Wyoming Wildfire (9 page)

Sibyl was so angry she wanted to cry and scream at the same time. “I don’t know where you got such an exaggerated opinion of your charm and good looks,” she said, spitting out the words like grape seeds after their succulent flesh has been devoured, “but I’m not that desperate. Nor am I impressed by a lot of muscles in leather britches.”

“I don’t allow cattle to kill themselves without cause, and I see no reason why I should make an exception in your case.”

Blind rage drove Sibyl to swing at him, but he caught her arm easily. “Monster!” she cried, snatching her hand back to wipe away angry tears.

“Not monster enough to carry you back to your aunt with a broken neck.”

“I wouldn’t break my neck in some harmless gallop,” she stormed at him. “I can ride as well as you.”

“You’d need wings to cross that canyon, and I know your horse can’t fly.”

“I think you’re crazy, or do you always get drunk after breakfast?’’

“You really didn’t see it, did you?”

“I don’t know what you’re raving about,” she said, striving to hold back her tears.

Against her vigorous protests, he led her back in the direction she had been taking at a full gallop only minutes before. Scalding words of denunciation died in her throat when she found herself at the rim of a hidden canyon eight feet deep and close to twenty feet across. Had Burch been a little farther behind, she would have killed her horse and probably herself as well. Shock held her motionless.

“Tell me how you planned to cross that.”

She didn’t answer him; she couldn’t. The full realization of what had almost happened hit her with numbing force and she slumped in the saddle, barely able to hold on to the reins.

“You didn’t know it was there, did you?”

Sibyl managed to shake her head even though her whole body trembled uncontrollably. For an awful moment, she though she was going to be sick.

“It’s all right,” Burch reassured her in a changed voice, “it’s over.” He dismounted and gently helped her down.

“I didn’t see it,” she stammered.

“Don’t think about it any more,” he said, putting his arm around her and inviting her to lean on him.

“I could have been killed.” The shock was so great that she clung blindly to him, seeking the comfort of his strength.

Striving to restrain urges almost too strong to be controlled, Burch held her tightly, electrified by the feeling of her body against his. He had dreamt of her in his arms but was unprepared for the storm of desire it awoke in his breast. It was incredibly wonderful to hold her close, but the fire building in his loins was agony; desire, red-hot and hungry, coursed through every vein until he felt as unsteady as she. Her grip on him tightened until he could restrain himself no longer, and his lips descended upon hers in a crushing, devastating embrace.

Sibyl returned his kisses with ardor, clinging even more tightly to his body for the feeling of security it offered, yet drinking in the heady feeling of his burning lips on hers, feeling dazed by the sweetness of being desired by this man. She had never imagined it would be pleasant to be in the arms of a man, and the sheer magnitude of its wonderfulness made her heedless of restraint. She
wanted
him to kiss her until she was breathless.

Despite the magical sensations that overwhelmed her, Sibyl was soon unmistakably aware of Burch’s hot, enflamed body against hers, calling forth an answering heat from her own quiescent, unnurtured passion. It was only gradually that she realized that her own body was responding of its own will. Her treacherous body
wanted
Burch’s body as much as her lips desired his kisses. How could she possibly protect herself
from
herself?

“My God,” moaned Burch, “how good you feel in my arms.” His hands roamed over her body, overjoyed to realize that the reality of her outstripped his anticipation. His lips left trails of hot desire across her flesh that caused her to flush with pleasure and panic. “I want you,” he whispered, pressing her hips against his swelling groin. “My God, how I want you.”

Sibyl was conscious of a yearning, an escalating need to be swallowed up by the mesmerizing pleasure spreading through her limbs with lightning speed. Desire strained against reason, leaping with frantic energy to meet the fiery passion of the vigorous man nearly crushing her in his embrace. It gloried in the feeling of his lips on hers and in the hungry tongue that fed on the nectar of her mouth; it wrapped her in a euphoria she hoped would never end. Yet if it did not end soon, she would be lost.

“Stop,” she managed to say, her ingrained fears and doubts shrieking insanely inside her head, but still she clung to him, unable to cast aside the feeling of indescribable pleasure his embraces gave her.

“Please let me go,” she begged, but Burch, enveloped in his own red haze of desire, didn’t hear her plea. He was beyond any awareness other than his own maddening needs, and he slowly lowered her to the ground. Sibyl felt herself slipping over the edge of a precipice where caution is banished and unbounded desire enthroned. She knew she must do something, or surrender completely to the passion that had already conquered her body and was striving to fasten its viselike grip on her mind as well.

Dimly, Burch knew he should not devour Sibyl here on the open prairie, but the loveliness of her, the delicious smell of her hair, the warmth of her body, the velvety feel of her skin, pushed him beyond the limits of restraint.

Unable to reach him with words, Sibyl gathered the last of her strength and dealt Burch a ringing slap, which brought him to his senses with such a savage jolt that it caused the blood to pound unmercifully in his temples. Sibyl rolled quickly out of his embrace and turned to face him, disheveled, panting, and under the sway of powerful cross currents that still threatened to immobilize her. For a moment they faced each other like protagonists frozen in time, shock and amazement holding them in its grip.

“Is this the way you treat all women?” Sibyl asked, fighting a wild desire to fling herself at him again.

“Only the ones that hug and tease a man until he can’t stand it any more.” Burch rolled over on his back, drained by the struggle within him.

“I didn’t hug you.”

“What do you call throwing your arms about a man’s neck fit to choke him?” he barked, sitting up with the quickness of a rattier. Sibyl drew back instinctively.

“I was just holding on because I was frightened,” she argued, trying to forget she had done much more.

“Then I’ll have to see that you gallop toward another ravine tomorrow.” He spoke more easily as the grip of passion began to loosen its hold. The country is full of them. You might grow to like being hugged.”

