Wild Desire (17 page)

She took the bottle back to Runner. “Would you please?” she asked, handing him the bottle to uncork.

Runner took the bottle. He sat up on the bed and rested against the headboard, then began reading the label.

“Champagne,” he said softly. “I recall my mother and father drinking champagne when I was a child.”

“It's what most people drink when they are celebrating one thing or another,” Stephanie said, plopping down on the bed beside him. “It's wonderful and bubbly. It's a delight to drink.”

Runner frowned and shoved the bottle back into her hands. “I did not drink the wine at the lunchroom. Nor will I drink this now. I do not drink alcohol of any kind,” he said flatly. “I understand its evil. Some of the young Navaho braves, and even some of our older warriors, have found a strange sort of solace in alcohol. It is best that I do not practice what my father and I have both preached against.”

Stephanie stared disbelievingly at him. “Darling, just one wee little glass won't harm anyone,” she pleaded. “Please? For me? It is a fun thing to do between two people in love. I absolutely guarantee that you will not get drunk on such a small amount of alcohol.”

When he folded his arms stubbornly across his chest and tightened his jaw, she started to rise off the bed. Instead, she stopped and looked mischievously up at him. She struggled with the cork for only a moment, and then it popped from the bottle. As the fizz rolled over the sides, she licked it up with her tongue, and then she turned and leaned over Runner.

She heard his gasp of shock as she began slowly trickling the champagne over his stomach, making a trail downward, until she reached that part of him that lay spent amidst his frond of dark hair.

Slowly, she allowed some of the champagne to drip from the bottle onto him there, watching his eyes as surprise leapt into their depths.

“What . . . are . . . you doing . . . ?” Runner gasped.

Stephanie set the bottle aside, and before he could stop her, she leaned low over him and began licking the champagne from him, starting with his manhood.

She felt him growing against her mouth as she continued licking until the champagne was absorbed. Her hand circled him, and she began working it slowly up and down as she licked her way past it and on up his stomach. She placed her hands at his waist and urged him down again, so that she could stretch herself over him.

“You see, darling?” Stephanie murmured against his lips. “The champagne is worth something, isn't it?”

Runner laughed huskily. He took her by the waist and positioned her above him, then thrust his throbbing member into her. “You are a wench,” he said, his hands smoothing upward, cupping her breasts.

Giggling, Stephanie held her head back, the fever within her building. She was only half aware of the soft, whimpering sounds coming from her.

 

 

Damon woke with a start. He slapped away the hand that was shaking him and leaned up on an elbow. The moon was casting its light in soft streamers through his bedroom window, giving him a good look at the person who dared to wake him in the middle of the night.

“It'd better be good, Joshua,” he said, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. He grabbed a blanket and slung it around his shoulders. “Why're you here? Did you catch a damn Navaho stealin' horses?”

“I saw a Navaho tonight, but not exactly stealin',” Joshua said, leaning his pockmarked face down into Damon's. “It's your sister. Would you believe that Runner and Adam's sister took Sharon from her shack and to a fancy hotel? And that ain't
all
I seen tonight.”

“Well? Get on with it,” Damon said in a rumble. “What else did you see?”

“You've got a nephew or niece,” Joshua said, shrugging. “I couldn't tell which. All's I know is, Sharon was carryin' a baby when she went into the hotel.”

“A baby?” Damon said in a low gasp. “Whorin' around has got her a baby. Bet she doesn't even know who the father is.”

“What're you goin' to do about the baby?” Joshua said, whiskey thick on his breath. “Sharon ain't no fit mother. The baby'll be no better. If'n it's a girl, she'll learn from her mother how to lift her skirts to the gents. If'n it's a boy, he could sure be a lot of help to you if you'd bring him here, to raise as your own.”

Damon rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “You've got a point,” he said. “One thing for sure, though. I don't want no part of Sharon. When she was here, she was too bossy for her own good. Even caught her stealin' from me. Now she's a gutter tramp. It makes me shudder to think of even gettin' near her.”

Damon gave Joshua a sidewise glance. “I'll give her time to raise the child past weaning,” he said throatily. “Then I'll take the child in. If it's a boy,
or
girl. I can get a lot of labor outta either one.”

