Only in My Arms (38 page)

Mary hung up the lantern and approached the bed. "I'm going to choose not to be insulted by that." She placed the back of her free hand over Ryder's forehead. "No fever at all. That's good."

"Hmm." Expecting to see Jarret, he looked past her shoulder. "Where's your bodyguard?"

"Bodyguard?" Realization dawned. "Oh, you mean Jarret. He's gone back to Fort Union. I told him to wait until you were awake before he left, but he said it was better his way."

"Wise man," Ryder said.

Mary looked at him oddly. "Why's that?"

"Because I damn well would have insisted he take you with him."

That rocked Mary back on her heels. She pitched the map on the bed in anger. She had a good mind to clip him on the jaw he thrust in her direction.

Ryder had no difficulty reading the bent of her mind. There was no sense giving her a clear target. He curbed the defiant angle of his chin. "What the hell was he thinking, leaving you here?" he asked instead.

"He was thinking it was what I wanted!" She gritted her teeth. "Oooh, when I think of all the breath I wasted convincing him, I could just... just..." Words absolutely failed her as Ryder simply stared at her, his head tilted slightly to one side, his fascination total. "Stop looking at me like that," she said, but there was no real conviction in her tone.

He didn't stop, but the centers of his eyes became a shade darker. "Like what?"

Her eyes dropped to his mouth. It was slightly parted. "Like... that."

Ryder took Mary by the wrists. Her fists were still clenched and he could feel the tension in her forearms. The blanket hitched around his waist parted along his wounded thigh. He brought Mary between his opened legs and placed her hands on his hips. His hands went around her back and clasped at the base of her spine.

Mary couldn't take her eyes away from his mouth. She felt her own lips part, but there was nothing she wanted to say, only something she wanted to do.

She leaned into the waiting kiss, slanting her mouth across his. The taste of him was sweet, with the lingering coolness of mint tea. Her tongue traced the line of his upper lip, and she felt him draw in a sharp breath, robbing her lungs of the same. Her hands ran up the length of his chest. Heat followed in her wake.

Ryder pressed the kiss more deeply. It had been too long to go gently. His tongue was hard against hers, and the rhythm was achingly familiar and intimate. Her fingers splayed flat on his chest and then curved at the tips. He could feel the tiny crescents of her nails mark his skin. Her mouth was warm and sweet, her response full and generous.

Mary wanted to be closer to him. She wanted to feel the press of his skin against hers, the delicious contrasts of contour, texture, and shape. When his hands moved to the buttons of her shirt, she knew a rush of heady anticipation.

Ryder broke the kiss and felt the loss keenly. Almost immediately, Mary brushed her mouth against his, seeking what he was denying them both. "Take off your shirt," he said.

Mary's fingers stilled on Ryder's chest. Her eyes opened slowly and she stared at him, the centers of her eyes dark and wide.

"Take off your shirt," he said again.

There was the merest tremor in his voice and Mary responded to it. Her hands went to the throat of her shirt as Ryder's dropped away. She looked down at herself as her thumb made a pass across the uppermost button.

"Look at me." The husky order was accompanied by his forefinger under her chin, raising her face.

Color rushed to Mary's complexion as desire warred with uncertainty. His eyes held her, waiting and watchful. It was her nearly imperceptible nod that made him release her face. Mary drew in a shaky breath, and her fingers slipped to the next button on her shirt.

She couldn't see her reflection in the darkly mirrored centers of his eyes, but it was as if she could. Her slightest movement raised a response there, and she knew she was looking at powerful, naked hunger held in check. Mary's fingers fumbled on the next button.

Lantern light cast its warm glow across her skin. Strands of copper and gold were highlighted in her hair. A shadow was chased across her collarbone as she shrugged out of the shirt, first with the left shoulder, then the right. Without conscious thought she raised her arms to cover her breasts. The look in Ryder's eyes stopped her.

He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. Mary removed the rest of her clothing.

His eyes touched her everywhere, and the impact was greater than if he had used his hands. She felt them on her breasts, her abdomen, the curve of her hip, and grazing the lengths of her legs. Between her thighs she was warm and moist, and when his eyes went there she felt a tug on her womb.

Ryder took her wrist. As his thumb passed along the soft inner skin the contact was almost too much for her. Her quick, indrawn breath was like a reaction to pain. He paused, searching her face, and recognized her response for what it was. She stepped toward him, not away. His hand closed over her breast. His thumb brushed the erect tip of her nipple and she sipped the air again. Her flesh swelled beneath his cupped palm.

He bent his head. His mouth touched hers but a single moment before its sweet warmth was on the curve of her neck, then her shoulder. She arched, aroused by the slow, inexorable journey of his mouth to her breast. His lips caught the nipple. The damp edge of his tongue bathed the tip.

Mary's fingers tangled in his hair, holding him to her as ribbons of pleasure uncurled just beneath her skin. He drew out her response, and when she didn't think she could stand it any longer he showed her that she could. Mary felt herself being lifted to the edge of the stone shelf, and now Ryder was standing in front of her. The blanket that had covered him lay on the floor. He cupped her bottom and brought her closer to the edge of the stone bed, hooking her legs on either side of his hips. His mouth took hers again, and this time the plunging force of his tongue was matched by his hard, swift entry. Mary's gasp was trapped by his mouth. He was in her deeply, completely. She was raised against him, accommodating the heat and hardness of him, holding him to her as surely as she was held.

"Please," she whispered against his mouth. But she could not have said what she was asking for. It was only when Ryder began to move inside her that she realized this was what she had been wanting. It did not bother her that he knew it better than she.

The force and rhythm of his body seemed to rob her of breath and thought. She could only feel.

