A Promise of Thunder (9 page)

A dull red crept up Storm’s neck. Perhaps Grady
was
trying to be neighborly, but he had no call to be rude to her visitors. Nat Turner was merely being thoughtful by bringing her a gift of flowers for her new cabin. She couldn’t fault him for wanting to buy her land, and she thought it commendable that he didn’t persist or become angry when she refused.

“I—I appreciate your offer, but I don’t need a thing. And I’ll no longer need to draw water from the river,” she added. “My well was finished yesterday.”

“I’m going to start digging my own well once my cabin is built,” Grady said. “I hope it’s finished before the ground freezes.”

“Feel free to draw water from mine if you aren’t able to complete the task before winter,” Storm heard herself saying. “It’s the least I could do since you allowed me to cross your land to reach the river. I’ll show it to you.”

While she spoke, Grady’s eyes were strangely drawn to Storm’s mouth. She had the sweetest mouth—succulent, soft, made for kissing, he thought as he stared at the lush contours and imagined himself sipping from the heady nectar of her lips. He couldn’t recall when he’d seen lips so pink and inviting. He took an unconscious step forward, and at the same time, unaware of his intention, Storm started forward, intending to show him the well. They collided, their bodies coming together with a soft thud.

“Oh.” Her eyes flew open as his arms came around her.

“Oh, lady.” There was no way Grady could keep from kissing her since his arms were already around her and their bodies were pasted together from breast to thigh. “I don’t even care if you did that by accident or merely to taunt me.” His eyes narrowed to a hard glitter.

“I didn’t—”

The words died in her throat as Grady’s mouth covered hers and the tip of his tongue traced the soft fullness of her lips. A warm, heady sensation spread through her body as he suddenly forced her mouth open with the thrust of his tongue, claiming her in a way Buddy never had. She was just recovering from the hunger of his kiss when abruptly his lips turned hard and searching, demanding a response she wanted desperately to withhold. Then, just as abruptly, he broke off the kiss and stared into her eyes, leaving her mouth burning and her knees weak.

“Kiss me back.” The plea left his mouth in a throaty growl.

“No, I—”

“If you don’t, I’ll kiss you until you grow too weary to resist.”

“Grady, why are you doing this to me?” She licked her lips, tasting him on her tongue.

“Damned if I know.”

Then his lips recaptured hers, even more demanding this time. When Storm tried to pull
away his hands flew up to tunnel into her hair, holding her head in place as he continued to ravage her mouth in sweet, wild torment.

“Kiss me back, damn you!”

She opened her mouth, knowing instinctively it was what he wanted. She felt him searching, searching, until he drew her tongue into his mouth and she had no choice but to kiss him in return. With a passion she didn’t know existed, she gave herself freely to the fire of his kiss. Then, without warning, his mouth left hers to nibble a scorching path down her neck while his hands dropped to press her hips against the hardness of his loins. When he finally released her, her eyes were glazed and her face wore a look of stunned disbelief.

What was happening to her?

Thick, hot blood surged through Grady’s veins, and he knew without a doubt that he wanted this woman. Wanted her more than he’d ever wanted another woman. And that included Summer Sky. Making love to Summer Sky had been sweetly rewarding and gentle, as natural as breathing and sleeping. But instinctively he knew that when he and Storm came together there would be nothing sweet or gentle about their mating. It would be an earth-shaking experience as wild and tumultuous as their names implied, and would change their lives forever.

Was he ready for that kind of upheaval?

Abruptly he looked away, his expression drained of all emotion. His harsh whisper
came from the very depths of his soul. “What have you done to me?” His words sent a thrill of apprehension racing down Storm’s spine.

“I—I’ve done nothing. I can’t help it if you keep pawing and kissing me.”

He eyed her narrowly. “Something about you makes me forget that I am a Lakota warrior. Lakota warriors are taught to restrain their lust and keep emotions under tight rein. Yet I can’t seem to keep away from you. I want to touch your flesh without the barrier of your clothing.” He reached out to stroke her breasts. Her nipples hardened into tight little buds against his palms and she gasped in horror. “I want to kiss you until your lips are swollen from my kisses and your knees grow weak.” Adroitly she stepped out of his reach, fearing his next words.

