Chieftain (Historical Romance) (21 page)

Emboldened, shamelessly pursuing even greater elation, Maggie murmured, “You really want to give me even more pleasure, darling?”

“You know I do,” he said, his voice hoarse with passion.

“I believe you know what I want you to do.”

“Yes, but
I want to hear you say it. Ask me for it, Maggie. Anything you want, I’ll do it.”

Maggie was so hot, she did just that. Saying words she’d never before spoken, she asked him to do what she most wanted. Hearing her lovely, cultured southern voice speak those words aloud thoroughly excited Shanaco.

Their eyes meeting in the mirror, Maggie sighed with bliss when Shanaco gave her what she had wanted so badly. He put his hand between her parted thighs, found that tiny nubbin of sensitive female flesh and began to expertly caress her while he continued to thrust into her.

“Shanaco, Shanaco.” Maggie thanked him, her head falling back on his shoulder, her eyes closing.

“Yes, sweetheart, I know, I know.”

For the next several minutes Shanaco sat back on his heels on the towel-covered floor and made love to Maggie, shamelessly watching in the mirror, lifting and lowering his pelvis, thrusting into her. At the same time his fingers were stroking, coaxing, circling. And his deep voice was encouraging, caressing, praising.

Maggie’s eyes opened, then closed. Then opened again. She, too, watched as they made exquisite love, secure in the knowledge that this man she loved so much would never be shocked by anything she said or did during their heated lovemaking. Nor would he ever leave her suspended, wanting more, unsatisfied.

Maggie was right in that assumption.

But she had no
idea that Shanaco was now in sexual agony, his need to climax so powerful he had to bite the inside of his jaw to keep from coming.

Shanaco fought off his approaching orgasm, but it wasn’t easy. Maggie’s wild red hair was whipping about in his face. Her beautiful, feverish body was slipping and sliding so gloriously on his. In the mirror he could glimpse the slick female flesh he was caressing. And Maggie was saying his name over and over in a litany of love.

Shanaco knew he couldn’t hold back much longer. The effortless control that he had always prided himself on was missing with this woman he loved so much.

Now Maggie’s body was gripping him madly and she was breathing rapidly through her mouth and gasping, “No, no-o-o…I…I…”

“Yes, baby,” Shanaco eagerly urged, feeling the deep contractions squeezing him. “Let it come, darling. Let go. Come with me.”

Maggie, hotter than she’d ever been, was seized with a joy so potent it was frightening. She screamed out Shanaco’s name in her building ecstasy. Shanaco gave what she begged for, pumping forcefully into her, taking her all the way to total rapture. And when he was sure that her climax was all she needed and more, he let himself go.

His orgasm explosive, he shuddered violently.

His deep groans of satisfaction mixed with Maggie’s cries of fulfillment. Until at last, together they tumbled over onto the floor, murmuring “I love you, I love you,” breathing hard, completely spent.

Finally they
fell silent.

There was a loud knocking on the suite’s door. They looked at each other and smiled.

“What do you bet our dinner’s cold,” Shanaco said, struggling to his feet to don a robe.

Maggie laughed and stayed right where she was.

S
hanaco and
Maggie blithely ignored the disapproving looks from the justice of the peace, J. Martin Weeks. Holding the marriage license issued to Shan Cooper—Shanaco used his white mother’s family name—and Maggie Bankhead, the justice peered at Shanaco over his wire-rimmed glasses and frowned. He shifted his gaze to Maggie and shook his head.

But he performed the brief ceremony, and at ten minutes past noon, Mr. and Mrs. Shan Cooper exited Weeks’s office smiling. The pair spent most of the snowy afternoon shopping. Shanaco told Maggie she could choose anything she wanted or needed to take up to the ranch.

“How will we transport our treasures?” Maggie asked as hand in hand they walked into a cavernous dry goods store.

“We’ll buy a wagon to haul everything,” Shanaco replied.

“In that case…” Maggie said as she dropped his hand and moved toward a table of glassware.

When they left the store hours later, Maggie had made many purchases for the new home she was to share with Shanaco. Each item she had picked up, he’d said, “You want it, get it.” Assuring the proprietor they would be back for their purchases in a couple of days, they left.

“Back to
the hotel now?” Maggie asked.

“Not just yet,” Shanaco said. “I want to take my beautiful bride down to dinner this evening.”

“Yes!” Maggie was enthusiastic. “I’d like that.”

“Then we’ll need something elegant to wear.”

Maggie smiled. “You are
so
handsome in evening clothes. When you walked into the officers’ ball I almost swooned.”

Shanaco remembered the ball as well. “When I saw you in that lilac velvet gown with your hair falling around your shoulders, I wanted to come right over, grab you and kiss you senseless in front of all those officers and their haughty wives.”

“Really? I had no idea,” Maggie said, pleased.

