Harris Channing (22 page)

"Yes,"
she admitted, her breathing heavy, as small drops of perspiration coated her
skin.

He set
his elbows on either side of her head and kissed her, the emotion in his action
so pure, so full of promise that she could barely contain the sigh of passion
that whooshed through her. He was hers with all that entailed.

Still
kissing her, he moved in and out of her body, the heated friction warming her
and sending ripples of delight coursing through her. Pushing up on his hands,
he increased his tempo yet again, his slick cock massaging her from within.

Dear God,
what was he doing? How had he become the master of her flesh? She arched
against him, accepting his entire length. What was happening? Her world seemed
to tilt. There was so much more to love making than she ever thought possible.
She gave and accepted pleasure with a feral sort of magic she wanted to hold
onto but would have to be satisfied to recapture. For in her mind, this was no
longer a one time occurrence. No, she would be content to make love to him
every day of her life, for there was no holding onto the waves of pleasure that
now beat against her core. No denying how much her body longed for his.

Pumping
deep into her, he left all caution behind. He pushed in further still, touching
her in places she never knew existed but from now on would long for his
attention.

She
lifted her knees higher, insisting that he not stop until she was satisfied.

When he
called out her name, she wrapped her legs about him, clutching his back,
clinging to him for dear life. Finally, whatever lock held her at bay gave way
and what started as delightful ripples washed through her before a tidal wave
of passion that had her whimpering.

At her
release, he too, moaned. His body stilled and, his jaw tightened. With a
shudder, he came, emptying his seed deep within, the warmth spreading through
her with such strength that she reached for him, clung to him with frantic
fingers.

Tangled
in her embrace, he lay atop her, his cock still buried inside. Claiming her
lips, he kissed her once more before rolling on to his side.

Spent, he
stared past her as small streams of perspiration trickled from his face. His
obvious frown met her searching eyes and she swallowed her shame. What was he
doing? Why did he not speak? Where was the passionate man who offered himself
to her? Her stomach ached with each question, each concern that filled her
mind. Was he sorry for making love to her? Did he feel as though he betrayed
Sarah?

Oh, how
she longed to ask the question but fear kept her quiet. No. She'd stay where
she was and wonder rather than know. She'd not ask and pretend that what he
said in the heat of passion was true. He belonged to her…

As if
struck by lightning, he sat up and reached for his shirt and her heart
plummeted.

"Where
are you going?" she asked. Disappointed, she pulled the sheet over her
body. Was that all there was? Magnificent sex followed by desertion? Maybe she
wasn't as good as Sarah. Maybe she fell short of the woman once again. What
began so beautifully ended with the breaking of her heart. How many times would
she allow him to hurt her? She bit her lip so hard that she tasted the metal in
her own blood. Never again, she vowed.

He
offered a sad sort of smile and touched her cheek. "To the trading post,
remember?" He placed a kiss on her forehead. "You stay here and rest.
I'll be back before sunset."

He
continued to dress and she watched, all the while biting back her anger and
sorrow. Oh, how she wished she could reset the clock. But even more, she wished
he would come back and kiss her again, reassure her of his feelings. He didn't.
He pulled his stocking cap over his ears and marched out the door, and without
so much as a glance in her direction, slammed it closed.

She
curled up into a ball and fought back the salty tears of remorse. He didn't
mean what he said, he simply said what she needed to hear…words meant to
seduce, not words meant as a commitment. What a fool she had been. And despite
the pleasure she experienced, she'd be damned if she ever allowed him access to
her again. No. She was meant to be a wife and mother, not the mother of a
bastard.

Gathering
up her clothes, she began to dress. She had until sunset to visit her family
and she wouldn't waste another moment of her life worrying over David
Henderson. She was a free woman, she could spend her time with anyone she
chose…and Reg Crocker would do in a pinch. She pushed back the notion that
perhaps David's jealousy was just a little more motivation to head up the
mountain.

Chapter 17

Damnation,
had the trading post always been such a run down rat trap? Pushing open the
door, David realized that sometimes being a bleary eyed drunk had its
advantages.

He
stepped inside and paused, taking a moment for his eyes to adjust to the
darkness that seemed to envelope the entire place. The musty smell, the stink
of humanity and the feel of decaying boards beneath his feet had him longing
for the warmth and cleanliness of his home with Roberta.

Roberta,
just the thought of her had his cock growing hard. Damnation, how had the
little vixen captured his heart so completely? And how had her common sense,
her prodding, and her sharp tongue pulled him through a nightmare that he
couldn't awaken from? Five years of his life he mourned a woman who couldn't be
faithful…and yet he loved without condition. Yes, they argued, yes they fought,
but he would have never left her, never left a child that could have been his.
And until Bobbie entered his life, he could have never forgiven himself for her
death. Now, he knew that sometimes things were beyond a man's control and that
maybe it would be all right to move forward.

Pushing
the thoughts of Sarah down, he searched the large, drafty cabin for Henry. The
place was filled to capacity. Barrels, boxes, saddles, and jars of food
littered the place in a haphazard array that only Henry could successfully
maneuver.

Out of
habit, his gaze traveled to the far corner where Henry stored his overflowing
stash of alcohol. His mouth watered at the thought of whiskey sliding down his
parched throat. He took a step forward but stopped. What was he thinking?
Curling his hands at his sides, he marched deeper into the shop determined not
to let that demon back into his body. Never again did he want to lose track of
just who he was.

"Henry!"
he shouted, and at the sound of feet hitting the floor above him, he knew the
man had been napping in the loft. And who could blame him? There was little
else for him to do…save clean up his store.

