My Savage Heart (The MacQuaid Brothers) (32 page)

Caroline couldn’t help herself. When he was dark and arrogant, her desire for him nearly overwhelmed her, but she resisted. She could not resist his vulnerability. Her hand touched his cheek; and like a parched man seeking water, he turned into her caress.

He pulled her from the floor onto his lap, and she cradled his head, running her fingers through the rough silk of his hair as he buried his face against her breast.

Comfort. ’Twas all she offered, Caroline tried to tell herself. No less than she’d give Mary or baby Colleen or even Mistress Quinn if they needed it. But she felt the warmth of his breath against her skin, through the layers of cotton fabric and the sensations that raced through her body told her she lied.

When his mouth inched up to wet the skin above her shift ruffle, Caroline knew the pretense was over. Passion flared between them as it always did, like a dry twig igniting. His open mouth moved up her neck, and Caroline leaned back in his strong arms, arching her body toward him. When his lips reached hers, his tongue hot and demanding, Caroline lost all touch with reality.

“
N
akwisi`usidi
, I cannot stop thinking of you. Wanting you.”

Those words murmured against her neck in Wolf’s whiskey-roughened voice sent shivers of excitement across Caroline’s flesh. Could he possibly be afflicted with the same malady as she? Except right now it didn’t feel like a malady. His whiskered jaw abraded her tender skin, his mouth followed to wet and soothe.

She wanted to push him away, to prove to him... to herself that he alone was beset by desire. But it wasn’t possible. Her hands could only clutch at his strong shoulders, feel the heat of his skin beneath the homespun.

His lips covered hers again, hot and hungry, opening her lips to the invasion of his tongue. Caroline’s moan sounded loud in her ears, and she jerked, suddenly, embarrassingly aware of their surroundings. She thought of the women, her friends, who’d be shocked if they came investigating the sound and found her sprawled across Wolf’s lap, his large, long-fingered hand covering her breast.

“No... please.” Her initial plea didn’t begin to carve through the savage passion that engulfed him. “Raff.” