The Judge and the Gypsy (8 page)

“Now the blouse.”

“No. I mean, it isn’t too wet.”

“Maybe not, but it’s damp, and I don’t want the inside of this bag to get wet. Our bodies will keep us warm.”

“I just bet they will,” she said, anger beginning to override her chill.

Rasch disregarded her fury, and pulled the blouse over her head. It followed the skirt out of the tent. Then he drew Savannah back to the mat, sliding his long frame back inside, and began to fasten the bag.

He’d been wrong about the skirt. Even with it gone, the bag still fought his efforts to zip it. It was a large bag, big enough for two, he’d thought, but it was obvious that the two people had to be very well acquainted.

“Sorry about this, Gypsy, but we’re going to have to get closer, or this thing isn’t going to reach.”

Savannah felt him inch nearer. She was lying on her side, ramrod-straight, her arms crossed over her breasts, trying desperately to keep her very breathing from forcing them to touch. By the time he’d zipped
the bag completely, it didn’t matter; they were together, shoulder to thigh.

“You’re frozen,” Rasch said as he turned on his side, drawing her back against his chest. He slipped both his arms around her so that her head was resting on one arm while he curved the other around her shoulder.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to get you warm.”

“I’m warm enough.”

“For an Eskimo, maybe. I don’t look forward to having a sniffling, bleary-eyed companion on this hike, which is just what’s going to happen if you catch a cold on our first night out.”

“I don’t catch colds.”

“And I don’t take my responsibilities lightly. I don’t know what you had in mind for this little venture, but if seducing me was part of the plan, this is your chance. If not, then let me warm you up so we can both get some sleep.”

Savannah opened her mouth to protest, but the delicious sensation that flooded her body when he pulled her closer silenced her. He threw his leg across hers and began to massage her feet with his feet, her arm with his arm, and her face with his fingertips. The electric shock of his flesh against hers took away all thought of speech.

Instead, she felt her traitorous body begin to respond, becoming aware of nerve endings returning to life with a shivery sensation that danced along her body like heat from a midday summer sun. Her face and neck tingled. She became aware of the hair on his legs brushing against her, of his left hand working its way across her rib cage. Delicious sensations
surged through her, and she felt a primal yearning deep within her womanly recesses.

This time it was Rasch who took a quick, shallow breath. “You aren’t wearing anything beneath that blouse.”

“And you consider yourself a keen observer of people.” She was finding it hard to breathe. “I thought you knew.”

Rasch was having breathing problems of his own, and that was minor compared with the other reactions of his body. “I didn’t. Ah, Savannah, it seems that I’m not as much in control as I thought. In lieu of taking a cold shower, maybe I’ll go out and check the fire.”

“Don’t worry about the fire on my account,” Savannah said softly. “I’m getting warm, very warm.”

“So am I, Gypsy. Now close your eyes and go to sleep.”

“All right,” she agreed, feigning a yawn as she snuggled into the warm cocoon of his body. And then she felt his manhood, throbbing insistently against her bottom.

So, the crusader’s body wanted hers. Good, that was a beginning. Thwarted passion was definitely a plus. He wanted to keep her warm. He was strung out with tension and eroding control. Good. She’d follow orders. She’d go to sleep and let him struggle with his honor; he certainly never had in court.

Blatantly Savannah wiggled her derriere, pressing it against the evidence of his desire. “I think you’re right, Crusader,” she said drowsily. “We ought to get some sleep.”

For the next half hour they lay, each held in check, waiting for some evidence that the other was sleeping.
But it wasn’t happening. Every second was fuel for the smoldering embers of desire, until finally Rasch gave a loud groan and turned her over.

“You aren’t asleep, and I can’t sleep either. We’ve got to do something about this, or neither one of us will be worth killing in the morning.”

His lips captured hers with unexpected abandon. For a moment she responded then his last words echoed in her consciousness.
Neither one of us will be worth killing in the morning
. Worth killing! For a moment she’d forgotten what she’d set out to do.

Letting Judge Horatio Webber make love to her might well be part of the outcome, but not when she was as emotionally overwrought as he—not yet. She had to make certain that the attachment was more than purely sexual if she was going to punish him for her brother’s death. She wasn’t about to let him make love to her before the time was right.