“Yes, you did,” he accused, and stopped directly before a ladies’ boutique. “They say this is the finest shop in Santa Fe. Think you can find something suitable in an hour?”

“Watch me!”

“No. I’m not coming in with you, Maggie,” he told her. “I’ll be just down the street at a men’s store.”

“You’ll come back for me?”

Shanaco kissed her forehead, then winked at her. “What do you think?”

“I love you,” she said.

“You better.”

It was nearing
four-thirty in the afternoon when they hurried back toward the hotel. The snow had continued to fall throughout the day, and now as evening approached, it was heavier, the flakes bigger and wetter. There was no longer any horizon; it was a total whiteout. And it was cold, bitter cold.

The newlyweds laughed as they rushed into La Fonda’s opulent lobby. Inside a half-dozen guests were seated around the huge fireplace, talking and drinking coffee. They immediately fell silent. They turned and stared and it was easy to discern what they were thinking.

Shanaco’s jaw tightened and his silver eyes blazed. He took Maggie’s arm and forcefully ushered her to the grand staircase. Halfway up, he stopped, turned to her and said, “This is how it is going to be for you, Maggie. People staring and whispering.”

Maggie shrugged slender shoulders. “Let them stare and whisper. I couldn’t care less, darling. I need no one’s approval but yours.” She went on up the stairs. Exhaling, Shanaco followed. In the suite, she said, “Give me my dress. I don’t want you to see it until I’m wearing it.”

“Fair enough,” Shanaco said, and handed her the package. “We’ll dine at eight if that suits you.” She nodded. “Which means we have time to relax.” He started to grin. “Or to do anything else we can think of to do.”

Maggie
smiled, tossed the wrapped package onto a beige brocade sofa, threw off her cape and said, “Bet I can get undressed quicker that you.”

“You have yourself a wager,” he said. Dropping the package containing his newly purchased evening clothes, he shrugged out of his jacket and then peeled his buckskin shirt up over his head and off in one swift, fluid movement.

“I win,” he said within seconds when all his clothes lay on the floor and he stood before the blazing fire, totally naked.

“Yes? Well guess what the prize is,” Maggie said saucily, shedding the last of her garments and taking a step toward him.

Shanaco laughed, swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bedroom. While she clung to his neck and giggled and kicked her bare feet, Shanaco managed to turn back the counterpane, tossing the heavy spread to the foot of the bed. He yanked the covering blanket and top sheet down out of the way and shoved the half-dozen satin-and-lace-cased pillows up against the tall mahogany headboard.

Then he carefully placed Maggie in the middle of the bed against the stacked pillows. She sighed happily when Shanaco joined her. But she gave him a puzzled look when, instead of taking her in his arms, he stretched out on his back beside her and folded his hands beneath his head.

“Let’s play a game,” he said, his eyes flashing with mischief. “Let’s see just how long we can keep from making love.”

Maggie
laughed with delight, turned onto her side facing him, rose up onto an elbow and laid a warm hand on his belly. “By the looks of things,” she teased, pointedly focusing on his rapidly forming erection, “it’ll be about five minutes.”

“Five minutes? Why, darlin’, I can’t possibly wait
that
long.”

At eight that evening the handsomely dressed newlyweds walked into the hotel’s crowded dining room. Again people turned to stare, but Shanaco and Maggie hardly noticed. Relaxed and happy, the pair had just spent a couple of incredibly pleasurable hours in bed and were so in love they had eyes only for each other.

At the far end of the marble-columned room, discreetly hidden behind lush potted palms, a six-piece orchestra in evening attire played dinner music while white-jacketed waiters deftly weaved their way between tables with loaded trays balanced on upraised palms.

The meal was sumptuous and the lovers were famished. They ate with gusto. At last the smartly uniformed waiter brought the coffee and dessert.

Maggie took one look at the perfectly molded blancmange, patted her straining midriff through the lush turquoise velvet of her new gown and leaned across the table to whisper, “I can’t possibly take one more bite lest I pop right out of this dress.”

“Push the
dessert away then, sweetheart,” he said. “I’ll have a little treat sent up to the suite later.” He arched dark eyebrows in a devilish leer and added, “You can get out of that dress and really enjoy your dessert.”

“You are so thoughtful,” she said. “I’ll become a spoiled woman.”

“You’ll become
my
spoiled woman,” he said, then turned and almost imperceptibly waved his hand in the air.

At once the six-piece orchestra began playing the sweetly sentimental love song, “When You and I Were Young, Maggie.”

Her eyes round with surprise, Maggie stared at Shanaco. “You? You had them play…?”

“I did,” Shanaco said, reaching for her hand across the table. “And when we celebrate our golden wedding anniversary, I’ll have them play it again.”

