Scarlet Sunset, Silver Nights

by Leigh Greenwood

  “This is what you do to me,” Slade growled as he gently teased the threshold of her body. “Every time. This is what I suffered when you let me come close then pushed me away.”

  “I didn’t…” Pamela said, but at that moment his finger slipped inside to touch a part of her she didn’t know existed … “know,” she gasped. A shudder racked her whole body. One explosion after another went off inside her until she was certain it would tear her to shreds.

  “Do you like the way I touch you? Do you enjoy the need I give you? The need that grips you in your guts and turns you inside out?”

  Pamela could only nod. She was beyond any kind of speech.

  “Good. I want you to enjoy what I do to you. I want you to crave my hands on you.”

  His tongue circled her nipple at the same time his hand continued to turn her core into a caldron of desire. She seethed with an agony of need; she had no thought but to satisfy that need before it drove her mad. Instinctively her body bucked against this hand, driving his finger deeper inside. Gasping in response to that invasion, Pamela grabbed the back of Slade’s head and pressed his hot mouth against her breasts.

  “Do you want me, Pamela?” His voice was so ragged from the urgency of his unfulfilled hunger Pamela could hardly understand the words.

  “Yes.”

  “More than you’ve ever wanted anything in your life?”

  “Oh God, yes,” she whimpered as she pushed against him, trying to reach the want buried deep inside her. “Please don’t torture me any longer.”

  Slade’s whole body shuddered with desire. Pamela wanted him! Him! She was begging him to do what he had dreamed of doing for weeks. She wouldn’t hold him off any longer. She wanted only sweet harmony, oneness with him.

  But he couldn’t.

  He felt only self-loathing. She didn’t want him. She didn’t beg for the satisfaction only he could give her. She was innocent, at least she had been, of what her physical appetite could do to her mind and self-control. He had used this knowledge to humble her because she had rejected him. Well, he’d done that—that was bad enough—but there was no reason to shame her. That would be unforgivable.

  Abruptly Slade rolled away.

  The shock of his sudden withdrawal was pure agony. Pamela felt like a red-hot coal dropped into a glacial lake. Her body still burned with agonizing need, but her muscles slowly relaxed as if all by themselves they knew her need would not be satisfied today.

  For several minutes they lay still as their breathing gradually returned to normal, as her heart stopped beating so hard it hurt. But as the fire of desire began to cool within her, the searing heat of shame flowed over her like lava.

  She wasn’t safe from Slade. Despite her eastern education, her eastern friends, her eastern house, she was a wild lusty animal just like him. Moments ago she would have let him take her right here on the floor, would have welcomed it. She had begged him to! All her training and manners and codes of behavior didn’t matter. Underneath, she was just as hungry for his body as he was for hers.

  She sat up and, dazed, began to button her dress. Her shaking hands tried to rearrange her hair, reposition her clothes, but her face was as white as a ghost. “I don’t think I deserved that. I never realized the enormous power of one’s physical nature. If I caused you to suffer only half what I have endured in these last minutes, I’m truly sorry.”

  She stood up.

  “I didn’t suffer any pain,” Slade said, standing up, too, lest she run away. He grabbed her shoulders so she would have to look at him. “I suffered need, Pamela. Want. Longing. Desire. All hard to bear but all still delicious and wonderful.”

  But Pamela showed no emotion except in those beautiful eyes which now looked dull and lifeless. Everything had already drained away.

  “This doesn’t change anything,” she said. “It’s no good between us. You know that. It only makes it harder to part.”

  “So you’re still determined to go back to Baltimore?”

  “I’ve always meant to go back to Baltimore. You tempted me to change my mind. I almost did, too.”

  Slade towered over her. “I’ll leave tomorrow.”

  “Considering what just happened, I think you should sleep in the bunkhouse tonight.”

  “Are you sure that’s the only reason, or is it because of Frederick?”

  “I don’t think you two would get along, but that’s not the reason any more.”

  “And what is?”

