Guardian Bride (27 page)

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Guardian Bride

by Lauri Robinson

"Yes," she muttered, trying to catch his lips as they slipped

over hers again.

"You do?"

"Yes, I do." He was stronger, no matter how hard she

tugged on his head he pulled away from her lips. "Or at least

I did." She dropped her hands.

He continued to grant little kisses, here and there. She

forced herself to stand as stiff and cold as stone. After a few

other touches, he leaned back to stare at her. Summer knew

her glare looked more like a pout, but didn't care. She was

pouting.

His eyes sparkled brighter than fireflies. "Come here."

It took every ounce of willpower she had to dodge his lips.

"No."

"No?"

"No."

His brows arched. "You don't want me to kiss you?"

"Nope." She swallowed. If he could play this game so could

she. But it was hard. Big, familiar and, oh so wonderful

hands, were still working their magic on her back, making her

skin quiver beneath her dress.

"Okay." He shrugged and pivoted on one foot.

Dumbfounded, but not dumb, she snatched his arm before

he stepped away. His gaze sent the smoldering fire inside her

loins into flames. The smile on his face grew serious as he

pulled her close and kissed her with all the passion she'd

wanted in the first place. Her hands couldn't find a place to

rest. She squeezed, caressed, clutched, and kneaded, all the

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while smothering herself in his kiss, and molding her shape to

his.

It wasn't enough. Fire consumed her, and his hands readily

stoked the flames like dry oak in an open pit. "Snake," she

pleaded between kisses, begging him to satisfy the want

encompassing her.

He grasped her backside and forced her hips against his. It

helped but didn't begin to satisfy. When he eased his hold,

she lifted her head, wondering where he'd lead her to so they

could complete their union. But he wrapped his arms around

her shoulders and tucked her head against his shoulder.

She squirmed. He whispered, "Shhh."

"Wh—"

"Summer! Didn't you hear me yelling?" August's voice hit

her like icicles falling off a roof top. "Bug's got that door in the

way. I had to run all the way around and come in the front. I

was hollering and hollering, and—"

"You're inside now, August, there's no need to yell," Snake

instructed calmly.

Summer trembled too hard to speak, and clung to Snake's

side as he turned them to face August.

"What did you need?" Snake spoke her thoughts.

"Summer, you gotta come see this guy!" August

exclaimed.

"Who?" she asked, gaining a touch of control.

"The guy Snake and Skeeter brought home."

She looked to her husband.

Snake grinned. "He's a friend of the family."

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Friend or not, she really had no desire to meet someone

new. She wanted to shoo August on his way, and resume her

position in Snake's arms. Since that wasn't about to happen,

she asked, "Oh? Who is it?"

Keeping his arm around her, Snake guided her through the

unfinished house and around piles and crates of furniture

stacked in the front room.

"Buffalo Killer. He lives out by Skeeter and Lila."

The soles of Summer's boots grew spikes, causing both

she and Snake to stumble to a stop.

"Buffalo Killer? He's an Indian?"

Snake eased his hand from her shoulder to gently hold her

upper arm. She quivered beneath his fingertips. Concern

replaced the pleasure that had been singing in his chest.

"Yes," he admitted. "Buffalo Killer is an Indian. But more

importantly, he's a family friend. He and Skeeter have been

friends for years. There's nothing to fear."

Her eyes had grown wary, and a frown wrinkled the

normally smooth space between her delicate brows.

He brushed a few stray hairs away from her cheek, tucking

the strands behind one dainty ear, before pulling her closer.

"As long as I live, I promise you'll never have anything to

worry about. Nothing to fear."

The top of her head brushed the underside of his chin as

she shook it from side to side.

"That's an impossible promise to keep." Her voice held

anguish.

He set her a few inches away, so he could look deep into

her dark eyes as he swore a solemn oath, "It's a promise I'll

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do everything within my power to keep." His words settled

deep in his soul. He'd never spoken a more true or genuine

statement.

August, who had dashed out the doorway earlier, darted

back in. "Ain't you coming?" His blue eyes flashed between

Snake and Summer. "You two ain't kissing again, is ya?"

"Yes, we're coming," Snake answered. Upon seeing the

faint blush on Summer's cheeks, a touch of mirth rippled his

chest. He couldn't contain the chance to tease her just a bit.

"And yes," he said, tugging her forward. "We are kissing

again."

"Sheesh!" August declared. The echoing departure of

footsteps said the child must have left. Snake didn't bother to

glance that way. He was much too busy once again reveling

in the honeydew sweetness of Summer's mouth.

When they parted this time, it wasn't the heated want of

bedding her filling his system, but the dreamy warmth of

contentment swirling from head to toe.

He took her hand. "Come on, you'll like Buffalo Killer. I

promise."

She fell into step beside him. The pride he felt every time

he introduced her swelled his chest. Someday the buttons

might pop right off his shirt. It would be worth it, a few lost

buttons. Having her at his side was worth more than all the

buttons, gold or silver, this side of the Mississippi. With one

hand on her elbow, he guided her across the large front porch

and down the steps of their new home.

Buffalo Killer stood amongst the crowd, gesturing as he

spoke to Kid, Skeeter, Bug, and Hog. The man's movements

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and voice stilled as he caught sight of them. An eerie

sensation tickled the back of Snake's neck. The look in the

Indian's eyes made him recall how Buffalo Killer had wanted

Skeeter to share Lila when they'd first met. Snake's jaw

tensed, and he glared at the Indian, clearly stating he wasn't

any more willing to share than his brother had been.

