Wild Desire (9 page)

A chill wind blew suddenly across them, causing Stephanie to shiver.

Runner noticed her discomfort. He rose to his feet and gathered her clothes into his hands. “Get dressed,” he said thickly. “I would not want to be the cause of you taking pneumonia.”

Stephanie rose to her feet and began dressing. “My love, were I to take a chill, I would be as much to blame as anyone,” she said, giggling. “Runner, I can't believe this has happened. I have waited for so many years to find the right man. It seems that is you, my darling. I hope you truly don't object.”

While talking and dressing, she had looked away from Runner, paying no heed to what he was doing. She had thought that it would take him as long to get into his clothes as herself.

But when she lifted her eyes, she discovered that she was wrong. He was fully clothed and was at the pack mule, opening one of the saddlebags.

Stephanie grew cold inside and gasped behind one of her hands as Runner took out the camera.

As he studied the camera for a moment beneath the spill of the moonlight, she began moving stealthily toward him. Just as she reached him, she felt faint when he turned and gave her a sour look and lifted the camera, his full intent to throw it to the ground to destroy it.

“This, alone, is a betrayal of what we just shared!” Runner snarled out.

“No!” Stephanie screamed, raising a hand to stop him.

Chapter 11

Stephanie quickly placed her hand over Runner's before he had the chance to toss her camera to the ground. “Please don't,” she said, her voice drawn. “If you do, that act alone will be a betrayal to what we shared only moments ago. You knew that I was a photographer. You knew that I had come to Arizona to take photographs.”

“I was foolish for having forgotten that,” Runner said. He still held the camera threateningly over his head, even though her hand was on his, persuading him to lower it.

“Runner, please listen to what I have to say, and then decide whether or not you want to destroy my camera,” Stephanie said softly. “If you destroy the camera without first listening to reason, then I fear our relationship will be just as quickly shattered.”

Wide-eyed and waiting, she held her breath.

Runner slowly lowered it to his side, and then slipped it back inside Stephanie's saddlebag; tears of relief flooded her eyes. He had just proven his love for her. She could tell that he hated the sight of her camera and, in turn, what it represented; it was a further way to exploit his people.

Yet for her, he had decided not to destroy it.

“Thank you,” she murmured. She went to him and gazed up, daring to take one of his hands.

“Darling, please hear me out, and then if you want nothing more to do with me, I will ride away and never bother you again,” she said, her voice breaking.

“Say what you must,” Runner said, his eyes looking into hers. “I will listen.”

“Runner, I mean your people no harm.” She reached a hand to his cheek. “Darling, I have had time to think this through since my arrival to Arizona. I have decided to carefully show the American people, through my photographs, that the Navaho people are dignified, and that their men are proud warriors who have forever striven for heroic qualities and a sense of heritage. How could there be any harm in that?”

“Harm?” He took her hands and held them to his chest. “My people do not wish to be in pictures, no matter who takes them. But I will say this to you, my love. I will accompany you while you carry your camera from place to place, but it will only be used to photograph Arizona's landscape, not its
people
. Nothing sacred will be captured by film. Do you understand? Can you live by those rules while in Navaho land? If so, I will assist you.”

Stephanie was at a loss for words. She had never expected him to allow her to follow through on taking any more photographs, much less say that he would help her.

She was filled with awe. She could never love him more than at this moment, for she saw that he was offering a great sacrifice on his part.

“You would do this for me?” she said, choking back a joyous sob.

“It is something my father will not approve of, but, yes, I will ride with you while you are taking your photographs,” Runner said. Deep within his heart he wanted to please her, yet knew that he was doing this mainly for his people. He would make sure that Stephanie stayed away from the Navaho. He would also make sure that she did not get near any of their sacred rocks, places of prayer, or burial grounds. He saw his motives as selfish, but necessary.

“I don't want to cause trouble between you and your father,” Stephanie said, searching his face eagerly with her eyes.

“My father's business and my own do not always go hand in hand.” He smiled down at her. “If so, I would not be with you tonight. For you see, my pretty one, my father warned me against falling in love with you.”