  “I couldn’t get a wink of sleep as long as I knew you were in this house.” She looked him full in the face. “I’m not even sure if the bunkhouse is far enough away.”

  Slade pulled her into his arms. Their kiss was long and deep.

  “You don’t have to do this.”

  Pamela held firm. “Yes, I do.”

  “How do I know you’ll be safe?”

  “Frederick will be here. He can …”

  “I should have known,” Slade said, the inside of him freezing at her words. “You don’t need anybody now that you’ve got Frederick.”

  “Don’t….”

  “I’ll get my clothes and be gone this afternoon. I don’t want to do anything to keep you from giving your full attention to Frederick.”

  Pamela watched him stalk out of the room. There were only a few things in his bedroom. It wouldn’t take him long to gather them up.

  She fought down a desperate desire to call him back, to tell him that Frederick wasn’t that important to her, that she liked him a whole lot more, and that telling him to go was the hardest thing she had ever had to do in her life, but she didn’t dare. Her heart was too full. She would collapse into Slade’s arms, and then she’d have to start all over again. She couldn’t do that. She simply didn’t have the strength.

  The sudden thought that she would probably never see him again almost undid her resolve. It seemed inconceivable that he wouldn’t always be part of her days, that she wouldn’t hear the sound of his voice, feel the excitement of his presence, be able to see the smile slowly spread to his whole face. How could anyone have become so much a part of her in such a short time?

  She couldn’t be making a mistake, could she? Could she have changed so much she could live happily as Slade’s wife? No, she hadn’t changed that much.

  But could she live happily without him?

  She still hadn’t answered that question when she heard Slade’s footsteps returning. She would have to face him with courage alone.

  But he didn’t come back into the living room. He went right on out the door. In a few seconds he descended the steps and started across the yard to the bunkhouse. He was leaving her without a glance, without a word. All at once she couldn’t stand it. “Wait!” she cried and ran after him.

  “Why?” Slade asked spinning on his heel. “Have you changed your mind?”

  “N-no, but…”

  Chapter 16

  The sound of a rifle shot stopped Pamela in mid-sentence. A short burst of five or six shots followed before either of them could speak.

  “It’s coming from beyond the mouth of the canyon,” Slade said as he spun on his heel. He couldn’t run quickly in his boots, but he had the corral gate open before Pamela had recovered from her shock. Astride his hammerhead dun seconds later, he rode bareback down the canyon at a gallop.

  Pamela ran inside to get her rifle. Unfortunately, Angus had already unhitched the chuckwagon, and she didn’t even consider the possibility of riding bareback in her long skirts. Muttering in frustration that a lady should be forbidden to wear pants, Pamela started toward the canyon mouth, her rifle under her arm. But she hadn’t covered half the distance when a buggy came careening around the corner. At first the driver, a man she had never seen before, seemed to be the only passenger. He lost control of the vehicle and its wheel hit one of the small boulders which littered the ground close to the canyon walls. The axle broke and two people came spilling out of the back. Instinctively Pamela knew they were Amanda and Frederick, and
she broke into a run.

  By the time she reached them, Frederick had gotten to his feet, but Amanda had not moved. The driver seemed to be out cold.

  Her first good look at Frederick affected Pamela like a bucket of cold water in the face. He looked ordinary! Frederick Marchbanks Olmstead III, the wealthy scion of an old family and the darling of the most exclusive social circles in America, looked ordinary.

  The long sideburns and coal-black hair parted in the middle, the tiny mustache, the tall, slim body lacking Slade’s muscles were all familiar yet they seemed to belong to a stranger. Once he had put himself together and regained his composure, he would be his old, polished self again. But he would never be the man Pamela remembered.

  And it was because of Slade.

  “Are you hurt?” she asked between gasps for breath, wrenching her gaze from Frederick to Amanda. Her friend moaned loudly.

  “What in God’s name is going on around here?” Frederick demanded wildly, none of his well-practiced self-control in evidence. “We were riding along and some fool started shooting at us.”

  “Don’t stand there jabbering, Frederick,” Amanda commanded sharply when her moan didn’t get the desired results. “Get me out of this tangle. I think my ankle is broken.”

