Lara had watched her mother deteriorate every day of the trip, with each mile the wagons traveled. During the last days of her mother’s life, Lara held her, soothing her and pressing her close against herself. In the end, Kristen died looking into the blue eyes of her daughter. Kristen smiled and raised her hand to stroke Lara’s cheek.
“I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry I have to leave you. I can’t stay any longer, I just can’t. ...”
Lara cried as she pressed her mother’s still warm cheek against her own, rocking the dead woman like a newborn infant. Lara didn’t know when the wagons stopped for the night. When Dowley found them, he pulled her away from her mother and buried Kristen without the smallest of prayers on his lips. The next day, he acted as though nothing had happened, and Lara heard the whispers from the rest of the people in their wagon train. They respected his strength in going on, in acting as the leader of the group. Lara wanted to tell them that it wasn’t strength. Martin Dowley had only one care, one love. Himself. From that point in her life, Lara’s hatred intensified, and burned within her chest.
The harsh bellows of the roan mare’s ragged, its forced breathing snapping Lara’s mind to the present. Flecks of foam flew back at her from the horse’s sweating neck. Dismissing the mist veiling her eyes, Lara glanced around. Gently loosening the grip of her legs, she drew back the reins. Lara was entering a deep ravine, and her whereabouts were a mystery to her. Looking over her shoulder, she sighted a familiar landmark: a bold, barefaced mountain that signaled the start of the territory of the Shoshone Indians.
The mare began to snort and prance about. Suddenly, the roan reared, throwing an unprepared Lara from its back. Everything shifted before her eyes as she flew from the saddle. She saw the mare’s head and fear-filled eyes, a swirling of blue and white sky, the yellow ball of the sun. Landing on her back, Lara felt one brief instant of relief. Then her head slammed against a jutting rock and she knew only blackness.
~~~~
The rifle was a dead weight strapped across his back as he climbed another outcrop of rock. Kael stopped to wipe away sweat dripping into his eyes. He moved fast when he spotted another splash of red against the gray-brown rock.
“Close.” When he crested the large outcropping, Kael froze. As silent as a fish swimming underwater, he pulled the rifle over his shoulder and head. The movement took an eternity as his muscles tensed, but his eyes never wavered from the tawny golden form of the crouched mountain lion on the ledge below him.
Kael leveled the rifle into position, and aimed at the cat. Even so, he could not help but admire the feline and mighty beauty of the wounded animal. The cougar’s muscles corded with tension and power; the cat’s breathing was undiscernible, betraying nothing of its pain. Kael stiffened when the animal’s tail twitched, and then the cat lowered its belly against the rocky perch.
The cougar held perfectly still, yet was ready to spring. A new sound reached Kael’s ears, that of a horse scenting danger and venting its fears. Kael knew he had little time. He fired just as the great cat leapt. Cougar and bullet collided in midair with a whining, screaming impact. The beast’s leap continued, but Kael knew he’d hit his mark. At the end of the cat’s arc would be its death.
Without thinking of anything else, and carrying the rifle in one hand, he descended the rocky terrain. When he reached the animal’s perch, Kael Treemont froze. The tableau that unfolded below held him transfixed.
The horse he’d heard, a roan mare, stood trembling; its forelegs pawed at the ground. The dead cougar lay eight feet in front of the mare: Behind the horse, a figure in buckskins lay motionless.
He jumped down from the rocks and the mare snorted in fear again. Walking toward it, Kael spoke to the horse. With a steady flow of soft words, Kael reached the mare and caught the reins. He walked the horse to the side of the ravine and secured the mare to a leathery brown vine. Only then did he turn to the unconscious figure on the ground.
Walking toward the sprawled body, Kael’s first sight was of long, burgundy hair splayed out beneath the head. When he got closer, his breath caught in his chest as he noticed the clear, bronzed skin of a young woman’s face, and the delicate line of her mouth. Kael knelt beside her, lifting her head to examine her scalp for wounds. The mixed scents of horse and soap assailed his nostrils as his fingers probed beneath her hair. He lowered the woman’s head, having found no injury other than a now rising lump. He studied her, watching the even rise and fall of her chest.
