Comanche Rose (30 page)

"No," she moaned, turning her head. "No, please."

"It's all right, Annie." His hands smoothed her hair. Her face was wet. "Shhhh." Easing off her, he drew her into his arms and brushed his lips over her eyes. He could taste the salt of tears. "I'll take care of you, I swear it," he murmured against her cheek. "You're my wife, Annie— you're a Walker now. You don't have to think about the other, ever."

He kept speaking softly, his lips moving over her face, tracing gentle, passionless kisses from her nose to her jaw to her ears. Gradually, she relaxed against him, and his arms closed around her, holding her close to his body.

"I think it's over," he said finally.

"Yes," she agreed in a childlike voice.

He eased away reluctantly and rolled from beneath the big bed. "Well, since you're all right, I guess I'll have a look outside, then go back to my room. Morning's going to come damned early." Standing up, he leaned down to lend her a hand. "Come on."

It was so dark in the room that he could barely see the white nightgown. She stood there for a moment, not moving, then he heard her say, "Don't go—please."

"God, Annie," he groaned. "Sweetheart, you don't know what you're asking."

"I just want you to hold me. I just want to be held."

He sucked in his breath, held it for several seconds, then let it out. "All right. But don't you want to know if the place is still standing?"

"I don't care, Hap. I don't want you to leave me."

He couldn't say anything. Instead, he felt for the bed and eased his body onto it, rolling to the other side to make room for her. Using his fist, he pounded a place for his head in the feather pillow. When he looked back, all he could see was the shadowy form of the nightgown as she climbed in beside him. Resigned to a long night, he turned on his side and reached for her. She burrowed against him. He could feel the swell of her breasts pressing into his chest.

"Is this all right?" he asked hoarsely. "Are you sure you can sleep like this?"

"No. I don't want to sleep, Hap. I don't want to dream."

"Then I guess I don't, either," he managed.

His arms were so strong, so secure, his body so warm, that she wanted to stay there forever. The storm was over, the wind blowing across the room cool now. She lay there listening to his heartbeat, thinking he had to be the kindest man on earth. And she knew she'd cheated him.

"I wish I were different," she whispered. "I really wish it was just you and me, and I could begin my life again."

"You can, Annie." His hand smoothed her hair over her shoulder. "Let me make it happen for you." Even as he said the words, the ache in his breast was nearly unbearable. "Let me be a husband to you, Annie."

She swallowed. "I don't think I can, Hap. I'm afraid I can't—I—"

"You're the bravest woman I ever met," he murmured into her hair. "Let me show you, Annie. Let me show you it can be good again."

His hand slid from her hair down her back, stroking the soft cotton where it clung to her rounded hip. He was so aware of her that his blood pounded in his ears, nearly drowning out thought. She was as still as stone within his arms.

"I want you, Annie, but as God is my witness, all you've got to say is stop."

"I can't," she responded brokenly. "I can't say it."

His hand kept moving over her back and hip, caressing her body as his mind fought to master his. Ever so slowly she began to relax, giving him hope. He eased his body lower in the bed, until he could feel her breath on his face. As he pressed his lips against her wet cheeks, he felt he would burst. His arms tightened around her shoulders, and his mouth sought hers, tentatively at first, then eagerly, and by some miracle she was clinging to him, kissing him back.

He'd meant to be tender, cautious even, but he forgot everything beyond the heat in his blood, the feel of her warm body. And he wanted to know all of it. His eager hands gathered the cloth at her hips, working it up, baring her legs, her thighs, until he could touch skin that felt almost as hot as his.

It had been a long time since she'd been held like this, since she'd felt a man's strong hands on her body. Pretending he was Ethan, she responded with an eagerness nearly as great as his. His hot mouth was pressing impassioned kisses from her ear to the sensitive hollow of her neck, while his hands moved over her hips, molding her body to his. Her fingers kneaded his shirt, moving the length of his hard, muscular back to the waist of his pants.

If she'd screamed, "Stop!" at that moment, he wouldn't have heard her. He slipped his hand between her thighs, found the wet softness there, and forgot everything but the pounding in his loins, the incredible heat of his desire. With his other hand he fumbled with the buttons in front of his pants, freeing himself, worked them downward, and all but tore them off. Then he parted her legs with his knee and rolled over her.