  “Don’t move,” Pamela said setting down her rifle and kneeling next to her friend. “Let me check it.”

  “Good God,” Amanda cried, in genuine pain this time, “you’re killing me!”

  “It’s not broken. It’s most likely no more than a mild sprain.”

  “It may be your idea of a mild sprain,” Amanda replied, incensed, “but the pain is excruciating.”

  Just then a sidewinder slithered to the ground a few yards from Amanda. It had been driven from its warm rock by the commotion and it shook its rattle furiously.

  “Don’t move,” Pamela hissed as she grabbed up her rifle and blasted the venomous reptile into a bloody mass.

  Amanda uttered a feeble groan and fainted.

  “Jesus,” exclaimed Frederick, his face drawn and white. “Is it always like this out here?”

  “No. It’s usually extremely quiet.” Pamela looked down at Amanda, her hopes for providing her friend with an impressive show of hospitality dashed beyond repair. “We’ve got to get her to the house, but she can’t walk on that ankle. You’ll have to go up to the house and hitch one of the horses to the buggy. It’s in the barn across from the bunk-house. The horses are in the corral. You’ll have to catch one.”

  “I can’t lasso a horse,” Frederick told her. “And I doubt I could harness it to a rig.”

  Pamela realized the foolishness of her statement almost as soon as the words were out of her mouth. Frederick had always had servants to do that for him, but somehow she thought less of him for not making the attempt.

  “I’ll go. The driver obviously can’t do it.” Pamela checked to make sure he was alive.

  “Do you think they’ll come back?”

  “No. Slade’s gone after them, but I’ll leave my rifle just in case.” She knew Frederick was a superior marksman with a rifle. But she had only gone a few steps when the sound of hoofbeats caused her to turn. Slade had returned.

  “Did you find anybody?” she asked, hurrying back.

  “No, they fired from one of the ridges more than a thousand yards away. Too far to hit anything. Obviously they were just trying to scare your friends. Probably someone’s idea of an Arizona welcome for a pair of Eastern tenderfoots.”

  “That ought not be allowed,” Frederick said, incensed. “I insist that you report this to the authorities.”

  “We’re the only authorities out here,” Pamela told him. “The nearest law officer is fifteen miles away.” Amanda moaned, and all three of them turned their attention to the stricken young woman.

  Amanda was nearly Pamela’s opposite. She was petite, almost tiny in statue, but the energy sparking from her eyes, the vitality which radiated from her body, made an indelible impression on everyone in her presence. Her red hair, brilliant green eyes, and fair skin never failed to capture the undivided attention of most males within her vicinity. Her slightly plump figure gave her an opulent look which guaranteed that even the most hardened case could not long withstand her charms.

  “Do something to get me off this ground, Frederick. I must look terrible.” She looked up at Slade, shading her eyes to see him. Almost immediately her feminine instincts were on full alert. Pamela could sense it in every line of her friend’s body, hear it in her voice, see it in the curve of her smiling lips. “Are you the man who thundered by us on that wild stallion?”

  Slade smiled in response. “I was hoping to catch up with the prankster, ma’am,” he replied.

  “You won’t leave me lying here while someone goes for a wagon, will you? I’ve already been attacked by a deranged person and a venomous snake. There’s no telling what other dangerous creatures are skulking about in your terrible desert.” She looked up coyly at Slade. “I just know you’re strong enough to carry me.”

  “Really, Amanda, that’s too much,” Frederick protested, but Amanda paid her husband no attention.

  “Could you?”

  “Of course, ma’am,” Slade said. He picked her up like she was a feather.

  “I’ll get the wagon,” Pamela said between gritted teeth.

  “We don’t need a wagon, Pamela,” Amanda cooed without taking her eyes off Slade. “This cowboy of yours will have me at the house before you reach the barn. Besides, the ride would undoubtedly jar my ankle.”