Tears sprang to Maggie’s eyes as she gazed at the perfectly groomed, strikingly handsome man who was her adored husband. When she could speak past the tightness in her throat, she said, “Shanaco, can I ask you to do something?”

He gently squeezed her soft hand and said, “Ask me to do anything but stop loving you.”

At that, the tears spilled over and slipped down Maggie’s cheeks. Shanaco tossed his napkin on the table, pushed his chair back, came around, helped her to her feet and escorted her out of the dining room.

Once they were on the stairs and alone, he stopped, took a clean white handkerchief from the inside breast pocket of his dark evening jacket and offered it to her.

“What is
it, darling?” he asked. “Tell me and I’ll fix it.”

Maggie dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief, laughed at herself, then sniffed, “I’m sorry, I…Nothing’s wrong. I’m behaving foolishly, I know. It’s just…just…you’re so good to me and I love you so much and I…I…”

“You’re just happy,” he supplied the words.

“Y-yes.”

“So am I, sweetheart, so am I.”

T
he snowstorm
finally passed.

After four days of the wind-driven blizzard roaring through the Sangre de Cristos, a bright warming sun finally rose on the city of Santa Fe. As the sun climbed higher, light streamed in through the tall windows of the La Fonda hotel suite where two honeymooners slept.

The sunshine awakened Shanaco. He blinked, tossed back the covers and went to the windows. He stood for a long minute looking out, checking the condition of the streets, peering up over the buildings to the mountain peaks beyond.

“Could that strange new light actually be the sun?” a sleepy Maggie asked from the bed.

Shanaco turned and smiled at her. “Hard to believe, but it is. So get up, lazybones and get dressed.” He came to the bed, yanked the covers off her and said, “Let’s go home, sweetheart.”

“If you’re waiting on me, you’re wasting time,” Maggie told him and bounded out of bed.

By 8:00 a.m. the warmly dressed pair were ready to depart. Shanaco’s black stallion and the roan mare were hitched to a heavily loaded wagon. The packhorse—also weighed down—was tied to the wagon’s rear. Stashed beneath the wagon’s high front seat was a loaded pearl-handled revolver. Maggie was already sitting on the bench seat, and directly behind her, balanced on a crate, Pistol barked his growing excitement.

Shanaco stood
in the street. He carefully checked the bridles and riggings yoking the horses to the wagon. Finally satisfied, he walked slowly around the wagon, examining, yanking on taut ropes and leather straps securing the cargo. He didn’t want to start up a steep, snow-covered grade and lose everything due to careless packing.

“Will we get there by nightfall?” Maggie asked when Shanaco climbed up onto the seat beside her and unwrapped the long leather reins from around the brake.

“With any luck,” he said, and flicked the reins over the horses’ backs. “I calculate we’ll reach the house with at least an hour or more of daylight left.”

“Good,” Maggie said with a smile. “I can’t wait. I’m almost as excited as Pistol.”

The pair headed out of Santa Fe with their purchases. Atop the many valises and boxes and crates and barrels, sat a brand-new cane-bottom armless rocker. They had laughed when they bought the rocking chair until the clerk had looked at them piteously and shaken his head. Now they laughed again on seeing the rocker riding high atop the load.

On the outskirts
of the city, Shanaco pointed to the soaring, cloud-shrouded summit of Elk Mountain in the range to the east.

“That where we’re headed?” Maggie asked.

“It is. A wide pass threads through those mountains,” he said. “The ranch is there in a high, lush valley. Just to the south of Glorieta Pass.”

“Glorieta Pass. A beautiful name.”

“A beautiful place.”

The journey was pleasant. The day grew warmer as the alpine sun climbed steadily higher. While the groaning wagon bumped along over a winding, slippery trail, Shanaco and Maggie talked and laughed and sang and enjoyed the outing. They were still in great high spirits when, at midafternoon, the heavy wagon became too much of a burden for the tired, winded horses.

“We need to lighten the load to get over that next ridge,” Shanaco said. “Think you can walk for a mile or two?”

“Certainly,” Maggie said with a smile. “I need to stretch my legs anyhow.”

She laughed merrily as Shanaco plucked her off the high seat, gave her a quick kiss and set her on her feet. Pistol had already shot down off the wagon and raced ahead, tail wagging.

Shanaco took hold of the horses’ bridles and coaxed them up to the next plateau. They walked for an hour, taking it slow and easy, then climbed back onto the wagon. It was not the last time the couple had to get off and walk, but they didn’t mind.

When the sun
that had shone brightly all day began to sink slowly toward the western mountain peaks, they reached the ranch. Rounding a corner in a high, wide valley, Shanaco pulled up on the reins and brought the wagon to a standstill.

And Maggie got her first glimpse of the ranch house. Set against a tumbled wall of rock that soared directly behind it, the small frame house was barely visible through the stands of cedar and juniper and pines.

