Ride The Wild Wind (Time Travel Historical Romance)

by Ivey , Kimberly

  “Who?” he demanded. His face was hard. Angry.

  The kids at the group home, she almost said. She’d been placed with foster parents when she first arrived, but as she grew older she’d been shuffled back and forth between homes. Kevin, one of the older teens told her his idea of why she hadn’t been adopted sooner. She wasn’t white—well, not white enough anyway. Blue eyed and blonde children always went first. Everybody knew that, right?

  True or not, Halle’d never forgotten Kevin’s cruel words.

  She saved her allowance and bought a hair bleaching kit, but the darker pigments of her hair remained red even after two treatments. Her foster parents, Joan and Arlan Thomas, were aghast and grounded her for a month. They demanded that she return to her natural hair color. Halle refused. The other kids teased her and said she looked like an Irish Setter. She told them all to go to hell.

  Labeled incorrigible, she was returned to the group home. Her flaming red hair had branded her a rebel. And she loved the attention. She continually risked punishment, even in the home, to keep it that color. During that tumultuous year, she also bought a fake I.D. and got a tattoo on her hip that read R.T.W.W. for her theme song, Ride The Wild Wind. Live life on the razor’s edge…

  Whitehorse continued to wait for an answer.

  Halle gestured to herself. “Look at me! What do you see? Butt ass ugly, that’s what. Admit it. I’m nothing to write home about.”

  He knelt before her. “I am looking at you and you’re beautiful. How can you not know?” He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Soft as the wind,” he whispered as he traced his fingertips down her cheek. “With hair the colors of a canyon at sunset…red with deep shadowed cliffs.”

  She almost laughed. He thought three months of outgrowth was beautiful? This guy needed his eyes examined.

  “Did you know that I dreamed of you so many nights before I finally found you in the arroyo.”

  His confession stunned her. “You dreamed of me?”

  He nodded solemnly. “I knew you were coming. I searched for you…felt your presence one night during a storm.”

  The storm. Halle swallowed hard. “You saw me on the highway?”

  He nodded. “A few days before I found you. I saw a flash of light and somehow knew it was connected to you.”

  His fingertips skimmed up and down her arm in lazy, sensual motions, setting off shivers of desire.

  “Tell me who you really are and why you’ve come.”

  Halle struggled to form words. She wasn’t certain why she’d been sent to the past, other than her resemblance to Hope Brannigan. But she couldn’t tell him the truth. He’d think she was crazy. Still, it was worth a shot. “My real name is Halle Brooks.”

  He repeated her name in that deep rich voice that made her tingle all over. “Has no one ever treated you with kindness, Halle Brooks?”

  No.

  Her resolved crumbled. It had been a long time since anyone had touched her tenderly, even longer since she felt the desire to bond with another human being. While she didn’t understand her overpowering need to be intimate with him, she wanted a physical connection all the same. She leaned into his palm and closed her eyes, allowing the luxury of his comforting touch. Could she trust him not to break her heart? Was it worth the risk of finding out? She drew a deep, steadying breath and held it, then opened her eyes. And in that moment, she knew the answer. Yes, it was worth it.

  “Am I still the first man to touch you intimately?” He traced her lower lip with his fingertip.

  She struggled to find her voice above the wild pounding of her heart. If she said yes, would he reject her for her inexperience? If he did, she would die. She would die! She couldn’t bear the thought of him not wanting her.

  “I am, aren’t I?”

  She held her breath and nodded as her heart beat sped up.

  Halle half expected he might stop with the admission. Instead he laid her down gently beneath an indigo sky filled with a million glittering stars and began with slow, soft kisses to her mouth, followed by tender touches to her breasts that made her body ache to be closer to his.

  “You are so lovely,” he whispered against her cheek as his warm palm slid beneath her shirt to cup a breast.

  “I feel tingly inside,” she confessed.

  “Does your body ache?”

  “Yeah.” She shuddered involuntarily.” But it’s a good ache, if you know what I mean.”

  He chuckled softly against her ear. “I do.”

