Nan Ryan (21 page)

She shot to her feet, hands balling into fists at her sides, her eyes flashing violet fire. All fear was momentarily gone, pushed aside by exploding anger. Screaming like a banshee, Diane flew at the taciturn Redman as he leisurely strolled back to the campfire. Propelled by blinding rage, she slammed into his back, threw her arms around his middle, and attempted to squeeze the life out of him. Straining with every fiber of her being, she applied all the pressure within her power. She gripped him with bone-crushing firmness, eagerly anticipating his strangled gasps and groans of pain.

She didn’t get so much as a peep out of him. Frustrated, Diane angrily sank her teeth into the smooth flesh of his shoulder, viciously biting him. That did it. He flinched, and a soft moan escaped his lips.

Diane was elated.

But then the Indian easily unclasped her hands from around his body and, holding them both in one of his, turned to face her.

“Never,” he coolly warned, “bite me again, Beauty.”

“I’ll bite you any time I get the chance, you bastard!” Diane snarled, struggling to free her hands from his firm grip. “You lied to me, you big beast! Deceived us all. Purposely tricked me!”

“No,” he said evenly, “I did not.”

“Liar! Impostor! Acting like you couldn’t talk when all along—”

“I couldn’t.”

“Let me go, damn you,” she snarled, frantic to free herself. “You
could
, too, talk! You just didn’t want me to know it! Let me run my mouth when all along you understood every word I said. Damn you! I hate you, you— you—”

“Beast? That the word you’re searching for, Beauty?”

“Yes! Beast! A fraudulent beast! You speak perfect English, and all this time you hid it from me! I could kill you for that! I demand that you let me go at once! Oh, God, you understood everything, were perfectly capable of talking! Were just pretending you couldn’t!”

Abruptly the Indian released her. Diane staggered, almost losing her balance. His hands swiftly gripped her shoulders and steadied her.

Unruffled, he said, “Look closely at my throat, Beauty.” Diane’s eyes dropped to his throat. Even in the moonlight the nasty bruises were visible. “I couldn’t speak until now, thanks to your manly lover.”

“If you’re referring to the Cherokee Kid,” hissed Diane, “let me warn you that he’s armed and on his way after me this very minute!”

“Beauty,” said the Redman, “I’m counting on that.”

His hands dropped from her shoulders and he slowly backed away. She anxiously followed. “You—you were really hurt and couldn’t speak?” He nodded affirmatively and took another backward step. Again she advanced on him, her anger still white hot. “Well, maybe you couldn’t talk, but that’s no excuse for acting like a wild man! You son of a bitch, you’d better let me go, you hear me. Let me go or I’ll kill you, so help me God!”

He gave no reply.

He turned his back on her and walked away. Unhurriedly he headed toward the dying campfire.

His insolence burned Diane up. So he wasn’t the least bit afraid of her? Well, fine! Good! All it showed was that he was too thickheaded to realize she meant every word she said!

Her violet eyes narrowed, Diane was tempted to fly at him again but thought better of it. That would do no good. He could easily subdue her, and she would have gained nothing. No, the thing to do was to be just as cool as he. To wait for the right opportunity. To bide her time until he least expected an attack.

Diane took a deep breath.

She would allow the savage to believe she had calmed down. She would pretend that her anger had cooled and that she wanted no further trouble. She would even go so far as to charm him subtly into letting his defenses down. Then … zap! She’d grab the knife, shove it into his bare belly, and flee.

Diane’s slender shoulders lifted, then lowered. She pushed her hair back from her face, smoothed the skirts of her wrinkled, soiled purple dress, and went to join her captor. She sat down near but not too close to him, wrapped her arms around her knees, and said, “I apologize for my outburst.”

He was looking into the fire, one long, bare leg stretched out before him, the other raised, a forearm draped atop it. His dark head didn’t turn. He continued to stare into the dancing orange flames.

“No apology necessary,” he said, his voice beginning to sound hoarse.

Diane gave a little nervous laugh and said, “You know my name. Won’t you tell me yours?”

“Call me Starkeeper.”

