Wind Rider (31 page)

Wind Rider crouched behind the inn until
all the lights were doused. Peering through a
rear window, he saw Hannah take a lamp and light her way up the stairs. She was the last to
retire. He glanced upward, elated when he saw
a light appear a few minutes later in a third-
floor window. He was pleased at how easily he
had located Hannah’s room. Now all he had to
do was find an unlocked window. The need to
confront Hannah was a raw ache deep inside
him. He had to know exactly what the blue
coat meant to her and if they were truly lovers.

The storeroom window slid open without a
sound. Ryder climbed through the opening and
crouched low until he was certain no one had
heard him. After a short interval he entered
the common room and noiselessly ascended
the two flights of stairs to the single room on
the third floor. He turned the knob and a curse
slipped past his lips when he found it locked.
Now he had two choices: He could either call
out to Hannah and take his chances that she’d open the door, or he could leave as quietly as
he’d come. The choice was taken from him
when the door suddenly opened. He slipped quietly into the shadows.

The breath slammed from his chest when he
saw Hannah standing in the doorway, holding
a lamp aloft. The flickering light made her
thin shift transparent, outlining every luscious
curve, every shadowed valley. He stood mes
merized as she stepped from the room and
started down the stairs. Had she forgotten
something? he wondered. Was she going off to meet her lover? Assuming she’d have to
return eventually, he slipped into the room to
await her.

Hannah’s stomach growled hungrily. She’d been so upset over the confrontation between
Wind Rider and Trent that she’d had no stom
ach for food. But now that the grueling day was
over she found her appetite returning. Now,
after she washed and made ready for bed, she
went in search of something to eat. In the
kitchen she found cold lamb, leftover biscuits,
and fresh berries. Pouring herself a glass of cold
milk, she sat at the table and devoured every
morsel. She returned to her room thirty minutes
later, carefully locking the door behind her.

Sighing wearily, she slid into bed and blew
out the lamp. The moon was full, leaving a
bright splash of light on the floor below the
solitary window. She closed her eyes, trying not to think about Wind Rider and the cold contempt with which he had regarded her. She sighed again, realizing how futile her efforts
were. Her thoughts always returned to Wind
Rider.

“Are you sighing for your lover? Have you just
come from his arms? Did he satisfy you in so
short a time? It always took me much longer.”
He stepped from the shadows, looming over her
like an avenging angel.

“Wind Rider,” His name whispered past her
lips on a note of fear. She sat up and the
blanket fell away, revealing the pert tilt of her
breasts beneath the flimsy material of her shift. “How . . .” She knew better than to ask how he had gotten in, for he had a knack for appearing in the most unlikely places without being seen
or heard. Suddenly she recalled Trent’s threats
and she grew pale. “You must leave before
someone sees or hears you.”

“No one will see or hear me. Unless you’re expecting your lover tonight.”

“My lover?”

“Did you think Gilmore wouldn’t brag about
his conquest? Did you find you couldn’t do
without a man between your legs on the long trip from Fort Laramie to Denver?”

“Oh, god, how can you say that after all we’ve
been to one another? Have you forgotten so
soon those nights in Red Cloud’s village? Or
that night at Fort Laramie? Have you forgotten
that I begged you to take me with you?”

“I have forgotten nothing, but apparently you
have. Gilmore tells me you want nothing more
to do with me. Is that true?”

Trent’s threatening words came back to haunt
her. She closed her eyes and said in a voice so
low, Wind Rider had to strain to hear, “Yes, it’s
true. Trent and I are lovers.” Oh, God, how it
hurt to say those words, but she did it to save
him. “Go away. Forget I ever existed.” Didn’t
he know that her love could destroy him?

His face was stark with a nameless emotion.
“I thought I knew you, Hannah McLin. Since
you are a whore you shouldn’t mind taking another man to your bed. At least I will be a familiar man, one who knows what you like and need.”

He dropped to his knees beside her on the bed.
His reaction was instinctive, primal, uncontrol
lable. He could no more leave her untouched
than he could stop breathing. Whore or not, he
had been the first to love her. She had attained womanhood in his arms, and now the need to
punish pushed him too far to back down. His hands reached down to drag her hand between
his thighs, curving her fingers around the
powerful thrust of his erection. Involuntarily,
her fingers tightened, squeezing him, feeling
the throbbing heat pulsing through him. He cursed/flinging her hand aside. His mocking
laughter pelted her.

“You are an eager whore, Little Sparrow. I
hope your lovers appreciate you.” His voice was bitter with resentment.

Hannah bit her tongue to keep from crying out that there were no lovers, that she wanted
no one but him.

He lay down beside her. He was so hot for her, he was shaking with desire. He had meant to teach her a lesson, to show his contempt by
taking her callously, but nothing was working
out as he had planned.

Hannah felt the warmth of his breath, sensed the heat and tension in him, felt his muscles contract, and knew a moment of panic. It was
clear to her that she could not resist him, despite
Trent’s threats. He was her life, her love, the reason for her breathing. Yet she must forget
him to keep him safe. Knowing Trent as she did,
if she disobeyed him, he’d carry out his threat
without a hint of remorse. Wind Rider would be back in the stockade, this time for good.

