Passions Wild And Free

by Janelle Taylor

  “I don’t love him, Marsh, or want to marry him. We’re just friends. I know he loves me and I hate to break his heart, but I have no choice. I feel bad about leading him on before I left town, but you said it was necessary and I believed you. I’ll tell him the truth when I see him again. If I’m lucky, he won’t want me after he learns I’ve been spending weeks alone with the Durango Kid.”

  “You sure you want to discourage him? He’s a respected man, one who’ll settle down and make you a good husband and home.”

  Randee knew what he was doing, being kind and defensive and protective, so she wasn’t angry with him. This thing was meant to be between them, and she must open his eyes to it. “Brody’s a good man, Marsh, but he isn’t for me, and I know you don’t believe he is. I have a ranch and the money to rebuild it. I’m strong, smart, and brave. I don’t need a husband to take care of me. After I get things going at home, I can leave my foreman in charge and sneak off every so often with you to enjoy adventures. That way, I can have both lives: respectable lady rancher and carefree vixen. I’ll pay you well for guiding me around and for letting me join you for a little fun and excitement. I swear, Marsh, I won’t be a clinging vine. I’ll return home whenever you say so. Don’t you see?” she tempted, not caring if she were being forward, “It’s a great deal for you—money, fun, and the company of a sensuous woman whenever the mood strikes you. That is, after you train me to be a partner in all ways.”

  “That isn’t fair to you, woman. I would gain far more than you.”

  “Not really, Marsh. With you, I can be myself, and I need that every so often. I know we can’t become a couple, and that isn’t what I’m suggesting. But what’s wrong with sharing good times together? I’ll tell you what; don’t answer yet. Get to know me and you’ll see that you can trust me to keep my word. No demands, no promises, no commitments, no complaints, and no chasing after you. Just two close friends who need and want each other on occasion.”

  “Your offer isn’t tempting, Randee; it’s outright irresistible, just like you are,” he murmured huskily, then kissed her tenderly.

  Slowly, Marsh and Randee sank to her sleeping roll, embracing, kissing, and caressing. Passions wild and free took control of them and carried them over sensous territory which hadn’t been explored before tonight. Soon, they were undressed and lying flesh to flesh beneath a full moon and blinking stars.

  Marsh was very gentle with her, although his leisurely pace was hard to control. He craved her desperately, but held a tight rein on his desire to make her his completely. His deft fingers trailed enticingly over her soft skin, aware of its intense heat from burning desire. His lips did the same, lighting here and there like a busy butterfly who wanted to taste every floral spot within his reach. He kissed the hollows of her throat and felt her pulse racing madly beneath his tongue. His lips roamed to her left breast and his warm tongue circled its brown center before his mouth gently conquered the taut peak. He felt Randee arch toward him and inhale deeply as he stimulated the protruding bud. Not once did she try to halt his actions or protest them; she was fully committed to this exploration of pleasure with him.

  Randee was caught up in a wonderful spiral, which was lifting her skyward with blissful sensations, lifting her to race ecstatically among the stars and moon. Her senses were alive with need, alive with rapture, alive with torment, alive with Marsh Logan. Her hands wandered over the smooth, hard muscles of his back. She felt them ripple seductively with his experienced movements. She loved the feel of them beneath her hands. She loved the contact of their flesh, flesh which was clinging together, flesh which was aflame with passion.

  Marsh’s talented fingers teased over her pelt-soft skin, exciting each area that he stroked. He was enthralled by the way she was responding to him, and his body intensified its sensuous siege on hers. He caressed her tenderly, urgently, skillfully. He wanted to tantalize her for hours, giving her pleasure while pressing her to greater need. His loins pleaded for relief, as he had not taken a woman in quite a while. His mind had been on other matters and he hadn’t seen one lately who tempted him to steal time from his busy and solitary schedule.

