Angel Creek (18 page)

When the last calf of the day was branded and had been released to run bawling back to its mother Lucas stood and stretched, turning from side to side to work the kinks out of his back. He eyed the sun; it was only
an hour until sundown, not enough time for him to get back to the house and change out of his filthy clothes, then get over the narrow pass leading down to Angel Creek before dark. He could go the long way around, taking the road to Prosper and then cutting back toward the mountains, but the ride alone would take him over two hours, and it was possible someone would see him riding toward Dee's place. He wasn't going to have people whispering about her behind her back, so that option was out. But he needed her with a deep, burning ache that had grown worse as the day passed and wouldn't get any better until he was with her again, sliding deep into her silky body, feeling her wrap those strong, graceful legs around him. He looked again at the sun, thinking of taking his chances over the pass, then finally realized that it would be stupid to try. He would have to get through another night without her.

He had spent only the one afternoon with her, yet he craved her with the ferocity that drove the addicts in the San Francisco opium dens to their pipes. Losing his brother Matt had been hard, and since then he had been essentially alone in spirit because he had taught himself to need no one, to be complete unto himself; but now he had to deal with a nagging sense of incompletion, as if he had left part of himself down at Angel Creek. The notion was ridiculous, and he scoffed silently at himself. No one could mean that much to anyone else. It was just that Dee wasn't like other women he had known, and her differences were what intrigued him. He wanted her, that was all. It was a challenge to get past all of those thorns to the wild-honey sweetness of her

He wondered with disgust when he had taken up lying to himself.

Thunder boomed, and he looked at the sky for the third time. His foreman, William Tobias, evidently thought he was looking for signs of rain and said, “I don't think that one's going to come our way. Sounds like it's headed for the mountains.” The gangly sundried man leaned over to spit. “Sure do wish we'd get a hard spell of rain. We ain't dry, but I'd like to have more water in those holes before summer gets here.”

Lucas thought of the pure, never-ending water of Angel Creek and felt the old irritation with his father rise up within him. That land should have belonged to the Double C for a long time, but due to his father's lack of judgment it was now in the hands of a stubborn woman who was likely to work herself to death rather than listen to reason.

But if his father had bought Angel Creek all those years ago, Dee's father wouldn't have settled there, and he would never have met Dee. Lucas frowned, trying to balance the pleasure of owning Angel Creek against the excitement of making love to Dee. The frown changed to a wry smile. Angel Creek wasn't going anywhere; he'd get it eventually. Maybe he was just as glad that it had been unsettled when George Swann had brought his family west.

He and the foreman stood watching the storm clouds low on the horizon as they drifted away toward the mountains. The late afternoon thunderstorms were a frequent occurrence during spring and early summer, so both men expected they would get their share of rain.

Resigned now to the fact that he wouldn't get over
to Dee's after all, Lucas mounted his horse and started back toward the house. If he knew Dee, she had probably decided that he intended to visit only when he needed sex and would have the shotgun in her hands the next time he showed his face.

He realized that he was grinning as he rode home. Damn if getting her wouldn't be worth a load of buckshot in his ass!

Dee stepped outside the next morning just as dawn was turning the sky a glowing, translucent pink. She had reached for the feed pan as soon as she had stepped onto the stoop, but now she withdrew her hand without touching it, her eyes on that wonderful sky arching above her, around her, surrounding her with the glow.

The peace of the morning enfolded her. She turned away from the chores that awaited her and walked silently toward the meadow, her senses drinking in the colors and fragrances of the new day.

The long meadow was filled with graceful spring grass, the morning dew covering it with diamond glitter. A profusion of wildflowers spread before her eyes as far as she could see, a riot of blues and pinks and purples dotted with cheerful yellows and the occasional cluster of crimson clover, the dark red clover heads nodding as if they had to entice the industrious bees who found their sweet scent irresistible. She wandered among them, the dew wetting her faded skirt to the knee, but she didn't notice and wouldn't have cared if she had. Some days were magic and were to be savored. The chores would always be
there; this dawn was fleeting and would never be duplicated.

