Gray, Ginna (26 page)

Lauren didn't understand a word of the Navajo ceremony, nor the
significance of the rituals, but she muddled through with a bit of prodding
from Annie and Sam. Before she knew it, everyone was crowding around, thumping
her and Sam on their backs and congratulating them.

Then they all crowded into Annie Zah's small house to celebrate.

Out of consideration for Sam, the party was quiet and brief. One
by one, after wishing Lauren and Sam health, happiness and long life, the
guests departed, until there was only family left.

Sam and Augustus were still stiff and awkward with each other, but
both were trying to mend fences. As Augustus and his sister and brother-in-law
prepared to leave, he clamped his son's uninjured shoulder and muttered a
gruff, "Take care of yourself, son. And if there's anything you
need—anything at all— you just let me know."

"Actually, Dad, I could use a cellphone. But not one
registered to me."

"You got it. I'll bring you one in a couple of days."

Eunice and Walter added their well wishes and each gave Lauren a
kiss and a hug and welcomed her to the family. When it came Augustus's turn,
his eyes were suspiciously moist as he cupped her cheek in his callused palm.
"I've always wanted a daughter, and I have a hunch you're just what that
boy of mine needs. I'm glad he found you, little one," he said, and leaned
down and kissed her cheek.

When he straightened he glanced at Sam, who was watching them
intently. "When all this is over, I hope you can talk him into coming home
to the ranch where he belongs."

Lauren answered with a wan smile. She could hardly explain to this
hopeful father that she had no influence over his son, that within a year this
marriage would probably be dissolved. She felt like a complete fraud.

After another flurry of hugs, Augustus and his sister and
brother-in-law departed. No sooner had Lauren closed the door behind them than
Annie stepped out of the bedroom carrying two shopping bags stuffed with
clothing and toilet articles.

Sam cocked one eyebrow. "Going somewhere?"

"Yes. I'm moving into the hogan. While you are with us, you
and Lauren will stay here in this house. Your bag is already in the
bedroom."

"Oh, no, please. We couldn't possibly put you out of your
home," Lauren objected.

"C'mon, Grandma, be reasonable. You can't live in the
hogan."

"Why not? I was born in a hogan and lived most of my life in
one. I prefer them. It was your grandfather who insisted on building this house
for me. I moved into it merely to please him."

"For Pete's sake, the only source of heat in that place is a
woodstove. Look, Lauren and I can stay at Larry's."

"That arrangement was fine for a few days, but not for
months. Your cousin's place is too small, and it would be a strain on his
family. Besides, newlyweds need privacy."

"Okay, then, Lauren and I will move into the hogan."

"Does your wife know how to cook on a wood-stove?" The
pained look that flashed across Sam's face told her all she needed to know.
Annie folded her arms and smiled smugly. "There, you see. I will move into
the hogan."

"Lauren is good at adapting. We'll manage just fi—"

"No. It will be best if you stay here. It will be easier for
her to take care of you and nurse you back to health that way."

"Dammit—"

"Give up, cousin," Larry said from the kitchen doorway.
"I have talked to her, Zeta has talked to her, but it makes no difference.
She's been looking for an excuse to move back into the hogan ever since our
grandfather died. Now that she has one, there is no stopping her." He
looked at Annie and shook his head with affectionate exasperation. "You're
a stubborn old woman, Annie Zah. Hold on a minute and let me help Sam to the
bedroom and Zeta and I will take you to the hogan."

"Go ahead," Sam said. "I can make it that far on my
own."

"Okay, if you're sure."

"Well, apparently we're going to be living here for a
while," Lauren said uneasily when they had gone.

"Looks like it," Sam agreed. He sat slouched on the sofa
with his head resting against the back, watching her.

Twisting her hands together, Lauren shifted under that intent
stare. "You really should be in bed, Sam. You look exhausted."

"You'll get no argument from me." Wincing, he struggled
to stand, and instantly Lauren leaped forward.

He accepted her help getting to his feet, but when she tried to
slip her arm around his waist and support him as he walked, he brushed her
aside. "That's all right. I can manage. There's nothing wrong with my
legs."

Accepting the rejection, Lauren hovered anxiously at his heels as
he slowly made his way into Annie's bedroom.

By the time he sat down on the edge of the bed he was pale and
breathing hard, and when Lauren knelt before him to remove his moccasins he did
not object.

"Now, let's get you out of these clothes and into bed,"
she said when done and went to work unbuttoning his shirt.

"You know, usually it's the groom who takes the bride's
clothes off," Sam murmured.

Lauren glanced up and was startled to find that he was watching
her, his dark eyes heated and intent beneath heavy eyelids. Though helpless to
prevent the blush that spread upward from her chest all the way to her
hairline, she ducked her head and finished unfastening buttons. When she
stripped away his shirt the sight of his broad shoulders and all that bronze
skin made her mouth go dry. Desire coursed through her in a hot tide, but she
managed to reply with credible insouciance, "I suppose so. But then, most
grooms aren't recovering from a gunshot wound, are they?"

What is the matter with you? Lauren silently admonished. Has
making love with Sam turned you into a sex maniac? For heaven's sake! The man
was shot and in critical shape just two nights ago. And you'd do well to
remember that this is not a true marriage.

"Now your trousers," Lauren said briskly, doing her best
to act unconcerned and not to stare at his body. To make it easier for her to
unfasten his pants, Sam lay back on the bed and continued watching her through
slitted eyes.

With as much dignity as she could muster, she lowered the zipper
and he lifted his hips to allow her to tug his wool trousers down to his ankles
then slip them off, leaving him in only a pair of snug navy briefs. Quickly
averting her eyes, Lauren made a production of neatly folding his shirt and trousers
and placing them on a chair.

