A Promise of Thunder (17 page)

“I told you there are many ways to love. You and your husband must have been innocent babes when it came to loving. It will give me enormous pleasure to teach you all I know. It will probably take me a very long time.” Storm’s eyes grew round as saucers as she considered his mind-boggling statement.

“Put me inside you.” His voice was harsh. By now his control was hanging by a thin thread.

“No.” Storm had no idea why she was fighting the issue. She knew he’d soon have her begging him to take her. The man was a devil. He showed no mercy, demanding more than she was prepared to surrender. He wanted her soul.

Grady gave her an enigmatic smile as he raised his head and began suckling her nipple, while with the soft pad of his thumb he manipulated the tiny bud of her desire until it was swollen and throbbing.

“Put me inside you,” Grady repeated in a strangled voice. This time she obeyed instantly.

A groan of unholy torment erupted from his lips as she grasped his swollen staff and brought it against her moist crevice. Erupting in a frenzy of unrestrained passion, he grasped her hips and raised her slightly above him, thrusting upward as he brought her down to meet the rigid length of his manhood. His hardness electrified her and the sweet agony of impalement exploded upon her like a thousand tiny bursts of pleasure.

“Grady! Oh, Grady!”

“Do you like it this way, sweet? Ride me, Storm, ride me.”

Grady’s strokes grew harder, stronger. It was magnificent. It was sweet agony. It was mind-numbing bliss, yet so profound an experience she wasn’t certain she’d survive. While he was merely enjoying a moment of physical desire, her soul was being ripped apart.

And then the involuntary tremors of fulfillment began, making her oblivious to all but the searing need Grady had built inside her. A moan of ecstasy slipped through her lips, and hearing her, Grady’s thrusts grew more frenzied, freeing her in a bursting of raw sensation. Before the last cries left her throat, his
own climax sent him spinning after her. It was several minutes before Storm could move or speak. Her words brought Grady abruptly from a state of euphoria to a rude awakening.

“You bastard!”

“What!”

“You heard me. Let me go!” She tried to slide off him, but Grady held her so tightly his male appendage was still wedged deeply inside her.

“Why are you so angry?”

“Because you took unfair advantage of me. I can’t think straight when you—you—”

“—Make love to you?”

Her chin rose several notches in the air. “Seduce me.”

“What’s wrong with that? It’s what we both wanted.”

“It’s what
you
wanted. I had no choice in the matter.” She began pounding her fists against his chest, making no impression at all.

“Dammit, Storm, stop that. Do you intend to beat me every time we make love?”

“There won’t be another time. I can’t think straight when you—when you’re—”

“—Making love to you?”

“Forcing yourself on me.”

He laughed harshly. “Are you trying to say you didn’t enjoy what we just did?”

“Yes.” Her lids fluttered downward to conceal the blatant untruth of her statement.

“You’re a terrible liar. Do you think I’m so inexperienced that I don’t recognize real pleasure?”

“That’s the trouble,” Storm said sullenly. “You’re
too
experienced. You know just where to touch me to make me feel things I never felt with Buddy. It’s not right. Buddy was my legal husband. I loved him.”

“Is that why you’re angry with me? Because you resent how I make you feel when we make love?”

“That’s part of it.”

Abruptly he lifted her off of him, setting her down beside him. She scrambled for a blanket to cover her nakedness. “You’re a coward, Storm Kennedy. You’re afraid of your own sexuality. It’s too powerful to cope with so you compensate by accusing me of seducing you. If it salves your conscience, then by all means think of me as a ravisher of innocent women.”

Storm flushed, realizing Grady had come too close to the truth for comfort. “It isn’t right to feel so—so—”

“—Wonderful?”

“Shameful,” she contradicted. “It shouldn’t happen like this. Buddy hasn’t been dead very long. What kind of woman am I to allow myself to be seduced so easily?”

“A passionate woman who has never been fulfilled until now. I’m not tarnishing your husband’s memory. He was obviously young and inexperienced, but dammit, Storm, he’s dead. You’re a true pioneer. Not many women could accomplish what you did on your own. You can remain stubborn and lose everything
you’ve won or accept my proposal of marriage and lose nothing.”