The sky overhead gradually changed from pearly pink to opalescent and finally to a great, shining golden bowl as the sun finally emerged and bathed the meadow in radiance. Birds sang almost deliriously, and the silver rush of water in the creek sounded like a thousand bells.

She walked down to the creek and watched the crystal water dance over the stones. Her blood sang through her veins, and her heart was full. This was her home, and it was paradise.

“Dee.”

She heard her name, though it hadn't been loudly spoken, and turned to look at him. Lucas stood some twenty feet away, his glittering eyes narrowed with some unnamed emotion, his face hard and intent. He was perfectly still, his big, muscled body locked in place; he never took his gaze off her, and the force of his lust hit her like a massive wave. Her body reacted automatically to his presence, immediately growing warm and heavy, her skin abruptly becoming too sensitive for the touch of her clothing. Her breasts swelled and ached, and her loins tightened.

She looked like a primitive goddess, and Lucas could hardly catch his breath. She stood next to the creek, surrounded by wildflowers, and the exotic face turned toward him was as serene and dreamy as the dawn itself. He had never seen her like that before, all defenses down, simply a woman exalted by the dawn.

His whole body expanded until he felt as if his skin would burst, and he was dizzy with the rush of his
blood. His sex throbbed violently, and he knew he had to be inside of her.

He never remembered crossing the ground between them, only that she didn't move, and then she was within his grasp, her body firm and rich, her mouth inexplicably shy beneath the savagery of his. He carried her down, crushing her into the wildflowers, and shoved her skirt to her waist. The barrier of her drawers maddened him, and he stripped them away with rough hands, her pale thighs naked and vulnerable in the morning sun. He was so swollen with need that he cursed under his breath at the difficulty of unbuttoning his pants. Then he was free. He opened her soft folds with one hand, revealing the small opening, and with his other hand he guided himself to her. He looked down at the broad head of his sex poised against the delicate opening, and his testicles tightened painfully. He thrust into her, groaning aloud with the shattering relief of her tight, silky wet channel clasping his aching length and soothing him with both pleasure and the promise of more.

Dee accepted his heavy weight with slender arms wrapped around those powerful shoulders, accepted the fierce drive of his loins slamming into her, accepted his masculinity and lust and welcomed all of it. She felt almost unbearably stretched and possessed, but there was a bright glory to it, and she reveled in it. Her head rolled slowly back and forth in the dew-fresh grass as her entire body gave itself over to him.

She climaxed abruptly, the sensation exploding in her loins and making her legs tremble around him. Her cries lifted into the crystal air, and her back arched as he reared back on his knees with a guttural
roar. His own climax swiftly followed, his head thrown back and his neck corded with the force of his convulsions. He gripped her slender hips and held her tightly locked onto him until the last spasms had eased, until he was emptied of his fever.

Afterward he was silent, and so was she, as he got to his feet and rebuttoned his pants. He bent and picked up her discarded drawers, then lifted her into his arms and carried her back to the cabin. She let her head rest on his shoulder, her eyes closed. There still didn't seem to be anything to say.

Lucas was shaken by the power of the surge of lust that had overtaken him. He had taken her without preliminaries, without gentling her body into arousal, but he hadn't been able to hold back. At that moment nothing had existed in the world but the two of them and his maddened need to have her. By rights, he thought, she should be trying to get to her shotgun rather than lying so still and quiet in his arms.

He sat down in one of the kitchen chairs and cradled her on his lap, his hands stroking her soothingly as if he could give her the consideration now that he hadn't been capable of earlier. Dee sighed with gentle pleasure, her nose turned against him so she could inhale the clean, warm scent of his body.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, his voice rough-edged.

She stirred a little, then settled in his embrace once more. “No.” His intrusion into her body had been shocking, but there hadn't been pain, only primitive joy.

