A Promise of Thunder (21 page)

The bed sagged beneath Grady’s weight, and Storm tensed when his naked thigh touched hers. When he turned to take her into his arms she went rigid.

“Are you still determined to keep us apart?” Grady whispered against her ear. “When I kissed you I could have sworn …”

“We’re not alone,” she hissed.

“What goes on in the marriage bed is private no matter who is present. When a Lakota warrior makes love to his woman no one else hears. It is the custom.”

“It may be all right for savages, but it’s not all right with me.”

Grady went still. So she still thought him a savage, his mind raged. He wanted to show her how much a savage he could be and ravish her until he’d had his fill. But he knew he’d never have his fill of Storm. He could have had his
pick of women on the reservation, including Laughing Brook, but he wanted none of them. His one consuming thought was to return with his son to his homestead as quickly as possible and taste Storm’s sweetness once again.

“Is that your final word?”

“That’s how it must be as long as Laughing Brook and Little Buffalo are sleeping in the same room with us.”

Rising from the bed, Grady pulled on his pants and ordered Laughing Brook into bed with Storm. Then he slid down beside Little Buffalo and spent the rest of the night trying to quell his raging hunger for a woman who had no intention of ever being a wife to him. Did she still hold him responsible for her husband’s death?

Laughing Brook was delighted when Thunder left his wife’s bed. She realized she had been right in assuming all was not well with the newlyweds, and she slyly planned other ways to drive a wedge between husband and wife. If for some reason Thunder didn’t want to divorce his wife according to white law, they could return to the reservation. It was where Thunder and Little Buffalo belonged anyway. Despite his white blood, Thunder was the bravest, fiercest warrior she had ever known.

After her sister’s brutal accident Laughing Brook had assumed she’d take Summer Sky’s place in Thunder’s heart. She already had the love of Thunder’s son, so it was only natural that Thunder should love her too. The marriage
must already be in desperate straits or Thunder would be sleeping beside his wife, demanding his rights, Laughing Brook reasoned. A sly smile curved her lips, thinking that half the battle for Thunder’s affection was already won.

Early the next day, Grady went to town and returned with lumber and seed. Since planting could wait a few more weeks, he began building the extra room immediately. Meanwhile Storm set about winning over Little Buffalo. It didn’t help any when Storm suggested that they begin calling the boy by his white name. Little Buffalo was adamantly opposed to the change, as was Laughing Brook, but Grady had the last word and henceforth Little Buffalo was to answer to the name Tim. Storm also gave the boy a haircut, and earned another slice of Tim’s contempt.

Tim’s animosity, Laughing Brook’s jealousy, Grady’s smoldering passion, and the crowded cabin made for a volatile combination. The looks Grady sent Storm were hot enough to fry eggs, while Laughing Brook literally threw herself at the handsome half-breed, blatantly offering Grady what Storm refused to give him. While the bedroom was being built, sleeping arrangements remained the same as on the first night. Each night Laughing Brook crawled into bed beside Storm while Grady shared the pallet with Tim. But one night the arrangement differed slightly.

Tim woke up from a nightmare and cried out for Laughing Brook. The Indian girl took
the boy into bed with her and Storm in order to comfort him. At length he fell asleep between Storm and Laughing Brook, seemingly appeased. Storm drifted off to sleep a few minutes later. She was sleeping soundly when Laughing Brook quietly left the bed.

Grady was stung that his son preferred Laughing Brook to his own father. But what could he expect? he chided himself, when he had virtually abandoned the boy to Laughing Brook’s care while he rode with renegades, seeking revenge for Summer Sky’s death. Sighing regretfully, he closed his eyes, trying to forget how desperately he wanted to make love to Storm.

When he first felt the warm body snuggling against him, he merely thought Tim had crawled back into bed with him. The thought pleased him and he gathered the warm body in his arms. His hand closed over a soft breast, and before he could draw it away, a much smaller hand pressed it tightly against the swelling mound. Grady felt the nipple pucker and harden against his palm, and for a brief moment he was too mesmerized to move. Then his hand was drawn between her legs to the moistness of her woman’s flesh and the breath left his chest in a soft explosion of air.

“Storm … Oh, God, lady, I hope I’m not dreaming.”