  Pamela struggled with an overmastering desire to see Slade drop Amanda flat on her posterior. She also had a strong desire to slap that silly, virginal look off her face. Amanda was about as demure and shy as a jungle cat. Her poised approach to the world had been one of the attributes which first drew Pamela to her. Pamela had always been shy and unsure of herself at school. Nothing unsettled Amanda. Not even men.

  But a deeper, hidden part of Pamela was shocked by the jealousy and animosity which overwhelmed her. Amanda was her friend and she had been hurt. She ought to feel sympathy and concern. Instead she felt jealous Slade had never found a reason to cradle her in his arms.

  She didn’t believe Slade’s story about an Arizona welcome. He had said that for Amanda and Frederick’s benefit. No, her friends had been shot at by her enemies, and she ought to feel responsible.

  But all she felt was angry.

  “The man may not be able to carry you as far as the house, Amanda,” Frederick pointed out, earning Pamela’s unspoken thanks. “It’s a long way.”

  “You can carry me, can’t you?” she asked in a voice Pamela used to think amusing when Amanda used it on other men.

  Pamela didn’t find it amusing now.

  “Sure, ma’am,” Slade said. He looked to Pamela as though he were asking her permission. He had never asked her permission to do anything before, and it infuriated Pamela that he should start now when she couldn’t possibly refuse. She nodded her head in consent.

  Slade headed toward the house as though he were carrying a featherweight. Pamela angrily pointed Slade’s hammerhead dun toward the house and gave it a resounding slap on the rump. It broke into a gallop.

  “I always did admire Amanda’s ability to make an entrance, but she’s outdone herself this time,” Frederick said peevishly.

  “You sure she didn’t hire those men on purpose?” Pamela demanded.

  Frederick looked startled, then broke out in a chuckle as he got Pamela’s meaning. “No, the attack was in earnest. The rest you can put down to her ability to make the best of any situation. Aren’t you going to do anything about that man?” He indicated the driver.

  “He can come up to the house when he wakes up,” Pamela said uncharitably. “Anyone who drives that badly deserves to be left in the road.”

  “You’ve become a little unfeeling since you came home,” Frederick observed looking at Pamela closely for the first time.

  “I’m sorry, but things ar
e in a muddle right now. Then to have this happen, well, it’s spoiled your visit.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Frederick said looking ahead to where Amanda snuggled happily in Slade’s arms. “I fancy Amanda is about to enjoy a little flirtation with your cowboy. I don’t imagine there’s anything you could have provided to make her happier.”

  “He’s not my cowboy and I didn’t provide him so Amanda could practice her predatory skills. In fact, he was just about to leave for California when we heard the shots.”

  “He won’t go now, not if Amanda sinks her hooks into him.”

  “Slade doesn’t like women of Amanda’s type,” Pamela said. Frederick gave her a look comprised mainly of raised eyebrows. “He told me so.”

  “Then I know he’s sunk. Amanda doesn’t like anything so much as a challenge.”

  Pamela started to say that Slade was different, that he wouldn’t be taken in by Amanda’s tricks, but it was a good thing she saved her breath. Starting with the moment they reached the house, Slade spent every minute of his time at Amanda’s beck and call, carrying her from one place to another until she was finally satisfied she was the center of everyone’s attention. He arranged cushions for comfort and shawls for warmth now that they were inside the coolness of the house and provided an appreciative audience for her charm and beauty.

  Pamela would have given half her ranch to be able to throw them both into the hottest part of the desert.

  At least she didn’t expect him to help her dress for dinner! Somehow Amanda managed to do that on her own. But the effort so exhausted her she was unable to walk to the table under her own power, and Slade, the simpering idiot, couldn’t wait to carry her.

  Pamela ground her teeth and muttered some very unladylike curses.

  Amanda dominated the conversation at dinner.

  “Of course the Worthingtons wanted us to visit them again, but I refuse to spend another summer in one of those drafty English country houses. Even if there is a Duke living practically at her front door. English stiffness is not confined to the upper lip. I find them insufferably proud, especially when Frederick can buy up at least half a dozen of them and still be a rich man.”