Montana Wildfire (57 page)

Her eyes widened. "You did that?"

"That... and more." He chuckled softly. "A couple days back I tried to head you off, steer you West... but you're a stubborn little piece of royalty. Cute, but stubborn. You just stuck that prissy nose of yours up in the air, went around the pile of logs I'd set up, and headed due south."

It wasn't funny. Amanda
knew
it wasn't funny. Jake had been following her, watching her all this time and hadn't had the decency to show himself. She should be insulted. She should be furious! She wasn't. How could she be angry when she had Jake Chandler's husky laughter curling like warm honey down her spine, and his steely gaze heating her blood?

She reached up and cupped the back of his hand with her palm. Their gazes met; hers wide, his narrow, both intense and searching. "Why, Jake? Why would you do all that for me?"

"Because I'm anxious to get to Washington," he replied huskily. "Because I want to know what it's like to make love to my woman in a real bed."

Amanda's stomach fluttered. "M-make love?"

"That's what I said."

"Yes, but is that what you
meant?"

"Yes. It isn't just 'sex' with you, lady. It never has been. Damned if I know..." Jake gritted his teeth and pushed abruptly to his feet. The curses he let loose were long and vibrant. "See? See what you've done to me? Jesus, now you've got
me
lying!"

With an aggravated sigh, he plowed his fingers through his hair, and grimaced. It felt short, light... unfamiliar. He wondered how long was it going to take to adjust to this new, shorter length? How long before he adjusted to the boots that he'd bought in the last town he'd passed through; boots that pinched the hell out of his feet. And the shiny new Smith & Wesson hanging off a holster whose leather was so new it squeaked; a gun he really wasn't good at using. And the saddle that sat in a shady spot beneath a tree; a saddle he'd hitched behind the white because he still hadn't had the heart to put on.

How long was it going to take for him to adjust to all of that? Jake didn't know, but however long it took, he'd do it, work at it. Hard. For Amanda. And speaking of Amanda...

He glanced down at her. "I
do
know why it's so good with you. Do you want me to tell you, princess? Are you ready to hear it?"

"More than ready," Amanda replied, and braced herself. She was scared to death to hear what he was going to say, yet she also knew she'd go crazy if she didn't listen.

With a gentleness Jake didn't know he possessed, he drew her to her feet. Neither noticed when the blanket fell from her slackened fingers, and puddled on the ground around their feet. Both were excruciatingly aware of when he pulled her against him, molding her soft white curves to his solid copper body.

Home
, Jake thought as he held her against him. Cradled in her arms was the sweetest place he had ever,
would ever,
know.

He angled his head, and rubbed the golden silk of her hair with his cheek. His breaths sounded deep, strained; the heat of them washing over her felt wonderful, inflaming.

"I love you, Amanda Lennox," he whispered softly, raggedly. "Jesus, I love you so much it scares the hell out of me!"

Amanda absorbed the words, let them slide through her in a wave of pleasure that made her shake. When Jake pulled her closer, she nuzzled against him without question. She wrapped her arms around his back, holding him close, as though trying to melt right into him and become a part of him—the way he was already a part of her.

"Er, princess?"

"Hmmm...?"

"This is the first time I've ever done this, so maybe I'm wrong, but I think you're supposed to say you love me, too."

Amanda smiled, and hugged him all the closer. "I do. I do, I do,
I do!
You know that. You—"

He inched back and, cupping her cheeks in his hands, stared into her eyes. "Tell me, Amanda. You said the words once, and I turned you away because I thought I had to. I won't turn you away now. Never again. Please, I need to hear you say it."

She sucked in a sharp breath, held it for only a beat, then, on its release, poured out the words that were in her heart. "You are my life, Jacob Blackhawk Chandler and I... Oh, God, I love you so much it hurts sometimes."

His sooty lashes swept down, and she watched his expression tighten in an acute pleasure-pain that seemed to radiate from his body to hers. She shivered, and a tear slipped free when she reached up and smoothed a palm over his brow, his cheek, his jaw. It fascinated her, the way her small white hand looked against a backdrop of burnished copper.

Her gaze lifted, locking with intense silver. There was no need to speak her thoughts aloud; Amanda could tell by the look in Jake's eyes that he knew exactly what she was thinking.

"I won't lie to you, princess. I won't tell you it'll be easy for us, because it won't be," he said, even as he turned his head, and his lips grazed her open palm. "Never forget those men in Junction, because there will be more of them. Dozens of them. There are going to be times when you'll to wish to hell you'd never met me. Are you sure you—?"