She panicked, and her whole body stiffened as he pinned her beneath his weight. Her cry of "No!" was muffled by his mouth as he took possession of her body. Images of Two Trees flashed through her mind, sending a wave of nausea through her.

But he wasn't Two Trees. And as much as he wanted all of her, he felt the change in her body. Willing himself to stop, he lay still within her as he sought to calm her.

"It's just me, Annie, and I love you," he said softly. "God, how I want you, Annie. More than anything."

At the sound of his voice, she was in her featherbed again, and he was her husband. Her arms came up to twine around his neck, pulling his head down to hers. "Love me, Hap," she whispered. "Make me whole again."

He began to move, slowly at first, savoring the quickening of her passion, until he knew he could wait no longer. Grasping her hips, he rode, straining against her bucking body, losing himself in what he did to her. Panting like an animal, he could hear himself cry out. He could feel the pulsing release carry him to ecstasy, and then he was floating back to earth, cradled within her body.

She lay so still beneath him that he was afraid he'd hurt her. Resting his weight on his elbows, he tried to see her face in the darkness. And the tenderness he felt was overwhelming.

"Are you all right, Annie?" he asked anxiously, terrified of the answer.

"Yes." Her hand came up to stroke his jaw, to rest against his cheek. "I'm all right."

"It was too quick, wasn't it?"

"No," she lied. "It was just right."

Rolling off her, he pulled her close and rubbed his chin against her tangled hair. His heart still pounded, and his breath still came in quick, short gasps, but he felt unbelievably good. "No, it was too quick, but I couldn't help it," he said again. "It's been a long time since I've had a woman, Annie. A real long time. But I want you to know I never had anything like this. Never." His hand twined in her hair, pressing her head against his chest. "I'm real glad I found you, Annie."

She felt safe within his embrace, as though as long as he held her there'd be no nightmares. And her throat ached with the overwhelming gratitude she felt.

"I'm glad, too," she managed to whisper.

With the cool breeze blowing across their bodies, he lay there, holding her, savoring the feel of the woman he'd married, feeling incredibly lucky. But like the wedding itself, he knew he'd not done it right, that he'd not really satisfied her. And he didn't want her to have any regrets come morning. His hand moved lower, sliding over her hip, stroking it almost absently.

"You know what I'd like to do, Mrs. Walker?" he asked softly. "I'd like to take off the rest of my clothes, get you out of that nightgown, and love you again. I reckon this time I could do a whole lot better by you."

In the darkness he couldn't see her smile, but there was no mistaking the way she ran her fingers through his thick, wavy hair, or the way she parted her lips beneath his. And he didn't care about tomorrow or any day after. They were the only two people in the world tonight.

CHAPTER 21

He came awake slowly, at first only dimly aware of the tickle in his ear, then of the hair in his face. He opened his eyes into a mass of black fur. As he reached to move it, he frightened the creature, and it sank its claws firmly into his head. Afraid it would go for his eyes, Hap groped for his wife's shoulder. "The cat's come home," he mumbled sleepily. "Spider?" She rolled over, saw his predicament, and giggled. "You've got a cat hat, Hap. You look like Davy Crockett."

"Ouch! You little devil!" Catching the half-grown kitten with one hand, he tried to disengage its claws with the other. Lifting it free, he looked up into a pair of round orange eyes. "Damnedest cat I ever saw," he muttered. It stared at him for a moment, then began to wriggle, struggling to get loose. "Not half-friendly, are you?"

Opening its mouth, it gave him a full view of fangs, snarling at him. "Damned if you don't think you're a panther," he decided, grinning up at it. "Spider, eh?"

Leaning to retrieve a small ball of yarn from the knitting basket beside the bed, Annie held it up for the kitten to see, and tossed it across the room. Spider gave a half twist, then escaped from Hap's hands to scamper after it. Annie lay back watching him.

"It won't take long before he's got it undone and hanging from half the things in this room," she murmured. "Then you'll understand."