“I want to make love to you, Storm Kennedy.”

Storm’s mouth gaped open, unable to give voice to all the despicable names she wanted to call him. Swallowing convulsively, she managed to say, “Get—get out of here! How dare you say such terrible things to me.”

“Among the Lakota it isn’t terrible to want a woman; it is natural and right. You are a widow, not unaccustomed to a man’s desires. And you want me, I can tell.”

“You can tell no such thing! That’s evil.”

He laughed as if sincerely amused. “We’ll see, Storm Kennedy, we’ll see. Meanwhile, if there is nothing you need from town, I’ll rid you of my obnoxious company. Just remember, lady,
one day Thunder and Storm will come together in a brilliant display of passion. Grandfather has spoken; Thunder can only exist in the bosom of Storm. The confrontation should prove a spectacular one.”

Turning abruptly, he leaped astride Lightning and thundered off in a flurry of dust.

Thunder and Storm? Grandfather? What in the world was Grady talking about? Storm wondered curiously. He spoke in riddles, making no sense at all. Yet she knew instinctively that Grady Stryker presented a danger to her very existence. The sheer magnitude of his desire frightened her.

Grady smiled all the way to town. It had been years since anything had pleased him as much as Storm Kennedy. And whether she liked it or not, she
would
yield to him.

Grady entered the busy town and went directly to the hardware store to purchase his nails. From there he visited the mercantile. He was in desperate need of warm clothes and boots. The dependable buckskins and moccasins had served him well, but if he wanted to conform to white dictates he must dress the part. He left the store a scant half hour later clad in twill pants and flannel shirt and wearing a pair of brown leather boots that reminded him of those he owned when he helped his father on the ranch. In a bundle beneath his arm he carried a heavy sheepskin jacket and the buckskins he had just discarded.

After stuffing his parcels into his saddlebags, he headed to the bank. He still carried money on him that should be deposited in an account in his name. Thunder had no use for banks, but for Grady Stryker the bank was a practical way of preserving his remaining assets. The one thing Grady didn’t get was a haircut. He couldn’t bring himself to shed everything about him that was Indian. He clung to his long hair with a tenacity that displayed his utter contempt for those who called him half-breed. Grady Stryker was proud of his Lakota blood and his Indian heritage.

As Grady made his way to the bank he was unaware of the two men who followed his progress from the safety of a hotel room that overlooked the street.

“That’s the bastard, Purdy. If not for him, I’d own a prime piece of land on the river.”

Purdy nodded in commiseration. “Because of him my shootin’ arm is outta commission. I heard the renegade was fast with a gun, but I had no idea he’d be
that
fast. I ain’t through with him yet, not by a long shot.”

“Me neither,” Lew Fork mumbled as he watched Grady enter the bank.

“Break it off, you two,” Nat Turner advised. “I hired you for a purpose, and killing the half-breed isn’t what I’m paying you for. Later, maybe, if he don’t pull up stakes on his own, then we can face that obstacle. Right now you’re to concentrate on Widow Kennedy. She’s vulnerable at this time and more inclined to sell
her land than any of the other settlers who have yet to face their first winter on the prairie.”

“You want us to kill a woman?” Purdy asked. He’d never killed a woman before and didn’t know if he’d want to now.

“Hell no, not kill her, just frighten her so she’ll come begging me to buy her land.”

“What’s so damn valuable about her claim?” Fork wanted to know.

“There’s a rich buyer from Texas interested in buying as much of the Cherokee Strip as he can lay his hands on. The closer to the river, the better. It’s my understanding he plans on running cattle into Oklahoma and Kansas.”

“And you think the Kennedy woman will sell to you?” Fork asked.

“If she does, I stand to make a tidy profit,” Turner revealed. “You two could share in it if you succeed in scaring her into selling. Once she leaves I don’t think the half-breed will want to stay and work his land. He’s hardly the kind to settle down. Instinct tells me he’s more interested in the young widow than he is in his land. If Storm Kennedy sells out, the half-breed will pull up stakes and sell me his land.”

“I wouldn’t try to second guess the renegade if I were you,” Purdy advised. “Look what it got me. He coulda killed me.”

“But he didn’t and now you’re working for me.”

“Yeah, but it’s the Injun we really want,” Fork grumbled.

