Comanche Rose (31 page)

As he walked toward her, his pulse raced, pounding the blood through his veins. He wasn't going to be groping in the dark now. He was going to see and explore all of her, and as he loved her, he could look into her face and know if he was pleasing her.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he reached to lift the sheet. She closed her eyes and let go of it. Easing his body down next to her, he leaned over to push the pale, tangled hair back from her face. Her closed lids were bluish, her lashes almost gold against her pale skin. His gaze dropped lower, taking in the rounded swell of ivory breasts, the smooth, almost taut skin below them, the flat plain of her belly, and he could scarcely believe she was his.

He brushed his thumb over a soft, pink nipple, watching it tauten. Her body seemed to quiver beneath his hand. Gingerly sliding lower in the bed, he turned his face to her breast and teased the hardening button, running his tongue over it. She gasped, then her hands grasped his hair, holding his head there. Fighting the urge to hurry, he was determined to explore her thoroughly, to know every inch of her. His teeth lightly nibbled the nipple, then his mouth closed over it, and he sucked eagerly, while his hand felt her belly quicken.

The murmured words, the almost awkward couplings of the night, had left her utterly unprepared for the effect he was having on her now. It was as though her whole being was centered where he sucked—and between her legs. Her fingers opened and closed in his thick, wavy hair as she felt the wet warmth lower. It had been a long, long time since she'd felt anything like this. As he brought forth her desire, she urged him on.

"Kiss me, Hap," she said. "Kiss me now."

He pressed his mouth against her breast, her collarbone, into the hollow of her throat, along her earlobe. His warm breath sent a shiver of anticipation through her.

"Tell me what you want, sweetheart, and I'll do my damnedest to give it to you," he whispered at her ear.

"I want you to touch me. I want you to love me."

"Where, Annie?—where?" As he asked, his hands moved over her, exploring the smooth, moist skin of her back, the rounded curve of her bottom. Her legs tangled around his, drawing his body closer, pressing her belly against his. Slipping his hand between them, he touched the soft, wet thatch. The tension in her leg slackened as she opened beneath his hand, letting him inside. "Here, Annie?" he whispered.

"Yes." It was more of a moan than an answer.

He rolled her onto her back, but didn't follow her down. Instead, he took his time, kissing her, whispering love words to her, as his fingers stroked and explored. Her head was back, her hair spilling over the embroidered pillowcase, but there was no mistaking the intensity of the pleasure he was giving her. Her legs moved restlessly, opening and closing around his hand, and her hips arched, urging more.

"Please," she moaned. "Kiss me—give me all of it, Hap."

She was going to give him the best time of his life, and he knew it. As her arms reached up to pull his head to hers, he eased his body over her, and her legs closed around him, pulling him down, drawing him into her. This time there was no last-minute fright, no attempt to stop, only the frenzied passion of union, the sound of her panting cries in his ears driving him to ultimate release.

Spent, he collapsed over her. Looking down at her closed eyes, seeing the tendrils of pale hair clinging to her damp temples, he was truly amazed by her. "Reckon that's about as close to heaven as I'll ever get, Annie," he told her softly.

Her blue eyes opened, daring to meet his gaze. "It was easier in the light," she managed.

For a moment he was perplexed. "I always heard most women liked it better in the dark."

Turning her head, she looked at the bright embroidery on the pillowcase. Swallowing visibly, she told him, her voice so low he could barely hear it, "I could see you. I knew it was you. In the dark there are so many nightmares."

His passion gone, he wanted to cry for her. "Don't think about it, sweetheart," he said, stroking her hair where it fell forward over her shoulder. "It's over."

"No. It'll never be over, not until I have Susannah. Maybe not even then."

Easing his body from hers, he lay behind her and drew her back against him. "Would it help to talk about it?"

"No. You wouldn't want to know—you just wouldn't."

"I buried some of those women, Annie. There's not much you could say that I don't already have a fair notion about," he said gently. "I've seen 'em cut inside even. So if it would help to have me listen, I will."

"You'd think I was dirty."

"No."

"Everyone else does. I can see it in their eyes."

