Reilly's Woman (14 page)

"I think"—she was sinking in a quicksand of heady emotions, yet not wanting to struggle to the point where she could break free—"that one of your ancestors kissed the Blarney Stone, Reilly Smith."

"Do you?" he mused softly against her hair. "It comes naturally from both sides of my heritage. Some of the greatest orators in our history were Indians—Red Cloud, Spotted Tail—if only someone had listened."

There was no bitterness in his statement and nothing that required a response. The desert silence moved in, drawing them into its magic circle of ageless enchantment.

It was a long time before either of them moved until Reilly finally decreed softly that it was time they got some sleep. The only thing that made Leah willingly agree was the knowledge that she would return to his arms beneath the blanket.

This night, as he cradled her in his arms, she lifted her head for a kiss. The firm pressure of his mouth on hers started a slow glow of warmth through her limbs. The small fire remained even after he had dragged his mouth from hers, leaving it tingling and moist from his kiss. The steady beat of his heart beneath her head soon lulled her to sleep.

Cool air invaded the blanket cocoon. Leah frowned at its chill, keeping her eyes tightly shut, and tried to snuggle closer against Reilly's muscular length. He wasn't there!

She was immediately awake. Soft morning light filled the camp. The flames of the campfire were hungrily devouring the fresh wood that had been added. Throwing back the cover, she sat up. There was no sign of Reilly.

The canteen was gone. Her gaze flew to the waterhole several yards away, thinking Reilly was there refilling the canteen with water. He wasn't. Scrambling to her feet, Leah scanned the area around the campfire again.

A cold dread filled her heart. "He couldn't. He wouldn't!" she murmured aloud, protesting against the chilling thought.

But it was entirely possible. Reilly was nowhere to be seen. That left only the desert. Shuddering, Leah realized that he had not promised he wouldn't leave without her. In fact, he had never said that he wouldn't go.

Her gaze shifted toward the center of the valley. He had sneaked away at first light, probably thinking she would be too frightened and weak to follow.

Leah clenched her teeth tightly together. "You're in for a surprise, Reilly Smith!" she muttered.

Deciding that he couldn't be very far ahead of her, she kicked sand on to the fire, quickly stirred the smoldering embers, and kicked on more sand. If she hurried, she could catch up to him.

There was no point trying to carry the few items with her. Their weight would slow her down. Reilly had the canteen and that was the important thing.

Not allowing time to question the wisdom of her impulse, Leah abandoned the campsite without a backward glance. Her only thought was to catch up with Reilly as quickly as possible. She started running, wanting to make up the distance that separated them.

The desert brush whipped at her legs and thighs. A startled flock of mountain bluebirds skimmed the bush tops in flight. All her attention was focused on the land ahead of her.

Leah's scream ripped the air as an
unknown force yanked her backward. Her motion stopped with an impact against a hard, immovable object.

"Where the hell do you think you were going?" Reilly demanded shaking her savagely by the shoulders.

She stared at his glaring, angry face in disbelief.

"Reilly!" She started laughing and crying at the same time, ceasing her instinctive struggle of self-protection.

"Answer me!" His eyes glittered coldly.

"I thought—" her breath came in short, laughingly relieved signs, "I thought you'd gone for help. I thought you'd left me."

"You crazy—" Reilly snapped off the rest of the words, leaving it dangling, unfinished in the air. "And you were coming after me."

Leah bobbed her head, trying to calm her shaky breath. "I told you I would," she reminded him.

His fingers loosened their digging grip into her bones. "You might have checked to be certain I was gone," he replied tightly, "instead of racing off into the bush like a madwoman."

"I looked for you," she defended. "Where were you?"

"Checking the snares." He released her entirely, standing in front of her, his hands on his hips, his expression grim and unyielding.

Her hazel eyes rolled guiltily away from his censorious gaze. She had completely forgotten about the snares in her panicked certainty that he had left her.

"I didn't remember them," she admitted.

Reilly breathed in deeply, his action letting her know what he thought of that. "Let's go back to camp and restart the fire." His mouth thinned sardonically. "You were so intent on following me, would you like to follow me back to camp?"

Leah nodded. There was no doubt he was angry with her. In retrospect, her action was foolhardy and impulsive. She could very easily have got lost.

"How—" She had to hurry to keep up with his long strides. "How did you know where I'd gone?"

"I didn't," he replied curtly, "but I heard the racket of something charging through the bush, and I decided it was either you or a stampeding herd of cattle."

"I was stupid," sighed Leah.

He slid her a chilling look. "If you expect me to disagree, woman, you're wrong."

Until his anger cooled, Leah decided it was better to keep silent. It became an oppressive silence, as she patiently rebuilt the fire. When it was burning freely once more, he began cleaning a gamebird he had caught in the snare. Not a word nor a glance did he direct at Leah.

There was little for her to do except sit and watch him, squirming inwardly at the uncomfortable silence. The feeling kept growing that she was being unfairly punished. Finally she decided that it was time for a truce to be offered.

As Reilly started to put the cleaned bird on the spit, Leah stepped forward. "Let me do that. It's squaw's work." She tried to lessen the crackling tension by drawing on their stand-by joke.

"You aren't a squaw." The aloof indifference in his voice cut like a knife.

"Reilly, I'm sorry. What more do you want me to say?" she demanded.

With the bird secured on the spit, he stood up, his chiselled features carved into uncompromisingly harsh lines. "Do you realize you could have got yourself killed out there? If not from snakebite or a broken neck, then from thirst or starvation! You didn't take anything to protect you from the elements! You didn't take any food or water!"

