The Savage Heart (17 page)

She was…against him. His eyes closed as he felt her softness, felt her warm and moist femininity pleading to be filled.

He looked into her eyes, searching them while his body poised on the knife-edge of disaster.

One of her long, white legs curled around his, and she lifted, shivering, feeling the hardness softly beginning to bury itself inside her. She swallowed. Her lips parted. She could barely breathe. He wasn't fighting her. He was…watching her.

She was too weak. She tried to lift further against him, but her body shivered with the effort. She bit her lip and sobbed as he hovered there, neither advancing nor withdrawing.

It was too late, he thought with resignation. She could be pregnant from the touch of him like this, when he was excited. There would be no more risk regardless of what he let her do.

With a faint smile, holding her gaze, he let his body relax, and as it relaxed, he penetrated her so deeply that she gasped in shock. Even with his initiation of two nights ago, there was still a flash of pain, and muscles unused to invasion were stretched in new and awesome ways.

He moved experimentally from side to side, feeling her
response to him as she stiffened and her hands dug into his back.

“It was painful,” he whispered, moving seductively against her. “It won't be again. Lift your legs around my hips.”

She obeyed him, fascinated by the hot glitter of his eyes, by the sudden sensuality of his body as he enforced his possession of her with sharp, faintly violent little motions that sent her mad with pleasure.

“Don't cry out,” he whispered above her. “The sound of passion is unmistakable.”

Under them, the springs were audible. She looked at him with mingled pleasure and apprehension.

“Yes,” he whispered. “We're going to make too much noise, especially when you start writhing under me. And you will writhe, Tess.”

He drew away from her, causing her to cry out softly in pure fear of the loss of him.

He got up from the bed and lifted her, his face taut, his eyes blazing.

“You'd let me have you in the living room with the doors open,” he observed, his eyes narrow and appreciative as they gazed at her trembling body. “And I'd take you there, without a qualm. You see how violent this is, how uncontrollable? I tried to warn you, and you wouldn't listen. Now we both have to take the consequences.”

“I want you,” she whimpered.

“You're going to have me,” he said huskily. “As much of me as you can take, for as long as I can hold out.”

He laid her down on the soft rug and stood over her, his body taut and vibrant with unsatisfied passion. With a rough sigh, he went to the door and turned the key and latched the bolt.

He moved over her with mindless intent, seeing the way her legs opened for him, the way her breasts went taut. She was completely without reserve, shuddering already with the promise of ecstasy. Her eyes were blind with it, her hand seeking, shaking.

When he went into her, she shivered and sobbed.

His lean fingers went to her soft hips and dug in, jerking her to him in quick, rough movements that only intensified the hot throb of her body. Her arms fell back beside her head, and she arched, crooning in a husky, pleading cry as she met his eyes and watched him take her.

He'd never dreamed that Tess was capable of such sensual abandon, such blatant passion. She matched his sharp movements, bit her lip bloody keeping the cries from escaping her tight throat. He was above her, inside her, rising and falling with beautiful rippling muscles, sensual rhythm, his eyes hot on her as he taunted her body with his.

She sobbed with frustration, grasping at the elusive sweetness and groaning when she couldn't quite reach it. He pushed and pulled away, twisted and rolled, laughing deep in his throat as she went impossibly high, only to fall back and wait for the next wave to carry her up again.

“Stop it…” she choked out, lifting in a shivering arch. “Make it stop…make it stop…please! Please!”

“Don't scream,” he whispered roughly.

And then it was fierce and violent and demanding. He drove into her with such ardor that she climaxed almost at once, but before she could recover, he took her up again on a tidal wave of fulfillment that grew and grew and grew until she bit into his shoulder to keep from screaming and her body went into helpless convulsions that shook them both from head to toe.

Only when she was near unconsciousness did he give in to his own need and fulfill it. He thought that he would never survive what he felt then. He closed his eyes and shuddered and shuddered until his body felt bruised from the force of the pleasure he felt.

They lay together, bathed in sweat despite the chill of the room. Her hair was as damp as his. She couldn't breathe properly. Her body felt as if it had broken in several places during that maelstrom. She clung to him with real fear that he might want to lift away.

“What is it?” he whispered at her ear.

She clung tighter. “I don't want you to move away.”

