The Wrangler (20 page)

"Please," she begged, and suddenly she was in his arms, burying her face in the crook of his naked shoulder. His bare body covered hers, the tip of his shaft bumping her where his fingers had been.

"I'm the one who should be saying please." He kissed the side of her head above her ear, waiting to join them together until she met his gaze. His loving gaze.

"I've never wanted anything in my life more," he confessed.

"I know exactly how you feel."

They melted together slowly. She wrapped her legs around him, open to him. To the unhurried press of his body penetrating hers, stretching her. Pain snapped as he inched deeper and he kissed in sympathy until the discomfort passed. And still they were melting into each other, his thickness filling her until she could take no more and he was buried hilt-deep. He brushed the hair from her eyes, breathless, and began to rock her.

She moved with him, with each delicious, wonderful thrust and wrapped her arms tight around him. Whispering her name, he buried his face in her shoulder, as if overcome by emotion, too. They moved together in the darkness, lost in their love, two hearts beating as one. She surrendered to him completely, the fire within her building until the heat became unbearable. She shattered into a million pieces. Love burst within her so great it brought tears to her eyes and blurred the stars above. She held him as he came, too, burying his face in her neck and shoulder, whispering her name on a broken sigh.

What a sweet man.

Chapter Fifteen

His boots kicked up dust as he hiked down the rural West Virginia road. Sweat broke out on the back of his neck at the hot kiss of the late day sun. He'd been walking for days. Thirst tickled in his throat. Hunger gurgled in his stomach.

Maybe he should have stayed in the army. At least he would have had meals and a job, even if it was fighting Indians. His conscription had ended a week ago, and he'd been glad to leave the violence behind. With his time served, he didn't know what his future held. He hoped more than anything to earn a second chance with his parents.

He heard the town before he saw it. The clatter of horses, the creak and rattle of wagons and the thump of lumber being offloaded at the lumberyard. Shady trees lined the streets of the genteel shops, struggling to hide their shabbiness from the hardship the war had brought.

He turned up the street where houses sat surrounded by grass and leafy trees. He was nervous, meeting his parents. It wasn't easy knowing he'd be facing them for the first time since the end of his trial.

He tried to remember the good things. His father's strictness, how he smoked cigars and smelled of the grease he used at his wagon repair business. His mother liked to bake, liked pretty breakable things to collect for her what-not shelves, who always scolded him to take his boots off when he came into the house.

There it was. The little yellow cottage with the white trim. Fear trickled through him as he hesitated at the gate, trying to figure out what to say. A lot of time had passed. Maybe they'd regretted their decision.

Might as well do it, he thought. He'd come all this way, no sense in turning back now.

His boots tapped on the stone walkway. He hadn't been this scared since he'd been dumped on the front line with the other convicts, given a gun and told to start marching into battle. His knees wobbled a bit as he stood in front of the door and knocked, his pulse drumming in his ears.

The door swung open. Ma stood there, her sweet face rimmed by gray curls. Time had made its mark, but her apple cheeks were still the same, her eyes still bright. Until she recognized him.

"Hi, Ma." He felt awkward. Too big. Too tall. Like he was still wearing prison garb.

Her face crinkled with dismay. "What— What—" She seemed too upset to say anything more.

Whatever hope he had, it died. Her dismay turned to disgust. Disgust to revulsion.

There would be no reunion, no forgiveness, no mercy.

"Who's at the door, Marta?" Pa came into view. He stood in the threshold, weathered, wizened and smaller than the man Dakota remembered. John Black drew himself up like an affronted bear. "What are you doin' here?"

"I thought—" He swallowed, uncertain. "I missed you. I thought maybe you missed me, too."

"We haven't thought of you in years. You're dead to us. Dead and buried." Pa's face hardened. "After what you did to that girl? The man who did that couldn't have been my son."

His mother broke into a sob. She spun away and disappeared into the house. Dakota swallowed hard, his Adam's apple sticking in his throat.

"Never show your face around here again. Do you understand?" Cold, midnight blue eyes fastened on his own. Pa had always been a hard man with little forgiveness in him, but Dakota had hoped. He had nothing else in this world but hope.