  Marsh’s fingers explored her shapely figure, slowly making their way downward to a region where none had entered before. The fuzzy forest that guarded her virginal domain was incredibly soft and was shaded a little darker than her long blond mane. Ever so gently and carefully, he roamed the newly discovered territory. It was not an invasion or intrusion, as she shifted to welcome his arrival. Her brave invitation intoxicated him more potently than any whiskey he had tasted. His senses were spinning with a greater hunger for her, one he had to feed soon or pass out from starvation for her.

  Randee’s eyes were closed as her wits swirled about dizzily in a whirlwind of yearning. Marsh Logan was what a man should be, although he was different from all others. She craved to have him in her life forever. He made her feel so alive, so whole again, so strong and brave, as if anything were possible. He was kind, good, tender, unique; he just needed something, someone, to give him direction, to give his life new meaning. She wanted that someone to be her.

  When he thrust within her, there was only a brief instant of discomfort. She felt him hesitate a few minutes as she adjusted to his presence and to the vanquishing of her virginal barrier. Her innocent mind did not know that he was also remaining still as he fought for control over his quivering manhood. He inhaled deeply several times, his warm respiration at her ear causing her to hug him more tightly and to spread kisses over his face to let him know she was all right. She heard him moan and felt his embrace tighten. Joy raced through her. It didn’t take an experienced woman to know that this man was reeling from pleasure and desire, and an urgent need to continue their climb to the Mount of Rapture.

  As Marsh began to move within her, Randee caught his pattern and pace and matched them. Both were stimulated beyond caution or restraint. They labored together lovingly until sheer bliss seemed to burst around them like a shower of stars falling from the heavens above. They kissed and caressed as they rode out the beautiful storm of passion. Gradually they relaxed into each other’s arms and closed their eyes to savor every moment of this special experience. Marsh was lying on his back and Randee was nestled against his side, with her arms resting over his chest. He had drawn her blanket over their naked bodies, and one hand was covering hers while the other was wrapped around her bare shoulders. It was not a time for talking, only one for introspection and acceptance of what had just occurred between them.

  Soon, the sated blonde was sleeping peacefully. Marsh stared at the full moon overhead, his wits entangled in a quandary. Now that he had taken Randee Hollis, didn’t he owe her something, even though she had vowed no demands and promises? Had he provoked this seduction just to force himself to make a decision about her? To explore his feelings? To test them? To test hers? Now that she belonged to him, what was he going to do about her? With her? He didn’t know.

  Commitment was a scary thing, even-to a brave and fearless man as he was reputed to be. He hardly knew this woman, but he was powerfully drawn to her. Was it more than physical desire? It certainly seemed that way! Was she the one woman whom he couldn’t forget or live without? Didn’t his being unable to resist her answer that intimidating question for him? Was she the one whom he wanted as his wife and as the mother of his children, if he ever decided to settle down? From what he had observed, she was perfect for both. Was she the one with whom he wanted to spend the rest of his life? In. good or bad times, he would be responsible for his family and home. Did he want a permanent place to live? One woman? Children? Duties? Did he want to ranch or farm all day and spend every night with her? With another woman? With any woman?

  Marsh knew that his troubled past colored his view and answers. His father had taken up with another woman, betraying his mother, the wife whom he had sworn to love and to cherish above all other females. How much of Marshall Logan’s blood ran within his son? Would he also become bored,
do the same, and break Randee’s heart? He had left home at seventeen— hurt, disappointed, resentful, bitter, and rebellious. Those self-destructive feelings and his father’s wicked secret had plagued him for years, had hardened his emotions, driving him from place to place and from reckless deed to deed in search of peace of mind.

  As he had done countless times before, Marsh wondered, should he have told his mother about his father’s selfish deceit? No, it would have destroyed her. Should he have remained at home to battle his father, to punish the fallen man, to protect his mother from another slip? Would his parents still be alive if he had? Who could say what a person’s destiny was, or if he had any real control over it?