“I'm not going to.”

She relaxed and felt him move against her with sensual pleasure. She shivered involuntarily at the sensations he provoked.

“Can you feel me, deep in your body?” he whispered.

“Yes!”

“I can feel you, like a soft, wet cocoon.” He brushed her ear with his lips. “When I can think again, I'll never forgive you for making me do this.”

“I don't care. Maybe I'll die right now, and we'll never have to separate again. We can be one person forever.”

The words disturbed him. His hand smoothed over her soft hair, and he lifted his head to look down into her eyes. Sated. She was sated.

He felt an earthquake of possession. Then he lifted his torso so that he could see how intimately they were joined together below the belly.

She followed his eyes and caught her breath.

He saw her curious expression and lifted just enough so she might see.

“Man and woman,” he whispered. “Male and female. See how we join, how we couple, how we mate.”

Her eyes, fascinated, looked up into his. “Yes. How we mate.”

His jaw tightened. He looked down again and moved, deliberately, watching the quicksilver ripple of her body as he rekindled the ecstasy they'd shared. He moved again and his teeth clenched.

He didn't want to. He was going to stop. He was… He pushed down hard and then again and again, watching her face as he took her with desperate passion.

“Yes,” she whispered jerkily, lifting to meet him. “Yes, yes, yes!”

She went over the edge almost at once, and he watched her.

“Don't close…your…eyes!” he bit off.

Shocked, she opened them just as the pleasure arched her in helpless, uncontrollable spasms of fulfillment. He
watched her feel it, and seconds later he gave in to it and let her watch him.

The intimacy of it was unbelievable. When he collapsed against her, shaking, she stroked his long hair with a feeling of utter wonder.

“We looked at each other,” she rasped. “We looked…right at each other!”

“I never thought that I might want to watch a woman,” he whispered roughly. “I saw your eyes the instant you gave yourself. It was beautiful to see.”

“So were you,” she murmured. She clung to him. “Dear God, what are we going to do?”

“I wish I knew,” he said heavily. He rolled over onto his back, drawing her so that she lay half over and against him. His body still throbbed from the ecstasy she'd given him. He could barely breathe at all.

“I'm not sorry,” she whispered. “I'll never be sorry!”

“Neither will I. It was exquisite, reverent,” he said quietly. “The most beautiful and wondrous experience of my life.”

She smiled against his broad, damp chest. “Thank you for saying that, even if you don't mean it.”

He rolled her onto her back and looked down at her solemnly. “Oh, I mean it. I couldn't lie about such extraordinary loving.”

She searched his eyes, aware of the way he was looking at her now, with possession and pride and the lingering traces of desire. There was something else, too: something
dark and warm and constant that he'd never let her see before. She couldn't quite decide what it was.

His hand swept down her body, gently, exploringly. “You belong to me completely now,” he said. “In every way there is.”

“And you belong to me, Matt.”

“You don't understand. There's more to it than this feverish passion we've just shared. Much more.”

She searched his eyes. “Yes?”

He drew in a long breath, and his eyes closed briefly. “I'm going to have to tell you,” he said after a minute. “I've put it off for years, but after what we've just done, it really can't wait any longer.”

He lifted away from her and got to his feet, moving to the water pitcher and bowl on the nightstand. He poured water into the bowl and took two flannel cloths and wet them, pausing just long enough to wring them out before he sat down on the rug and handed one to Tess.

He bathed the sweat from his body while she did the same to her own.

“Did you bleed?” he asked.

She flushed. “No. The other time I did.”

He smiled gently. “It made this time much better than it would have been.”

“I realize that.” She laid the cloth aside and looked at him with eyes that worshiped him. Nude, he was as beautiful as any statue in a museum.

“I like the way you look without your clothes, too,” he murmured with a smile.

She sighed. “What is it that you have to tell me? Something unpleasant?”

“Not really.” He leaned back against the bed and pulled her across him, so that her breasts pressed softly into his chest. “Do you remember the day we went up on the butte, and Old Man Deer came to see us there?”

“Yes,” she murmured, closing her eyes. She felt loved and safe and secure. She wanted this closeness never to end. “I remember.”

“He didn't happen upon us,” he said. “I asked him to come.”

“Yes?”