“Starkeeper,” she repeated. “I like that. And it fits, doesn’t it? You know so much about the stars. I suppose that’s why they gave you the name?” He said nothing. She hurried on. “I find astronomy absolutely fascinating.” She waited for a response, wishing he would turn his head to look at her. “Will you tell me more? I’m ever so ignorant on the subject and I—”

“Not now,” he said, and rolled to his feet in one easy, fluid motion. He towered over her, the firelight playing over his tall, lean frame. “It’s late. Time we get some sleep.”

Diane smiled up at him, expecting him to offer her his hand. This time she would take it.

He didn’t offer it.

Feeling her temper flare again, Diane carefully hid it. She rose unaided and said, “Yes, I’m quite tired; you must be, too.” She yawned dramatically behind her hand, then said, “My goodness, are you as sleepy as I am? I can hardly hold my eyes open.”

Wordlessly he took her arm and guided her to where they would sleep. There was no sheltering cave here, so he had spread the blanket on the soft grass directly below the towering west wall of Granite Gorge. The soaring cliffs effectively shadowed the spot from the distracting moonlight.

Diane commented on what a suitable place he had found, said she was certain she’d sleep like a baby here. Yawning again, she lay down on the blanket and steeled herself not to shudder when he stretched out beside her, so close his body almost touched hers. Deftly he swirled the spare blanket over them both, then lay down fully and folded an arm beneath his head.

Longing to move away from him, not daring to do it, Diane glanced up at his face. His eyes were wide open.

She said, “This place is simply beautiful, isn’t it?”

Silence.

“The roar of the falls serenading us and the clear creek cascading over the rocks. It’s so peaceful and—and—you know, I’m absolutely terrible with directions and geography. Where exactly are we right now?”

“Sleep, Beauty,” he said in that same calm, impersonal tone, stretched, and closed his eyes.

Diane’s gaze remained on his face. She smiled to herself. He was about to go to sleep. In only a matter of minutes he would drop off.

The Redman
did
fall asleep quickly. Unfortunately so did Diane. Which wasn’t at all the way she had planned it She struggled valiantly to hold her eyes open, but it was impossible. Minutes after lying down, both had fallen asleep. The exhausted pair slept through the chill night, Diane again unconsciously snuggling close to the warmth of the Redman’s body.

But she did awaken first.

Diane began to rouse just as the first gray of dawn lightened the sky far above their heads. The deep rock gorge was still cloaked in nighttime darkness; it would be another hour before the sun’s warming rays reached down inside the steep-sided granite canyon.

Slowly, cautiously Diane tilted her face. The Indian was still on his back, his eyes closed in slumber, one long arm wrapped around her. Her body was turned in toward his, pressed against his warm, solid length. Her face reddening, Diane could feel his hair-dusted thigh pressing boldly against the bareness of her own. She fought the impulse to shove down the wrinkled skirt that had ridden up during the night.

For a moment she stayed just as she was, watching him closely, making sure he was truly sleeping soundly. Satisfied he was, she warily began inching away from him, wiggling patiently, slowly out of his embrace.

When she was totally free—when no part of her body was touching his—she lay still for a while, again checking to be certain her movements hadn’t disturbed him. He slept peacefully on, his breathing deep and even, the dark, chiseled face serene.

Diane could hardly suppress her excitement.

Her eyes remaining riveted to his face, she slid thumb and forefinger over the top border of the horse blanket, then slowly, steadily peeled it away from both their bodies. It took only a minute; it seemed like an hour. At last the blanket was completely pulled free. She laid it aside and once again waited, fearing the chill morning air hitting his near-naked body would awaken him.

He squirmed a little, twisting his bare shoulders and lean flanks as if attempting to nestle down deeper into the bed. Then nothing more. He slept on.

Diane agilely rolled into a sitting position. Turning, she reached across him, her eyes finally leaving his face. Her full attention rested on the sheathed hunting knife on his hip. Before her fingers ever touched the knife’s hilt, she could almost feel its smooth solidness fitted firmly in her grasp.

