Wildfire in His Arms (24 page)

But the next thing she knew, he was moving his blanket next to hers again. “Not fair!” she protested, glaring at him over her shoulder. “You said—”

“You escaped me in Helena. And your explanation of why you helped me in Butte confirms that I have no reason to think you won't try to escape again. At least I'm not going to tie your feet.”

Was that supposed to be a consolation prize? Odious man.

She didn't exactly doze off right away. It was early and she was still bristling. It might take hours. But she wasn't going to talk to him anymore.

So she was actually startled when she heard him say, “If you get cold, you can use my body heat to warm up.”

She blushed furiously even though she
knew
he didn't mean that the way it sounded. Then she felt him pull her coat up over her shoulders as if he were tucking her in for the night. She didn't thank him when she could have done that herself if he hadn't put the rope around her wrists.

M
AX SAT UP ABRUPTLY,
disoriented for a moment and not sure what had awoken her. She usually slept soundly. Had it been a noise? If so, Degan hadn't heard it. The steady, soft sound of his breathing indicated that he was sleeping. She glanced around the camp. It was the middle of the night, and with the fire having died down, she couldn't see far.

She wondered if she should wake Degan to investigate. But the horses were quiet, not making any sounds of alarm. If it was a noise that had awoken her, whatever had caused it was already gone. Then she shivered, feeling the cold across her chest and back. Her coat had slipped down to her waist when she'd sat up.

She reached for it and got the sharp reminder that her wrists were bound together. Still she tried to pull the coat up, but she was having trouble grasping it, so she stretched her hands toward the fire instead. But the breeze was coming from the east, right across the water, and blowing the heat away from her. She almost growled in frustration. She might as well be naked for all the warmth Degan's fine lawn shirt offered her in the chill of the night.

She looked at the bottle of whiskey Degan had set next to the fire. The bottle was probably warm. What was in it would solve her problem—and probably make her sick. She reached for it anyway, then laughed at herself. She couldn't get the cork out of it! At least the bottle warmed her hands for a few minutes, but she was soon uncomfortably cold again.

She gazed at Degan. He looked so peaceful asleep. He didn't look at all dangerous now, just like a handsome man getting a good night's sleep. While she was wide-awake and shivering. He was probably toasty warm, too. And why was she still resisting? He'd made the offer.

She scooted across her blanket and snuggled against his side, careful not to wake him. Much better. He even served as a windbreak for her. But her coat got left behind. Now her legs were feeling the chill. She tried to get her legs closer to his without touching him.

Suddenly he rolled over. She tried to get out of the way but wasn't fast enough and ended up cocooned against his shoulder and chest. His change in sleeping position provided her with a thick arm for a pillow and availed her of more of his body heat—much more than she'd bargained for. She was about to sigh in contentment when she saw his eyes open.

She quickly said, “My coat slid off me. I'm cold and you said I could use your body heat to warm up.”

Degan leaned over her to grab her coat and draw it across her legs before he pulled her closer to him and ran his hand over her arm and shoulder for a few minutes. “Is that better?”

“No, I'm still cold.”

He moved his hand to her back and stroked her there. “Are you warm now?”

“That's a little better.”

He leaned down and kissed her. His mouth was warm and gentle on hers. She was amazed that such a dangerous, un­emotional gunfighter could kiss so gently yet passionately and stir her up so quickly.

“Are you getting warm now?” he asked against her lips.

Max didn't answer immediately because she was reveling in the delicious sensations that his kiss and his nearness were evoking in her. “That seems to be working, but maybe you should try it again.”

He did and began unbuttoning her shirt, too. She started to touch him, but it only brought her bound hands up between them. He paused to untie her without being asked. As soon as she was loose, he was kissing her again.

This wasn't a quick wildfire of passion like the one that had sprung up between them that afternoon. This slow, steady burn seemed to grow hotter and hotter. Yet the same powerful feelings were evoked, that unwinding deep inside her, the sudden racing of blood that made her almost giddy. He even dragged her leg over his as he pressed her even closer. Yet the kissing was gentle! Open, deep, but a slow, tantalizing exploration for both of them. He wasn't taking, he was giving. Her heart still pounded. She raised a hand to his head and ran her fingers through his hair.

Another thing that thrilled her about his kisses was that they weren't spontaneous. They were deliberate, controlled, which meant he wouldn't stop. He would leave that to her. How surprised would he be when she didn't?

His hand was moving briskly along her thigh, over her derriere, even up her back as he kept trying to warm her. He was succeeding—he'd already succeeded with his kisses—but that wasn't the only effect his touch was having on her. Even through the thin fabric of the shirt she was wearing, the movements of his hand over her body felt more like caresses, an intimate stroking that was arousing her.

“You're warm now,” he said against her lips. “Shall I stop?”

She moved on top of him in answer, her thighs on either side of his hips. He didn't know yet that she had no drawers on under his shirt. She'd hung her wet ones on the other side of the bush so he wouldn't see them. But what she felt because of that lack of clothing was amazing. A rock-hard bulge was underneath her. She couldn't resist rubbing against it.