“Never.” But her assertion lacked conviction. The delicious feeling continued to thrill her body and she could not command her voice.

“Was it so bad?”

“I could never enjoy being mauled,” she said stiffly, trying to put some distance between him and her near capitulation. “I would appreciate it if you would forget this morning ever happened.”

“You might as well ask me to forget I was born.”

“Something like this is no more than a shameful memory for a woman,” she said, sounding more like the shrill virgin of two days ago. “Mere vulgar brawling is something to be avoided in a relationship.”

“I wouldn’t call it brawling; more like a friendly wrestling match.”

“There was nothing friendly about your intentions.”

“No, ma’am, being friends was not what I had in mind.”

Sibyl flushed in spite of herself. “It’s time we got back,” she said, getting to her feet and carefully brushing off her clothes. “Aunt Augusta will begin to wonder what’s happened to us.”

Burch stood up reluctantly. “You could tell her we got lost.”

“I never lie to my aunt.”

“Never?”

“Not even once,” she stated emphatically, taking her horse’s reins and heading back toward the ranch.

“Do you intend to walk back?” Burch inquired, puzzled.

“Yes.”

“Why, when you’ve got a perfectly good horse?”

“Because I can’t mount by myself, and I don’t trust you to touch me again.’’

Without fanfare, Burch pitched her roughly into the saddle. “Hungry for you I may be,” he growled, “but I’ll not force any woman against her will. I can touch you without falling down in a rutting heat.”

Sibyl’s color rose considerably. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“That’s how you said it.”

“I just meant I didn’t trust you to control instincts you didn’t really
want
to control.”

“Now there you have me,” he drawled, flashing his devastating grin. “I wished mighty hard we were the only two people in the world.”

“I wouldn’t give in even then.” Unknowingly, she wanted him to try to convince her, but he only grunted in disagreement. They rode back in thoughtful silence.

“Shall we ride tomorrow?” Burch asked when they reached the barn.

“I’m not sure.”

“You don’t have to be afraid I’ll rape you.”

“I wasn’t,” she fired up.

“Good. I bought this horse for you to ride, not stand about eating its head off while you hide in the house.”

“Oh, all right, as long as you promise to behave.”

“I never said I’d behave,” he retorted, leading both horses into the barn. “I just said I wouldn’t force you.” He cast her such a devilish grin that she was glad he couldn’t see her response.

A little more encouragement, my girl, and you’ll let him do anything he wants, she told herself as she started back to the house. If you don’t watch it, you’ll find yourself slipping into the precise trap you came out here to avoid. And there is no reason to think that those powerful legs or charming smiles are going to make him any different. Men are all alike.

But the memory of her newly discovered passion remained vivid in her mind. Now she
knew
women were possessed of the same desires and longings as men. She had enjoyed his lips, his strong arms, his lean hungry body pressed against hers. Just the memory of his greedy mouth warmed her blood and brought a foolish smile to her lips. She had been mistaken to dismiss passion as a repellant affliction of males only. A whole reality lay beyond the boundaries of her knowledge, one she knew nothing about. She could not be satisfied with just a hint of what lay beyond.

But a voice urged caution, or risk being washed away by the very tide she sought to understand.

Chapter 7

Sibyl wiped the perspiration from her forehead before opening the oven. The heavy aroma of cooking prime beef filled the kitchen; two standing rib roasts, with deep brown crinkled crusts, simmered in their own bubbling juices. Sibyl dipped out several cups of the rich brown liquid to set aside for gravy. Satisfied the roasts would be done in time, she turned her attention to getting six pans of biscuits ready to go in as soon as the meat came out.

Augusta attentively watched a large pot of green beans cooking in a thick mushroom sauce; in the cool of the pantry, a towering pile of fresh corn lay under damp towels, waiting to be popped into boiling water barely ten minutes before serving; mounds of potatoes, a deep dish filled with squash covered with cheese and bread crumbs, and steaming bowls of fresh lima beans were only part of the main fare; a nearby table held several cakes and pies, a custard, a platter of cherry tarts, and the dishes of smoked ham the women had prepared earlier; outside, large slabs of butter and pots of cream lay submerged in the well to keep them cool. The Elkhorn crew was coming to meet Sibyl this evening, and Augusta had offered to cook dinner for them.

“We almost owe it to them, when you consider the food they get from that disagreeable little Mexican,” she said with unfeigned compassion. That was before she discovered that there would be two dozen hungry men seated at the table expecting to eat their fill.

“It was a very thoughtful thing to do,” Sibyl assured her aunt after Augusta spent the next two days apologizing for volunteering her for such a horrendous task. “Now stop worrying about it; we won’t have to do it very often. It’ll be good practice for Christmas or one of the other parties Burch tells me we’re supposed to give during the year. I’m just glad Ned got back with our supplies and the cow.”

Ned had done more man that. “What on earth?” Sibyl exclaimed when he returned, followed by a second wagon driven by a young man and his wife. But that was nothing compared to her surprise when he pulled back the canvas flap and told her to look inside. Two dozen chickens, a boar, and a sow with a litter of well-grown pigs were crowded into the small space.

“All I wanted was a cow, not a whole farm” she protested, nearly overwhelmed.

“That’s what I couldn’t find, miss. Everyone was willing to part with a couple of hens, but no one would sell their cow no matter what I offered. These folk were wishing to sell up, so I bought everything. I figured you needed a churn for butter, pans for milk, and some crocks for the cheese.”

Sibyl was momentarily overcome, but Augusta was delighted. “You’re a splendid man, Ned. I don’t know why we didn’t think of it ourselves. But won’t these people need them for their new place?”