But Hap wasn't looking at the cat anymore. Seeing her bare shoulder above the covers sent a fresh wave of desire washing over him, nearly robbing him of breath. And he wanted to explore every inch of her body, to feel her beneath him, yielding her softness, coming alive with passion, slaking his need of her.

"See? There he goes," she said, turning to Hap. Her smile froze, and her eyes gave him a glimpse of sudden fear. Unconsciously, she pulled the sheet up. "Oh."

She had to be thinking he was an animal after the way he'd had her twice last night. Willing the heat from his body, he sat up, his naked back to her, shielding his rigid manhood from her sight.

"If you were to close your eyes, I'd get up," he said finally.

"Hap—"

"No, it's all right. I reckon we've got a long day ahead of us, anyway. So while I'm out in the privy, maybe you can get dressed and make the coffee. I think there's enough tinder in the box to get the stove going again."

"I'm sorry, Hap. I couldn't help it," she said simply.

"I know." He twisted his neck to look back at her, and forced a smile. "Guess I can't have a storm all the time, can I?"

She looked away at that. "I wanted it as much as you," she said, her voice low. "I wanted you to hold me, to make me forget everything. And you did."

"Yeah. Close your eyes, Annie." Leaning down, he groped on the floor for his pants, maneuvered his feet into the legs, then stood to pull them up. Buttoning the fly, he kept his back to her until he shrugged into his wrinkled shirt and it hung down to hide him from her. Trying to keep his tone light, he told you, "Come on, you'd better get around if you want to go today."

Outside, he took his time, lecturing himself that if he didn't go easy, if he didn't give her enough time and distance to heal, he was going to ruin everything. He had no right to want more than she'd given him. He wanted her to love him, not have a disgust of him.

At the pump, he ducked his head under the stream of water and came up shaking his wet head, slicking his hair back with both hands. Then he leaned down to rinse the night taste from his mouth. Yeah, he was all right now. He could face her.

The kitchen was empty, the firebox barely warm from last night's late supper. She was probably washing up. He threw a handful of dead grass and twigs into the cookstove, waited until they caught, then added several small sticks of wood. While the fire got going, he rummaged in the cupboard, found her sack of coffee, and put a couple of spoons in a pan. Adding a couple of ladles of water from the bucket to it, he set the pan on the top of the stove.

"I put your coffee on, Annie!" he called out.

There was no answer. He walked back to the bedroom, expecting to find her setting at the little dresser, brushing out her hair—or something like that, anyway. She was sitting up in bed, the sheet pulled taut over her breasts and tucked under her arms. His mouth went dry all over again.

"God, Annie," was all he could think of to say.

"It wasn't right to turn you away," she said, not meeting his eyes. "You've got every right to expect—"

"I don't know what to expect," he cut in. "I don't even know what to give." Trying not to look at her, he exhaled heavily. "Look, I never was much of a ladies' man. Maybe I was never around enough of 'em—I don't know. I was out on the trail a lot, and when I got to town, I wasn't much for keeping company with whores—never understood how a woman could do that for money, I guess. Oh, I don't want you to think I was some sort of saint. My nature got the best of me sometimes, Annie."

"You don't have to say this, Hap," she said quietly.

"Yeah, I do. I just want you to know I'm willing to learn, to do what it takes to make you happy. If it's just holding you sometimes without the other, I'll try to do it. If it's loving you once a night, once a week, or even less than that, I'll try getting along that way, too." He swung around to face her, forcing another twisted smile. " 'Way I look at it, a man like me's just damned lucky to have a woman like you."

Hot tears stung her eyes, and the ache in her throat was nearly unbearable. "No," she whispered, "I'm the luckiest woman alive. I don't want to turn away from you. I want to be whole."

"I don't want to hurt you, Annie. I don't want to make it worse."

"Hold me, Hap—hold me now," she said softly.

"You don't have to do this."

"I want to."

His fingers tangled in the button holes of his shirt until he finally just pulled it over his head. Turning away, he hastily undid his pants, then allowed himself to face her in all his glory, giving her the chance to change her mind. "I've got a lot of scars on me, Annie," he said. "I'm not real pretty."

"You don't have to be." She tried to smile and couldn't. "A man's not supposed to be pretty."