However, Buffalo Killer's gaze never left Summer.

When they arrived near the group, Snake was ready to

declare his property, but Buffalo Killer didn't give him the

chance. The man stepped forward, a startled look filling his

black eyes.

"Summer Dove?" Buffalo Killer sounded astonished.

Summer stumbled. Snake caught her, and she clung to his

arm as if unable to stand on her own.

Buffalo Killer shot an expectant and somewhat excited

glance around. "Silver Bird? Where is she?"

Just then September walked out of the barn, carrying

Winifred on one hip as usual. Buffalo Killer took a step

forward then paused. He spun back to stare at Summer.

"Where's Silver Bird?"

Summer's hold on his arm lessened, and Snake, feeling

about as disorientated as a jackrabbit in a stampede of cattle,

turned to question her. The flesh on her face had grown

chalky white. As he reached for her, her eyes rolled back. He

caught her as she crumpled.

Hoisting her limp body into his arms, he turned to Buffalo

Killer. "What the hell is going on here?"

The man's answer was lost in the crowd. Ma shouted to

carry Summer to the tent. September screamed, which

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caused Winifred to start crying. Jessie took the baby while

Randi wrapped her arms around the girl.

And August, crying, clawed at Snake's pant leg. "She ain't

dead, is she Snake? Summer ain't dead, is she? You can't let

her die, Snake. You can't let her die!"

"She's not dead, August," Snake managed to say when the

child took a breath. "She just fainted. Let go so I can go lie

her down." He glanced to Kid, who stepped forward to tug

August off his leg.

Summer came to before he got her to the tent. She lifted

her arms, looped them around his neck, and hid her face in

the crook of his shoulder. He gestured the others away from

the tent and carried her in. Rather than lay her down, he sat,

cradling her on his lap. The bed sank beneath their weight. A

sigh, as gentle and light as a leaf falling from a tree, slipped

between her lips, brushing his skin exposed by the open

buttons of his shirt.

He repositioned her and tugged his arm from beneath her

knees to use his fingers to tenderly encourage her chin to tilt

up so he could look at her. Blinking due to the muted light of

the tent after the bright sunshine outside, he stared at her

still face. The long lashes of her eyelids fluttered, but didn't

lift.

Ma, her face contoured with worry, entered the tent.

Without a word, she handed him a damp cloth and then left

again. He laid it over Summer's forehead. A million and one

thoughts raced across his mind, but only the one, which was

concerning her welfare, took root. The possibility she could be

ill—seriously so—scared the dickens out of him. What would

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he do if something happened—if she'd acquired the fever and

couldn't be saved?

No. Snake shook his head, dismissing the thought. She

wasn't ill. No one had had the fever in ages. She was just

frightened by seeing Buffalo Killer. The Indian, with his

buckskin britches and fringed moccasins, could be scary if you

didn't know him.

Snake ran the cloth over her cheeks and chin, and then

back up to her forehead. Buffalo Killer needed to learn to

wear clothes around the women. He'd talk to the man about

it.

Summer sighed again. The unreadable depths of her dark

eyes made a tight band squeeze his heart. Snake swallowed,

trying to relieve the pressure.

"Are you all right?"

She nodded. "I'm sorry-I—"

"Shh," he encouraged, kissing her brow.

Shaking her head, she pushed herself upright and onto the

edge of his knees. "I know him."

"Buffalo Killer?"

She nodded.

"You've met him before? Where? When?"

"I don't know. But I know him."

An uneasy and peculiar sensation, not unlike a being

stabbed by a dozen porcupine quills, developed on every inch

of his skin. "What do you mean?"

She closed her eyes, sheltering her face with both hands.

The quills dug in deeper. "Summer?" he asked, not

knowing what else to do.

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It was a long, quiet, and forlorn moment before she

dropped her hands.

Damn, he had a lot to learn about women.

"Summer," he repeated. "Talk to me. I can't help if I don't

know what's wrong."

She turned, looking at him with a sober gaze.

"Why do men always think they can help? Sometimes

there's nothing to be done."

He tucked her hair behind her ear again. It was a simple

thing, but he enjoyed doing it. The silky strands flowed

beneath his fingers as he smoothed the hair in place.

"There is always something that can be done."

She shook her head.

"Why do I have the feeling we aren't talking about Buffalo

Killer?" he asked, feeling the quills again.

This time her sigh was weighted with tension. She leaned

back. He gathered her closer, gladly shouldering any worry

she was willing to let go. It was obvious she wasn't going to

answer, so he changed the subject.

"When did you meet Buffalo Killer before?"

"I don't know. Honestly, I don't know."

He held her, letting the silence filter around them like

water filling up a bucket. The shaft of light that entered the

tent was like a welcoming beacon. Snake lifted his gaze to the

tent flap. Skeeter poked his head in.

His brother glanced between the two of them cautiously.

Summer opened her eyes, and her slight nod gave Snake the

approval to acknowledge his brother.

"Come on in."

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"You doing all right, Summer?" Skeeter asked.

"Yes, thank you." She sat up, but Snake kept her from

scooting off his lap.

"Buffalo Killer is really worried. He didn't mean to frighten

you," Skeeter offered.

"He didn't frighten me. It was more like a shock."

Skeeter sat down on the trunk beside the bed. "So you

remember him? You know he's your brother?"

Her spine grew stiff, and she began to tremble. "Brother?"

"Brother?" Snake asked at the same time.

Skeeter removed his hat and scratched his head, making

his mop of blond curls stick out in all directions. "That's what