Trail of Lust (18 page)

"What do you want to do? I think we should follow this. Head east.” Clay pointed toward the dim horizon.

For a moment, Graham was paralyzed. Unable to think straight, to make a choice. They'd had clear indication they should continue on their original trail, searching from the last place Kathleen had been. They'd been all over the damn countryside, even found two of the places where the Jenkins men and Kathleen had stopped to rest. Then they'd lost the tracks.

Clay stepped up to Graham, getting into his face. Sparks burst behind his vision—fury that had flared to life during the war—irrational anger that didn't belong to him but to the urge to survive. In this case, it was the urge to make sure his woman survived. She was an extension of him.

He shoved Clay solidly in the chest, propelling him away. “Back the hell off, bro! I need to think."

"Think quick, man. The rain is coming, and there might be tracks in that direction, farther out. We could still spot them before the rain washes them completely away."

Graham swallowed hard, burning to go, burning to stay on the current path. “Calvin, Drew, and Dam, you follow this trail. The rest of us will go east. We'll meet up in two hours’ time near Pitman's."

The men were already running for their horses, swinging into saddles. Graham did the same, furious with himself over his moment of weakness.

They spurred their horses toward the east with Graham in the lead. For five hundred yards, he saw no sign of tracks. The thick dust had blown them over completely. Then he spotted it in the shelter of a rock face—two sets of horse tracks. Circling around to a copse of trees.

His heart thrilled with victory. Could they still be there?

Leaning far forward in his saddle, he streaked around the rock. It was already raining here, the droplets falling fast, dousing the parched earth and wiping it clean of any way to tell where his woman might have gone.

He threw his head back and bellowed. “Kathleen!” And again. And again, the primal rage taking over. His scream ricocheted off the rock face and echoed back at him.

Didn't it?

He strained to hear above the baleful cry of the wind and the drone of rain.

Nolan brought his hand down hard on Graham's shoulder. “Listen!"

A higher-pitched cry faintly reached him and then was cut off.

They're hurting her. Goddamn it.

With a roar, he shot into the night, circling the trees and plunging down into a valley at a speed that threatened to kill him and Old Gray if they lost footing. Rain struck his face and throat and soaked his shoulders.

Kathleen, Kathleen, my darling woman. I'm coming.

Through the fading light, he spotted the silhouettes of a group of riders, a bulky lump dangling off the side of one horse. A growl rumbled in his throat. He tangled his fingers into Old Gray's mane and spoke into his ear.

"Go, boy! I'm relyin’ on you!"

His brothers flanked him. As they neared, the riders realized their presence and split off, one heading up a steep incline and one carrying the figure that must be Kathleen, gliding along the outer rim of the valley.

Trapped. I've got you trapped, you fucking bastard!

He pulled his gun and took aim, carefully training the sights on the man's shoulder, far away from the body riding before him. From here, though, it was dark, and with the rain fogging his vision, Graham could make out slender ankles and an end of rope dangling from them.

Heart riding high in his throat, Graham squeezed the trigger. The blast stung his palm, jolted through his wrist and up his arm...even as the rider took the hit in his shoulder.

He tilted precariously in the saddle, and his horse bucked.

"No!” Graham bellowed as two bodies slipped from the horse—one sprawled flat out, and one an incongruous little bundle that could only be Graham's wife.

He lived and died in that moment as he fought to reach her. Knowing the fall might have killed her. Broken her neck. Knowing he'd had no choice but to stop the man.

He leaped off his horse, and Old Gray kept on. Graham hit the ground, rolled, and was on his feet. He broke into a dead run.

Clay had reached the rider Graham had shot and had his pistol jabbed into the back of his head. The man was unmoving.

So was Kathleen.

Graham froze once more, swallowing the bile on his tongue. She lay crumpled on her side, her face in the dirt. Her long auburn locks were nearly black from the soaking rain.

"Graham!” Nolan's bark brought him from his stupor, and he dropped to his knees. Hands trembling violently, he grasped Kathleen's shoulders and turned her upward, expecting to see her eyes wide and blank with death.