  Okay. Apparently he knew a lot about women. Did that mean he’d slept with many? She found the thought mildly disturbing.

  His palm left her breast and smoothed downward over her belly, stopping all thought process. He withdrew, hesitated, as if he were waiting for permission to proceed.

  “Halle?” It was a hoarse plea. “Be certain this is what you want.”

  Instinctively, she knew that no matter what happened between them tonight, he wouldn’t hurt her, at least not physically. In the morning she might regret what they’d done, but for now she would know what it was like to be held and caressed. At least once. “Yeah. It’s what I want.”

  He traced her facial features with his fingertips, her pulse quickening as he stroked downward over her throat. She inclined her face to his, found her lips yielding beneath his once more, her breasts responding hungrily to his sweet caresses. When she thought she could stand no more, he ducked and lowered his head, taking one nipple into his hot mouth.

  Halle’s reaction was immediate, yet involuntary. She arched upward into him as shards of pleasure splintered throughout her body. A small whimpering sound she barely recognized as her own voice broke free.

  She wanted more of this. Oh, yeah! And she wanted him to ease the ache deep in the pit of her womb. Her hands threaded into his soft hair, holding him at her breast while he suckled vigorously.

  There was a wildness to his movements, a fierce response to her pleasured sighs. He tore his mouth from her breast and his warm palm slid over her rib cage, smoothing downward across her lower abdomen before dipping into the dark curls at the apex of her thighs. He nuzzled at her breast, his tongue flicking out to taste her again. Halle sucked in an audible breath and froze as he tentatively touched the part of her that ached the most.

  “It is all right,” he whispered.

  Easing her thighs apart slightly, she panted, anticipating his next move. He worked his fingertip over her pleasure center. Mmm, nice. She closed her eyes, surrendering to the magic.

  Then it was over.

  With a whispered curse, he moved away and rolled onto his back. He lay quietly beside her, his labored breaths the only sounds of the night, the tension between them palpable. Something had gone terribly wrong and she hadn’t any idea of what.

  After a few moments passed, she worked up the courage to look at him. He was still on his back, his hands tucked behind his head, staring at the vast night sky as if in deep thought.

  “Antonio?”

  He didn’t answer.

  Cold and confused, she closed the shirt and stared up at the stars too, wishing he’d say something to break the unbearable silence. But he left suddenly and disappeared into the darkness.

  Halle buttoned the shirt, then snuggled warmly beneath the blanket with Max. At first she thought she’d pissed him off. Then as doubt crept in, she wondered if he’d simply been repulsed by her ugly hair and skinny body. After all, she couldn’t compare to the beautiful, voluptuous Elena Costanza. Rational thought prevailed and she realized it was her lack of sexual experience that repelled him. She didn’t know how to give him pleasure.

  When he returned a while later, he wouldn’t make eye contact and instead sat and stared into the fire, poking absently at the orange embers with a stick once in a while.

  She tossed and turned on the hard ground, restless and aching for more of his touch. Then she got good and pissed. How dare he work her into a state of extreme horniness, bring her to the brink of w
hatever had been about to happen, and then just leave her cold and aching for more. Had he thought she’d been leading him on?

  Anger soon gave rise to bravery. She joined him fireside, determined to get at the root of the problem. The firm set of his jaw and his intense, unwavering gaze into the firelight indicated he was lost in deep thought. Either that, or ignoring her. Too bad. It was time to settle this.

  She began by doing a complete one hundred eighty degree turn. Catch him off guard. Then she’d have the advantage.

  “I’m sorry, Antonio.”

  He did not look at her. “Why are you apologizing?” His tone was bitter.

  Halle clenched her eyes shut. She hated this kill your enemies with kindness thing, but it usually worked much better than an outright confrontation. “For what just happened between us.” She gritted her teeth in distaste. Okay, that sounded too sugar-coated.

  He laughed harshly and looked at her, his eyes raking her. Gone was the gentle man who’d minutes ago tended her injuries, the tender lover who’d kissed her with passion.

