HisBootsUnderHerBed (16 page)

“How long was I sleeping?” she asked as he carried her over to the blanket he had set at the base of one of the boulders.

“A couple of hours.”

“You sure were busy in that time.”

“Yeah. That’s why I got worried, when I realized how long you’d been gone.”

“What did you do with the remains of the burro?”

“I buried it.”

“Poor little thing. Too bad it had to suffer.”

“No one gets a free pass when Paddy’s around.”

“Are you trying to start another argument?”

“I’m merely pointing out how an innocent life can be carelessly destroyed by him. There’s an analogy there, in case you missed it.”

“You’re wrong, Garth. Pop hasn’t destroyed my life.”

He turned his head and looked at her. “Yet.”

He went over to the waterfall and filled a bucket with cold water, then came back and submerged her foot in it.

“I suspect that by morning most of the swelling should be down, and we can get a better look at it. Until then, you stay off it. Understand?”

“Yes, Captain Fraser. Forgive me if I don’t stand and salute.”

Then he examined the palms of her hands. “At least they’re healing nicely.”

Her mouth twitched as she failed to suppress a smile.

He stood up. “All right, let’s hear it. What’s so funny?”

“You
do
fall in love with whatever woman you make love to. And right now, I’m the chosen one. That’s why you resent Pop so much. You feel he takes advantage of me—an irritation to your nobleness, my mighty knight in armor. I think you’re even a little mad at yourself because you can’t do anything about it.”

He started to laugh. “You figure you’ve got all the answers, don’t you, Miss Smarty?”

“Yes, I do. Right now I’ve got you squirming.”

“Is that so? You know, lady, if you weren’t hurting right now, I’d make you eat those words.”

“And how would you do that?”

“By proving to you who’s the one that does all the
squirming
in my subverted attempts to make love to you.”

“Are you sure you don’t mean
perverted
attempts, Fraser?”

“One of these times, you’re going to find out what you’ve been missing.”

“Really? So that’s what’s on your…mind,” she said, glancing at the bulge that had begun to form in his pants.

“And you know I’m right. So why that Mona Lisa smile?”

“Because right now I can
see
that I’m right. But as you said, ‘by morning the swelling should be down.’ ” She tapped a finger on her lips, as if in deep thought. “Hmmm, I believe there’s an analogy in there, in case you missed it.”

Garth’s warm laughter carried to his eyes. “No one could ever accuse you of being dull, honey,” he said, and got down on his knees to inspect her foot again.

Rory fought the urge to tangle her fingers into the dark hair of the head bent attentively over her foot.

“So what do you think?”

“It’s going to be pretty sore for a few days.” He raised his head and smiled. “Maybe Paddy will share some of his whiskey with you to ease the pain. Or I could try to kiss it better,” he said hopefully.

“You wouldn’t take advantage of a helpless female, would you, Fraser?”

He slid his hands up her arms, and drew her nearer until their mouths were mere inches apart. “It’s an old remedy. When I was young, my mother always kissed my hurts to make them feel better.”

“Sure sounds better than sharing Pop’s whiskey,” she whispered.

She closed her eyes when his arms wrapped around her. Spats were forgotten, the fire, and her aching foot. The heady sensation of his mouth on hers was all the medicine she needed.

Rory was asleep when Paddy returned to camp. His step was livelier, and his derby was cocked at a jaunty angle.

“Top of the evening to you, me boy.” Then he looked around in surprise. “What happened?”

“A fire,” Garth said. “When you left camp this morning, did you leave the campfire unattended?”

“There was no wind, or even a breeze, to be doing it harm.”

“Never underestimate the capability of even a spark, Paddy. This whole place could have gone up in flames;

Rory was hurt when we were putting it out, and the burro was injured. I had to shoot it.”

“Rory’s hurt?” Paddy said, alarmed.

“One of the mules stepped on her foot. She was fortunate not to end up with a broken foot, but she’ll be in pain for a few days.”

“And ’tis all me fault.” For the first time since Garth had met him, Paddy appeared to show remorse.