“Do you think Storm is the only woman who can make you pant with desire?” Laughing Brook laughed into his ear. Boldly she molded
her fingers around his throbbing erection. “You are magnificent, Thunder, just as I always knew you’d be. I ache for you. Let me ease your body. Let me give you comfort.”

Tim’s restless tossing and flailing limbs brought Storm instantly awake. He had inadvertently jabbed her in the ribs, and she awoke with a grunt of pain. She became aware that Laughing Brook had left the bed when she raised up to suggest that the Indian maiden carry Tim back to the pallet with his father. It was much too dark in the cabin to see where Laughing Brook had gone, but the agonized groan coming from the opposite side of the room told Storm exactly what Laughing Brook was up to. Obviously Laughing Brook and Grady were deep in the throes of passion.

Tears flooded her eyes and she felt a crushing weight squeezing the breath from her. She must have been naive to think Grady had brought the beautiful squaw home with him for his son’s sake. He should have been truthful and told her Laughing Brook was here for his pleasure—the kind of pleasure Storm had refused him. He had warned her that he would take another woman if she refused to share his bed, and at the time it hadn’t seemed to matter. How could she willingly sleep with the man responsible for Buddy’s death? But that was before. Before …

Before he had made her need him.

Before she had grown to love him.

“Laughing Brook, what the hell are you doing in my bed?” Grady’s harsh whisper hissed
through his clenched teeth.

“I want you, Thunder. Little Buffalo loves me. Why did you marry
her?
She is no good for you. I can make you happy. My parents expected us to marry after my sister’s death. Why did you disappoint them?”

“Get back to your bed immediately,” Grady said in a low growl. “Do you want Storm to hear us?”

“I don’t care.” She sounded like a spoiled child denied a sweet.

“Now, Laughing Brook. I will send you back to the reservation immediately if you ever attempt anything like this again.”

“You are a warrior. How can you live without a woman’s comfort?”

“Go, Laughing Brook.” Laughing Brook knew when she was defeated. The threat in Grady’s stern voice finally made an impression on her. Reluctantly she crawled from under the covers and back into Storm’s bed.

Storm knew the moment Laughing Brook returned to bed. She had no idea how long Laughing Brook had been with Grady on his pallet before she awoke and noted her absence, but it must have been long enough to—to—God, she couldn’t even say it.

In the space of a week Grady had built the addition to the cabin and moved the double bed he and Storm shared into it, placing two cots, one for Tim and one for Laughing Brook, in the main room of the cabin.
He had worked at a frantic pace so he and Storm could be assured of the privacy they so desperately needed. Now all they needed to do when they wanted to be alone was close the door to their bedroom. During that week he had been puzzled, then angered by Storm’s coldness. It seemed as if they hadn’t a moment alone to discuss their differences. With either Tim or Laughing Brook making demands upon his time any privacy he and Storm might have found was forever being interrupted.

And the state of affairs between Storm and Tim hadn’t improved any. The boy seemed to hate Storm and still looked to Laughing Brook for direction. Grady stopped just short of punishing his son for his defiance. He wanted Storm to win Tim’s love through her wit and ingenuity. He believed that once Tim lost his belligerence they would form a close relationship. In the meantime he hated to send Laughing Brook away for fear of traumatizing Tim, who seemed unable to function without his surrogate mother.

Grady felt as if a great weight had been lifted from him as he put the finishing touches on the roof of the new room he had built. Tonight, he thought gleefully, he and Storm would be alone in the new bedroom, where they could talk and make love. Being in the same room with her these past days and unable to love her had been the sweetest agony he had ever suffered. So close yet so damn far. If he were on
the reservation he’d be the brunt of many jokes once his friends learned that a Lakota warrior couldn’t control his woman.

Grady walked around to the back of the cabin, hoping to find Storm alone in the vegetable garden she had planted so he could tell her they would be moving into their new bedroom tonight. He found Storm and Tim deep in conversation. His small son was standing before Storm, hands on hips, his lower lip protruding at a stubborn angle and his black eyes defiant. He stopped short when he heard Tim say, “You’re a white witch. I don’t have to listen to you. Laughing Brook says you must be a witch to get Papa to marry you.” Suddenly he stared up at her curiously, as if trying to make up his mind. “Are you? Are you really a witch?”