"I'm not everybody, Annie." Wrapping his arms around her, he rested a hand on her breast. "I'm your husband. I reckon I love you enough to want to take the pain. If keeping quiet is easier, do that. If not, I'm right here." When she said nothing, he added, "By rights you ought to be dead from what they did to you, but I figure God had a reason for sparing you." Nuzzling her hair with his chin, he said softly, "I'm kind of hoping I'm that reason, Annie."

"So am I," she whispered.

"You don't have to go back up there." As he said it, he felt her stiffen in his arms. "No, hear me out. I don't want you having to look at those bastards, having to remember what they did to you."

"I have to go—I have to."

"I can ride up to Sill. There's supposed to be a few friendly Comanches up there, you know. Maybe I can pay one of 'em to take me up to Llano to look for your little girl. I'm willing to give it all summer, Annie. I'll look in every damned village I can find."

"You don't know her," came the muffled reply. "I'm her mother."

"I'll take the doll. I never knew a kid yet that didn't remember a toy."

There was a moment's silence, then she sighed. "I've got to go, Hap."

"All right." Turning away, he sat up. "We'll be getting a late start, 'cause I've still got to stop over at the stage station and bargain for a couple of mules. Ouch!" Looking down, he saw that the black kitten had a good hold on his big toe. "Damned cat," he muttered under his breath.

"We can't go today," she said suddenly, sitting up behind him. "I can't just leave Spider here to fend for himself. I'll have to take him to Mary's."

Reaching down, he lifted the fur ball by the scruff of its neck. "Cats take care of themselves, Annie. Most of 'em never get inside a house."

"I wouldn't feel right."

Hap looked around, surveying the damage one ball of yarn could do. That cat had managed to string it from one end of the room to the other, catching it on everything in between. He studied the cat.

"You're a little hell-raiser, aren't you?"

It blinked those round orange eyes at him.

"They're like family to me, Hap. When I got back here, they made everything bearable."

"Yeah. Well, if we don't leave out until tomorrow, I reckon I can take him by the Willetts on my way to the station to pick up the mules. That way we can have everything ready for first light in the morning."

"I think it'd be better."

He sure wasn't going to argue with her, not when it gave him another night on that feather mattress. Suddenly he remembered, "I got your coffee boiling—ought to be real strong by now."

"I'll get it. Is oatmeal all right for breakfast? Or I could fry up a little cold mush."

"I'd like mush a whole lot better," he admitted. "All right."

Covering her front with the sheet, she leaned off the bed to find her wrapper, then quickly slipped it on. He watched her pad barefoot across the floor, thinking it was a wonder how a woman could be everything to a man. There was no explaining how or why he'd come to feel about her as he did, and he guessed it didn't matter much, anyway. But right now he knew he could lay down his life for her. And it wasn't lost on him that he might.

She turned back at the door. "Aren't you getting up?"

"Yeah. While you fix breakfast, I reckon I'll wash up and shave. Then I'll try to figure out what I can put the animal in."

"It's not just an animal, Hap, it's my cat. I wish you had time to get to know him."

He eyed the kitten as it attacked the crocheted edge of a pillowcase. "Yeah, well, I'd probably get along with the other one better. I'm not much for hell-raising animals."

"I've hopes he'll grow out of some of it."

"Yeah, maybe by the time we get back."

Once she left for the kitchen, he went into the other bedroom and poured a little cool water into the washbasin. As he splashed his face, he looked up, seeing himself in the oval mirror. "Nothing like an old fool, is there?" he asked his reflection. But today he didn't feel old at all. He felt like a kid again.

When he came out, dressed and ready to go for the mules, she had two slabs of fried cornmeal slathered with fresh butter waiting for him. Going to the cupboard, she took out a jar of honey and carried it to the table. He noticed she had a cup of water next to her plate.

"Where's the coffee?"

"It had Clay McAlester written all over it," she told him smiling. "I was afraid it would eat the spoon."

"You've never tasted his. Hell, the spoon can't hit bottom in it."

"He must've learned to make it from you."

"Want me to try again?"

"No." She sat down across from him and reached for the honey. Drizzling some of it over a single piece of fried mush, she asked, "Did you find anything to put Spider in?"

"Yeah, there was a carpetbag in the wardrobe. It's already got a couple of moth holes in it, anyway, so I expect he'll be able to breathe in it."