Henry
scrambled down the ladder and raced toward him. His round face flush, his
white-gray curls smashed beneath a felt cap. Rushing up to David, he shoved his
hand out, and smiled.

"David
Henderson, while I live and breathe."

Taking
Henry's hand, he grinned. It was good to see the old man. "How's
business?"

"Not
so good, but it ain't never great and this damned weather has surely messed me
over." He withdrew his hand and set it on the back of his neck, his gaze
scanning David's form. "But look at you! All sobered up." He drew a
deep breath in through his nose. "And clean!"

David let
out an embarrassed chuckle. "Yeah, women will do that for you…you're a bit
on the ripe side yourself."

"Ahhh,"
Henry's mouth opened wide and he nodded his head. "I've heard tell that
there was a lady at your place. Shame about her family though."

His
stomach knotted. No doubt Reg had been here spouting off his gossip. Damn the
man for existing. "A real shame, if the daughter is an indicator of the
rest of her kin, the world is worse off without them."

There was
glint in the old fellow's eye and a smile on his lips. "Aye son, but
you're better off for having her."

David
swallowed hard as emotion crept into his heart and what was probably a stupid
grin crossed his mouth. Memories of her body beneath his as she gave him her
virginity filled him with a restlessness that had him wanting to fall at her
feet and confess all his feelings. The feel, smell, and taste of her still
lingered on him. When she gave herself, she gave herself completely and damnation
he liked it that way. Liked that he was the first man to have her. Loved the
notion of being the only man to ever share her bed.

He pulled
off his cap and ran his fingers through his hair, the dream of growing old with
her saturated his thoughts, the pleasure of witnessing their children grow into
men and women something that had him taking a step back. He knew before he'd
left her bed that he would marry her…and he would do it today!

"What's
the matter?" Henry asked, his gray eyes alive with obvious concern.
"You look like you've seen a ghost."

"No
Henry, just a flash of what I pray will be my future."

"And
just what might that be?" Henry asked, fishing out a plug of tobacco from
his coat pocket and pressing it into his mouth.

"I'm
going to marry that girl."

Henry let
out a holler of approval. "Ah, now that is serious."

"Do
you have any rings…oh and I'll be needing a haircut and a few other things. Do
you think you can set me up?"

Henry
laughed and clapped his hands. He looked as though he were about to start
dancing a jig. Hell, in the mood he was in, he may very well join him!

With a
sharp pat to the back, Henry led him to the back of the store. "Welcome
back David," he said with a tobacco stained grin. "I sure have missed
you."

***

Bobbie's
anger hadn't subsided. No, if anything it had grown more vitriolic. How dare he
just up and leave her lying their in her own blood! No compassion. No gentle
pulling away. Just a sharp slap to her pride…

Walking
up the narrow path toward Reg's place, she determined that perhaps if things
didn't change, she'd live with the man David hated. That would show him! But
even as she contemplated her vengeance, she couldn't deny how wonderful their
love making had been. It was as if he opened a door to a world of pleasure she
didn't want to close. No. She wanted to walk through and discover more and more
with him.

And even
though her thoughts on the matter began with a one time experience, he had
promised her things…things she had denied she wanted when in fact, they were all
she wanted. How was she supposed to get past his passionate words of promise?

Her
stomach twisted into a painful knot and she crossed her arms over her chest to
stifle the sob that threatened to pop from her lips. "You're better
off," she mumbled. "He probably killed Sarah in a fit of rage."

She
spewed the bitter bile all the while realizing that she'd never truly believed
that or she wouldn't have allowed what happened to happen, nor would she have
stayed as long as she had. If she had thought for a moment he was capable of
murder, she would have run from him instead of staring at him over dinner, or
worrying over him when he became restless. Would a woman in fear fall asleep
listening to a villain breathe?

With the
snow crunching beneath her boots, Bobbie looked toward the sky. Bright yellow
sun glinted off ice coated tree limbs. Birds sang in the distance and despite
the wind that pushed at her back, she felt nothing but aggrieved
disappointment.

When
Reg's cabin came into view, she dropped her hands to her sides and inhaled a
chilled, cleansing breath. What was she doing here? She had come under the
guise of visiting her parents and she would. But did she really want to lay
eyes on Reg Crocker? The answer to that was simple. No.

For just
as she had tried to unsuccessfully convince herself that David was a scoundrel,
there was no way she could convince herself that Reg was anything but rotten to
the core. Still, she had come this far and she wouldn't go until she sat beside
her mother and talked to her about David. God help her, she needed her mother
now more than ever. Just to have someone to tell her she wasn't a fool, just a
simple touch from someone lacking an agenda.

At the
sound of the cabin door squeaking open, Roberta's heart grew heavier. There he
stood in all his fine clothes, a bright blue scarf in contrast to his black
frock coat.

"Good
afternoon, Miss Shallcross." Reg's smile was warm and inviting and if she
didn't know how he had come between Sarah and David, perhaps she wouldn't feel
her skin crawling beneath her woolen jacket.

"I've
come to sit with my family," she said, wishing she hadn't come at all. For
initially her motives for this visit were far from pristine. Didn't she want
David to find out? Didn't she want him so angry that he actually fought over
her
this time?

"Well,
you're more than welcome. You know that."

"Thank
you." She turned her head, glancing toward the barn, the feeling of dread
that coated her at her first visit returning with a vengeance. Maybe visiting
them here when they weren't truly here was foolish. For really, it was just the
shells that remained. Nothing left of the spark that made them who they were.
But still her conscience twinged at the notion of leaving them unattended. Her
need to make sure they were being well cared far stronger than her dislike of
Reg.