“Please go away, Wind Rider. Don’t you
understand? We can’t be together like this.”

“Wind Rider no longer exists. My name is
Ryder Larson. Say it, Hannah. Speak my
name.”

“Ryder.”

The moon rose higher in the sky, its light
spreading to the bed, falling across Ryder’s face
and body. There was something about him— something so brutally compelling that she
couldn’t look away. His sharp, relentless eyes
held her captive within their silver depths.

Ryder met her gaze squarely, unflinching
ly. His gaze moved over her face to her lips,
full and temptingly lush. Kissing those sweet
lips was a white custom he’d learned to enjoy.
“Speak my name again.”

“Ryder.”

He watched her lips form the words, his
mouth hovering inches from hers. Then his
lips molded to hers, claiming them completely,
giving fire and heat and passion and demand
ing it in return. He kissed her wildly, deeply, thrusting his tongue into the sweet warmth of
her mouth. He groaned, losing control of his
senses as he pushed her backward onto the
bed and slid his leg on top of her to hold her
in place.

Hannah barely had time to adjust to the loss
of his mouth on hers when she felt the deli
cious sweep of his tongue over her sensitive
nipples. She jerked violently and cried out, lost
to sensations she’d thought never to feel again.

“Do you still want me to leave, Little Spar
row?”

Her heart utterly denied the words that came
from her mouth. “Yes, you must! For your own
good, you must.”

“For my own good?” he repeated with grim amusement. He lowered his head again, scattering tender love bites along her stomach and
lower still, his breath hot against the swollen
flesh of her womanhood. “This is for my own
good.”

She rolled her head from side to side, unable to deny the pleasure this magnificent man was
capable of giving her. With a will of their own,
her hips tipped up, inviting a deeper caress. He
raised his eyes and regarded her with such fierce
possession, she felt a shattering deep inside her.
Then he spread her legs and lowered his head.

She buried her fingers in his thick black hair and felt the shocking pressure of his tongue.
She arched her back as he found her hot center,
his fingers exploring the moist folds of her most
sensitive being.

Hannah cried out, all conscious thought cen
tered upon that wet, throbbing place where his
tongue played most provocatively. Incredible
heat and rapture rose to consume her; her
climax was swift and explosive. While her
aroused body shuddered in rapture, Ryder
quickly divested himself of his clothing. Then,
in a frenzy of need only this woman could assuage, he lifted her hips, wrapped her legs
around his waist, and thrust into her.

His breath was hot and desperate against her
lips as she rode upon his hardness, wanting
it now, needing it as much as he. His hands
gripped her bottom as he thrust inside her
like a man possessed, fast, hard, relentless,
until her mind and body and senses were
centered upon that throbbing place where
they were joined. Her whimpers and cries of ecstasy were silenced by his kiss as he thrust
into her deeply, once, then again . . . and again,
his whole body shuddering with the ferocity of his passion. He tore his mouth from hers as his
seed, hot and pulsing, spewed from his flesh.
She pressed upward against him and felt the
shattering jolt of her own climax.

“Ryder.” His name drifted past her lips on a
sigh of contentment.

“Did I please you?”

She paused for a breathless moment, then
said, “You know you did.”

“More than your lieutenant?”

Hannah went still. “Why did you have to go
and ruin everything? This is likely to be our
last time together.”

Ryder went still. “Last time together? You’re
my wife.”

Panic seized Hannah. “No, we can’t be togeth
er! Our marriage isn’t legal. Why can’t you
understand? Trent won’t like it.” She had no
idea how damning that sounded.

Ryder raised up on his elbow to stare at her, his face hard, his eyes glacial. “I do under
stand, ‘wife.’ Only too well. Of course you must
obey your lover.”

“If I don’t, he’ll...”

“He’ll what?”

“He has evidence that can send you to pris
on.”

Ryder’s eyes narrowed. “Did he threaten
you?”

”N-no, of course not.” Knowing how hot
headed Ryder was, she feared telling him the truth. It would likely destroy his pride if he knew she was protecting him.

“Let Gilmore do his worst; I’m not afraid
of him. Get dressed. I’ve decided to take you
with me.” His words should have surprised
him but they didn’t. When he’d learned that
Hannah and Gilmore were lovers he’d wanted to punish her. But once he’d taken her into his arms his intentions fell by the wayside. It was
quite laughable, really, for deep in his heart
he’d always known the only reason he’d left
his former life was to take back what was his.
And Hannah was his, no matter how many men
she’d bedded.

Hannah’s lips were stubborn. “I won’t go.”

“Do you love Gilmore?”

“No! No! Never!” I love you, her heart silently
cried.

Ryder regarded her through narrowed eyes. Then he grasped her arms and hauled her out
of bed. “Get dressed!”

Hannah’s protest died in her throat when a
knock sounded at the door. “Hannah! Are you
all right? I thought I heard voices.”

“Mr. Harley,” Hannah hissed, sending Ryder
a startled look.

“Hannah? Can you hear me?” The knob rat
tled, and Ryder was grateful that Hannah had thought to lock the door.

“Answer him.”

”I-I’m fine, Mr. Harley. I was having a bad
dream.”