  He had visited home only three times since leaving there: twice to see his mother, and once to see both of his parents. That last visit in ’69 had been a tough one, as his father had pleaded for his understanding and forgiveness, had begged him to return home and to give up his perilous life. His father had related the details and motive for his one moment of weakness, of insanity, of betrayal. Marshall Logan had told him of how he had been tricked by nature, tricked into self-punishment for being a failure and a coward, tricked into proving he was still a man. His father had revealed how scared he was after nearly losing his entire herd and all his crops the year when Marsh was sixteen. His father had spoken of how weak, vulnerable, helpless, and terrified he had felt. He had spoken of how a father and husband had enormous responsibilities and was expected to be strong each moment of his life, even when he needed a shoulder to lean on, perhaps even to cry on. Yet, he had confessed to being too proud and stubborn to allow his wife and son to offer that urgently needed solace.

  As the dreadful story had unfolded, Marsh had understood his father’s feelings and actions, a terrible mistake in judgment during a time of depression and weakness—which the younger Marsh never knew existed, or could exist in his cherished father. Their neighbor’s wife had hated her husband and had used his father as a means to punish her verbally and physically abusive husband. While helping their neighbor with chores to earn money to save his own land, the elder Marshall had succumbed to the woman’s brazen overtures— and to the irrational need to hurt his hateful neighbor for making him grovel to keep from losing all he owned and loved. Fortunately, the man had never learned of his wife’s deceit, else Marshall Logan would have been slain!

  For a year after discovering that dark secret and needing to inflict as much pain as he himself was experiencing, Marsh had fought with his father over anything and everything. Their battles had had a terrible effect on his dear mother. Since birth, Marsh had been his father’s shadow; he had loved and respected the man, had viewed the man as perfect. The haunting incident had destroyed that bond, those feelings. As a strapping teenager, he had been unable to understand and forgive his father’s Achilles’ heel. Yet, he had kept quiet about the episode. Unable to break his mother’s heart with the truth and unable to remain around his father, he had left home the following summer. Over the years, and especially during this last one, doubts had eaten viciously at him. Despite his father’s confession, Marsh had been unable during that last visit to expose himself to his parents; now, they would never know the truth about their “wayward son,” their “bad apple to the core.” Marsh could still hear his father asking, “How can I ever forgive myself for destroying my only son? I hate hearing those awful things about you, because I know I’m responsible for them. Don’t keep challenging death, son, or it’ll grab you for sure one day.”

  He had left home to complete a dangerous mission, planning to return and explain himself afterwards. The Epson Gang raid had denied him that chance forever. Presently, he was involved in the most perilous mission of his life, and he couldn’t allow this radiant creature to remain at his side for very long, or she would wind up slaughtered like his parents. The longer they were together, the harder it would be to send her home, and the more she would resist his order.

  Could he risk hurting Randee in any way? Risk hurting himself again? Like him, Randee had experienced many hard times. Did he have the right to give her more, even unintentionally? If he couldn’t commit to her because of his emotions or mission, he would cause her terrible pain. No matter what she said, sleeping together would lead her to believe he was making unspoken promises of a future together. If only he could be totally honest and open with her! But he couldn’t, because it could get her killed. He needed to wheedle that information from her and send her home as quickly as possible, before any contact with that violent band. Marsh admitted that he wanted her badly, but he would rather give her up than get her injured or slain.

  He glanced down at the honey-colored head on his shoulder and felt the warm body nestled against his. He shouldn’t have taken possession of her until his dilemma was settled; yet, he wanted her again this very moment. The best thing for both of them was for him to return to his own bedroll and forget this happened.

  His troubled mind taunted, Forget? There was no way he could forget it, only ignore it. Gingerly he eased from her side and walked to the river to bathe. Afterwards, he stretched out on his bedroll and closed his weary eyes, unable to sleep for a long time.

  Chapter Ten

  Randee yawned and stretched, then smiled happily as she recalled the previous evening’s dreamy episode. She felt wonderful this morning and wished her lover was still at her side. Holding the thin blanket against her bare chest, she propped herself up on her elbow and looked around for Marsh. She spied him riding in the opposite direction, a lengthy ways from camp. She concluded that he was giving her privacy this morning, to bathe and dress, and she was touched by his consideration.

