him shoving up her skirts and the bulky crinoline petticoat she wore, searching for the slit in her cambric drawers.
She sucked in her breath sharply when his probing fingers found the folds of her femininity, but she didn’t try to escape. Instead she opened her thighs to accommodate him and closed her eyes against the shameful excitement and delight of it, the anticipation of having Lance enter her body, become fully part of her. Her nipples were so tight, they ached, and within the deepest part of her an empty throb had begun to torment her.
When Lance wrapped one strong arm around her waist and lifted her up, Summer caught at his shoulders with a little whimper, her nails digging into the corded muscles beneath his shirt. She felt the burning heat of him jabbing at the softness of her inner thigh, the fierce strength of him demanding entrance.
Finding it, he thrust upward into her hot, silky sweetness.
She made a wild sound in her throat, clinging as Lance impaled her on his thick shaft. Her entire body quivered from the pleasure and pain of it. Then he stilled.
She said his name in a raw, shaking voice and tried to move her hips, but he only held her more tightly, crushing her breasts against his hard, muscle-layered chest, grinding her hips against his, spreading his legs to control her.
She arched her back against the rough wooden wall behind her, oblivious of the discomfort as she tried to get closer. “Lance, please…”
“Please what, princess? Please you?” Deliberately he withdrew partway, making her feel an aching emptiness where his hot, throbbing tumescence had been. “Please me?” The muscles of his shoulders bunched and flexed beneath her clutching fingertips as he thrust slowly, making her sob in relief at the exquisite pleasure of having him fill her again.
“Yes…” she breathed feverishly. “Please, yes…” He was rigid inside her, and she trembled at the enormous pulsing size of him, but it wasn’t enough. She moved again, trying to meld her flesh to his, seeking release for the restless clamoring inside her.
Lance shuddered convulsively, grinding his teeth to hold back the deep primal sound rumbling in his chest. “Wrap…your legs around me.”
She obeyed—just then she would have done anything he asked—and clutched her arms around his neck as well. A gasping moan escaped her throat as he surged hard into her.
And then a violent hunger, primitive and raw, seemed to take control of her body. Her hips jerked spasmodically, her head thrashing side to side in fiery pleasure.
Lance seemed suddenly to feel the same wild urgency. He drove himself into her, big and hard, his powerful body trembling with angry need.
For a score of heartbeats they strained together in frenzied pleasure, Summer meeting the driving need of Lance’s body, matching her movements to his in frenzied abandon, her hips writhing under his pounding force. He was slamming into her with fierce rapidity, and she bit his shoulder, sobbing from the power of it, from the shock of the impact.
And then abruptly it was too much for her to bear. Her senses crested and shattered at the wild magnificence of his possession.
Lost in shimmering heat and blind ecstasy, she finally regained awareness to find his hips jerking in the final spasms of completion. His breathing was harsh in her ear and he collapsed against her as if he could scarcely support her clinging weight.
With what seemed a valiant effort, he turned with Summer and sank into the straw, depositing her limp body in the softness, moving with her to cover her body with his and bury his mouth in the curve of her neck.
Summer made no protest whatsoever. She felt dazed by what had just happened, and yet totally replete. He was hard and heavy and hot on her, crushing her down in the straw, but she wanted him this way, wanted the intimacy, wanted him still joined to her. She could feel the heat emanating from his body, smell the musky odor of sex mingling with the warm male scent of his freshly bathed skin, and it made her feel powerfully female and deliciously weak.
“Is your wound all right?” she managed to ask weakly.
His grunt she took to mean that he would survive, which was more than she might do. She might never get up again.
“You aren’t going to leave the ranch,” she murmured sleepily after another long moment.
Lance stiffened at the sharp pain of remembrance—and cursed himself again for his lack of control. He had taken her again without preliminaries, without gentling her body to arousal, treating her like the basest of whores instead of the lady she was. She hadn’t seemed to mind. Hell, Summer had seemed to want him as much as he had wanted her. But it was small consolation. She was more
than capable of pretending to be all hot for him in order to get her way—whatever that was at the moment, he wasn’t certain.
“You won’t have to sleep in the bunkhouse with the vaqueros,” she said more firmly, snuggling against him as if she wanted the closeness.
He was a long time in answering. “Your sister ordered me out of your house, or didn’t you hear?”
“So? Amelia doesn’t speak for me…or Reed, either, for that matter.”
Slowly he raised his head to stare down at her. “You’re telling me you’re willing to fight your sister to let me live there?”
A small frown appeared between her eyes. “I don’t think I can go that far, Lance. I have to think of her, too. Amelia is so terrified, she isn’t rational. But I won’t allow her to drive you away, either.”
His harsh features remained totally expressionless. “It doesn’t matter. A featherbed would be too soft for me, anyway.”
It did matter to him, she knew. It mattered desperately. Holding his gaze, she shook her head. “We’ll find someplace else to live.”
“We?” The word was wary, disbelieving.
“Yes, we. As your wife, my place is by your side. If you’ve been banished from the house, then I have been, too.” When he remained tense and still, she glanced around her lazily, musing out loud. “Perhaps we can move out here to the barn. This is nice, don’t you think?”
His mouth twisted in a frown that was almost a sneer. “You want me to believe you’re going to live in a barn? A pampered princess like you?”
She offered him a pouting smile that was pure coquettishness. “I don’t think you can call me that any longer, Lance Calder. I just spent an entire month as an unpaid drudge in a Comanche camp, remember? But I suppose you’re right. The barn wouldn’t do, for we wouldn’t have any privacy. But don’t worry, I’ll think of some place. If nothing else, we can use one of the servants’ cabins—
The Savage Page 30