She felt the heat of his skin, the strength of his arms, the steady rise of pleasure. Not as a single sweep, but as a force that ebbed and flowed, and never abandoned her. She felt the press of his hands, the imprint of his fingers. The shape of his mouth was a brand on her shoulder. Where he rocked between her thighs she felt the hot, darting lick of delicious tension.

Ryder's senses were filled with Mary. He breathed in the fragrance of her skin, her hair, and her sex. He tasted her sweet mouth and the faintly salty flavor of the curve of her shoulder. Her skin was smooth and warm to his touch. His head was filled with the small cries of pleasure at the back of her throat. Mary was in his vision even when he closed his eyes.

The climax was sharp and searing. He shuddered against her powerfully. Mary held him, her legs tightening against his hips, her hands clutching his shoulders. The thrust of his body shattered the last of her defenses. She embraced her release as she embraced him. Pleasure vibrated between them.

Ryder eased Mary back on the bed. She lay there, looking up at him, relaxed and replete. The smile on her face was faintly smug, certainly satisfied. She stretched lazily as he climbed onto the bed beside her. His kiss was tender, and Mary fairly hummed with the sweetness of it.

"You're looking a shade too full of yourself," he said, propping himself on one elbow.

Nothing changed about the placement of her lips. She couldn't help herself. "A little while ago I was a shade too full of you."

Ryder blinked. He could have convinced himself he had misheard her if it hadn't been for the tide of red sweeping over her face. For once she looked as if she wanted to call back her words. At the same time she was practically daring him to mention them. Instead he simply stared at her, fascinated by the contradiction.

The intensity of Ryder's expression, his darkly searching gaze, held Mary still. She tried to imagine what he was thinking when he looked at her like that, when he peered all the way to her soul.

Ryder picked up a blanket and drew it over them. "You should have gone with your brother-in-law," he said after a moment.

Of all the things she had thought she might hear, this comment was not among them. "That subject is closed," she said flatly.

It was as if she hadn't spoken. "Why didn't you?"

Mary's mouth flattened, and she simply refused to answer.

Ryder sighed. "Very well." Ignoring her small, stiff response when he touched her, Ryder tucked a strand of Mary's hair behind her ear. "We're not going to stay here much longer," he told her.

She frowned, not understanding. "But Jarret is going to cover your trail. He promised. Rosario won't—"

He cut her off, shaking his head. "I'm not worried about Rosario. And I believe Jarret will do as he promised, but he'll be tempted to return just to be certain you're safe."

"No. You're not—"

"It's what I would be tempted to do," he said. "He'll make one trip and then another, then another. It's only a matter of time before he's followed and we're found out. Rosario won't come in here, but there are plenty of Gardner's soldiers who will."

Mary considered that. Ryder was probably right. Jarret would feel a powerful obligation to assure her safety. She hadn't considered that when she'd sent him away alone. She hadn't meant to endanger Ryder with her presence; her intention had been exactly the opposite. Her forest green eyes clouded as she considered the consequences of her actions.

Ryder had no liking for the anxious, reflective look in her eyes. "What is it?" he asked.

"I should have left," she said, worrying the inside of her lower lip. "I'm sorry. I didn't understand."

Ryder wasn't sure that she did now. Her agreement didn't necessarily mean she had surrendered to his point of view. "I think you'd better explain yourself," he said.

Mary sighed. Couldn't he just accept that he was right? Did he have to hear the whole of her error? "I didn't realize I was endangering you by staying behind. It makes sense that you would want me out of the way now."

Ryder listened to the explanation and nodded slowly. It was just as he thought. She couldn't imagine that he had wanted to protect her. "I'm the one endangering
you,"
he said. "You should have left to protect yourself. That's all I meant." One side of his mouth lifted as he watched her try to take that information in. She was working up to another argument. "You really are a perverse creature," he added.

She bristled predictably. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that not so long ago you were fighting to make me let you go. Now you're arguing with me about staying."

"That's entirely different," she said immediately.

"Entirely."

Mary looked at him suspiciously. Was he agreeing with her or only pretending to agree? There was a faint edge to his tone, but his expression was shuttered. "You're maddening, do you know that?"

"Maddening? Is that good or bad?"

It was on the tip of her tongue to say bad. That, after all, was the easy answer. The truth was more complicated than that. Could he really hold her attention so completely if he weren't a little maddening? His calm intrigued her. His humor undid her. His logic gave her pause. From the very first he had challenged her. Mary made a small concession. "Being maddening is not entirely bad," she said.

"Be careful," he chided her. "You almost complimented my character."

She nudged his hard belly gently with her fist. When she would have drawn back he placed a hand over hers and held it there. Her fingers unfolded and lay flat against his skin. When his hand fell away hers remained. She traced the edge of his rib cage. There was still some faint bruising from his fall, but he appeared to be on the mend. "There's no pain here?" she asked.

"Hardly any."

"And your leg?"

"Much better." He raised one brow when her eyes narrowed. "Do you doubt it?"

He was referring to the way he had taken her, of course. With her legs anchored around him Mary had felt the strength in his thighs. "No," she said after a moment. "I don't doubt it."

Ryder liked the breathy, husky quality of her voice when she said that. He lowered his head and touched her mouth. The kiss lingered sweetly. When he pulled back, he adjusted his position to accommodate her. Mary rested her head in the crook of his shoulder and laid an arm across his chest. He wondered how often or how long she had slept during his illness. Jarret's presence had eased the physical tasks of taking care of him but had not lightened the emotional burden.

"Thank you," he said quietly. When Mary didn't acknowledge him, he thought she had fallen asleep. It was only when he glanced down and saw wet, spiky lashes and the tears on the curves of her cheeks that he knew otherwise. "Mary?"