"I wanted to catch up with you!" Leah shouted in answer to his loud accusing voice. "I didn't want to be slowed down carrying things. Besides, you had the canteen! Was I supposed to go racing through the desert carrying a pan of water?"

"You shouldn't have been racing anywhere! And if I had left, then you should have stayed here! And I took the canteen to refill it at the waterhole on my way to check the snares!"

"But I didn't know that!" she protested angrily. His eyes narrowed as he let out a long, exasperated breath. "I ought to take you
over my knee and spank the living tar out of you for what you put me through," he declared through gritted teeth.

"What about what I went through?" Leah retorted. "I thought you'd gone off and left me!"

"So you followed, not knowing where you were going and not taking anything with you. You would have been lost—or dead before the day was out," Reilly said harshly.

"At least then you would have been rid of me and you wouldn't have been thinking about me any more! Aren't you sorry you went after me and brought me back!" she cried bitterly, brushing her hair away from her face as she turned away.

She was spun back around and pulled against his chest in one fluid motion. Her startled mouth opened to protest and it was covered with his brutal kiss. Love rushed, unchecked, to respond to the punishing ardor of his mouth. Her senses whirled in the vortex of Reilly's embrace until she didn't know down from up and didn't care.

Then his mouth was buried in the sensitive cord along her neck. "You would test the patience and endurance of a saint," he muttered against her skin.

His warm breath was a disturbing caress as she wound her arms tightly around his middle for support. The wild tempo of her heart was making clear thinking difficult. She inhaled deeply of his intoxicating male scent and sighed.

"You're not a saint," she murmured.

His hands firmly set her away from him. The dark fire glittering in his eyes did nothing to steady the erratic beat of her heart. His mouth crooked wryly.

"Don't remind me." There was no more cold anger in his expression. "See what you can do about keeping our breakfast and lunch from being burned up while I wash."

The fire was trying to char one side of the dressed fowl. Leah was forced to rescue it as Reilly walked toward the narrow stream formed by the water spilling over the dam's walls. As she turned the spit, she watched him crouch beside the stream, splashing the cold water on his face and the back of his neck.

Smiling at his action, she glanced at the sun. Its fiery heat hadn't yet begun to scorch the ground. In fact, it was only pleasantly warm.

 

 

Chapter Eight

 

AFTER THEY HAD eaten, Reilly had suggested that Leah rest in the shade through the hot hours of early afternoon. She tried, knowing that it was important to regain her strength, but she couldn't relax.

A fever burned inside as she watched him repairing one of the snares. It wasn't a fever caused by infection, unless love was infectious. If it was, she hoped Reilly caught the disease, too.

No matter how often she closed her eyes, they opened, her gaze strayed to Reilly. Her senses would tingle with the awareness of him. The ache to be in his arms would start again and all thought of rest immediately vanished.

It wasn't any use. She stopped trying to force inactivity upon herself. She recognized the inherent temptation of their present situation, the two of them alone in a miniature paradise, the succulent apple waiting for the bite that would lead her into true womanhood.

Pushing herself up from the cool carpet of grass, Leah briskly rubbed her hands over her hipbones. Reilly's questioning look flickered curiously over her determined expression.

"I'm going to wash my clothes down at the stream," she announced. "If you want, I'll do your shirt." She tried to sound offhand and partially succeeded. "I'm not in the mood to lie around doing nothing," she explained in unnecessary defence of her decision.

His shirt was already unbuttoned and hanging loose in front. With a nod of acceptance to her offer, he slipped it off and tossed it to her, immediately returning his attention to the damaged snare.

"You can wear one of the shirts we used for a backpack while you're washing your clothes." His dark head remained bent over his task.

"Thanks." Only he seemed not to hear her reply.

Behind the screen of a thick bush, Leah stripped away her outer clothes and donned the robe-like shirt, its tails reaching halfway down her thighs to provide relatively decent coverage over her underwear. Rolling back the sleeves, she set to work rinsing and rubbing to try to clean their clothes minus the assistance of detergent.

Finally she decided they were as clean as she was going to get there under the circumstances. With the back of her hand, she wiped the beads of perspiration from her forehead and lip, then picked up the wet clothes and carried them to the large stands of sunburnt brush on the edge of their spring-made glade.
 

The sun will fry them in minutes, she smiled to herself, feeling the scorching rays of the sun the instant she stepped out of the shade. More perspiration collected between her shoulder blades as she laid the clothes over the bushes. She glanced longingly at the dammed pool of water, about three times the size of a bathtub.

She retreated into the shade. "Reilly? Would it hurt anything if I got my arm wet?"

"Why? Did you get it wet?" He frowned, but didn't glance up.

"No," Leah denied quickly. "If it wouldn't hurt anything I was going to take a short dip in the waterhole to cool off."

"You'd better let me take a look at it first." As he lifted his head, his gaze slid over her in absent appraisal.

"Just a minute." She turned her back to him and slipped her left arm out of the rolled shirt sleeve, wrapping the left side of her shirt in sarong fashion across her front.

There was a flicker of amusement in his green eyes at her action as he rose to his feet to examine the wound. His touch against her skin was strictly impersonal when he eased the bandage away.

"You're going to have a scar from this, do you know that?" he commented, adjusting the bandage back in place.

"It doesn't matter," Leah shrugged. It was difficult to breathe naturally with Reilly standing so dose. The nakedness of his bronzed chest ignited all sorts of wayward desires. She tried to shut them out as she tossed her head to look at his face. "Will it hurt if I get it wet?"

His gaze fastened itself on her mouth. For a heartstopping moment Leah felt herself start to sway toward him, aching with every fiber of her being to feel his caress. The silver and turquoise necklace gleamed dully against
the tanned column of his neck.