Now it was gone, too.

A bruising hand grasped his shoulder from behind like an iron cuff. A lawman stood on the step. "You aren't welcome in this town, boy."

He supposed it was only a matter of time before the law showed up. He'd been asking directions in town. Lawmen always had a way of finding him.

"Don't worry, Deputy." He met the lawman's gaze. A tin badge and the assumed mantle of authority didn't intimidate him. He'd survived brutal prison cellmates, war, and when it was over, Indian battles. "I'll be gone by sundown."

"You'll be gone now." The lawman escorted him down the steps. "You've caused those nice people in there enough hurt. They moved here to get away from their lives in Green Bluff. They couldn't walk down the street for the shame you caused them. I don’t want that happening here."

"Neither do I." He couldn't get the sound of his mother's sobs out of his head. He stumbled down the walk and into the street, breaking the lawman's grip on him.

"Monster." The sheriff spat. "They should have hung you like you deserved. Keep going and don't look back. You should never be able to touch another girl again."

Dakota woke with a start in the twilight before dawn. Kit lay tucked against his side, her hand on his chest, her legs tangled with his. Still asleep.

Good. He hadn't disturbed her. He ran a hand over his sweaty face and let the crisp morning air cool him. The tangle of emotions took a while to dissipate. He watched the last stars fight against the coming day, fiercely twinkling in the gray sky. Kit slept on, breathing quietly, her thick gold hair tumbling across her shoulders and hiding the swell of her bare breasts.

Last night. He squinched his eyes shut, not wanting to face what he'd done. Loving her had been perfect. The highlight of his life.

But he had regrets. What had felt right in the dark looked differently in the morning. He'd wanted her mightily, and he still did. But what if he were wrong about his luck? The nightmare haunted him as he carefully untangled himself from her, slid out from beneath the blankets and stepped into his clothes, pulled on his boots.

She made the prettiest image sleeping in his bedroll, her hand on his pillow, bathed in pre-dawn light. He never wanted to leave. He'd give anything to marry her, raise a family with her, do his best to make her happy for the rest of her days. If it were a different world—if he were a different man—he could promise her those things beyond a doubt.

But he couldn't. He hung his head, made himself walk away from her. The memory of that day with his parents stole the joy he'd found last night in Kit's arms.

Birds began to awaken, singing their morning songs as he stood hands on hips at the corral. The mare slept heavily, but her foal lifted her perfect little head, ears up, bushy mane and bright eyes watching him above the grass tips.

"Hey, good girl," he crooned, determined to win her over.

She blinked her long curly lashes.

The eastern horizon changed from gray to hints of gold. Birds everywhere sang in a crescendo—the trill of larks, the tweet of sparrows, the caw of bluebirds, heralding in the dawn. Last night couldn't be undone, and he wouldn't want it to. Kit was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

 * * *

She woke in the muted glow of dawn, tucked warmly in blankets, the wool coarse against her bare skin. A hint of Dakota's warmth remained, although she was alone. He must be with the horses. She stretched, her body sated and relaxed and wonderfully alive. Memories of last night drifted through her mind, of how he'd clung to her, her name on his lips during his release. How he'd held her and kissed her tenderly afterward. How they'd made love again until late in the night, making time stand still.

She grabbed her nightshirt and drawers, yanked them on and rolled out of bed. The gray, pre-dawn light held hints of gold and pink as she hurried to the house. Mindy and Fred were both sound asleep. She was able to grab her clothes and boots without waking them. On her way out the door, she caught her reflection in their only mirror. Hair tousled, rosy-cheeked and smiling ear to ear. Yes, it was a new day.
A whole new life,
she thought, stepping into the beautiful world.

Wildflowers lazed and the grasses were silent. No winds blew to accompany her as she headed across the yard, tying back her hair as she went. The faint murmur of his voice carried to her. She spotted him at the corral fence, one hand braced on a rail, leaning in toward the foal in the long shadows before sunrise. Head down, kind tone, quiet strength.