“Tell you what,” Turner said in a conciliatory
tone. “You boys do this job and I’ll help you in any way I can to bring down the breed. Plus you’ll be paid damn good wages for frightening Storm Kennedy off her claim.”

Purdy and Fork exchanged pleased glances. “You got it, boss. You hired the right men for the job. In another week this damn arm will be as good as new.”

“Another week it is,” Turner agreed, clasping each man’s hand to seal the bargain. “I don’t care what you have to do, just don’t kill the woman before she signs the bill of sale and turns the deed over to me.”

“Do you care if we rough her up a bit?” Fork asked, nudging Purdy’s shoulder and grinning slyly. “The widow is a damn fine lookin’ woman. And young.”

“Whatever it takes,” Turner said, grimacing with distaste. “Just don’t tell me about it once you’ve done your work.”

Storm didn’t see Grady for a full week after the day he kissed her so thoroughly outside her cabin. She groaned mentally when she recalled the devastating eagerness with which she had responded to him, and how the liquid heat of his mouth had seared her very soul. The thought of his kisses sent a bolt of pure rebellion through her. How dare he look at her with his bold blue eyes and touch her with his searing lips. And his hands! Good Lord, his hands were everywhere. Wooing her with the strength of his caresses and making her forget everything
but the need to press her body against his in a most carnal way. For her own peace of mind she hoped he’d never set foot on her land again.

Unfortunately Storm’s wishes weren’t granted. Grady showed up at her door one brisk morning grinning from ear to ear. When he told her his cabin was finished she offered tentative congratulations.

“You wouldn’t have any coffee on the stove, would you?” Grady asked as he glanced past her into the inviting interior of her cabin. His own place wasn’t furnished nearly as cozily, containing only functional pieces of furniture that served their purpose and little else.

Inviting Grady Stryker inside her house was the last thing she wanted to do, Storm thought as she heard herself asking him to come inside and warm himself. She hadn’t needed to use the new fireplace yet, for the stove provided sufficient heat for the cool, sunny days of fall. Grady sat down at the table while she poured him a cup of coffee.

“Have you seen your friend Turner recently?” Grady asked.

“No, should I have?”

“He’s a speculator. He wants land and seems determined to have yours. Since you’re alone out here with no husband and virtually no protection, he feels quite certain you’ll sell out to him if he waits long enough.”

“He’s wrong,” Storm insisted with quiet determination.

“It’s going to be a long winter, Storm. Have you cut wood for the fireplace yet? There are dozens of things that must be done to prepare for those days when you won’t be able to leave your cabin.”

“I—no, I haven’t gotten around to cutting wood yet. I suppose I shall have to one day soon.”

“There’s no need,” Grady said gruffly. “I’ve done it for you. It’s the least I could do for—for everything that’s happened. If you loan me your wagon, I’ll load it up and bring the wood to you tomorrow.”

“You’ve cut wood for me?” Storm asked, startled. “There was no need, I—”

“Your land has few trees, while they grow abundantly on mine. I’d do the same for any neighbor. Besides, I’m accustomed to hard labor while you—well, let’s just say there are other tasks you’re better suited for.” The intense look in his blue eyes left small doubt in Storm’s mind to what he was referring.

Hanging on the frayed threads of restraint, Storm smiled obliquely and said, “And I can’t think of one thing you’re suited for besides hard work. From the size of those biceps I’d say you have more muscle than brains.”

Storm seethed as his insufferable laughter filled the cabin. “I’m surprised you noticed.”

Storm groaned in frustration. She’d never met a more exasperating man. How in the world did his wife ever deal with him?

“If you’re finished with your coffee there are
chores I must do outside. Thank you for cutting wood for me. You may use the wagon whenever you like. I must confess, though, I would never have taken you for a thoughtful man.”

Setting the cup down, Grady uncoiled his lean length from the chair. “You have no idea what I’m capable of, Storm Kennedy.” His voice was low and strident, sending chills down her spine. “But one day you’ll find out.”

He turned abruptly and strode out the door, leaving Storm standing with her mouth open, ready to fling back a tart retort but unable to form the words. All she could do was stare at his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and the smooth tautness of his buttocks encased in tight twill pants.