Gazing at her, Kael knew he was looking at one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Her peach-colored lips, small, straight nose, and well-defined cheekbones blended into a picture of soft beauty that ensnared him. Her breathing changed, and she began to stir. A small pink tongue licked at dry lips; her eyelids fluttered. When they opened, revealing blue eyes the color of a mountain lake, Kael Treemont smiled.
Opening her eyes, Lara saw an unfocused shadow hovering over her. As her vision cleared, she made out the leering face of a scruffy, hatted man. Trapper, her mind screamed. Instantly, Lara realized her peril. She’d strayed far from the quasi-civilized area of her home, and a wandering trapper had found her. Summoning all her strength, she began to fight the inevitable.
Hitting the man with balled fists, kicking out and upward with her small, booted feet, Lara Dowley struggled against what she knew would be a horrible fate. Before she could do more than land several futile blows, the man pulled her into an iron like grip, his arms crushing her to him, stopping all resistance. Her chest heaved with exertion as her breasts pressed flat against the stranger’s torso. Desperate, Lara opened her mouth, trying to find his neck in order to bite the vulnerable skin. Before she could clamp down on his neck, he grabbed a handful of hair and yanked her head back.
“Stop fighting! Stop fighting and I’ll let you go,” he ordered through clenched teeth.
For some reason, the man’s voice, not his words, made her believe him. Her mouth was still open, ready to bite his neck, her eyes fixed on the vein pulsing above the corded muscles of his neck. The stranger’s iron hold lightened, and she pulled her head back to stare into his fiery eyes. They were only inches from her face and Lara was able to see floating islands of brown and gold in an amber sea. She relaxed her body. As she did, his arm loosened on her back, and his fingers released her hair.
Lara’s gaze held his for a long moment as she studied him. He stood and backed away. Before she could stand, his hand went out and one long finger pointed. Her eyes traveled the length of his arm, following the finger’s aim. Not far from her was the body of a dead mountain lion.
“I’ll accept your apology now.”
Lara’s head whipped back to face him, instantly taking in the relaxed smile on his lips and the laughter in his eyes. “My apology? For not letting you maul me?” she asked, sarcasm rife in her words. When she stood, she eyed him carefully. “I’m sorry. Please accept my apology, thank you.”
“Accepted,” he said with a slight bow.
Then Lara recognized the faded uniform and the sun-bleached gold brain decorating each shoulder. Taking in his appearance, she noted the way the man filled the uniform. He was tall, with wide shoulders and a strong chest tapering into a narrow waist and slim hips. The tight-fitting pants accented the powerful muscles of his thighs, and Lara realized that if he had not released her, she would never have been able to fight free.
“But if you saw what I see, you would understand why I fought you.”
“I shouldn’t think it was that bad, it’s only been a week since I’ve shaved.” With those words, the man lost his smile. “Permit me to introduce myself. Kael Treemont, at your service.”
“Why is an army officer out here alone?” she asked, not bothering to introduce herself yet. She was still suspicious. Even though he seemed courteous and gallant, he could be anyone, or anything. A deserter or worse.
“Retired, ma’am. I’m here to visit some family. I guess you’re lucky I happened along. May I check you over?”
Lara’s widening eyes and drawn back lips warned him of his mistake. “For injuries. You had a bad fall.” Then, without waiting for her permission, Kael took one of her arms and began to run his fingers along it. “How does your head feel?”
“Like I’ve been hit. How should it feel?” Lara shook her head, wondering why she was being so waspish. He did seem considerate.
“Would you walk about, see how your ankles are.”
She took several steps “They’re fine, Mr. Treemont.”
Kael watched her move. She was a full head shorter than he was, with flaring hips, slim legs, and he sensed that beneath the loose-fitting man’s shirt was a small waist.
She turned to find him inspecting her. “What are you staring at?”
“It’s hard not to stare at a woman in pants.”
“Well, try not to. There’s nothing wrong with pants.”
Kael’s smile widened. “I agree.”
“Well, you’re a majority of one.”
“I always was,” he replied without a smile. Then Kael looked upward, checking the angle of the sun. “How far away do you live?”
“Farther than I should. About eight miles. I ... I guess I was daydreaming. I shouldn’t have come into Indian territory.”