“It makes us vulnerable now, Paddy,” Garth tried to explain patiently. “Other people will have seen the smoke. We were concealed before, but now we’re more exposed.”

“And the burro’s dead,” Paddy said sorrowfully.

“Unfortunately.”

“And ’tis all me fault,” Paddy said gravely. He pulled off the bandanna from around his neck and dabbed at his eyes.

The old man seemed genuinely sorry. In an attack of tenderheartedness, Garth said, “Accidents happen, Paddy.”

Maybe he should try a different tack with the man. Why not appeal to his manhood? The old guy
did
love his daughter, even if he had a damn poor way of showing it.

“With Rory laid up for the next few days, we can’t leave her alone, so I’m going to need your help more than ever around here. You’ll have to remain with her when I go to catch fish, for instance.”

“’Tis the least I can do,” Paddy said, blowing his nose.

“You know how she’s used to staying busy. Maybe you could keep her occupied playing cards or something.”

“That I can do,” Paddy said eagerly. “But I’m not much for cooking.”

“I can do the cooking for a few days. And I’ll stay close to camp as much as possible myself. Of course, when I’m at the back of the cavern there’s no way I can look out for her. I suppose I could forget mining until she’s back on her feet.”

“You don’t want to do that, me boy,” Paddy said quickly. “She’s me daughter, and she needs me. I’ll not fail her,” he declared resolutely.

“Good,” Garth said, patting him on the shoulder. He was so pleased with the reults of his conniving, he wished he could do the same to himself. “I’ll get back to work first thing in the morning, and why don’t you gather some more wood for tomorrow morning’s campfire? You’ll find a big pile of it in those trees about a quarter mile south of here.”

F
or the next couple of days everything ran smoothly again. Paddy would go out and gather wood diligently for the campfire, and Rory would pretend that she didn’t notice the smell of whiskey on his breath when he returned. She and Paddy would play cards or chess, or she would read Garth’s book while he worked in the mine or caught fish for their meals.

By the third day, Paddy began to spend less time playing games and more time “gathering wood.” He was gone all afternoon the following day, and came back in an alcoholic stupor, then stumbled into the mine for a “nap.”

“I thought it was too good to last,” Garth said later as he knelt and examined her foot by the campfire. “Old habits die hard. Rory, Paddy’s fully able to travel now, so let’s get the hell out of here in the morning.”

“That’s fine with me.”

Garth cupped her foot in the warm palm of his hand. “It looks good. Even the bruise has started to fade, so you can walk on it now.”

She felt the tantalizing rise of passion as he slid his hand to the calf of her leg.

“Are you sure it feels better?” he asked.

“Very sure,” she said.

“Maybe, I should check it closer to make sure,” he added as his hand moved to the buttons on her Levi’s.

She lifted his hand away and slid her arms around his neck. “Yes, maybe you should,” she murmured, just before his mouth claimed hers.

They both knew it was a dangerous game they were playing, they were pushing each other to the limit. But neither of them was willing to call off the exciting challenge of it.

Rory had just finished frying the fish for dinner when Paddy came out of the mine, looking the worse for wear. As soon as he finished, Paddy put aside his plate.

“’Twas as good as usual, darlin’. Now I think I’ll be taking meself back to bed.”

“Pop, Garth and I decided that since my foot’s fine and you’re well enough to travel, we’ll leave in the morning.”

“Have you now? Well, Rorleen Catherine, I think I’ll be the judge of that. Good night, darlin’.”

“He seemed to take that well,” Garth said.

“You don’t know him as well as I do,” Rory said, with a worried glance at the entrance to the mine.

By the time she and Garth finished cleaning up the dishes, his loud snores carried to the outside.

“I suppose I should go to bed now, too,” Rory said.

“How are you going to fall asleep with that snoring in there?”

“I’ve grown used to it.”

Garth went inside and came back with his bedroll, spread it out, and then he laid back and gazed up at the stars.

“One of these days I’m going to forget what a bed ever felt like,” he said. “I can count the times on one hand that I’ve slept in an actual bed in the last seven years.”

