Dizzily she wondered whether he was going to kiss her, whether she wanted him to, all the while knowing she did, very much.
Cord felt a yearning within like nothing ever before. Desperately he wanted to crush his mouth against hers, to devour and probe with his tongue and drink of the passion he knew awaited.
Savage.
The word was like liquid thunder in his blood, coursing through his body.
Savage.
He could take her here and now, and if she resisted he had ways of making her beg and scream for more. He would ultimately feel her nails digging into the hard flesh of his back, would see her head thrown back and pressed into the sand and rocks as her spine trembled in ecstasy, legs wrapped tightly about his buttocks to spur him onward.
He knew he could make her revel in the glory of her own body and the joys it could bring with the explosion of climax—again and again. For he had long ago discovered it only increased and intensified his own pleasure when his lover reached ultimate ecstasy.
But he held back, for he knew when it was over, when she lay spent and sated in his arms, he would hear that hated word once more.
Savage.
She would condemn and damn him to assuage the betrayal of her own body, and that reality gave him the strength to resist.
Jaime, however, was not concerned with pride for the moment. It was as though this moment had been there all along, smoldering, just beneath the surface, waiting to erupt at the right time.
And that time was here and now.
As she had so many times in her dreams and fantasies, she kissed him. Hands moving to clutch his shoulders, she clung to him, lips parting to receive the sweet assault of his tongue.
For endless moments he held her, then drew away with a ragged sigh and a lazy grin. "Sunshine, if you want me to stick to our bargain, you've got a hell of a way of showing it."
Jolted by his candor, she all but fell from the horse as she struggled to get down. He helped her as much as she would allow but still she stumbled, almost fell.
Turning away from him, washed with embarrassment, she smoothed her skirt, straightened her blouse, and said nervously, "I... I don't know what came over me. It's hot. I... I think I need some water, some shade. People do crazy things in this awful heat."
He had dismounted. Jaime did not realize he was so near till his hands clamped on her shoulders. He drew her back against him gently. With his breath warm on her ear, he whispered, "You're right. They do crazy things. Wonderful things. I'd like to show you. But only when you're ready."
She knew it was his way of telling her that he would not make love to her until she was so bold as to make the first move, which, she realized with chagrin, she had just done. Only it did not have to go any further. She could pretend it had not happened.
It was the way it had to be, she told herself as she hurried toward the river and the scant shade of the taller greasewood.
Eyes misting with tears of humiliation, she took off her shoes and waded into the river. Kneeling, she took a long, cool drink, then withdrew to the sparse shade to try and get over the upset.
After a time, she returned to the wagon and found Cord busy unloading and sorting what could be taken, what had to be left behind.
Without so much as a glance in her direction, he spoke as though nothing at all had transpired between them. "I'm leaving everything but the barest essentials. The lighter the pack, the swifter the mule can move.
"We'll swap mules every day," he went on, intent on what he was doing. "No need in one bearing the burden all the time."
She saw he had put her satchel to one side and quickly went to retrieve it.
A few moments of awkward silence passed, then he asked, "Are you feeling better?"
"Fine," she murmured. "It was the heat."
"It always is."
The grin he flashed was maddening, and she clenched her fists and fought against her temper bubbling. "It shouldn't have happened. I'm sorry it did. It won't happen again, and I'll thank you not to mention it." She turned away, not knowing where she was going but determined to escape till her pulse stopped racing.
"Hey, Sunshine," he called, a lilt to his voice, obviously unmoved by her scathing decree.
She paused but did not turn around.
"I've been told when folks reach their destination they put the trip behind them."
Timorously, she asked, "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It's still a long way to California. A lot of things can happen. If you get a little crazy in order to make things bearable, later you can just forget it happened." He knew he was goading her but didn't care. Hell, let her suffer a little too.
"I already have," she lied, glad he was not standing closer lest he hear the guilty pounding of her heart.
Chapter 10
The first night they camped after abandoning the wagon, Jaime took her blanket far from the ring of fire.
Cord watched in brooding silence, then asked what she thought she was doing.
"I intend to have my privacy," she informed him. "And besides, it isn't proper for us to sleep so close together anyway."
"Do you walk in your sleep?" he asked with mock innocence.
"And what is that supposed to mean?"
"Unless you do, you won't wind up in my bedroll, sweetheart."
Her temper flared. "I didn't mean that's what would happen. I meant—"
"It doesn't matter." He cut her off. "All I know is you aren't sleeping out there in the dark. In case you haven't noticed, those are wolves howling. And they're hungry. But they don't usually come around light or fire, so they'll probably stay away. Now get over here before I drag you."
They regarded each other in frosty challenge, but only for an instant. When a chilling howl shattered the heavy silence, Jaime needed no further prodding. Spreading her blanket only a few feet away from him, she took comfort in seeing that he kept his rifle within easy reach.
Soon, his even breathing told her he was asleep, while she was annoyed to be wide awake. How could she rest with him so close? Despite cursing herself over and over for her weakness, all she could think of was his kiss, how good it had felt, and how wonderful it would be to lie in his arms all night and have him make love to her in the way Hannah had described her husband doing. Jaime knew she wanted him and was infuriated at her own weakness.
