Blackwolf's Redemption (5 page)

Jesse blinked, waited for his eyes to acclimate to the darkness. His other senses had already gone on full alert. He could smell Sienna’s skin, that delicate lilac scent he’d noticed hours ago. And he could hear her teeth chattering.

Was she shaking again?

He reached out. Felt for her…

“Get away from me!”

“Listen, lady—”

He heard her scramble up against the pillows. She was breathing hard; the sound was raw. Just what he needed. Instant replay of what had happened an hour ago, right before she passed out.

“You’re using up energy,” he said coldly.

She didn’t answer.

Jesse stood, put his hands on his hips. Took a long breath. He had candles. A Coleman lantern. A Coleman stove. He also had a crazy woman on his hands, but maybe some light and hot food would bring her to her senses.

“Stay where you are,” he said brusquely. “I’ll be right back.”

It took him a few minutes to get the gas lantern and stove from where he stored his hunting and camping gear. Matches were easy; he grabbed a handful from a drawer in the kitchen. Got a fat candle from a cupboard and lit it.

“Okay,” he said, trying to sound cheerful as he used its wavering light to guide him back to the bedroom. “We’re all set—”

She was gone.

Gone? How? Where? Jesse turned on his heel, made a
complete circle, the candle held out in front of him as he checked the big room. Maybe the woman wasn’t the only one who was crazy. Maybe he’d imagined her. Linda had all but accused him of being nuts.

What happened to you?
she’d said.
You’re a different man since you came back, Jesse. I’m afraid of you.

But no, he wasn’t crazy. His trespasser had been lying right there. The duvet was flung aside, the top sheet was missing, a strand of golden hair was on the black pillowcase.

Thunder shook the house.

“Miss Cummings?” Stupid. She was naked. He’d undressed her. What was the point of formalities? “Sienna? Sienna, where are you?”

Silence. He went to the door, checked the hall. There wasn’t a sign of her.

Another roar of thunder. Another flash of lightning. And there they were. Footprints, small, highly arched. A woman’s delicate prints, leading to his dressing room…

That was where he found her. At the far end of the oversized space, her back to the wall, the top sheet clutched to her chin.

“Sienna,” he said sharply, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I can tell you what I’m
not
doing,” she said. “I am not letting you rape me.”

“Are we back to that? I have no intention of—”

“Get out of my way.”

“Sienna. Listen to me. You’re not making any sense. You’re not thinking straight.”

“I am. I am thinking very, very straight.”

“You’re trembling. Do you have any idea how dangerous—”

“How dangerous you are.” Her chin came up. Or it would
have, if she wasn’t having so much difficulty not sinking to the floor. “Yes. I do.”

“Damn it, woman! It’s not me that’s dangerous!”

“Yes, you are. And I’m not going to sta-stand here and—and—”

But she wasn’t standing. She was sliding down the wall. Jesse got to her just in time—and took a weak but well-placed fist to the jaw by way of thanks. He grabbed her hands in one of his as he lifted her into his arms.

“Stop it!”

Her hands flailed at his face. Her sharp teeth sank into his biceps and he growled a warning, shifted position, hoisted her over his shoulder, sheet and all, and strode into the bedroom.

Now what?

Getting some light in here would change things, but only an octopus could hang on to a struggling female and turn on a lantern at the same time. If he put her down, she’d run again. Or grab something and slug him with it.

“Hold still,” he ordered. “Hold still or so help me, I’ll get a rope—a real rope—and tie you up.”

That did it. She went limp. He waited, counted silently to ten. Then he eased her off his shoulder, set her on her feet but kept her balled fists clasped in his hand.

“I want to talk. Just talk. You got that?”

She made a sound. A snort of derision. Another good sign. Some of that toughness was coming back.

“I have no interest in you sexually.” Okay, a lie, but a meaningless one. His hormones were interested but he certainly wasn’t. That made it easy to keep his tone cold. Almost clinical. “You’re not my type. And just so we get this straight…” His lips twitched. “I don’t generally have to force women into my bed. Got it?”

An endless silence. Then she nodded.

“Great.” Carefully, he let go of her hands. “Can we talk now?”

She swallowed dryly. Her face was turning pink.

“I’m—I’m naked.”

Her voice was low. He felt a twinge of sympathy—and a twinge of that damned hormonal lust. It made his response harsh.

“Next time I’m stuck with a woman who looks like a half-drowned cat, I’ll pass on trying to save her ass. Anything else?”

“I don’t know where I am.”

“My place. Blackwolf Ranch. I brought you here, remember?”

“That isn’t what I meant,” she said quickly. “I meant—I meant—”

She fell silent. Too late. He knew what she meant. That nonsense about the year. She didn’t know it, or she couldn’t remember it. Something like that.