“Better get used to it, since you intend to spend the next few years roaming. You can’t fold a bed up into your saddlebags.”

“Hey, let’s make a vow that before we split up, we make love together in a bed.”

“I thought you had an aversion to deflowering virgins,” she said.

“After considerable thought, combined with a considerably greater pain in my groin, I’ve decided to make an exception in your case. Good night, honey.”

“Good night, Garth,” she said with a smile.

Rory blew out the lantern and removed her shirt and Levi’s. Then she lay in the dark thinking about Garth.

Her desire for him was becoming stronger each time they were together. She could no longer fight this attraction. Awake or asleep, she thought of him constantly.

And what was she proving to herself, or anyone, by denying herself the one thing—the one person—she wanted more than anything on earth?

Saving herself for her wedding night now seemed naïve and ludicrous. She couldn’t imagine wanting any man as much as she wanted Garth.

Until now she’d had few choices in her life; anything she wanted from the heart was always pretty much beyond her reach.

For the first time, she’d discovered that love and marriage did not always go hand in hand. Maybe living happily ever after meant accepting a compromise, if you couldn’t have what you really wanted.

The night when she had lain in that pit, only one man had been foremost in her mind. One man.

Driven by an irresistible urge, Rory got up and went outside; drawn to the figure on the ground like a moth to a flame—and the outcome could only be just as self-destructive.

Garth sat up as she approached, but didn’t ask what she wanted. He knew her reason for coming as well as she did.

Hot blood coursed through her, fueled by the glowing desire in his stare that never wavered from her own. She paused before him and their gazes locked with a heat far greater than the burning embers of the campfire.

Still, neither spoke. Her mouth felt too dry for words, and what would she say even if she tried? She could feel her courage begin to falter, but her legs were trembling too much to try to bolt.

As if sensing her waning courage, he grasped her hand, pulled her down, and cradled her in his arms.

“No last-minute reprieve this time, Rory.”

Then he claimed her lips in a consuming kiss. As the kiss deepened her mind spun helplessly, drawing her deeper into swirling erotic sensation. Dear God, it felt so incredible! Why had she fought it for so long? She closed her eyes in pure ecstasy.

Garth’s gaze clung hungrily to the sight of her dark lashes against her cheeks. Did she have any idea how beautiful she was? How much he wanted her?

He was hard and hot already. Helpless to resist the temptation, he placed a light kiss on each closed lid, then reclaimed her lips with drugging, intimate kisses that drained the breath from both of them. Tracing her swollen lips with his tongue, he plunged it into the parted moistness that opened in invitation.

When he slipped his hand under her camisole, her gasp heightened his arousal. Cupping one of her breasts, he began to gently stroke the taut peak with his thumb.

He had lusted for this woman for weeks, and his control was slipping fast. This time there’d be no stopping after a few hot kisses and petting. And she wanted him as much as he wanted her, or she wouldn’t have come to him.

He pulled the garment over her head and laid her on her back, where his mouth and hands could have freer access.

Lowering his head, he licked the tips of her nipples, toying with the hardened peaks until his name became a sensuous sigh on her lips.

Her sighs changed to gasps when he closed his mouth around one of her breasts in an erotic suckling that wrenched a groan from her throat. She squirmed beneath it, dug her hands into his hair, and pressed his head to the other quivering mound. He went willingly.

Sliding his hands down the smooth plane of her stomach, he pushed her drawers past the curve of her hips and pulled them off. Then he leaned back and let his eyes devour her nakedness.

If he thought her face beautiful, her naked body robbed him of his breath. He yanked off his shirt impatiently and stripped off his remaining clothing, then stretched out on the inviting flesh that beckoned to him.

Rory was swept along in a torrent of long-suppressed passion as Garth lightly traced the outline of her mouth with his tongue. The heady masculine smell of him permeated her senses, and overpowered by the arousing scent she reached out and caressed the corded column of his neck. She could feel the tautness that held his body in check, and she slid her hand into the dark thickness of his hair. Its texture tantalized her fingertips.