How much longer, wondered raggedly, till they arrived in California to end this madness?
* * *
Cord only pretended to sleep. He could hear her tossing and turning, her occasional frustrated sighs. She wanted him. There was no doubt in his mind. But if she could stand the agony, so could he, by damn.
* * *
The stalemate continued, taking its toll in short tempers and intolerance.
Cord was well aware of the root of his bad mood and found himself wishing he had never allowed her to come along. As stubborn as she was, he knew she'd rather die than give in to her own desires. And here he was, in the wilderness with no other woman around to free him of his misery. But hell, he doubted that would help anyway, because it wasn't just sex he wanted. It was her.
All day, he pushed them with a vengeance, trying to cover as much ground as possible. At night, no matter how blasted tired he was, her closeness made his gut ache.
It was probably a good thing he had no liquor left, or he would have drunk himself into a stupor. That wouldn't solve anything, but at least he'd be able to fall asleep instead of tossing and turning all night.
To hell with her beauty and the way she could lift him to the sky with just a smile. He was a damn fool to let her affect him the way she was doing.
"You don't have to snap!" Jaime wailed one evening when she'd had enough of his ill temper.
She had been trying to skewer a prairie bird he had shot for roasting over the fire, but it was small. She was having trouble pushing in the stick, and he was harping about how she had to hurry up, while the flames were burning just right.
"I'
ll never get this done if you don't stop nagging at me, Cord. What's wrong with you?" She turned to give him a condemning glare. "Nothing I do pleases you. All you do is fuss at me and criticize. You haven't spoken a pleasant word to me in days."
"There's nothing wrong with me except being fool enough to think you could do your part." He snatched the bird and stick away from her and speared it himself, then handed it back. "You're worthless."
That was the last straw. Declining to take the skewer, she leaped to her feet to shout, "Then do everything yourself, dammit. If you don't think I'm doing my part, I'll just quit trying."
"No, you won't," he warned, nostrils flaring as he met her fiery glare with one of his own. "You'll do exactly what I tell you to do, and you'll do it right."
The resentment she had been holding back the past days spewed forth. "I'm not your slave, and you get something straight, mister. I'm as sick of you as you are of me, and this trip can't be over soon enough to suit me. I never want to see your arrogant face again."
"Fine." He propped the bird over the fire. "We understand each other. And somebody ought to kick my butt all the way back to Independence for bringing you along."
With a mocking toss of her hair, Jaime returned, "Why do I have to keep reminding you you didn't bring me? I outsmarted you all the way beyond Salt Lake, and you can't stand it."
"I wasn't talking about that." Damn, she was making him mad, and maybe that was good. Maybe learning to despise her, hate her, would dissipate the gnawing desire, but even now, with them squared off and ready for a battle royal, he wanted her fiercely. Anger made her cheeks flush and caused her eyes to sparkle with flecks of gold and red amid the greenish-blue depths. Her chest was pushed forward, making her lush breasts even more enticing, and the petulant pout of her lips made him want to devour them. "I meant I shouldn't have let you talk me into letting you stay once I found out you were along. It was a mistake."
"Why? I've helped you. I've cooked—"
"Who cares? I've never had a woman along to cook for me before, and I got by just fine."
"Well, get by the rest of the way without me doing it. Take care of your food, and I'll take care of mine. And from here on out, leave me alone. Don't even ride your horse near me. I'll follow far enough behind you won't even know I'm around."
"You get on my nerves with your jabbering anyway."
"I don't jabber, and you know it. I hardly talk to you at all. I'm too busy trying to stay on the back of a mule while you ride your big fine stallion."
"If I thought you could stay on him, I'd let you ride and I'd walk."
"Don't do me any favors, Mr. Austin."
"I won't." Angrily, he threw the skewered bird into the fire in a shower of flying sparks.
Jaime watched him disappear into the shadows. She hadn't wanted a cooked prairie bird, anyway. The last one had been tough with practically no taste. Besides, the argument had ruined her appetite.
Laying down on her blanket, she blinked back frustrated tears. In the beginning, he had been pleasant company, enjoyable and humorous. They'd had good times on the trail and shared warm conversations at night. So what had happened to make him so cranky and mean?
Probably, a little voice inside needled, the same thing that had made her so crotchety of late. Being alone together was a strain on both of them.
She tried to dwell on other things to get her mind off the misery.
The haze of a purple sky descended. They had camped where others had been before them. Cord had pointed out the remains of other cooking pits, and Jaime had been saddened to see a cluster of stone-covered graves.
"That meant cholera hit hard as they were passing by," he had explained. "They probably stayed longer than usual due to so many being sick. Looks like they even made a hut of some kind."
Jaime wished it were still standing, but there was nothing left but a small pile of rotting boards. However, beside a small stream, it appeared someone had once tried to plant a flower garden. Cord had told her how pioneers brought along all kinds of flower seeds and cuttings, wanting to have something from their old home to take to their new.
She had wanted to tarry, to look around for even more evidence of those gone before, but he had kept after her to prepare for the night. They had to get an early start, he'd said, at first light. There was no time to dawdle.