“He was a shaman, and a relative of mine. That meeting was soon after you'd looked at me under the sheet.”

She felt a little embarrassed. “I remember that, too.”

He smiled. His hand smoothed over her damp hair. “I was afraid that something might happen, even though I did everything in my power to keep a safe distance between us.” He sighed. “Perhaps I foresaw what happened tonight. Either way, I wanted to protect you. There was only one way to do that. And Old Man Deer did it.”

“Did what?”

“Do you remember the ceremony he performed with us, Tess? It was before you were fluent in Sioux.”

“Yes.”

“I never explained it to you.”

“I know. I wondered why.”

“Because there was no need for you to know. What he did wasn't binding in your world. It was only binding in
mine. In the world I knew then,” he corrected. “But if anything had happened, it would have protected you.”

“How?”

He hesitated. His hand stilled in her hair. “He married us, Tess.”

Tess wondered if she'd gone mad. For a minute she didn't say anything. Then she began to realize what Matt had just said.

She looked up at him, stunned. “He married us?” she parroted.

He nodded. “By Sioux custom,” he said. “Even though I didn't give your father any horses to pay for you,” he added, tongue in cheek, “or go through the usual courting rituals. Old Man Deer knew how I felt about you. Some Sioux girls marry at the age you were then, or even a bit younger. For all your youth, you were every inch a woman.” His eyes went over her hungrily. “No less a woman than you are now.”

“You never touched me.”

“I watched you bathe one night. A shameful memory.
You never knew I was there. I thought your body was the most beautiful I'd ever seen. It still is.”

“And you made me feel guilty for looking at you!”

He smiled. “We wanted each other even that long ago. It was inevitable that the bonds holding us away from each other would snap if we spent too much time together. After the other night, when we touched so intimately, well…I knew, I believe.”

“Are you sorry?”

He shook his head. “Nor should you be. Whites might condemn us for being this familiar with each other outside a legal marriage, but by Sioux law, you and I have been married for twelve years.”

She drew in a sharp breath. She glared at him. “And you've been an adulterer.”

He cocked an eyebrow. His eyes danced with amusement, but he didn't answer the charge. “You knew nothing of our marriage. Besides,” he murmured dryly, “perhaps the experience I gained ensured the pleasure I just gave you.”

She colored prettily and curled closer to him. “It was a little frightening, that pleasure.”

“Yes.” He drew her closer. “I've never experienced anything like it.”

She nuzzled closer. “Can't I sleep in your arms?”

His heart jumped. “I want that. More than you know. But what we've done is hardly permissible in this society.”

“And you wouldn't like telling people how we married, and under what circumstances.”

He didn't reply. Pleasure had numbed his doubts for a time, but as he looked at her, the apprehension came back full force. He frowned and suddenly his big, lean hand spread out against her soft, flat belly.

She uncurled and let him touch her there, her eyes meeting his. She knew exactly what he was thinking. “Would it be so terrible if it had happened, Matt?”

His eyes were troubled. His hand moved gently. He didn't speak.

She looked at him, filled with hunger for his child. What would he do if she were pregnant? Would he send her to one of those sophisticated women of his acquaintance who would know how to get rid of it? Her face contorted.

He glanced at her eyes and saw that expression and scowled. “What is it?”

“Those women,” she said hesitantly. “You said they knew how to stop a baby…” She bit her lip until it was bloodless.

“Oh…no,” he whispered quickly. His hand pressed hard against her. “No. I would never, never ask such a thing of you!” he said, and sounded properly horrified that she'd even mentioned it to him.

She felt a little less panicky, but she was still worried. He'd said too often that he didn't want a child with her. She'd tormented him into doing what she wanted, without any consideration whatsoever for his fears. Only now did she feel guilt.

“If it happens,” he said curtly, “it happens. I won't say
that I regret how we came together tonight. I wanted you to the point of madness. I couldn't have drawn back.”

“Neither could I. But I'm sorry if I made you do something you regret.”

“How could I regret going to paradise in your arms?” he asked softly. “Because I did. And so did you.”

She closed her eyes and laid her cheek on his chest. “What do we do now?”