“He did?” Stephanie said, her eyes widening.

“Remember the first day we met?” Runner said, wrapping his arms around her. “He saw then how I felt about you. It was then, on our way to our home, that he warned me.”

“I regret that he doesn't approve of me,” Stephanie said.

“It is not so much you that he fears.” He placed a finger to her chin and lifted her eyes to meet his. “It is the future of his son, and the color of children who might be born to him.”

“What?” Stephanie said, gasping.

“He wishes for grandchildren with the skin, eyes, and hair of the Navaho,” Runner said softly. “But when he said this to me, I reminded him that I was white, and that it had never before seemed to matter to him.”

“I don't see how it could,” Stephanie murmured. “Runner, you are so special. So very, very special.”

“It is good that you think that.” He wove his fingers through her hair and drew her lips to his mouth.

As wolves howled at the moon in the distant hills, Runner gave Stephanie a long, deep kiss.

 

 

Damon Stout rode slouched in his saddle as he traveled across his pasture land, mentally counting horses. He had found the broken pole fence and had suspected foul play.

He had been right. More than one horse was missing. Over the last several nights, someone had helped themselves to his horses.

Damon drew a tight rein. His ranch hands stopped and circled around him.

Damon sucked on a cigar that was no longer lit. He looked from man to man. “You know what's got to be done, don't cha?” he growled out.

“Raid Sage's horses,” one of his men said, laughing boisterously. “I kind of like it that he's become a thief. It's put a bit of excitement in my life besides whiskey and women. It's got me goin' again.”

“You think Sage did this?” another cowhand piped up. “He seems to have more sense than that.”

“It's either Sage or Runner,” Damon said, glowering. “But then, of course, there's always Thunder Hawk.”

He sank his shiny spurs into the flanks of his horse, causing it to rear, then thundered off beneath the moonlight.

“Come on, gents, we've some horses to steal,” he shouted, laughing into the wind.

 

 

Still fuming over the afternoon's outcome, Adam was perched on his horse on a high butte that overlooked Sage's village. He hadn't gone straight home. He was too angry at Sage, and even more upset when he had seen Stephanie leave the Navaho village with Runner.

But when he just as quickly remembered why this could work in his favor, he had not followed them. He hoped this would give Stephanie a chance to grow closer to Runner, and he, in turn, to her. Adam would allow them to become involved, short of marriage.

He would never allow Stephanie to become a part of this savage tribe. She would be on that damn train with him when he left Arizona, to return to their hometown of Wichita, Kansas.

His attention returned to the valley below. He leaned over his horse and peered through the velvety cloak of night at some activity at the far end of Sage's pole corral.

“Why I'll be damned,” he said to himself, laughing. “Would you look at that? It's Damon and his ranch hands. They're stealin' horses from Sage.”

He watched until they rode away, feeling confident in Damon as his ally. It was smart of Damon to steal the horses right now, to help draw attention away from Adam and his own personal plans.

“Yep, he was smart to think that one up,” Adam said, still chuckling.

Then he stiffened and his hand went to the rifle in the gun boot as he saw movement elsewhere, on a slight rise of land just beneath the butte he was on. His heart skipped a beat; it was Pure Blossom, Sage's beautiful daughter.

His pulse raced as he slid from his saddle, took his horse behind some bushes, and tethered it to a low limb. As quietly as possible, he began moving down the side of the slope, knowing that he would not pass up this opportunity to be with the pretty lady that had stolen his heart the moment he had laid eyes on her. The sound of her soft voice singing wafted up to him through the soft velvet of night as he moved stealthily onward, his heart pounding, quite taken by the sweetness of the voice, and by the lady herself.

He listened intently as he moved gradually closer . . . and closer . . .

On bended knees, her eyes heavenward, Pure Blossom poured her feelings from her heart, in song. She invoked the voice of Thunder from above, the voice of Grasshopper from below, asking the spirits of the earth around her for their blessings.

She stopped with a start and listened to the crackling of a branch behind her. Moving slowly to her feet, she turned and waited and watched.