Her hunger for him was becoming unbearable. When he reclaimed her lips in a hot, wet kiss, her tongue danced erotically across the roof of his mouth, dueled with his until he pulled away, muffling a groan into her hair. Sliding her arms around his neck, she hugged the muscular strength of him into her own rounded curves as he rained light kisses on her lips, her jaw, and the hollow of her neck. When he reached her breasts, he returned to that delicious suckling that sent exquisite sensation spiraling throughout her body.

She traced his heated flesh—the muscular slope of his shoulders, the hard length of his spine, the warmth of his skin. When he drew her tighter against the intimate proof of his arousal, the sensation became ecstasy. She wished he would never stop. And she sensed the best was yet to come.

Garth smothered his groan against her mouth in a passionate kiss when her groping hand found the inside of his thigh and began to trace a trail to his throbbing organ. Raising his head, he stared down at her and lightly glazed her cheek with his fingertips, then slid his fingers to her chin and tipped her face to his. Her golden hair was spread out on the blanket and her passion-laden eyes inflamed his lust even more.

He had waited so long for this moment, and despite the pressure in his groin that threatened to explode, he forced himself to exercise control. He never wanted to forget this moment—and he was going to make certain she would never forget it, either.

He lowered his head to her naked flesh, and what had been arousing foreplay before erupted into an erotic exploration.

Driven to the brink of madness, she cried out for mercy to gain release from the exquisite torture. “No more, Garth. Please, no more,” she pleaded when he began to nibble the flesh of her inner thigh.

Garth raised himself and thrust into her, rupturing the thin membrane. She cried out and writhed beneath him in an effort to dislodge him.

“Don’t struggle, honey. It’ll just hurt worse,” he cautioned, and began to move slowly in and out. Sweet sensation replaced the initial pain. The blinding, breathtaking, mindless ecstasy continued to build as the tempo and force of his thrusts increased, and his name slipped past her lips in a blissful cry as their bodies shuddered with the rapturous tremors of climax.

As Rory’s breath returned to a normal rhythm, her chest ached from the throbbing of her heart.

Garth smiled tenderly as he toyed with some errant strands of her hair. “I knew it would be like this.”

Her eyes misted as she gazed at him. “I had no idea. Does making love always feel like that?”

Garth smiled and rolled over, pinning her to the ground with his weight. “Not always. It often depends on who you’re making love with.”

He lowered his head and gently kissed her swollen lips, then lay back again and cradled her head against his chest.

Within minutes, his steady breathing revealed that he had dropped off to sleep.

Rory lay awake in his arms. What just passed between them was the most incredible sensation she had ever experienced. Had he felt the same, or was she just another conquest to him? The sexual attraction between them had been building from the time they met. Would this end it, or would Garth want to do this again? And if he did, having now experienced the thrill of it, would she be capable of refusing?

Rory rose and quickly donned her clothing, then slipped away and returned to her bed in the cave.

Garth opened his eyes when she got up but didn’t try to stop her from leaving.

God knows he wanted her again, was ready for her again. He’d made love to a goodly number of women, but none came near to matching Rory. She’d been incredible. Even the most skilled prostitutes in Virginia or France hadn’t stirred his blood as much as she had tonight.

That, and the fact that she’d been honest about her virginity, had come as a big surprise to him. He had believed that her story of saving herself for the man she married had all been a part of her act. She’d sure fooled the hell out of him.

Count your blessings, Fraser, because this was the first of many more such times if we remain on this mountain.

And that would be a big mistake. The more often they made love, the more involved they’d become. And he wasn’t about to let a few nights of hot passion make him forget his dreams.

So keep your pistol in its holster where it belongs, Fraser.

Troubled, he tucked his hands under his head and gazed up at the stars. They didn’t look any different than they had before, even though his world had just been turned upside down.

Perhaps it was lucky that he was taking her back soon—because he couldn’t help wonder about how else he’d been mistaken about Rory O’Grady.