She didn't seem angry, either, but lay in his arms with the sensuous lassitude of a thoroughly loved woman. Of all the reactions he had expected, this
voluptuous yielding hadn't been one of them, and it was all the more beguiling because he was taken by surprise. This was one reaction he didn't think he would ever tire of.

“I brought the sponges,” he said wryly, his mouth quirking with an ironic smile. He hadn't even given a thought to them, and in any case he couldn't have restrained himself.

She opened her eyes and gave him a heavy-lidded stare. “Did you think they would do a lot of good in your pocket?” she asked. Then she sat up with curiosity on her face. “What do they look like?”

He maneuvered her and stretched out his leg so he could get his hand in his pocket, and he withdrew the small sponges. She looked at them lying in his callused palm, picked one up, and squeezed it between her fingers, then gave it back to him. “They're just regular sponges,” she said, visibly disappointed. He grinned a little, knowing that she had been expecting something far more exotic and frankly wicked.

“I know. I expect it's the vinegar that does the job.”

“Well, it's too late now.”

“But it won't be the next time.”

She gave him another of those green, heavy-lidded looks. “Unless you come at me again like the bull on one of the cows.”

“Since the next time isn't very far in the future, I think I can promise that,” he said.

“I have to do the chores.”

“I'll help.”

They were back in bed within the hour, their naked bodies twining with the steadily building tension. The small vinegar-soaked sponge sat in a dish next to the
bed. When neither of them could wait a minute longer he showed her how to insert the sponge, his long fingers reaching deep inside her and almost carrying her to completion without him. They made love until they were both exhausted, and Lucas pulled the sheet up over them just before he dozed off, his arms wrapped protectively around her slender form. He was contented all the way to his bones.

When they woke up he wanted to make love to her again. He was startled when she tried to squirm away from him. “I don't want to,” she said fretfully.

“Damn if you aren't the most contrary woman I've ever seen,” he muttered.
“Why
don't you want to?”

She shrugged, her mouth sulky. “I just don't want you holding me down again right now.”

He ran his hand through his hair. God, why had he been surprised? The wonder was that she hadn't done something about it before now, but of course she was too inexperienced to know.

“Then you get on top,” he said.

Interest sparked in those green eyes. He could see she was intrigued by the idea of controlling their lovemaking, and therefore controlling him. He wanted to laugh out loud but thought she might change her mind if he did. Personally, he loved lying on his back and letting a woman ride him, and his imagination went wild as he pictured Dee's rich breasts swaying over him.

“I don't know how,” she said.

His hands were persuasive as they moved over her, enticing her closer. “I'll show you,” he said. Just thinking about it had already made him hard and ready.

She loved it, too. By the time she settled astride him, sinking down to envelop his shaft, his hands were locked on the headboard above him as he strained to control himself. He was gasping, his eyes closed from the pleasure she had wrought. She had seduced him that time, her mouth tender on his mouth and chest, her breasts brushing against his stomach and loins as she swayed over him. He thought of other things he would teach her, but right now he had all he could handle. Of course she loved it; she was enthralled by having him at her mercy, if he could call it that. It was more like torment, delicious, searing torment.

Dee moved slowly, rhythmically, her eyes closing as her own hunger built. This was pure ecstasy, she thought, and she knew that she would never regret these moments no matter what happened. It wasn't the physical pleasure that was so precious, but the link between them that was forged by that pleasure. She felt herself dissolving and cried out, unaware that he had reached his peak just ahead of her; then she fell forward onto his chest in exhaustion.

By the time he left late that afternoon she knew that for her, at least, the link between them would never be broken.

J
UNE CAME IN HOT AND DRY.
I
T WAS PARTICULARLY
frustrating because almost every afternoon thunder would echo from the mountains, and dark clouds would tantalize them with the possibility of rain; but the clouds would slide away, and if they ever released their moisture, it happened on the far side of the mountains, and Prosper got none of the runoff.