That she was so completely confused mystified him. It had to be the after-effects of the lightning strike. He had a set of Grolier’s; he’d look it up in the encyclopedia once the power came back on. Reassure her. Reassure himself that she wasn’t—

“I’m fine now.”

His eyebrows rose. “Yeah?”

“Everything just, you know, clicked into place. It was the, uh, the cold. The rain. Shock. That can cause confusion. Right?”

Her lips curved into a smile. It was about as phony as anything he’d ever seen, but he decided to pretend he’d bought into it. It would make her easier to deal with.

“Good. I’m glad to hear it.”

“So, if you’d just give me something to wear—”

“I’ll get you something of mine. Sweats. They’ll swim on you but—”

“That’ll be fine.” She inhaled, let the breath out on a long whoosh. “And thank you. For all you’ve done.”

Her smile was real this time. He felt its impact, the softness of her voice, sink into him like a caress. Something twisted in his belly; it was a feeling he’d all but forgotten, a sense of connection that he’d thought he’d never feel again. He didn’t like it, didn’t need it, and the sooner she understood that, the better.

“I only did what I had to do,” he said coldly. Her smile died and he turned away from her, grabbed the Coleman lamp and lit it. Half the room filled with its welcome light.

“Okay,” he said briskly. “I’ll get the sweats. Once you’re dressed, head down the hall to the kitchen… What now?”

Her mouth was trembling. Her eyes glittered. She shook her head; her hair fell around her face, obscuring it.

“Nothing,” she whispered—but she was a lousy liar.

Of course it was something. His coldness? Her confusion? Whatever it was, she was weeping. Soundlessly, but weeping just the same.

Don’t be a fool, Blackwolf,
Jesse told himself.
Just keep walking.

He wanted to. He started to. But halfway to the door, she said “Jesse?” and he went back, swung her into his arms and kissed her. For comfort, he told himself, that was all…

But when she rose on her toes, wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back, he knew damned well that comfort was the last thing on his mind.

S
HE’D
thought he was going to walk away.

That was what she wanted. If he left her alone, maybe she could figure out what had happened to her. She couldn’t do that with Jesse Blackwolf’s dark eyes watching her, judging her, trying to figure out what kind of game she was playing.

But when he really had started to leave, a terrible loneliness had threatened to swallow her up.
Jesse,
she’d said, without knowing she was going to say it…and when he came back and took her in his arms, she’d realized that loneliness wasn’t the reason she’d called him back.

He was the reason.

She barely knew this man…and yet, in a way that made no sense at all, she felt as if she’d known him forever.

She sighed with pleasure when his arms closed around her. His body was hard and strong, his heartbeat steady beneath her ear. Of everything that had happened to her in the past endless hours, this, only this, was real.

Jesse’s embrace. His scent. The feel of him against her.

“Jesse,” she said again, and raised her face to his, willing his lips to take hers. To chase away the internal darkness that threatened to consume her.

She wasn’t a thief, she wasn’t even a trespasser, because there weren’t any No Trespassing signs around the endless acres of Jesse’s land.

Not on June 21, 2010.

Except—except Jesse said it wasn’t 2010. It was 1975, he’d said, and she’d either stepped through the looking glass like Alice…

Or she’d lost her mind. She was moments from stepping into a darkness as deep as the canyon.

And only Jesse could save her.

His kiss was gentle, the light brush of mouth against mouth.

“Shh,” he said softly. “Shh, baby.”

He was trying to soothe her but it wasn’t enough. She wanted more and she sought his mouth again, slid her hands up his chest. Her fingers brushed over the eagle talon; it seemed hot with an almost mystical energy, but the heat of his skin was masculine and real, the muscles beneath pronounced and taut. An electric shudder went through him at her touch and sent an answering tremor of response sizzling along each of her nerve endings. He groaned; the sound made her heart beat faster. Blind to everything but the moment, Sienna rose on her toes, pressed the length of her body against Jesse’s and dug her hands into the silky hair that fell loose around his face.

His erection was instantaneous, hard and powerful and life-affirming as it nudged unashamedly against her belly. She moaned into his mouth and moved against him.

He said something against her parted lips. The words were guttural and she didn’t understand them, but she understood the urgency in his voice, the urgency in her quickening blood.

The sheet slipped and fell to the floor. Naked now, her entire body tight against his, she moaned again as he cupped her bottom, lifted her into him.

His erection felt huge. Enormous. His heat radiated through her body.

Real. Yes. Oh, yes. This was not a dream, not a hallucination. His hand was between her thighs, seeking, finding her. His mouth was at her breast, sucking her nipple deep into his mouth.

She clung to him, her hands deep in his hair as he swept her up and carried her quickly into the darkness beyond the bright pool of light. They tumbled onto the bed, mouths fused.