“I’m glad you did. It gave us a chance to meet, but I still don’t know your name.” Kael’s eyes fixed on hers.
Caught within his gaze, a tingling sensation coursed through her. “I’m Lara Dowley. I live outside Valley City. I…I would like to thank you properly for helping me. Would you like to escort me home and have dinner with my father and me?”
“Dinner with you sounds wonderful, but I’ve some business that needs to be finished. You should go now, the sun’s high, and you won’t be able to ride the mare too hard.”
Nodding her head in agreement, Lara walked up to Kael and extended her hand.
“Thank you again,” she said as his hand grasped hers. The heat from his skin poured into hers, sending little shocks of flame through her arm. They gazed at each other for another long moment before Kael released her palm.
She knew his amber eyes followed her as she walked to the mare and untied her. She mounted the roan, and turned back to Kael. Walking the horse to him, she smiled. “Perhaps the next time we meet, you’ll have shaved, and I won’t be frightened that you are about to ravish me.” With that, Lara started out of the ravine.
Kael watched her until she passed from view. He remained in that position for several minutes while trying to sort out his thoughts. Something had happened to him that he hadn’t expected. When he’d first looked at her still form and saw the beauty that was there, he wanted to touch her, to stroke the smooth skin of her cheek and to feel the sun-bronzed skin against his fingers. When she awakened, fighting and kicking like a spitfire, an unexpected flash of desire blazed through him. When he pressed her against his chest to prevent her from escaping, the heat emanating from her body added even more fuel to his passion. It had taken all his willpower to release her, and to appear calm.
Kael knew the sight of her quiet beauty, the womanly smell surrounding her, and the feel of her softness against him had ignited the emotions he’d been keeping dormant for so long.
Kael pushed the vibrant image of Lara Dowley from him, thrusting it into the place he’d put everything and everyone that mattered to him. He had no choice but to shove away all feelings until he had finished what he’d come to Wyoming for. When he’d completed his job, and if he could salvage anything of himself, he would try to bring his emotions out again.
Kael turned back to the dead mountain lion. Pulling the knife from his belt, he knelt next to the mighty engine of death and began his grisly work.
~~~~
Lara arrived home just past mid-afternoon. She cantered halfway through the green valley, and then slowed to a walk for the final mile. The day had turned blisteringly hot, as she had learned it would become every year at this time. The Wyoming area was a contrast in everything: lush valleys, arid plains, cool mountains, hot, searing summers, and cold, blizzardy winters.
Without knowing or understanding why, Lara had grown to love this country. She was equally at home in the mountains and on the plains, and felt a freedom of spirit, and of oneness with everything around her. It was when she returned home that she began to feel trapped again.
Lara’s anger of the morning was gone, replaced by the stoic acceptance she must have in order to survive her life with Martin Dowley. Even though she was not his natural daughter, she was his charge. Her biggest worry was that he might fulfill his pledge to see her wed to whomever he desired. Up until yesterday, Lara had planned, somehow, to wed Jason Grumman. Part of this morning’s anger had been fear of her diminishing options for control of her future.
The sharp pain she’d experienced when she woke in the ravine had eased to a dull but constant hurt. Lara explored the back of her head, wincing as her fingers felt the large bump. At the same time, Kael Treemont’s smiling face danced before her. Lara smiled at the image her mind had produced, until the smile faded, as she thought about the stranger and what he would look like clean-shaven and properly dressed. She knew, somehow, that she would find a strong, well-rounded chin beneath the scruffy whiskers. Adding that image to his glowing eyes and strong white teeth, Laura had no doubts Kael Treemont was handsome.
“Enjoy your ride, Miss Lara?” Cross’s grating voice jarred her from her thoughts. She looked down at the foreman and repressed a shudder. His brown eyes roamed her face while his lips formed a sneer.
“I always enjoy my ride.” Dismounting, she handed Cross the reins. “Is my father home?”
“No. He went into town.”
“Good.” she turned her back on the foreman and went to the house. Throughout the entire walk, Lara knew he was watching her, as he had done a hundred times before. She could feel his eyes undressing her.
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Silver Moon Page 21