Little Cookie gazed up at him trustingly. Kit knew how the filly felt. She'd never met a man like Dakota either. He was genuine, the real thing. She looked up to him, too. How was it possible to love a man so much?

"Are you sweet talkin' some other girl already?" Kit strode through the tall grasses to his side.

"Sorry, couldn’t help myself. Those big eyes got to me."

They smiled together, both bashful of what was easiest done in the dark. She pressed her palms against a wooden rail, trying to pretend her heart wasn't skipping beats because of him.

"Good morning." He caught Kit by the collar and pulled her into him.

"Good morning?" She simply could not stop smiling. "Yes it is."

His kiss claimed her mouth, reminding her that she was his. She grew warm in secret places, remembering last night and their surrender to each other. As Dakota hauled her into his arms, pressing her against his long, hard body, sunrise began to color the world, casting great long beams of gold across the prairie and onto them.

Hope was a frightening thing, like suddenly being lifted off your feet and into the air. At first all you can think about is falling, or fearing how long the wind could keep you airborne before you surely came crashing down.

But maybe falling wasn't inevitable. She tightened her fingers around Dakota's thicker, much bigger ones. Maybe, if it was the right wind, it would always hold you up.

"Come on." She tugged him by the hand. "I want to show you something."

"I've already seen it," he quipped.

"Yes, you have." Her long mane of hair trailed down her back, emphasizing her straight, lean back and small waist. "I wasn't talking about that. Sorry to disappoint you. This has to do with my plan."

"Not the plan again," he teased, surprised humor came easily. It was because of her, of what she'd given him.

As they passed by the gate, Renegade woke with a start, nickered sharply to her baby. Little Cookie galloped over to her mama. At least he'd made progress with her.

He held the barn door for Kit, following her in. Straw rustled as horses stood. Jack poked his nose over his gate, ears up, hoping for grain. The palomino mare nickered a shy greeting. Blue gave a deep-throated nicker as Kit opened a gate.

"Hey, handsome." Unguarded and open like this, the warmth and goodness in her shone bright. "Do you feel like a little morning stroll?"

His steeled horse shoes thudded on hard packed earth in answer.

Dakota whipped open Jack's stall, felt the bay's warm breath scatter his hair, and caught hold of the rope halter. "C'mon, fella."

"Hurry up, we've got to hurry." Kit handed him a bridle and buckled Blue's onto him.

"What about the mare?" he asked, as he eased the metal bit into Jack's mouth. The golden girl watched them with hopeful eyes.

"Fred will picket her and feed her grain. He'll be thrilled." She scrabbled onto Blue's bare back, her calico dress hitching up to show her slim calves. "Let's go!"

She was out the door before he could hop onto Jack's back. The gelding snorted, as if telling him to hurry up. He winced at the ache in his arm as he threw a leg over Jack's broad back and grabbed a handful of mane. It had been a while since he'd ridden bareback, but the horseman in him would never forget. He leaned forward, gripping with his knees, and touched his heels to the gelding's side. The big guy shot forward into a smooth lope, following Kit and Blue into the bright shafts of sunlight.

They rode beyond the corral and followed the winding creek. Cottonwoods stood still, as if sleeping. In the tall grasses a deer bedded down in the cool shade watched them, frozen, until they passed.

"I can't remember a more beautiful morning." Kit stopped Blue to admire the view and tossed her ponytail over her shoulder. "Can you?"

"You're smiling awful wide for a woman who's been ruined."

"Ruined? I wouldn't call it that. Not even close. Loved, definitely."

"I can't argue with that." He nudged Jack closer so he could push a lock of hair out of her eyes and fold it behind her ear. Just to touch her. Last night he'd lost all control, his love for her had been too great. "You didn't make things easy for me last night coming to me the way you did. You stripped my willpower down to nothing."

"That wasn't all that you stripped." Mischief twinkled like chips of sapphire in her eyes.

"Can't argue with that, either." Images of her naked beneath him in the moonlight haunted him. It probably would for the rest of his life. "I just wanted you too much."