She needed him. Wanted him. Her heart was racing with the hot urgency of desire as he settled over her, his welcome weight pressing her down into the softness of his bed. He pushed down her panties; she felt him doing the same with his sweats.

In a moment, he would be deep inside her. This man. This stranger.

This stranger!

Sienna’s eyes flew open. “Wait,” she said breathlessly. “Jesse, wait!”

He clasped her face as she tried to twist it from his, held her still and kissed her.

“No. Jesse. Please! I don’t want to—”

He wasn’t listening. For all she knew, he couldn’t even hear her. Breath sobbing in and out of her lungs, she shoved hard at his chest.

“Jesse,” she gasped. “Listen to me!”

She beat at his shoulders and he caught her wrists, dragged her arms high above her head, forced his knee between her thighs.

“No! Jesse, no, no, no…”

His big body stilled. Then he let go of her wrists, rolled away and got to his feet.

Naked, without his body covering hers, a cold as deep as
the surrounding darkness settled against Sienna’s skin. Her teeth chattered; she rolled onto her side. Something fell over her. Terry cloth. A robe? Whatever it was, she covered herself with it and scrambled up against the pillows. Light blazed down. She threw up a hand to shield her eyes and saw Jesse standing over her, the lantern in his hand.

Half naked, his sweats hanging low on his hips, he stood motionless. His hair was loose and hung to his jaw. He’d wiped away the black stripes, but the eagle talon still swung from its rawhide thong. He was, somehow, a remarkable mixture of savagery and civilization, wild and dangerous…

And incredibly beautiful.

Heat rushed through her. What would it have been like to have felt him possessing her?

“That’s a risky game to play,” he said in a low voice.

Her eyes flew to his. “It wasn’t a game,” she said, rushing the words. “I never meant—” Sienna hesitated. She wanted to blame what had happened on him but she couldn’t. “Everything—everything’s confused,” she said in a tremulous whisper. “There’s so much going on….” She swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

He gave a harsh laugh. “Yeah. So am I.”

“I don’t—I don’t know what…what happened. I’m not—”

“Frankly, I don’t give a damn what you are or aren’t. You won’t be here long enough for it to mean anything. As soon as the storm ends, I want you off my land.”

She nodded. It was what she wanted, too. Somewhere out there, people had to be missing her. Looking for her…

“Get some clothes on. There’s stuff in the dressing room.” He leaned forward and placed the lantern on the nightstand. “I’ll be in the kitchen, putting together something to eat.”

“Really, that’s not nec—”

“I decide what’s necessary around here, lady. Get that through your head.”

“Jesse. Mr. Blackwolf—”

“Put on a couple of layers of clothing. Without power, it’s going to be a long, cold night.”

Sienna nodded, watching as he headed for the door. Stupid, she knew, but the thought of him vanishing into the dark in this unknown place made her uneasy.

“Wait!”

He swung toward her. “What now?”

“The light. Don’t you need it?”

He reached for the candle. “This will do me just fine.”

The door slammed after him, and Sienna was alone.

She waited for what seemed a very long.

The question wasn’t would he come back, but would her legs hold her when she stood up? She felt shaky. That she’d come within a heartbeat of letting a hard-edged stranger who thought she was some kind of thief almost take her to bed seemed impossible….

Sienna let out a shaky breath.

Be honest, at least!

Jesse Blackwolf hadn’t been the aggressor. She’d been as eager as he. She’d wanted him to make love to her, wanted him more than she’d ever wanted a man before. Not that there’d been many to start with. A boy in her junior year at college, another at the start of her postgraduate studies—her sex life was pretty pathetic by 2010 standards.

How about by the standards of 1975? She tried to remember what she knew of sex in the seventies. Free love? Sexual equality?

Not that it mattered.

She’d reacted to Jesse on her own terms, not those of any particular year or era. His touch, his taste, the feel of him against her…

She shut her eyes, let herself remember it all. The texture of his silky hair, the hard planes of his shoulders and chest, the press of his erection. The heat, the warmth of his kisses.

Desire, something so potent she couldn’t think of a name for it, had caught her in its grasp. All she’d wanted was to be in Jesse’s arms, to know what it was like to belong to him….

“Stop it,” she said sharply.

She wasn’t like that; she didn’t want to be like that. Sex had a place in a woman’s life and that was exactly the way it should be, it should have a
place
in a woman’s life. End of story.

What had just happened was nothing but the end result of a day that had started in one time and ended in another, and no, absolutely no, she was not going to think about that now!

Sienna sat up, pulled on the robe—Jesse’s, of course. She could tell by the size, which dwarfed her. By the scent, redolent of mountain air, pine and man. Then she headed for the dressing room, lantern in her hand….