He didn't answer her. He couldn't think of any way to answer her. They'd taken the ultimate risk together, against his better judgment, against his wishes. But he couldn't blame her for what had happened. He'd wanted her as passionately as she'd wanted him. And he could hardly regret such an earthshaking climax. It had been as he'd always dreamed it would be. Now he had to live with whatever consequences came of it. He could only pray that none would.

 

T
HEY DRESSED AGAIN
, reluctantly, and she went to the door, looking back at him with haunted eyes.

“Don't worry,” he said quietly. “We'll take one step at a time.”

“Mrs. Mulhaney wants me to leave.”

He nodded. “Not really, but it will be for the best if you go.” He looked at the rug where they'd been together. “It will happen over and over again until we're eventually discovered together and disgraced,” he said softly. “That's as inevitable as sunrise now.”

She drew in a slow breath. “I suppose it is.” Her eyes
roamed his face and body with quiet delight. “You won't cut me out of your life entirely when I leave?”

“Don't be absurd,” he replied. He smiled, trying to lighten the somber mood. “After all, we have a case to solve.”

“Nan!” She caught her breath. “Oh, dear, I forgot all about her!”

His lips tugged up. “I should hope so, under the circumstances!”

She smiled roguishly. “Well, it was rather hard to concentrate. Under the circumstances.”

“Go back to your room before someone catches us together in this state of undress. Shameless hussy,” he teased, making his words sound like an endearment.

“Look who's talking.”

He grinned. “Good night.”

She said it in Sioux, her eyes adoring him one last time before she slipped the locks and, peering down the hall, eased out of his room and quickly back to her own. She locked her door and leaned back against it with trembling legs and a shaking heart. Matt had made love to her, on the floor, with all the lights blazing. She was still breathless with excitement. She wanted to do it again and again. But she was going to have to move out. And how was Matt going to feel now that his passion for her was spent?

How would he feel tomorrow, in the cold light of day? Would he be angry at her tempting presence in his room so late at night? Would he be worried about the risk of pregnancy? Would he ease her out of his life and push her
away if there was no child? How did he feel about her and what they'd done?”

She lay down, but she didn't sleep at all. Her mind, numbed by passion earlier, was starkly alive now.

 

T
ESS DIDN'T KNOW WHAT
to expect when she went downstairs the next morning, dressed in her nicest suit, with a suitcase in her hand. It took all her courage to put on a brave face and not let anyone see her apprehension as she walked as far as the dining room doorway.

Mrs. Mulhaney looked up very guiltily from her plate.

“I used the telephone to call for a hired carriage, Mrs. Mulhaney,” Tess said, noting with disappointment that Matt wasn't among the diners. “I've included the amount of the charge in my bill for this week.” She proffered an envelope.

Mrs. Mulhaney got up and came out into the hall, her hands buried in her apron, as they always were when she was nervous.

“I would have said nothing if you had remained,” she told Tess softly. “None of the others know anything of what happened. But Mr. Davis seemed to think it best that you go to your friends. I do hope that there are no hard feelings…”

“Don't be silly,” Tess said, regretting the harsh things she'd said to the poor woman the night before. “I could never have hard feelings for someone who's been so kind to me. Forgive me for the awful things I said to you,” she added. “I didn't mean to sound so self-righteous.”

“I didn't take offense. Your friend is in a great deal of trouble, and you want to help her. Anyone could understand that. You will be all right, my dear?”

“I shall be fine. Ellen and her sisters are good girls. We'll do well together. Goodbye, Mrs. Mulhaney.”

“Goodbye, Miss Meredith.”

 

T
HE CARRIAGE WAS WAITING
outside. Mick Kennedy ferried her luggage out to it and put her inside.

“Where to, miss?” he asked kindly.

She gave him Ellen's address.

“Aye, that'll be Miss O'Hara,” he said with a grin. “I know all the O'Hara girls, and that's a fact. There's not a finer bunch of lasses in Chicago, and no hint of scandal about them.”

“I hope not to cause any,” she said demurely.

“You? And that's a fine joke, it is.” He chuckled as he closed the door and hopped up into the driver's seat.

Tess sat back with a sigh, shaking her head. Mr. Kennedy had no idea how much scandal Tess had caused in her young life, and how much more she was likely to cause. Her hand went to her stomach, and she closed her eyes and dreamed. She'd never been so certain that she and Matt had a future, despite their differences.