"Good. Just remember to drop him off first. Otherwise, it'll be too hot for him."

"I wasn't planning on listening to him howl any longer than I have to."

"You'd better tell Mary—no, I'd better write it down for her," she decided.

"I don't think she can read much," he pointed out, recalling the woman's letter.

"If I don't put any big words in it." She got up and went into the other room, and he could hear her rummaging in some drawers. She came back empty-handed. "I've misplaced my paper," she said, sitting down again. "I wanted to tell her what he likes and what he won't eat."

"I doubt she's going to cook for it."

"It's not very hard to add an egg to milk, is it?" she countered.

"Well, I can tell her that."

"Pork makes him sick, and so do bones."

"I'll remember it."

"And if she gives him fish, he won't eat it unless it's cooked."

"She'll probably put him in the barn," he reminded her.

"No. He'd starve, Hap. I've never seen him catch a mouse at all."

"Hate to say it, Annie, but he sounds pretty useless," he teased her.

"No. He has great entertainment value, even if he is a pest.

"What's she doing with the other one?"

Twain? Twain's different. He's real easygoing—sort of like you, in fact. He'll eat anything he doesn't have to catch. I've even caught him chewing on raw beans." She cut a piece of mush and carried it to her mouth. "I don't think I packed my stationery. I can't imagine that I did, anyway. I just wrote to Cora the other day, and—"

"I've got paper, Annie. I'll tear a sheet out for you." Having already polished off his food, he got up and headed for the other room. When he came back, he had the tablet and pencil in hand. "Just put down what you want, and I'll see the Willett woman gets it."

That's some letter you've got in front," she murmured, reaching for the cup of water.

He looked up, surprised. "You saw it?"

"In the buckboard." Seeing that he flushed, she apologized quickly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have read it, but there wasn't much else to do sitting under that tree."

"It's not exactly a letter," he admitted. "I, uh, I got this fellow that wants me to write my life story. Got me to thinking maybe I'd kinda like to do it for Clay's kid—they got a kid on the way, you know. Him and Amanda, I mean."

"He means a lot to you."

"Clay? Yeah. Like a son. We've been through a lot together—him being a wild kid, the war, the rangers. But we never talked a lot. Didn't really need to, I guess. I wish you could get to know him, Annie."

"I'd like that."

"Yeah. Anyway, I kinda thought I'd like to put it all down in case I never see the kid—or in case I'm not around by the time he's grown up. I've got a lot to tell him about his pa—and about me. Pretty soon there won't be men like me running around carrying six-shooters and chasing Indians, you know. I'd kinda like to have him know how it was."

"And if it's a girl? What if they have a daughter, Hap?"

"It doesn't matter. I reckon a little girl would like to know about her pa, too. And if it was left to Clay, he wouldn't think it was important. He never knew his own folks, you understand." Hap opened the tablet to rip out a sheet and looked at what he'd written. "Hard to know what to say, though. Hard to know what'll interest a kid."

"Just about everything you've ever done." She reached up for his hand, then drew it against her cheek. "Everybody admires you—you're quite a man."

"Now I know you're teasing me," he retorted. "I never did anything I didn't have to."

She looked up through wet lashes, and her smile twisted. "You're taking me back up there, and you don't have to."

"I made you a bargain," he answered simply. Embarassed, he drew back his hand and turned to the back of the tablet. "Here," he said, tearing a piece of the paper out. "If I were you, I'd make it real simple."

"Where are you going?"

"To stuff Spider in the bag."

"Be careful!" she called after him.

"He's not a wildcat, Annie."

Picking up the pencil, she considered a moment how to begin her note, then wrote, "Mr. Walker is bringing Spider over this morning. He and I were married yesterday at Baker's Gap, and he will be going with me to look for Susannah. Please love Spider and Twain for me. They have been grand company. Also, please don't let Jim put them in the barn. And whenever you can, please beat an egg into Spider's milk. And don't let him eat any raw fish."

She stopped. She sounded more like the cats' mother than an owner. And Hap was right—if it was too complicated, Mary wouldn't be able to read it. She looked it over, thinking somewhat ruefully that the way she worded it, it sounded like she'd married Spider. But Mary'd know what she meant, anyway. And she and Jim would be so pleased about her marriage to Hap Walker.