“But what about Sharon?”

“I'll take care of her.”

“You mean you'll take her back in, as part of your family?”

“Now you know that's a foolish question, don't you?”

“What, then?”

“Joshua, don't you shoot horses that's outlived their usefulness?”

“You wouldn't, Damon,” Joshua said, paling. “You're only foolin' me, ain't cha?”

Damon's eyes bore into Joshua's.

“Get on outta here, Joshua,” Damon growled. Then his voice softened. “Thanks for comin' tonight, Josh. 'Preciate it.”

Joshua gave Damon a mock salute, then left.

Damon stepped to the window and stared out at the stark blackness of the night. “Sharon, Sharon . . .” he whispered. “What
am
I to do about you, and now—the child?”

Chapter 20

After eating breakfast in bed, making love again, and sharing a bath in a copper tub, Stephanie and Runner found it difficult to take enough time to become totally dressed. Over and over again they kissed awhile, embraced, then laughed and began dressing again, until finally they were ready to leave the room to check on Sharon and Jimmy.

“I'm anxious to see what Sharon has to say about her night in the hotel,” Stephanie said, going to the door and opening it. She glanced down at her camera equipment, then up at Runner. “Let's come back for these after we see how Sharon and Jimmy are faring.”

Runner swept an arm around her waist as they left the room and walked down the dim corridor. “What other surprises are you going to spring on me?” he said, chuckling as he gave her a soft smile. “I enjoyed the night with you.” He yanked her closer to his side. “Even the champagne.”

As she smiled up at him, he gave her a quick wink. “And I don't mean how it tasted from the glass,” he said, his eyes dancing.

A thrill coursed through her when she recalled their lengthy lovemaking that had lasted into the wee hours of the night, and how it had felt when Runner had licked champagne from her body after he had drizzled it from breast to breast, and then down across her quivering stomach, and then even lower.

Flames ignited within Stephanie at the thought of his mouth, tongue, and lips.

When they stepped up to the door that led into Sharon's room, Stephanie noticed that it was ajar. She gave Runner a quick, questioning look.

“The door,” she said, in an almost whisper. “It's not closed. Why would Sharon leave it open all night?”

Runner tensed. “Surely they are asleep and are not aware of it,” he said. He placed a hand to the door and slowly pushed it open.

The shades at the windows were pulled. leaving the room in a vague, shadowy darkness.

“They
are
still asleep,” Stephanie whispered. “Perhaps we should leave.”

Runner leaned toward the bed, his acute hearing revealing no sound of breathing.

“Something is not right here,” Runner said. He moved stealthily across the floor and rolled up a window shade.

Stephanie gasped and paled when she saw a pillow across Sharon's face. She grew cold when she noticed just as quickly how Sharon's body was lying prone and limp on the bed. A quick search of the room revealed that Jimmy was missing. She shifted her gaze back to Sharon. “Is . . . she . . . dead?” she stammered. She inched slowly toward the bed.

Runner rushed over and lifted the pillow away from Sharon. His mouth clenched and his jaw tightened when he found Sharon's glazed eyes staring ahead in a death trance. The way her face was twisted so grotesquely, Runner could tell that she had experienced a terrifying, agonizing death.

Stephanie moved to Runner's side. “No,” she gasped, clasping a hand over her mouth to stifle a scream. “She's dead. Oh, Lord, Runner, she
is
dead.”

“He found out about her and the child somehow,” Runner said, anger welling up within him. “Damon Stout found out and came and killed his sister, and . . . and . . . took the child.”

“How could he do such a thing?” Stephanie said, tears streaming down her cheeks. “She was no threat to him. And the child—she didn't want Damon even knowing about Jimmy, much less taking him away to raise as his own.”

“We will see to it that he won't be given that chance,” Runner said, slowly covering Sharon with a blanket. “What he will be doing, though, is hanging from a noose.”

“Yes, we must go to the authorities immediately,” Stephanie said, brushing tears from her face.

Runner turned to her and clasped her shoulders. “No, not yet,” he said. “I will go and get the child first. Sending the law out for Damon could be risky. I will get the child to safety. Then I will take care of Damon myself.”