Starting to come out of his deep slumber, the Indian became aware that someone was standing over him. He opened his eyes to slits, concealing their shine with thick lashes, to see the gleam of the knife blade plunging toward him.

Instinctively Starkeeper rolled to his side. He heard the dull thud of the knife stabbing the blanket and grass beneath. As he started to leap to his feet, he reached out, caught the ankle of his attacker, and with a quick turn, flipped her off-balance.

Starkeeper jumped to his feet and was about to leap on his foolish assailant but stopped the assault at the last instant when Diane’s legs bunched against his chest, anticipating him. Realizing with surprise that the fiery Diane was almost as swift as he, he waited for her to spring to her feet.

She did so in a split second. Diane came at him with the knife, sharp blade held low, lunging furiously forward. Starkeeper pretended to step into the path of the knife, and she could taste sweet victory. Instead he reached out to grasp the wrist of her hand that held the knife. Using the momentum of Diane’s thrust, he put out his near foot and jerked her past him, tripping her. She fell to her face on the ground, the knife still gripped firmly in her outstretched hand.

Starkeeper immediately fell atop her and straddled her but not before Diane managed to swiftly flip over onto her back to face him. Before he could lean down to pin her arms, she got the knife between them, ready to plunge it into his stomach. Astride her waist he was spread out over her, his hands on the ground on either side of her head. The tip of the knife was against his bare belly.

The moment of truth.

Their eyes were locked. Their breaths were coming in loud, short rasps. Both were furious. Both were frightened. It was the ultimate war of wills with the loser facing death.

Diane gritted her teeth and squeezed the knife’s handle tightly, telling herself she could do it, she
had
to. It would take only a second. All she had to do was swiftly thrust the razor-sharp blade deep into his belly, and it would be over. She could do it, she knew she could. If only she could make herself quit looking up into his dark, compelling eyes.

Starkeeper stared straight down at her, willing her to look directly into his eyes. She couldn’t do it; she couldn’t stab him; he knew she couldn’t. Not as long as he made her meet his gaze. She was fiery and forceful, but she was no killer. She didn’t have the stomach for it.

Diane could feel her fingers trembling on the knife handle, could hear her heartbeat in her ears. She was weakening, and she knew it. She
had
to look away from him immediately. With great effort Diane began to turn her head.

“Look at me,” he commanded in a deep monotone. “Look at me, Beauty.” She obeyed, hating herself for it, unable to do otherwise.

Hating him when he smugly sat back on his heels astride her, rubbed his bare belly where the knife had pricked him, and said, “Beauty, if you’re not going to kill me, I have things to do.”

Diane sighed, and her raised arm fell away. Her fingers loosened on the knife; it dropped harmlessly to the ground beside them. Her violet eyes still on the man straddling her, she said tiredly, “Who are you?”

“I will show you who I am, Beauty.”

“No! You tell me! Tell me who you are. Tell me right now!”

In the blinking of an eye he bent to her, his bare, broad chest crushing her breasts, his hands clasping her head. His mouth captured hers in a brutal, savage kiss, his tongue swiftly parting her lips and plunging inside. Caught completely off guard, Diane resisted, struggling against him, wishing she had killed him when she’d had the chance.

The long, devouring kiss continued, his mouth hot and demanding on hers, taking her breath away, scaring her, thrilling her. The invasive caress grew hotter, stronger the longer she fought against it. And Diane fought against it for as long as she possibly could. But the sexual fire he so effortlessly exuded was now blazing. His burning lips were reckless and ruthless; she’d never been kissed with quite so much passion in her life.

Her senses melting away in the blaze, Diane stopped struggling and eagerly responded to his fierce, frightening kiss.

At once his hard lips softened, his kiss became gentle, almost sweet in its tenderness. He lifted his head and looked down at the woman whose violet eyes had changed to a deep, appealing shade of purple.

Starkeeper lowered his voice to a whisper. “First, Beauty, I’ll tell you a little about myself.” He smiled at her as a sardonic light flashed in his black eyes. “And later I’ll tell you a lot about yourself.”

Chapter 20

“Yes … yes, that’s better.”