Grady waited, unwilling to interfere until he heard Storm’s reply. He knew his son was being deliberately cruel, but he was also aware that Tim came by his stubbornness naturally, and the boy was angry at having been uprooted from the reservation, the only home he remembered.

“If I was a witch I’d wave my magic wand and make Laughing Brook disappear,” Storm replied, more sharply than she intended. She was at her wit’s end trying to make Tim accept her. “I don’t want to take Laughing Brook’s place in your heart, I just want us to be friends.”

“Laughing Brook is my friend. Papa should have married her.”

“But he didn’t, Tim. Shouldn’t you accept the fact that your father did what is best for him? If he wanted Laughing Brook, he would have married her. Have you forgotten that your father has more white blood in him than Indian blood?” How does one communicate with a stubborn six-year-old? Storm wondered desperately. Her heart went out to the small boy, and she would have given anything to have him love her.

Tim appeared to be mulling over Storm’s words, unable to equate what Laughing Brook had told him with Storm’s plea for friendship. Storm had also raised an issue Tim hadn’t considered before. His own father, though he looked and acted like a fierce Lakota warrior, was more white than Indian. Deep in his heart Tim wanted to like Storm, yet the thought of losing Laughing Brook was too much for the little fellow.

Screwing his face up tightly, he bellowed, “Papa is a Lakota warrior. He doesn’t like White Eyes. You
are
a witch, otherwise he wouldn’t have married you.”

“Tim!” Grady decided it was time to make his presence known. “You will apologize to your stepmother.”

Tim’s face grew mottled as he turned and flung a challenging question at Grady. “Why did you marry her, Papa?”

For the first time in his life Grady was at a loss for words. Many reasons came into his mind as he searched Storm’s lovely face,
foremost of which was the fact that she had touched his heart in a way that no other woman had, not even Summer Sky. He and Summer Sky had been children when they had married, but now he was a man. A man who needed a strong woman with the same values and matching passion. Summer Sky would have been an obedient, loving mate had she lived, but her sweet, giving nature would have made her incapable of being the kind of woman Grady needed now. She was perfect for the naive boy of eighteen he once was. What he needed now was a woman with the strength necessary to endure both good times and bad, a woman he could … Love …

Storm hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until her lungs began to ache and her heart to pound. She had no idea how Grady would answer his son’s question, for she knew their marriage was merely one of convenience. She needed a home and he needed a mother for his son. The raging passion that existed between them was something Storm hadn’t counted on.

Grady remained silent so long Storm felt like turning and fleeing from the hot glare of Tim’s accusing dark eyes. Obviously Grady couldn’t come up with a plausible explanation for their marriage, one that would satisfy his son, and it hurt. Then he said something so outrageous, so utterly untruthful that Storm wanted to scream out that he lied.

“I married Storm because I wanted to.”

Storm felt singed by the heat and hunger of Grady’s gaze, but she resisted looking up into his eyes, fearing the mockery she’d find in their cobalt depths. She knew he wanted her—no one could mistake that devouring look—but since Laughing Brook’s arrival Grady had no need for his wife. True, she hadn’t been aware of Laughing Brook sharing Grady’s pallet since that time she awoke and heard them making love, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t found other times to be intimate.

“Why can’t Laughing Brook be your second wife?” Tim wanted to know. “Flies-Like-A-Hawk has three wives.”

“White law allows for only one wife,” Grady explained. Though he spoke to his son his eyes never left Storm’s face. “And besides, I don’t want a second wife, or a third. I’m perfectly satisfied with one wife. I have learned much since I rode with renegades and left the reservation,” he continued, dropping to his knees before his small son. “The time when Indians walked the earth as free men, proud of their heritage and secure in their future, is long past.”

“But I am an Indian, Papa, and so was Mama. How can I forget what I am?”

“You must never forget your proud heritage, son,” Grady said passionately. “We both come from noble stock, and our dark skins will never allow us to forget who or what we are. Nor should we. But I want a better life for you than the reservation offers. My father,
your grandfather, served the President of the United States and fought for the freedom of all people regardless of race and color. Don’t ever forget that. I feel strongly that our future, yours and mine, lies here in Oklahoma, on our own land.”