Wriggling around, trying to find comfort when there was none, she thought how he would be even crankier in the morning after stalking about all night pouting. Maybe he would fall in a hole and break his leg, and—
She shook her head to dispel such a horrible thought, especially when it frightened her to think of him injured or in danger.
And smoldering just beneath the surface was her own awareness of how, like it or not, she had come to care for him deeply.
A cool wind was blowing, and she snuggled beneath the blanket. Above, opaline clouds scurried across the sky, bowing to the radiant glory of the full moon. The world about was bathed in silver, an air of magic shimmering across the landscape.
Now a familiar intrusion into the silence, the wail of a prairie wolf made her feel terribly lonely. She resolved, then and there, to make Cord see they needed to talk about their sniping at each other. Surely, if they both tried, they could be civil to each other for the duration. They would just have to mutually agree to avoid sarcasm and sniping, and—
Suddenly he was there, having approached, as always, in silence. He sat down, cross-legged, near the fire, staring down at his right wrist, which he held with his other hand.
Then she saw it.
Blood!
Scrambling forward, she crouched beside him. "What happened? What did this?"
"Snake," he said tonelessly, then quietly added, "I'm right-handed. It'd be best for you to do it."
Jaime shuddered, knowing what he wanted.
"Cut it. Take my knife out of my left boot and stick it in the fire. Then cut."
She reached for the knife, washed with dread as she offered a silent prayer.
In that instant, nothing else mattered.
She was not concerned over her fate if he died, only how much she had grown to care for him. And, yes, loved him.
Swallowing against the rising hysteria, she resolved to do whatever was necessary to try and save his life. "I know about snakebites," she said, in a voice so controlled she could not recognize it as her own. "Wilma Turnage told me how it has to be cut and then the poison sucked out. Don't worry. I can do it.
"And I know to pack it with chewed tobacco," she went on nervously, taking out his knife to hold in the flames as he had instructed. "Only I'm afraid we don't have any. Maybe you know some Indian potions. Just tell me what I need, and I'll make a torch and go look. Maybe whoever planted that little flower garden also planted some herbs we can use."
She was talking, rambling, to try and steady herself, but finally it was time. She approached him with the knife, the tip poised and ready to slice into his flesh.
His left hand shot out to close about her wrist, and she froze, eyes wide with frightened confusion. Then, in the rich glow of the fire, she was further puzzled to see the play of a smile on his lips as he looked up at her in wonder.
"You were going to do it, weren't you? I wanted to see how far you'd go before you started screaming, but you were actually going to cut my wrist open and suck out the wound, weren't you?"
Baffled, she nodded. "Yes. That's what Wilma said—"
In a lightning-quick movement, he took the knife from her and tossed it aside. In the same instant, he grabbed her and pulled her against him, taking them both to the ground. Rolling over, pinning her beneath him, he looked down at her and grinned. "Sunshine, you never cease to amaze me. I was all set to laugh in your face and prove myself right when I said you were worthless."
Jaime was still confused—and also starting to get mad. "But you said you were bitten by a snake."
"But I didn't say what kind. It was a whipsnake. They aren't poisonous. I was lying
down, trying to go to sleep, and I guess I put my arm right on top of him. He did what comes naturally, and, being a whipsnake, quick as hell he was gone the second he bit."
"Are you sure that's what it was?"
"I've got teeth marks, not fang marks. If you'd ever seen a rattlesnake or copperhead bite, you'd know the difference."
Testily, she murmured, "So it was just your idea of a joke, to scare me to death, hoping I'd start screaming and run."
He did not answer right away. Instead, he continued to hold her, gazing down into her face, so lovely bathed in moonlight, enjoying the moment, reveling in the feel of her heaving bosom against his chest. "Now I'm not so sure. I'm starting to think maybe this was what I was hoping for all along, to somehow wind up with you beneath me."
Jaime felt his hardness pressing into her just as she was forced to acknowledge the sweeping rush of her own arousal. Cursing herself for not trying to push him off, instead she dared to tease. "I thought you said you didn't seduce women."
He released her and rolled to lie on his side. "I don't. I was hoping you'd seduce me."
Jaime urged the smoldering anger forth, to sweep her up and away with indignant rejection, but her body, her heart, betrayed her.
Slowly, easily, as though in a trance, she moved into his arms.
He kissed first her temple, in tenderness, then moved his lips to each cheek in turn. "I think we both knew this was coming," he said softly, brushing his mouth across hers. "And you don't have to be afraid. I know it's your first time. I'll be gentle."
He probed her mouth with his tongue, delighting in the taste of her, the feel of her. He had waited a long time for this moment and intended to savor each and every sensation.
Responding, welcoming, she drew him deeper inside, fingers dancing into his long hair that touched his shoulders, gingerly pulling him closer.
Her soft whimper came from deep within as she gloried in the kiss. Cord lingered a moment longer, devouring her with his lips before allowing his hands to move with a will of their own. In near slow motion, he touched her chin, then her throat, finally maneuvering to use both hands to cup each breast simultaneously.
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