“You would take the law in your own hands?” Stephanie said, following him to the door. “No, Runner. I won't allow it. You can't risk your future—
our
future—by killing Damon Stout. Please listen to reason. Let the authorities take care of this.”

He turned to her and again clasped his hands to her shoulders. “The law works in strange, twisted ways,” he said solemnly. “My way is simple and to the point.”

“
Please
listen to reason,” Stephanie begged.

“You can stay and make arrangements for Sharon, or you can come with me,” Runner said, his voice much softer. “Someone should come to carry the baby when we take him from Damon's ranch. I would hope that it would be you.”

Stephanie looked over her shoulder at Sharon. Tears filled her eyes again. “We can return later and see to her arrangements,” she said.

She felt empty and forlorn over the loss of a woman she had only known a few minutes, and she felt guilty for the long hours of pleasure that she and Runner had shared through the night. Had Sharon been dead even then?

A sudden horror seized Stephanie at the thought of Sharon possibly lying there all night, all alone in the dark, dead—her child stolen from her embrace.

“We'll close the door and no one will be the wiser,” Runner said, placing a finger to Stephanie's chin, turning her gaze up to his. “Are you going to be all right?”

“Yes,” Stephanie sobbed, then flung herself into his arms. “It's so horrible. So very horrible. She died alone while we . . . while . . . we . . .”

Runner gave her a slight shake and forced her to look up at him again. “Never blame yourself or me for what happened here,” he said sternly. “Especially yourself. You paid for her to have a warm shelter, food, and the comforts offered by this hotel. As for myself, I will still see that her son gets a proper upbringing.”

He framed her face between his hands. “Together we can raise him as
our
son,” he said. “As I was taken in long ago by two kind people, so shall we take little Jimmy into not only our hogan but our hearts.”

“Our . . . hogan . . . ?” Stephanie said, searching his eyes. “You are speaking as though we will be living together as man and wife. Are you proposing to me?”

“It is a hell of a time to propose, is it not?” he said, his eyes searching hers. “But, yes, I
am
. Will you be my wife?”

“Now? Today?” Stephanie said, her eyes widening.

“It does not have to be today,” Runner said, drawing her into his embrace, “but soon. Will you be able to live my simple life? Will a hogan be enough? Can you turn your back on your photography?”

Stephanie's head was spinning with his questions, and with the knowledge that he was rushing her into marriage. She still had a responsibility to the Santa Fe Railroad. They had spent a lot of money on her special photography equipment, and only because she had agreed to travel to Arizona to take photographs for their tourism plans.

“I want nothing more than to be your wife,” she said, placing her cheek against the buckskin fabric of his beaded vest. “And I will. But first I must finish what I have come to the Arizona Territory for.”

She could feel his body tighten and understood why. She eased from his arms and gazed up at him. “You honor your commitments, don't you?” she said, her voice guarded.

“Always,” he answered, his eyes dark as he gazed down at her.

“Then you will surely understand that I must honor my own,” she said softly. “Let me take a few more photographs, develop them, and Adam will see to it that they reach the proper people when he attends his next Santa Fe board meeting.”

She paused, then placed a hand to his cheek. “Is that fair enough?” she murmured. “I do want to be your bride. I will be happy enough in a hogan for, my darling, I will be sharing it with you.”

“And little Jimmy?” Runner asked.

Stephanie nodded. “And little Jimmy.”

“We will soon give him a brother or sister?” Runner said, weaving his fingers through her copper hair, to draw her lips only a whisper away from his.

“We shall give him many, if you like,” Stephanie said, smiling up at him.

When he kissed her, it was soft and sweet, yet filled with passion.

Then they broke away and rushed down the stairs.

Stephanie took enough time to tell the desk clerk that she needed the two rooms for another full day and night. She had no time to repack her belongings, so she felt it was much simpler just to pay for the room until she returned for them. And she left strict orders that Sharon was not to be disturbed.

The poor woman, she sadly thought. Because of Damon, she had been forced to live a life of hell. Hopefully, she was now finding peace somewhere in that place where tears were no longer shed. Yet Stephanie felt that Sharon could not truly rest in peace until her child was saved from the life that Damon was planning for him.