  Randee glanced down at her bare body. Strange, but she did not feel disconcerted or embarrassed. She closed her eyes and envisioned their passionate bout upon her bedroll. Last night had been rapturous in his arms. He had been so gentle, so skilled, so utterly satisfying. How blissful it would have been to awaken in his embrace, to make love to him again this morning, to be a part of him forever. Maybe, she mused with a grin, Marsh was the one who was feeling shy and disquieted. After all, she had boldly seduced him, and he might not know what to expect from her today after her brazen conduct last night.

  She looked at his dusty retreat and wondered how long he would stay out of camp. If he had remained here with her, they could have talked and shared their special … Twinges of alarm nibbled at her. Maybe he was too uneasy about their intimacy, too anxious about how she would view it and how she would behave from this point onward. If a man didn’t know what to do and say during an awkward situation, he usually tried to avoid it, like Marsh was doing this very moment. If he felt the same way she did, he would be lying next to her; they would be talking merrily and making love, savoring the bond which they had created last night, whether he admitted to one or not.

  Randee gathered her possessions and went to the river to bathe and dress. The water was chilly, but she didn’t mind. She needed the nippy temperature to refresh her, to awaken her wits, to stimulate her sluggish body. Later, as she brushed her hair, she worried about the reason for Marsh’s absence. Maybe that blue-eyed rogue was afraid she would go back on her word not to make demands on him. Maybe he didn’t know what he wanted from her at this time, or even realize that he did want something from her! From what she had heard and read, men were skittish and defensive creatures, so she must not make him more nervous than he already was. As best she could, she should act just like she had before last night’s event… .

  Which was exactly what Marsh Logan did when he returned to camp thirty minutes later, to a nice breakfast prepared by Randee. Without eyeing her too revealingly, he flashed her a genial smile and said, “Thanks, boss lady. We should eat and get on the trail pronto.”

  Randee noticed that he didn’t mention last night or his dawn ride. Nor did he act any differently to her than before her surrender to him, as if nothing uncommon had taken place between them. She took his lead and behaved in a like manner. She passed h
im a cup of coffee and a plate of food as she jested, “I cooked, so you have to clean up. It’s a lovely morning, isn’t it? Not as humid today.”

  Marsh took a deep breath of fresh air and smiled, aware she was letting him off the hook, at least for a while. “Yep, it’s a nice day for traveling.” After a few bites, he said, “Your cooking has improved, Miss Hollis. This is very good.”

  She laughed, then replied, “One can hardly mess up biscuits, salt pork, and gravy.”

  Marsh chuckled and refuted, “Yes, one can; I’ve seen it done many times. Doughy biscuits, watery coffee, burned bacon, and gluey gravy …” He wrinkled his nose and forehead before adding, “Blah.”

  “I guess you’re right,” she conceded. “Of course, I owe my new skills to a very, patient and talented teacher. Thanks for the lessons.”

  Remembering what she had said last night about training her to be his “partner in all ways,” Marsh felt his body grow warm and tense. He wanted to ask her if she was all right this morning, but dared not open the delicate subject. He hoped he hadn’t hurt her last night; she hadn’t acted as if he had at the time. She had been so passionate with him, so giving, so responsive, so eager and greedy. His breath caught in his throat just recalling that delightful episode.

  Marsh eyed her furtively when he thought she wasn’t paying attention. She looked fine; no, she looked radiant, beautiful, tempting. Mercy, how he craved to seize her and make wild love to her again! She was being so kind today, so true to her word, so undemanding. Lordy, but he hoped it wasn’t a clever feminine trick to disarm him. He hoped she would continue to give him time and patience to sort out his feelings, because he was more unsettled now than he had been last night or before his tension-releasing ride. Although she had promised not to be a “clinging vine,” he had feared to find one awaiting him at breakfast.. Now that he’d spent a short time with her, truthfully, he could deal with a weepy woman better than this composed and cordial one!