“Except my soul.” Grady recognized the pain in her voice and was puzzled by it.

“I don’t want your soul, Storm Kennedy. What I want from you is much simpler.” Even as he spoke the words he realized he wasn’t being truthful. Was it really pity or responsibility he felt for the young widow? Or was it another, more complicated reason that had nothing to do with her husband’s death? “I want my son with me. He’s still young and impressionable and needs a woman’s influence. That’s where you come in.”

Storm’s thoughts raced in every direction, finally returning to one inescapable fact. Grady didn’t want her for herself and she damn sure didn’t want a man who had no room in his barren heart for love. He gave her too much of everything but himself. Yet, what choice did she have? Losing her homestead would devastate her. But being a wife to Grady in every sense of the word would be even more devastating. He’d proved his mastery over her twice and was likely to do so again, stripping her of her pride, her identity—her soul. Was there no way to keep their relationship less intense without surrendering everything to him? she wondered dismally. When it came the answer was a stroke of genius, and she smiled at the simple solution.

“You want me to make a home for your son,” Storm repeated, making certain she knew
exactly where she stood with Grady. “And at the same time you’ll be giving me a home and salving your conscience where I’m concerned.”

“Yes,” Grady said.

“Then I see no reason to share a bed if we marry.”

“What!”

“I said—”

“I heard what you said, dammit! Are you crazy? How can you ask that of me after what we just experienced together?”

“Easy. I don’t want to be forced into something I’m not ready for. I’m newly widowed. Let me mourn my husband for a decent interval before accepting another man in my bed.”

“It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?” Grady said with mocking arrogance.

“It’s never too late to mend one’s ways. Have you never been assailed by guilt, or felt the crushing weight of having done something you’re not exactly proud of?”

Grady sent her a sharp look, wondering if she was trying to make him feel as guilt-ridden as she was. What man or woman alive hasn’t done things they’re not proud of? He thought about his parents and how he had hurt them by taking himself and Little Buffalo from their home and not writing or communicating with them in over five years. Since he’d been separated from his son he’d had a glimpse of the pain and distress he had caused his own parents. And they certainly must have heard about
Thunder, the renegade Sioux who led daring raids against those who did harm to the People.

“Each of us must atone for his sins in his own way,” he said cryptically. “If you do not wish to share my bed, then so be it. There are any number of women willing to lie with me. I do not need you for that purpose. All I ask is that you be a mother to my son.”

Grady’s easy acquiescence stunned Storm. She had expected an argument, or at least a few bitter accusations. What she hadn’t expected was his bold statement that he would find another woman to accommodate him in bed. What was she getting herself into? she wondered dismally. But it was too late to back down now. She had made her bed and she must lie in it.

“I love children, so caring for Little Buffalo will prove no hardship.”

Satisfied, Grady nodded, the harsh lines of his face softening into a reluctant smile. “We will marry when you are rested and over the shock of your loss. I won’t have a hollow-eyed bride by my side when we say the words. Go to sleep, Storm. It’s nearly dawn and you’ve earned your rest.”

“You won’t—”

“You have my word. A Lakota warrior does not lie. I will not make love to you until you ask it of me.”

He lay down, wondering how he could survive living in the same house with Storm yet
not touching her. He was strong, but not that strong. He had practiced celibacy in his life and not been harmed by it, but Storm was so great a temptation his strength would be tested to the limits. Even now, after just having loved Storm, his loins ached with need for her. He could always ease himself with another woman, he reasoned, but somehow that thought appalled him. How could another woman satisfy him when it was Storm he wanted?

Thunder and Storm.

The day would come, he predicted, when Thunder and Storm would make the heavens ring with the fury of their dueling souls.

The next day was Sunday, and Storm slept late. When she awoke Grady was gone. She busied herself around the house, mentally listing all the things that were needed to make his cabin more homey. He returned at dusk with the wagon and horses, which had survived the fire, and a few odds and ends rescued from the ashes. One was a framed wedding picture of her and Buddy taken from a twisted metal trunk. It was a memento Storm would treasure forever. Unfortunately, none of Storm’s clothing survived the fire, and she was forced to wear the same dress for her wedding that she had worn at the dance.