 

E
LLEN WAS HAPPY TO SEE
Tess. She was given her own room, although there was little time to acclimate herself because, like Ellen and the others, Tess had a job to go to.

“Sure, our work isn't as noble as yours,” Ellen teased, “but then, you're more educated than we are.”

“Bosh,” Tess said. “I've had more advantages. That's all.”

“I'm glad you're to stay with us,” Ellen added gently. “I had a feeling your Mrs. Mulhaney might kick up a fuss when she heard what you'd been about. A proper lady, she is, and runs that boardinghouse like a convent.”

“She's very nice,” Tess said. “She even loaned me a mink stole when Matt took me to a charity ball.”

“She never did!” Ellen exclaimed. “Who'd have believed it?”

Remembering what had happened while she was wearing the stole made Tess color just a little, but she controlled it quickly, bade Ellen a cheerful goodbye and took herself off to the hospital.

She hoped that Matt's absence that morning at breakfast wasn't an omen of things to come. Then she remembered him telling her that he had business to attend to and had to get a very early start. It was like having the sun come out after a bad rain. She smiled and then began to hum. Now if only she could find a way to get Nan out of jail and make Matt face his past and, of course, obtain the vote for her sex, life would be wonderful indeed. Two out of three, however, wouldn't be at all bad.

 

M
ATT HAD GONE TO WORK
to fetch Stanley. He had a job for the young man that was going to require extensive stealth and courage. Stanley had been overjoyed that his
boss had finally trusted him with something more dangerous than filling fountain pens with India ink.

But when he learned the specifics of this new assignment, his heart fell.

“You want me to go into a bordello?” Stanley asked plaintively. “But, Mr. Davis, I promised my mother—!”

“I don't want you to
do
anything in there,” Matt said irritably. “I want you to ask questions. I've uncovered some new evidence in the Collier murder. I want you to check out his associations with any of the women in there.” He nodded toward the notorious house of ill repute.

“By posing as a—” Stanley swallowed “—client?”

Matt felt his patience wearing thin. “By posing as a detective, Stanley,” he said shortly. “You look trustworthy and, forgive me, nonthreatening.”

Stanley eyed his boss warily. “Why don't you go?”

“Because I had to identify the madam in an assault case when a man was shot in that house. She'd recognize me immediately and tell her girls not give me a scrap of information.”

“You said it was going to be a dangerous assignment,” Stanley muttered, feeling betrayed.

Matt clapped him on the shoulder. “By God, it is, son,” he said solemnly. “Just think, you could be raped.”

Stanley gave him a glare that was impressively dark.

“You could be shot,” Matt added. “The bouncer carries a gun. So don't make any threatening moves.”

The younger man brightened. That was more like it. “I'll do my best, sir. What do you want to know?”

“If Dennis Collier was a frequent customer, if he had a regular girl there, and most importantly, if he ever invited her to his home.”

Stanley let out a breath. “That's a tall order. But I'll try.” He straightened his tie and his bowler hat, and with a jaunty smile, he walked down the street to the bawdy house.

 

M
ATT WAITED FOR HIM
outside, his eyes wary. It was a dangerous neighborhood, that was no lie, and the bouncer inside didn't like detectives very much because of Matt. He couldn't let the boy be hurt, but he needed the information badly.

Ten minutes passed. Matt glanced at his watch. So far, so good. He was mentally congratulating Stanley on his success when he heard a commotion down the street and a series of thuds on the back stairs of the house of ill repute.

Fearing the worst, Matt dashed through an alley and almost through an occupied clothesline as he made his way to the back of the house.

Stanley had gone crashing down the steps. He was groggy and bruised, and a huge man with a pistol was coming right down after him. The boy wouldn't stand a chance. The women were leaning out windows, and Matt knew that they'd swear to whatever the madam told them to.

His heart raced as he reached under his jacket for the bowie knife he'd worn just in case of trouble. He was glad he had it. He slid it quickly out of its sheath, waited
to make sure the gunman meant business, and took it by the tip.

“You little worm, nobody talks to these girls without paying. This is what you'll get for your trouble, nosey parker!”

“Leave him alone,” Matt called, his voice even and threatening.

“And who's going to make me?” the bouncer drawled, turning the pistol toward Matt.