And stopped in the doorway. She hadn’t really looked at the room before, when she’d fled here. Now she saw that it was huge, easily as big as her Brooklyn apartment.

Except, her place overflowed with, well, with just plain stuff.

Jesse’s dressing room was so close to empty, it was Spartan.

Shelves and cubbies lined the walls, but most of them were empty. Only a couple of narrow sections contained clothes. A couple of wool sport jackets hung from a rack; jeans, sweaters, T-shirts, sweats—tops and bottoms—were all neatly folded and neatly aligned on the shelves. Boxer shorts and socks were alongside.

At the far end of the room, in lonely splendor, a military
uniform hung suspended from a hanger on a rod. A pair of boots, polished to a gleaming luster, stood directly beneath.

Sienna set the lantern on an empty shelf. Was her reluctant host a soldier? It was none of her business. Still, she crossed the room for a closer look.

Her breath caught.

The jacket bristled with medals and ribbons. She had no idea what any of them were; she didn’t even know what branch of service the uniform represented, but whatever it was, Jesse must have served it well.

She couldn’t imagine him as a soldier. He was too independent to take orders from anyone. He was good at giving orders, though….

She jumped as a fist banged against the still-shut outer door.

“Hurry it up,” Jesse barked.

Sienna almost laughed. “Yessir,” she said, and gave the all-but-empty room a brisk salute.

The kitchen was easy to find.

The lantern provided plenty of light and all she had to do was follow the smell of…

“Chicken noodle soup?”

Jesse turned as she entered the candlelit room. He’d put on a long-sleeved chambray shirt, the sleeves rolled back on his tanned, muscled forearms. He was wearing a fresh pair of jeans and his hair was drawn back from his face and secured with a length of rawhide. He stood at a marble counter over a pot bubbling away on the burner of a camping stove, a wooden spoon in his hand, a noncommittal expression on his face, and gave her a long look.

“I see you found something to wear.”

Sienna glanced down at herself. She was wearing heavy
gray cotton sweats—classic, basic gymwear. There’d been half a dozen pair in the dressing room, varying only as to color. Jesse was apparently not given to anything that defeated the utilitarian purpose of sweats, or to silly designer logos.

She couldn’t imagine he ever would be.

“Yes.” She decided to test the waters, offer a small flag of truce by giving him a hesitant smile. “I took your advice about layering. I have on two of your T-shirts. And—” she raised one foot “—two pairs of socks.”

“Good.” He swung back to the stove. “You can put the lantern over there.”

“Okay.” He heard the soft scuff of her sock-clad feet as she made her way across the Mexican-tile floor. “The soup smells wonderful.”

“I opened two cans. There’s plenty of it.”

“Good. Anything I can do?”

Yeah, he thought. There was.

She could stop looking so beautiful.

He had to be really desperate, he thought coldly, finding Sienna Cummings beautiful. Not that there was anything wrong with her looks; it was just that he didn’t go for her type. Independent women, questioning women, ones who thought they were on an equal footing with men…

Not that he liked his women stupid.

He just liked them to know when to defer to a man.

He wasn’t into this women’s lib nonsense that had taken the country by storm.

Linda hadn’t been into it, either. She’d known how to make a man feel good. She’d looked up to him, let him know he was in charge….

Until he suddenly hadn’t been.

I need a man who knows how to be a man, Jesse,
she’d said,
and how could he fault her for that? A woman didn’t want a man in her bed who woke up soaked to the skin from nightmares that kept threatening to pull him under, who had no clue as to what he wanted to do with his life, who had believed with all his being in things that no longer made sense….

“…must be something I can do,” Sienna said, and he blinked and focused his eyes on her.

“What?”

“I said, you did the cooking. I’d like to do something. Set the table, maybe?”

“I opened a can,” he said gruffly.

“Two.”

She smiled. It was impossible not to smile back.

“Yeah. Okay.” He jerked his head toward one of the birch cupboards. “How about setting the counter? The bowls are in there. Silverware’s in that drawer, bread’s in that cabinet. You want butter, there’s some in the fridge. Just don’t keep the door open longer than you have to.”

“Yessir.”

Jesse narrowed his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” She hesitated. “It just, you know, slipped out. I mean, I saw your uniform. It was just hanging there. Look, I didn’t mean to pry….”

“Then don’t,” he said sharply. “Just give me those bowls.”

The look she flashed would have made him laugh if he’d been in a better mood, but he wasn’t in a better mood and all she got in return was a glare.

She slapped the bowls on the counter beside him. He ladled the soup into them, then turned off the camping stove.

“I was in the army,” he said flatly. “Okay?”

“Fine.”

“Now, sit down and eat.”

She took one of the high-backed stools, dipped her spoon into the bowl he put before her…and cleared her throat.