Her head lolled, her lips parted. Eyes closed. “Kathleen!” He dropped his ear to her chest and listened for a heartbeat—that steady patter he'd listened to after making love to her.

The low thump filled his ear, and his stomach flipped. Alive!

"Kathleen!"

A grunt sounded as Clay yanked the Jenkins brother who'd taken her off his horse and hog-tied him. “Stay with her, Graham. Nolan and I will get the other brother."

Hoofbeats mingled with the downpour as they rode off, leaving Graham and his wife. Scrabbling at the ropes holding her, wishing he could tie them around the necks of the men who had done this and choke the breath from them, he freed her.

He cradled her, drew her so she was lying across his lap. Her limbs were slack, and he prayed she'd regain consciousness soon. Hopefully she'd just fainted from the shock of falling and not suffered a head trauma.

He smoothed the wet hair off her face and stared down at her motionless features. A harsh cry rushed up his throat, and he released it. Then another. He'd never cried for Bella, even after he'd buried her beneath a maple tree in an unmarked grave. Never expressed the blinding pain that had seized him. Now, after nearly losing another wife—one he had truly and completely given his heart to—he couldn't hold back.

He buried his face against her neck and let the tears pour out of him. If he lost her, he'd be a shell. For years, he'd fought and then worked alongside his family devoid of any emotions. Kathleen had breathed life into him when she'd thrown herself into his arms.

"I'm sorry I didn't keep you by me. Forgive me, baby. I'll never let you out of my sight again."

A soft mewl heated the side of his face. He searched her face and found her eyelids flickering. Her eyes moved behind the lids, and then they cracked open.

"Kathleen, darlin', are you all right? What hurts?"

He skimmed her body from the nape of her neck to her upper thigh, gently prodding belatedly for broken bones.

Her fingers found his jaw, her featherlight touches bringing him back to reality. She opened her eyes and gazed directly at him. Her features were slack with confusion, and then they cleared.

"Graham."

"Talk to me. Tell me—can I move you? Does your back hurt? Your legs?"

She shook her head. “My wrists and ankles..."

He drank in the bloody mess of her skin where the rope had bit into her, and rage sprang up in him anew. Flexing his arms, he brought her flush against him, tears still burning his eyes. Hope began to replace the despair he'd known for many hours.

She let her head fall to the side and saw the dead man. A soft sound rattled her chest.

"Don't look at him,” Graham urged, turning her face back to his. “You're safe now, baby. But I have to know, to hear it from your lips. Will you forgive me for allowing this to happen to you?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but the tears in her eyes gave him an answer. “You did what you thought best, and I trust you."

"I was stupid—too stupid. I almost lost you."

She ran her thumb down his jaw. “Can't get rid of me, Graham. I have this.” She reached into her bodice and pulled free the string holding the gold band he'd given her in marriage.

He dropped his forehead to hers, squeezing his eyes shut. God, how had he been gifted with such an amazing woman?

He reached for the string and drew it over her head. Unknotting it, he slid the ring off. He held her gaze as he placed it on her finger in plain view. Where it should have been from the start.

Another shot rang out, and Graham yanked his gaze from his wife's, peering into the dimness and through the slanting rain to see his two brothers not far off, leaning over the tied-up body of the fifth Jenkins brother.

Looking back into Kathleen's eyes, he made his vow to her all over again. “I promise to love and care for you, Kathleen. As long as we both shall live."

Kathleen drifted in and out of sleep as the horse rolled beneath her. Graham's solid chest and arms protected her from the worst of the rainstorm, and his body provided a warmth that went beyond the skin. It touched her heart and slithered down to a secret spot between her legs.

Wriggling restlessly against him, she raised a groan from his chest. By latching on to her hips, he held her in place against his groin. His erection strained against her, prodding her through their wet clothing.

Over her head, he whistled to one of his brothers. “We've got to stop!” he shouted.

She wrapped her arms around Graham's. Above all, she was relieved to be back with him. She couldn't help but worry about her pa. He must be out of his head since finding her gone.

The horse slowed, and she looked around. Graham commanded Old Gray to stop, and he did, rolling her against her husband's cock once more.