"Yes, Jake! A thousand times yes!"

His gaze darkened with pleasure. "Good. Because I don't think I can let you go, princess. I might have tried, for a while, but... dammit, I'm just not that strong."

"I'm glad. Because when it comes to you, neither am I. I don't want you to let me go, Jake. Not now. Not ever. Just hold me. Please."

He did. He held her and kissed her, loved and cherished her. He leaned into her, and held her so close to him that their heartbeats meshed. She moaned and clung to him as he lowered them both to the ground.

"Washington, Jake," Amanda sighed as he trailed hot, moist kisses down her throat. Lower, then lower still. "I... thought you wanted to get there quickly."

"We'll set out tomorrow. After we make a little detour."

"A detour?"

"I..."
He hesitated, his warm lips poised over her collarbone. She felt the heat of his sigh seep into her skin. "I want to stop and see Little Bear and Gail. If that's all right with you."

She hesitated, stiffening slightly. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, princess. It's long past time I saw my nephews, don't you think?"

"No, Jake. What I think is that it's time you and your sister put the past behind you. Where it belongs."

She felt him pull in a shaky breath, felt him nod. "Yes, Amanda, that too. I owe Gail an apology, I know that now. The question is, will she accept it?"

"I think she will. I think—"

"Shhh, don't think, princess.
Feel."
He pressed his open mouth against her upper chest. She felt his warm breaths mist over her skin, heat her blood.

She sighed. He groaned. Both lost their train of thought.

Jake shifted, working his way downward. Finding a rosy nipple, he suckled it into his mouth, quickly teasing it into a firm, aching peak. Amanda arched against him, into him, her airy sighs of surrender wafting over his head, burning into his skin, into his blood. Ah, yes. She was a part of him. The very best part. The part he couldn't,
wouldn't,
live without.

Jake lifted his head, and looked down into her passion-darkened eyes. "Today, I want to make love to my woman until she
knows
she's mine. Always."

Smiling, she wrapped her arms around Jake's neck and drew his mouth to hers. "She knows," Amanda whispered against his lips. "But I don't think she'll mind you showing her again..."

"And again," Jake finished the thought for her, his voice husky and sweet and so filled with promise that it brought fresh tears to her eyes.

"
And again
," she sighed breathlessly.

His tongue sipped the moisture from her cheek, even as their bodies arched together, eager to quench the fire they'd lit inside each other.

It was a fire that would take at least a lifetime to put out.

The End

Excerpt from

Perfect Strangers

by

Rebecca Sinclair

© 1996, 2011 by Rebecca Sinclair

Gabrielle sneezed, sniffled, then wiped her eyes and nose on the cloth. Distracted, it took a second for the reality of the situation to seep in. Sweet Lord, she was alone in the chamber with none other than The Black Douglas. Her heartbeat accelerated, heating the already fevered blood in her veins. She shivered and yanked the blanket up protectively close beneath her chin.

"Cold?" Connor asked as he eased himself onto Mairghread's recently vacated seat. The wooden chair legs groaned beneath his weight.

"Aye, a bit chilly," Gabrielle lied. Her shiver had nothing to do with the damp night air and everything to do with this man's commanding presence. However, there was no reason
he
should know that.

"Then Mairghread was right for once. 'Tis maun soup ye be needing to warm ye up on the inside and chase away those fever chills." Gabrielle watched, transfixed, as he dipped the spoon into the soup, coming up with a hearty mouthful. Compared to the gnarled old hand that had so recently held it, Connor's big hand dwarfed the spoon handle until the utensil looked sized for a child. "Here ye go, lass. Eat up and get well. The preacher will not wait fore'er, don't ye ken?"

"If you're thinking... Oh, nay, I will
not.
I
—"
Her words were cut short as, seizing the opportunity of her open mouth, Connor shoved the spoonful of soup past her lips. He used the bowl of the spoon to not only catch the drop of broth that trickled down her chin but to also nudge her gaping mouth shut before more broth could spill out.

Gabrielle chewed swiftly, barely noticing that the once-tasty soup now had the flavor of mud. A wave of irritation swept though her. Oh, but it was difficult to suppress the urge to finish what she'd started, and tell this heathen exactly what she thought of him and his impatient preacher.

She swallowed down the soup and was in the process of opening her mouth to vent her mounting ire... only to find she had no breath left in her lungs to vent it with. Her breathing had paused just beneath her hammering heart when Connor plucked the cloth from her hand and wiped the residue of broth from her chin.