Her hands on his neck, her fingers teasing just below his ears, she continued to kiss him much more intensely now, with passion ignited. His hands slipped under the shirt to find her bare skin, creating shockingly sweet, wonderfully hot sensations. She moaned against his mouth as his hands cupped each of her breasts, kneaded them, making them tingle, making her nipples peak. She pressed even harder against him. Breath caught in her throat as the tension built within her.

But suddenly he was holding her face in his hands, forcing her to look down at him. His eyes were turbulent, his voice raspy. “Do you know what's going to happen if this doesn't stop?”

“Show me,” she whispered.

With a groan he turned her over onto her back, settled between her legs, and fought with his pants, quickly removing them. Then that hardness was pressing against her for entry, tantalizing her, teasing her, the most amazing thing just out of her reach.

She raised her legs and hooked her ankles together behind his back and pressed them against him, drawing him even closer to her. “Show me!”

He slid inside her. It was as if she were shattered and made whole, broken but now complete. Then he started thrusting within her. Nothing had ever felt so right—or so explosive. It happened within moments, a wave of sweet, hot pleasure that engulfed her whole body, rising up, overflowing, pulsing. She was pretty sure she yelled. She definitely held on to his shoulders tightly, moving with him, not letting go until he felt what she'd felt or something equally amazing. Feeling all of his weight on her for a moment told her he did. She melted like jelly then, her limbs sliding off him, a smile on her lips, ecstatic and proud.

Folks shouldn't keep stuff like this such a secret, she thought. Luella had tried to tell her that being with a man could be real nice, but that was such an inadequate description for something this blissful.

He rolled to the side but took her with him, so she ended up half-draped across his chest. She reached behind her for her coat and pulled it over her legs. She was sure she wouldn't need more than that now. She almost told him that he made a nice furnace, but that would make her laugh. Anything she said right now might make her laugh. She was feeling that good. And his silence was nice for once. She didn't mind it at all.

M
AX AWOKE FIRST. AT
least, she figured Degan was still asleep since she was still lying snuggled against him. Her cheeks lit up before her eyes were fully open. Did they really make love? If it was just a dream, she wouldn't have such a silly grin on her lips, would she? She tried to set her lips in a straight line, but she couldn't manage it because they kept curving upward. So it hadn't been a dream. She could either be mortified that she'd crossed every line she could cross last night, or she could pretend nothing had happened.

She started to get up, but Degan's arm around her back held her down. “I will marry you, of course.”

Max was stunned by his words. Marriage? Then she realized it was the gentleman in him again, offering to marry her because he thought it was what he should do—not because it was what he
wanted
to do. He made it sound like a business deal. Of course! He'd said he'd been groomed to run an empire. Ha! When she married—if she ever did—there'd damn well better be a declaration of love first and a swelling of happiness to go with it, not this businesslike proposal that sounded as if he was honoring an
obligation
.

She pushed away from him, grabbing her coat so she could cover herself, and scrambled to her feet. “Don't do me any favors, fancy man. I needed warming last night. You saw to it nicely. That's all that was, so don't give it another thought and I won't either.”

She marched off before she started railing at him. How dare he offer to sacrifice himself on the altar of propriety and try to make her do the same thing? She was still angry when she returned to camp after relieving herself. Degan had gone off to do the same, so she quickly grabbed her dried clothes and got dressed before putting the rest away.

She was chewing on a chunk of bread when Degan returned. His expression was as stoic as usual, not a single one of his thoughts revealed. It occurred to her that he might not even realize she'd been offended by his dispassionate offer. She should probably keep it that way.

“I didn't mean to sound ungrateful,” she said, “but marriage to you feels like a shotgun wedding. I'll wait for some good, happy reasons to marry, if it's all the same to you.”

No answer, not even a glance, so she added, “Do you ask every woman you sleep with to get hitched?”

“Only the virgins.”

That
could
have been an attempt at humor if Degan didn't look dead serious. She still laughed. “I'm not saying I wasn't one, but it's not that big a deal to me anymore, especially now that I'm headed for a hanging. Heck, I was ready to give it up when I was just sixteen.”

“But you didn't.”

She found it annoying to have this conversation with him when his back was turned to her, but he'd started saddling his horse and didn't stop what he was doing to talk. “Only because the man I fancied up and left town. The Binghams probably ran him off. They'd had me pegged for one of them even back then.”

“So you say.”

“You still think I'm lying?”

“I think I'm now obliged to find out.”

She stared at him incredulously. The anger was back, but she chomped it down fast. She was
not
going to look a gift horse in the mouth or snarl at it. Hesitantly she asked, “Does that mean what I think it means?”

“We'll head to Texas after I finish in Dakota.”

He was going to help her! Max was ecstatic. And all it had cost her was the most incredibly beautiful night of her life. About damn time her luck changed.

She was still smiling when he came for the blanket she was sitting on so he could saddle her horse, too. She got up to kick dirt on the cold fire in case any embers were at the bottom of the fire pit, then grabbed her coat and hat. She didn't put the coat on and wouldn't until they got to town. The day was nice so far, not very warm yet, as early as it was, and there was a little breeze, so she hoped there wouldn't be another blistering day like yesterday.