Savannah shuddered and pulled away. “Sorry, Crusader, I’m not interested in some fling in the hay, or bag, as the case may be. I seem to be warm enough, and come morning you’ll be over this problem you have.”

This time she finally managed to sleep. Whether it was the reminder of Tifton’s death that made her renew her pledge to avenge her brother, or sheer willpower, didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she slept.

And eventually Rasch slept too. When he woke the next morning, his hand was cupping her breast possessively. In the pale morning light he could see her face, relaxed now in sleep. She was smiling slightly and moving ever so gently beneath his hand. He could tell that her breasts were full, her nipples
generous buds, her body taut and well-muscled. No wasted flesh on this lady. No fear or pushing away this time.

For a long moment Rasch let himself explore the softness of her skin, smell the elusive scent she’d identified as that of the tea olive blossom. He recognized the faintly permissive movements of her body pressing against his. She’d been wrong about the morning. He had no more self-control now than he’d had last night. If he didn’t get up and out, he was going to do something foolish like roll over on top of her and bury himself deep inside that responsive womanly body.

He reached up and unzipped the bag, slipping away from the warmth of her flesh and being hit by the crisp, cool mountain air that followed a night of rain. He left the tent, carrying his clothes in his hands.

Savannah groaned in protest, until she came awake and realized what she was doing. From the open flap of the tent she watched Rasch stretch in the morning sun. His body was spectacular—lean, strong, and masculine. There were scars on his back, old scars, and she wondered what had happened to him.

He stared out into the early morning mist, a frown marring his handsome face, as if he were trying to make some decision that was distasteful. Then he pulled on his pants and a faded Harvard sweatshirt and moved out of her vision. For a few minutes she could hear him as he stirred the fire, then there was silence.

Savannah stretched. Her body still felt warm—and more. After a night of sleeping in the crusader’s
arms, she felt a banked heat simmering inside her. She contracted her muscles and felt a ripple of desire between her legs. Even in sleep their bodies had continued the connection. She was jolted by the knowledge that she wanted the crusader to make love to her. More than that, she needed it badly. And she wondered how she would get through the day without giving herself away.

Beyond the campsite, in the shadow of the trees, Rasch forced himself to take a long, deep breath as he tried to relax. He felt her on his skin, smelled her even now, and he was so strung out that he couldn’t seem to slow his pulse. For most—hell for all—of the night as far as he could tell, he’d stayed hard, and that wasn’t changing.

“Damn!”

A chipmunk sat on a log watching him will his body to cooperate. The small animal tilted his little masked face and waited for a minute before cocking his ears and beginning to chatter in intense animation.

Rasch didn’t talk chipmunk, but eventually he recognized the message of alarm and turned back to their camp. Gypsy had been right; there were more things in heaven and earth than he’d ever dreamed of. And one of them was back in the tent, waiting for him.

The sound of bells filtered through his thoughts.

He began to peel off his shirt.

He knew what he was doing was insane. He’d never before done anything that wasn’t carefully thought out and studied. But this morning Judge Horatio Webber didn’t care to deliberate. He only knew that
he wanted this woman, whoever she was, whatever her own agenda.

Rasch was halfway back to the campsite when he saw it—a very large black bear at the water’s edge. Rasch came to an abrupt stop. “Oh, God!”

He’d joked about the danger of bears, but he’d never expected his warning to become a reality. Quickly he tried to formulate a plan. Nothing came to mind until he saw the bear swing around toward the fire, turning its head slowly back and forth as if puzzled or listening. The flap of the tent pushed open as Savannah crawled out.

“No!” Rasch flung off his unlaced boots and broke into a run. “Savannah, don’t move!”

The bear let out a threatening growl and jerked his attention away from Savannah and toward Rasch, who was waving his arms and yelling loudly.

Savannah felt her blood plummet to her bare feet as she realized what was happening. Not five feet away was an enormous bear, standing upright like a human and swaying back and forth in confusion.