  “Nothing happened, Miss Brannigan, and I suggest you remember that when I return you to your uncle. I don’t need a rape charge added to my list of crimes. Now move away from me and go to sleep. We have had enough excitement for one day.”

  Miss Brannigan? He still believed she was Frank Cole’s niece despite her denial? Bitter tears stung her eyes. He was going to drop her into the clutches of a murderer! This smooth talking bastard didn’t care about her at all!

  “I thought you might have a heart.” She choked as tears of humiliation and rage blinded her. The pain of his betrayal squeezed at her chest, nearly suffocating her. And to think she would have let this man be her first lover! “I thought you cared. “ Her voice broke. So did her heart into a thousand tiny fragments.

  His glare remained icy. “Why? Because I kissed you? Because my body hungers for yours? You thought wrong. I care about my mother’s people, the women and children and elders. Collecting the reward from Cole is the only way to buy guns and food to save them from the savagery of your government.” He shook his head, and looked away. “I cannot afford to care about you. You’re going back to Cole.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Halle wished she had something to throw at him—any hard object that would cause cranial damage and lots of hemorrhaging. She stood, then as an afterthought, reached down to pick up a palm-sized stone. She slammed it toward him, but he ducked out of the way and shot to his feet, the expression on his face, murderous.

  She staggered backward, putting a safe distance between them. Her fists clenched in to fists. Angry tears blurred her vision. He might outweigh her, might be stronger, but if he dare touched her now, God help his sorry hide. He’d find out what a tangle with Halle Naomi Brooks was all about!

  “Frank Cole doesn’t have any money to pay the reward!” Actually, she didn’t know if Cole had any money left, suspecting she and Molly had bled him dry these past few months. “He’ll never agree to your terms.”

  Max shot out from beneath the blanket and gave Antonio his best I’ll tear your leg off snarl.

  Antonio stared, his eyes narrowing into slits. “Since he has gone to much trouble to find you, I am certain he will pay whatever is required to get you back.”

  “But I’m not his niece. I might look like her in that drawing, but it’s not me. He’ll know the instant he sees me.”

  “Will he?”

  Actually, Halle wasn’t certain. Stella told her she was a dead ringer for the Brannigan woman and she’d only seen the artist’s rendering, not an actual photograph. The reward sketch was crude—an amateur’s work. Sure, there were small likenesses such as high cheekbones and full lips. Even the arch of their eyebrows matched exactly. Would Cole recognize the difference? With the right make up and hair color, Halle had always been able to pass for white. But now that her dark hair had grown out and her face was devoid of cosmetics….

  Of course Cole would realize she wasn’t his niece. But would he simply take her anyway? A shiver raced up her spine at the thought.

  No. She wouldn’t go—not easily. She reached down and scooped up more pebbles with her hands, hurled another at him, followed by a handful of smaller ones. Dodging the hail of rocks, he charged as she limped away. He caught hold of the blanket and yanked it from her grip then flung it aside. He grasped her by one arm and spun her around to face him.

  “Do you truly believe what I feel for you is more than lust?” He took her roughly by the shoulders and gave her a quick, sobering shake. “Do you?”

  Halle blinked back stinging tears. His earlier kisses seemed genuine. And he’d said she was beautiful! Was it all lies? She’d hoped after her confession he might show compassion for all she’d endured, even a small bit. Evidently she was wrong.

  “You’re nothing more than a lying bastard.” She raked her fingernails across his deeply tanned cheek, stunned when she didn’t draw blood. She swiped at him again. He captured her wrist and pinned it behind her back, then pulled her against him. Her nose and chin smashed against his bare sweaty chest. Licking her lips, she tasted the salty moisture from his skin. She licked them again and her tongue accidentally touched him. He jerked as if he’d been singed.

  “Damn you.”

  Halle brought her free hand up and smacked him on the side of his head. Stunned temporarily, he grasped her other wrist and brought it down to her side. Frustrated, she fought to free herself from his grip, but his lips closed over hers. His tongue plundered her mouth, taking what it wanted before enticing hers into a slow, sensual dance. A lover’s kiss, she thought foolishly, as if she knew of any such thing. But it was filled with genuine emotion—too much so to be lust. All pretenses were off as Halle surrendered, wanting him and hating him at the same time.