Leaving the pack mule stabled at the hotel, Runner and Stephanie swung themselves into their saddles and rode in a flurry of dust out of Gallup.

Stopping only long enough to briefly rest their horses and to get drinks of water from their canteens, they finally came to the outskirts of Damon's ranch. A wide spread of pole fencing reached out across the land on all four sides of the ranch. It was now midafternoon, and many ranch hands were busying about, doing their chores.

Stephanie and Runner reined their steeds to a stop. In tune with its master's feelings, Runner's stallion neighed and pawed at the grass nervously.

“Should we wait until night?” Stephanie asked, smoothing stray locks of hair back from her eyes.

“No,” Runner said flatly. “No matter when we arrive, we will be noticed. Everyone is aware of the strained relationship between me and Damon. The fact that I came with your brother recently to meet with Damon may help us out. Once we get past the ranch hands and inside Damon's house,
then
we can show our true colors—our true reasons for being here.”

“All hell with break loose,” Stephanie said, her eyes narrowing as she stared at Damon's house. “I only hope that he's there so we can get this over with. I don't like the idea of Jimmy being under that man's roof for
any
amount of time. How on earth is the child being fed?”

“Damon will have hired a wet nurse by now,” Runner said, patting his horse's neck to calm it. “She will stay there at the ranch, I am sure, until the child is weaned.”

A shiver coursed up and down Stephanie's spine at the thought of a total stranger holding the child that had been so precious to Sharon.

“Let's go, Runner.” she said, giving him an anxious look.

He nodded. Without greeting those ranch hands who turned and gaped at them, Stephanie and Runner rode on up to the house.

Runner swung himself out of his saddle as Stephanie slid from hers. Together they slung their reins around the hitching rail, then stamped onto the porch.

Damon was soon at the door, guarding it against their entrance. “What do you two want?” he spat, his hands resting on the two pistols hanging at his hips. “I don't recall sendin' no damn invitation to you.” He glared at Runner. “Especially the likes of you. The only reason I allowed you here the other night was because of Adam.” He took a threatening step closer. “Well, Adam ain't here, so be on your way.”

Stephanie looked easily over at Runner. “Runner?” she said, waiting for his next move.

She didn't have to wait long. He brusquely brushed past Damon and went on into the ranch house. Damon swung around, momentarily struck silent at Runner's impertinence.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?” he finally said, rushing after Runner.

Her heart pounding, Stephanie hurried on into the house and past Damon. “I imagine his bedrooms are down this corridor,” she shouted at Runner, running on past him. “I'll check one. You check the other!”

Too confused over what they were doing to consider drawing his weapons, Damon broke into a run after them. “What the hell are you two up to?” he shouted. “What are you doin' goin' into my bedrooms? Who the hell do you 'spect to find?”

Stephanie and Runner ignored Damon and rushed from bedroom to bedroom, then ran past Damon and checked the other rooms, even the kitchen.

After inspecting the entire house without success, Stephanie and Runner met in the parlor.

“He's not here,” Stephanie said, breathing hard.

“Could we have been wrong?” Runner asked.

Damon came into the room, panting. He stopped and stared from Stephanie to Runner. “Who's not here?” he said, wiping beads of perspiration from his brow. “Who're you lookin' for?”

Not to give up all that easily, Runner crossed to Damon, gathered up a handful of his shirt, and half lifted him from the floor. “Where is he?” he ground out between clenched teeth. “You low-down murdering son of a bitch, where is Jimmy?”

“I don't know any Jimmy,” Damon said, wild-eyed. He choked and coughed, his face turning purple. “Let me go, damn it. Runner, so help me, I'll shoot you dead if you don't unhand me.”

Runner's free hand grabbed Damon's hand as it moved toward one of his holstered pistols. “I wouldn't try it,” he said, glowering.

Runner walked Damon backward until the rancher's back was against the wall. “Now, I will ask you one more time,” he growled. “I found your sister's body this morning. She was stone cold dead. Her son was gone. Where is he, Damon? Where is your nephew?”