Her nerves were twanging, and when she turned and saw Sam lying
there, spread-eagle, wearing only that scrap of blue cotton knit a trembling
began deep inside her.

Gritting her teeth, she marched back to the bed. "Okay, now,
sit up." She grasped his hand, pulled him to a sitting position and used
her other hand to throw back the bedspread and covers.

It was difficult, but finally Sam was settled in bed with the
covers tucked up to his armpits. "There. All set," Lauren declared
with profound relief. "If there's nothing else you need, I'll just go lock
up for the night and get ready for bed myself."

"Go ahead. I'm good," Sam replied. His face wore his
usual stern, impassive expression, but those dark eyes still watched her with
unnerving intensity.

Annie's home was tiny—a living room, kitchen with eating area and
one bedroom with an attached bathroom. It didn't take long for Lauren to lock
both doors and turn out the lights in the other part of the house. Sam was
still awake when she returned. Doing her best not to look at him, she took the
duffle bag into the bathroom and shut the door.

Lauren took her time in the shower, shampooing her hair and
shaving her legs. Afterward she applied lotion onto her lower legs and feet and
dusted her body with the scented talc she found on Annie's counter. She had to
towel-dry her hair, as Annie didn't appear to have a blow-dryer, nor had Sam
thought to purchase one for her before they left Denver. When her hair was
merely damp she combed through it, then donned the flannel nightgown that until
now had remained folded in the duffle bag.

The garment covered her from neck to toe, the only adornment a
modest lace yoke trimmed in pale blue ribbon and a two-inch ruffle of matching
lace at each wrist.

After dawdling so long, Lauren expected Sam to be asleep, but when
she stepped from the bathroom his dark eyes were trained on the door, as though
he'd been waiting for her.

"Sam, why aren't you asleep?"

As she sat down on the edge of the bed beside him the smell of
clean sheets that had been dried in the sunshine rose to tease her nose, and
she realized that Annie must have put fresh linens on the bed before she left.

Trying not to think of the implications of that, Lauren gave Sam
an assessing look. "Is something wrong? How do you feel?"

"I'm okay."

"How's your shoulder. Any pain?"

"Some, but nothing I can't live with."

"Would you like for me to get you one of the painkillers Dr.
Sani left for you?"

"No."

"Do you have a fever?" She felt his forehead. "Mmm,
you feel normal. That's good."

"I told you, I'm fine." Sam removed her hand from his
head. "Stop mothering me, Lauren," he warned in a low voice that sent
a trickle of goose bumps down her spine.

"Sorry," she said contritely. "Would you like a
drink of water before you go to sleep?"

"No."

"Isn't there anything you want?"

Something flickered in Sam's eyes, something dangerous, and
unbearably exciting. His gaze skimmed over her face, drifted downward over her
neck and shoulders, then settled on her breasts. When he looked up again his
eyes were dark and blazing with fire. "Yes," he said in a husky
voice. "I want you."

A startled laugh burst from Lauren's throat. "Sam! You know
we can't."

"Wanna bet?"

"But...but I thought...that is..."

"What?"

"Well...I didn't think this was going to be a real marriage.
I was going to sleep on the sofa."

"To hell with that." Sliding his hand beneath her damp
hair, he cupped the back of her neck and tried to tug her down on top of him,
but she resisted.

"Wait, Sam...your shoulder."

"Let me worry about my shoulder."

His gaze skimmed over the high-necked nightgown, and a ghost of a
smile hovered around his mouth. "I bought this thing because I thought it
would be a turnoff, but damned if it isn't sexy as hell." His hand slid from
her neck over her shoulder, then with his forefinger he traced the lower edge
of the lace yoke down over the tops of her breasts and up to the other
shoulder.

Lauren closed her eyes partway and trembled. Even through the lace
his touch left a trail of fire on her flesh. Smiling that slow, devastating
smile, Sam fingered the row of tiny buttons that ran down the center of the
lace yoke from the neck down the blue ribbon threaded through the lower edge.
Watching Lauren's face, he worked the top button open, then the second, the
third.

When the last one popped free he hooked his forefinger into the
opening and tugged her closer.

Mesmerized by his touch and the intent look in those dark eyes,
Lauren could not find the will to resist. "S-Sam this isn't a good idea."

"Shh. We'll do this slow and careful," he murmured.

He slid the garment off one of her shoulders, then the other. At
his urging Lauren slipped her arms out of the sleeves, and the soft flannel and
lace puddled around her hips. Sam cupped one breast in his palm, lifted it,
squeezed. His thumb swept across the velvety nipple, and she moaned as it
pebbled.

He treated the other breast to the same gentle abrasion, then
braced up on one elbow and circled each turgid nub with his tongue.

Lauren threw her head back and gasped. "Oh, Sam."

He drew a nipple into his mouth, and she cried out and arched her
back. He drew on her deeply, and she clasped his head between her palms to pull
him closer, wanting—needing—more.

After lavishing the same attention to her other breast Sam eased
back a bit and urged, "Lift up a second, sweetheart. There, that's
it," he whispered, and shoved the nightgown downward over her hips. As it
slid to the floor he hooked his hand around her neck again, gave a sharp tug,
and Lauren found herself sprawled on top of him. He felt warm and firm, and so
sexy she couldn't think. Before she could respond, he rolled to his side with
her. With a little cry, she clutched at his shoulders, but when her fingers
encountered the edge of the bandage on his back she stiffened. "Sam, I
don't think—"

"Then don't. Don't think. Just feel. Feel how much I want
you." He took her hand and guided it downward, and as her fingers wrapped
around him, Sam grimaced with exquisite pleasure.

"Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

Lauren jerked her hand away and tried to scoot back, but he held
her fast and growled, "God, no. Relax, babe. Everything will be
fine."