He practically growled in her ear. “Damn, woman, I have to have you. Now."

"What about—"

"I'm going to send them away to meet the others and to ride back and let your pa know you're safe with me.” He flicked his tongue over the outside of her ear, raising a shiver that had nothing to do with her drenched clothes.

"Taking cover for the night?” Clay called over the din of the rain.

"We are. You're not,” Graham said in a tone that nearly made her burst out in giggles. She dared not steal a look at Clay's face, knowing the expression must be priceless. “You and Nolan go on to meet the others. Stop by the Allen place, check on the farm, and bring Kathleen's pa home with you."

She glanced up to see not one glare trained on Graham, but two. Graham didn't turn a hair.

"Get on now. But give me your bedrolls first."

"What the—"

"You heard me. I need them to create a shelter from the storm. You'll be snug as bugs soon enough."

Twin groans sounded as the brothers untied the oilskins from behind their saddles. They tossed the dripping rolls to the ground.

"Enjoy yourself, brother."

"Clay!” Graham called as the man wheeled around, set to gallop off.

He twisted back.

"Keep your eyes peeled for Wabash. I'll meet up with all of you tomorrow at our rally point. Then we hunt."

A sliver of dread tracked through Kathleen's body and left a casing of ice around her heart. Hunting for whom? Weren't they done fighting?

He set her away from him enough that he could dismount. Then he reached up for her. Her bare feet sank into the mud, and the chill crept up through her toes and into her ankles, rapidly squelching the fires of passion she'd felt while in his arms.

A shudder racked her.

He shot her a look. “Hold tight, darlin'. I'm going to make you a toasty bed in no time."

She watched as he untied the strings holding the bedrolls and unfurled the wet masses. It seemed unlikely he could create anything that could be remotely called dry and toasty out of the supplies at hand.

She leaned against the horse's side, instinctively seeking heat. Graham tied the ends of one canvas between three small trees, about four feet off the ground. Then he dropped the second one over the taut cloth, so the flaps dangled to the ground. He disappeared inside this for a moment, spreading his own bedroll on the ground inside.

A second later, he reappeared, grabbed his pack off his horse, and then led her into the shelter.

Inside, the noise of the rain cut off instantly, a mere patter on the canvas above and around them. The ground was still cold and wet, but he dug into his pack and brought out his coat. He spread it beneath her, then peeled away each garment as quickly as possible, though he took a moment to warm as much of her with his fingers as he could. Once she was free of her soaking wet dress, her flesh warmed.

Especially when he shucked his clothes too. The sight of his broad shoulders, ridged abs, and the dark trail of hair leading to his cock ignited her. When she looked upon his thick length, she released a shaky breath.

He covered her with his body, bringing his chest to her chilled nipples. He rubbed against her and tickled her buds with the faint hair on his body. Pressure grew inside her. She issued another moan, and he rocked his hips against hers, bringing his cock across her slippery folds.

Digging her nails into his back, she urged him between her legs. In the close confines, she was surrounded entirely by him—his scent, heat, and his body. He wrapped around her, consumed her. She never wanted to be anywhere else. Even lying in a makeshift shelter in a storm was fascinating—because he was there.

He brushed his lips across hers. The sharp graze of his facial hair cut into her sensitive skin deliciously, making her pussy pulse with need as she imagined him going down between her legs. There was little room here for that even if she could wait. She wanted him inside her. Now.

Surging upward, she bit into his lower lip, demanding more from him. He growled his pleasure. As she searched his warm skin with her fingers, she breathed him in.

Trailing his hands over her sides, splaying his rough fingertips over her breasts, he plundered her mouth. Each twist and turn of his tongue sent her spiraling out of control. The need crested within her. She hung suspended in a state of bliss. One deft stroke of his fingers on her needy folds, and she'd splinter.

He sucked her tongue into his mouth, drawing on it until her pussy flooded with cream. He slid it between her thighs, running maddeningly over her pussy but not entering her.

She pulled her thighs up, arching to give him access, but he refused her and continued to deliver the deepest of kisses. When she could stand the pressure no longer, she gripped his cock and tried to guide him to her.