  He tugged her to the ground and moved over her. His hardness settled against her through his buckskins. Halle felt him, all of him, his full weight, his strength, his raw male sensuality. For a breathless, dizzying moment she stared up at the handsome face silhouetted against the midnight sky and her body dissolved into a pile of undercooked pudding.

  Uncomfortable beneath his weight, she shifted her pelvis. A mistake. He growled deep in his throat, his hand rushing beneath the shirt. She hated herself for responding hungrily to his tender caresses but her body betrayed her. This was insane, she thought as he dipped to kiss a fiery trail from her chin to the hollow of her throat.

  No, she was insane, for wanting him!

  She lay frozen from the onslaught of new sensations swirling throughout her body. Whitehorse quickly unbuttoned the shirt, moved lower, nuzzling each breast before finally taking a nipple into his mouth. She arched into him, surrendering to the exquisite pleasure. As he suckled tenderly at one exposed nipple, she panted, unable to think as all sensibility fled in the wake of searing pleasure.

  In her mind she repeated all the reasons she shouldn’t be doing this. He was a criminal, an outlaw who would be executed when captured. Not to mention the possibility she might get pregnant from unprotected sex. But the excitement of being with him was a potent aphrodisiac.

  And besides, she was tired of being a good girl.

  She’d spent her childhood trying to be what others wanted and never got into any trouble as a teen, unless she counted the ridiculous hair incident when she was fifteen. She never drank, smoked, or tried drugs. She was dependable and trustworthy. She even graduated near the top of her senior class. But despite all her efforts, none of her foster parents ever loved her enough to give her a permanent home. An identity. To her, it seemed most people wanted Caucasian children, not one of obvious, but undocumented ethnicity.

  But for the first time in her life, Halle was her own person—not a color, or a name on a file folder—but a woman. Her life was as untamed and unencumbered as the vast desert surrounding her, as wild and free as the handsome stranger now making love to her. And it wasn’t half bad of a way to live.

  Her fingers slid into his
thick, silky hair and she closed her eyes, savoring the moment, committing every scent and texture of him to memory. She held him at her breast as if it were the most natural thing to do, all the while warring with herself. She must be crazy to want him after the cruel things he’d done and said. Maybe they both were. But one thing was certain. Whitehorse felt something for her, more than lust, as he claimed. He cared, whether he admitted it or not.

  She stroked the shell of his outer ear with her thumb, then smoothed her hands over his soft hair. It was a foreign feeling to touch another person so intimately, but all the same, comforting. For a moment it almost didn’t matter she’d known him only a few days, that he’d abducted her from Elena’s, or even that he’d said cruel words to her in the heat of anger. Any scrap of bitterness she once felt for him melted away with each flick of his soft tongue on her nipples, each caress of his warm hands on her body. She was content to simply touch him and to let him touch her.

  She caressed his muscular shoulders, skimmed her palms over the smooth, sleek curves of his upper back. She reveled in the erotic feel of his mouth and hands on her breasts, the earthy smell of his skin.

  Then she felt the warm wetness against her breast.

  Tears?

  He jerked his face away when she touched his cheek.

  “Don’t,” he growled.

  “Hey, you’re crying.” She cupped the side of his face in her palm.

  He stiffened. “I said not to do that.”

  At his warning, she dropped her hand at her side, thinking she’d embarrassed him. In the firelight, she caught the shimmer of tears in his eyes, but he must have sensed it for he quickly turned his face away.

  “I want you.” His whispered voice broke.

  This wasn’t the way she imagined her first time might be. There was no champagne chilling, no soft music or heart-shaped vibrating bed with a red velvet coverlet, and no wedding ring. Instead, the stars were her blanket. Cold hard rock made up her bed. The night air was thick with wood smoke, the breeze fragrant with cedar and earth and man. And they were both free of commitments. In its own primitive way, the moment was beautiful. Perfect.