They drove the wagon to Guthrie Monday morning. Storm was solemn-faced and stiff, Grady pensive as they huddled against the biting wind. December had swept across the land
with a vengeance. The skies were gray and a light dusting of snow covered the hard-packed earth. They rode in a silence broken by an occasional comment, each contemplating an uncertain future with a barely known partner. Yet both were willing to admit, at least to themselves, that an attraction existed between them that was hot enough to singe the air around them.

They found a preacher easily, and though the good man was somewhat startled by their request—the same preacher had officiated at Buddy’s burial—he married them willingly enough. They were married in the preacher’s home with his wife as witness. When they left he shook his head in consternation, certain the young widow had lost her sanity. What woman in her right mind would marry a man whose skill with a gun had marked him for a violent end? And besides, the man was obviously a savage who knew little of white ways.

“That marriage is doomed to failure, Martha,” he remarked to his wife as they watched the newlyweds drive away in the wagon.

The twinkle in Martha’s eyes was unmistakable as she replied, “I wouldn’t be too sure about that, dear.”

“Harumph. Then you saw something I didn’t.”

Martha merely smiled in the secretive way of women and left her husband to wonder at the complexity of the female mind.

Storm was still too numb from the swiftness of events during the past two days to feel anything. She was married, married for the rest of her life to a man who thought and acted like an Indian. She was still pondering the rationality of her decision when Grady stopped the wagon in front of the general store.

“You’ll need clothes for yourself and things to make the cabin more homey. I know women appreciate such things. Summer Sky took great pride in her home during the short time we had together. Charge anything you need to my account.”

Storm swiveled her head to look at him. She hoped she wasn’t always going to be compared to Summer Sky, the love of Grady’s life. “Do you have money?”

“Enough that you can robe yourself decently and fix up the cabin to suit your tastes. I know my cabin isn’t as nice as yours was, but I wasn’t planning on marrying again.”

Storm let that pass. It sounded as if he was sorry they were wed.

“There are things I need to do before we head back home. Take your time. When I return we’ll go to the land office. You’ll need to change your name on the deed. You’re Storm Stryker now, not the Widow Kennedy.”

As if he needed to remind her, Storm thought glumly as Grady assisted her from the wagon. How could she forget being married to a man who was too thoroughly male, too physically disturbing, and much too tempting to ignore?

Grady watched her enter the store, then turned resolutely away. He had business, all right, and he didn’t want Storm in the way when he conducted it. His first stop was the sheriff’s office, where he reported the acts of arson and presented the evidence to corroborate his claim.

“Have you any idea who did this, Mr. Stryker?” the sheriff asked.

“Obviously someone who wanted Mrs. Kennedy’s homestead,” Grady said, “and hoped to scare her into selling. Since I have no proof I’m not naming anyone, but we both know who’s been trying to buy up homesteads in the Cherokee Strip, don’t we?”

Sheriff Danville stroked his chin, staring pensively at Grady. “I’ll ask around and keep my eyes and ears open. But if we’re both thinking of the same man, I doubt we’ll find anything to connect him to the fires. The man is slick, I can say that for him. Did you know he opened an office in town?”

“What kind of office?” Grady couldn’t imagine Turner engaged in anything legal.

“Don’t rightly know, but he calls himself an investments broker.”

“Maybe I should pay our friend a little visit.”

“I won’t stand for no trouble, Stryker,” Danville warned. “Let the law take care of it. The town hasn’t forgotten that last bit of commotion you caused a while back. I’ll bet Widow Kennedy hasn’t forgotten it, either. Does trouble always come looking for you?”

“I’d like to forget the past and look to the future, Sheriff. I’m a genuine homesteader now. And a married man. I’ll be bringing my son to live with me come spring.”

“Married? When did all this happen.”

“This morning.”

“Where is the little woman? Is she one of the squaws from the reservation?” His voice held a hint of mockery, making Grady want to knock the smirk off the man’s face.