Maggie was craning to get a better look when she became aware of a muted roar. She turned and gave Shanaco a questioning look. He laughed and inclined his head, directing her attention to the rush of gleaming water spilling down the rocky hillside and into a wide clear pool not a hundred yards from the house.

Even now in the dead of winter this remote high-meadow ranch was awesomely beautiful. Maggie looked forward to the cold, snowy nights inside before a blazing fire. And she could well imagine the lush green valley in the summertime when the two of them could swim in the crystalline pool.

“Shanaco, this place is breathtaking,” she said. “You never told me. I had no idea.” Her face aglow, she started to jump down and hurry to the house.

Shanaco, suddenly frowning, put a hand on her arm and stopped her.

“Wait, Maggie,” he said sharply.

“Why? What
is it?”

“You stay here,” he said, and swung down from the wagon seat.

“No, I’m coming with you,” she said, grabbing his shirtsleeve.

“Very well,” he said, lifting her to the ground, “but stay behind me.”

She nodded. Shanaco reached beneath the seat for his loaded revolver, then pointed a finger at Pistol, signaling the wolfhound to keep silent. As they quietly approached the house, Maggie saw that the front door was open.

“Is somebody…?”

“Shhh,” Shanaco warned.

They reached the porch and climbed the front steps. Gun raised, Shanaco again warned Maggie to stay outside. She obeyed. He went inside. After a long minute Maggie heard him curse. She hurried in, looked around and her hand went to her mouth.

The house had been vandalized. All the furniture was overturned and smashed. The mattress had been dragged out of the bedroom, dumped before the fire-place and slashed. Feathers covered the floor. Pottery was broken and scattered about. Books had been pulled from bookcases, the pages torn out. The windows were shattered.

And those responsible for the destruction had left their calling card.

“Stay away, Injun!” was scrawled on the walls in black paint.

Shanaco laid
the revolver on the nearby mantel and exhaled heavily. “I should never have brought you here,” he said through thinned lips, his face taut with anger.

Maggie saw the hurt in his eyes and her heart ached for him. She stepped forward and put her arms around him.

“Darling, don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth, Maggie. You don’t belong here. I should have had better sense than to bring you here.”

“Shanaco, this is where I want to be. Right here with you. We’ll get this mess cleaned up in no time,” she said as if the destruction was nothing more than a trivial irritation. “We’ll start over with the things we bought in Santa Fe. After all, we have the rocking chair. What else do we really need?” She teased, attempting to lighten his mood.

It didn’t work.

His handsome face was a mask of controlled fury and she could feel the coiled tension in his lean body as she stood against him.

“Please, don’t let this upset you,” she said. “It doesn’t matter, darling. I love you and I don’t need anyone else.
We
don’t need anyone else, just each other.”

She paused and held her breath, waiting for him to speak. He said nothing. Nor did his arms lift and reassuringly come around her. Desperate, she pressed her cheek against his chest and felt the fierce hammering of his heart.

She said
softly, “Darling, together we’ll make our home here.”

“It’s no good, Maggie.” Shanaco finally spoke and he sounded tired, defeated. “I’ve been selfish and irresponsible and I’m sorry. You deserve more than a lonely life of being shunned because you are a half-breed’s wife. I’m taking you back to—”

Interrupting, Maggie said heatedly, “You’re taking me nowhere! Have you so little faith in me? Do you really suppose that this minor incident could scare me away? Don’t you know me better than that? Shame on you for doubting me! Why, I’m the woman who knocked a big armed trooper unconscious with a baseball bat and then dragged you to my place, remember?”

“I’ve forgotten nothing, Maggie. And I’ve never questioned your courage or determination. But this—”he made a sweeping gesture of the wrecked room and the telltale message written on the wall “—is what you’re in for if you stay with me. It’s too much to ask. I can’t put you through this and—”

Interrupting again, Maggie said, “Remember the evening back in Santa Fe when we got all dressed up and went to dinner downstairs at La Fonda?” Shanaco nodded. “That night you said to me, ‘Ask me to do anything but stop loving you.’ I feel the same way, Shanaco. So don’t ask me to live without you. I could no more stop loving you than I could stop breathing. I don’t want to stop loving you and you can’t make me. So there!” Her eyes flashed with the exclamation and she saw the corners of Shanaco’s tight lips begin to lift ever so slightly.

So she
laughed and was tremendously relieved when he laughed with her.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and finally put his arms around her.

“Now, that’s settled and we’ll not speak of it again. So why don’t you go on out and tend the horses while I start cleaning up.”

“On my way.” He released her and crossed to the door. He stopped there, turned back, looked at her with all his love and admiration shining in his eyes. He shook his head and said, “Baby, how did I ever get so lucky?”

“Luck had nothing to do with it,” Maggie said with a mischievous smile.

“No?”

“No. I decided—that first time you kissed me—that you were going to be
mine.
”