When Adam stepped into view, Pure Blossom gasped and took a step back from him. She recalled the angry words her father had exchanged with this handsome man and knew that any feelings that she might have for him were wrong and dangerous.

He
was dangerous.

Yet she could not deny her feelings. Her knees were trembling. She felt an odd queasiness at the pit of her stomach that felt wonderfully sweet. She could not deny the throbbing of her heart, or the wild desire she felt for Adam as he stepped closer to her.

“I did not mean to disturb your song,” Adam said, stopping only an arm's length from her. He feared going closer; he desired her so much his whole insides ached.

Ah, but she was beautiful. Frail, yet so pretty it made his heart bleed with need of her.

“You did not disturb my song,” Pure Blossom said in correct English, which she had learned in the white man's school. “I was finished.”

“Isn't it dangerous for you to be here alone?” Adam dared to ask, not wanting to put any more fear of him in her heart than was already visible in her eyes.

“Perhaps,” Pure Blossom said weakly. “My father would say that it was not wise for me to be with you.”

“You have no reason to be afraid of me, ever,” Adam said quietly. “Please remember that my quarrel isn't with you. It's solely with your father—and Runner.”

“Why must there be problems between you?” Pure Blossom said, relaxing somewhat. “If you had come to our land for peaceful purposes, I would be free to. . .”

She lowered her eyes quickly, having almost admitted too much to this man whose mere presence made her head swim with rapture. He was a stranger and she had fallen in love with him too quickly.

Adam's whole body seemed to be one heartbeat as he stepped up to her and lifted her chin with a finger. “You would be free to what?” he said huskily.

“To love you,” Pure Blossom blurted out, then leaned into his arms and offered her lips to him.

Adam swept his arms around her and drew her tightly against him. When their lips met, he found himself filled with pleasure he had long denied himself. Business ventures had always taken precedence over women. But now?

Now he wanted it to be the same, but, oh, Lord, it wasn't. This pretty Navaho woman felt like an angel in his arms and her lips were as sweet as honey.

Pure Blossom moved her lips against his ear. “Come with me,” she whispered. “Make love with me in my hogan.”

Adam was torn by his feelings. He was stunned that this beautiful woman was offering herself to him so easily. Yet he knew the dangers of going to her village with her. If Sage caught him, he would surely issue a death warrant!

“I'd best not,” he whispered back, fighting his passionate desire. “Let's make love here. Beneath the stars.”

Pure Blossom leaned away from him. “The air is getting cold,” she said. She placed a gentle hand to his cheek and softly stroked his flesh. “As you have surely seen, Pure Blossom cannot stand the cold. I must never get a chill, or it might be fatal.”

Adam brushed a kiss across her lips, then swung her up into his arms and carried her toward the slope of land that would lead him to his horse.

“This is not the direction of my hogan,” Pure Blossom murmured, smiling up at him. “Turn around. That will take you there.”

“My horse,” Adam said. “I must get my horse.”

“Leave your horse here,” Pure Blossom said, as she clung around his neck. “That way no one but myself will know you are in my hogan.”

Adam looked with wavering eyes up at the bluff overhead, then concluded that his horse was far enough from the village, and too well hidden, for anyone to see it.

“All right, so the horse is taken care of,” Adam said, turning to carry Pure Blossom down the slope. “Now what about me?”

“I know ways of getting you in my dwelling without anyone seeing,” Pure Blossom said, giggling softly.

“If you can get me into your hogan without being seen, I guess I can get out as easily,” Adam said, shrugging. “I want you, Pure Blossom. I'll take whatever chance I must just to be with you.”

“You are the first for Pure Blossom,” she said, her eyes innocently wide. “It is fate that has brought you to me. My body has been saved just for you.”

Adam worried about this all being too easy; it did seem as far-fetched as some of the novels that he had read by a midnight fire.

A thought came to him. Was this . . . a trap?

Yet his need for her overpowered his fears and made him forget the dangers that might be waiting for him in the Navaho village. There was a fire in his blood that only Pure Blossom could extinguish.

He held her close and broke into a slow run, with only one thing on his mind.

Gratification.