On the other side of the fire the big, crazy man was trying to taunt the bear into coming after him. He was trying to save her life by drawing the animal’s attack. Around the edge of the lake she saw a cub loping merrily toward the judge. The bear cub’s mother was going to tear Savannah’s crusader apart. There’d been a time she’d almost wanted him dead—but not like this.

“No!” Savannah tried focusing her concentration on the bear. She’d done it a hundred times at the circus, calming the excited animals when no one else could.

But this bear was too excited to respond to Savannah’s
telepathic message. The cub! Savannah turned her attention to the baby bear. With every ounce of her being Savannah channeled her mental impulses on the cub.
Stop! Go away! Go away!

Just as the mother bear came down on all fours to give chase to Rasch, the cub squealed and turned, heading around the lake in the opposite direction. While Savannah’s message to the mother met with a wall of resistance, the cub’s cry cut directly through the confusion. The large bear came to a swaying stop, unable to decide whether to take vengeance on the man or see to her baby. Another cry from the cub settled the question, and the mother bear changed course and lumbered after her frightened offspring.

Following the bear’s example, Rasch turned and jogged back to where Savannah was standing, white-faced and trembling.

“Are you all right, Gypsy?”

He gathered Savannah in his arms and held her, his heart pounding in unison with hers.

“Crusader, you idiot! Who do you think you are, Superman? That bear could have ripped you limb from limb! What did you plan to do, outrun it?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. She was upbraiding him just as his mother had decades earlier, when he’d rushed into the street to jerk a smaller child out of the path of a speeding car. His mother had been afraid too. Now Savannah’s arms were holding him, clinging to him desperately. She made no attempt to hide her fear.

“Suppose you’d been killed? I need you.” She wasn’t making any sense. Fear had loosened her tongue. Not fear for herself, but for Rasch. “Oh, Crusader …”

This time they initiated the kiss mutually, lips merging, tongues plundering simultaneously, bodies pressing into each other as if fused. Her arms twined around his neck, drawing his head down and holding him as tightly as he was holding her.

His tongue withdrew momentarily to circle her lips possessively as if branding them his, then reentered her mouth to parry and thrust as his hands found the voluptuous globes of her breasts and fondled them lovingly, masterfully.

He didn’t speak. He couldn’t. All he knew was that he’d almost lost her before they’d given free rein to the passion that flamed between them. There was no holding back now, no resistance, no reluctance.

They were inside the tent again, leaving their clothes on the damp grass outside as they explored each other’s bodies with wonderment and yearning.

With expert hands he stroked her breasts, rolling the nipples between his fingers until she cried out with delicious agony. Leaving a trail of butterfly kisses down her neck and shoulder, he captured one hard bud in his mouth and began to lave tantalizingly with his tongue, while his hand found her womanly wetness and played sweet music there until she thought she’d swoon. She reached for him then, feeling in his swollen manhood all the molten desire that coursed through her, and as he lifted himself above her, lightning sparks seemed to explode wherever heated skin touched heated skin.

Savannah forgot her plan, forgot to exult in her success as they joined in the ultimate intimacy and became one flesh, one being. They’d escaped death, and that was all that mattered. He’d risked his life for
her, and each thrust of himself in her welcoming sheath brought her new life, new rapture.

She wanted him, Rasch thought crazily, as much as he wanted her. They were irrevocably connected now, soaring with the gods. Olympus was reached and surpassed when their release flung them into a corner of the heavens before sending them floating back to earth in a dreamy state of tranquillity.

He lay suspended in the wonder of the moment before he felt the brisk air slap his bare backside. With a groan of regret he rolled to his side, drawing Savannah into his arms, bringing the sleeping bag over them as an intimate cocoon.

Making love with this Gypsy woman was so incredible that he couldn’t begin to believe what he’d experienced. This was some waking dream, some erotic fantasy he’d conjured up. He closed his eyes, determined not to think or question. He just wanted to feel.

Rasch cared about her, really cared. The idea broke over Savannah like the icy wind from which Rasch had tried to protect her. She was lying in his arms, still caught up in the ecstatic satiety of their lovemaking, still tingling from the wonder of the feelings he’d evoked. She never expected to experience such rapture, such fulfillment. Even now she could barely believe what had happened.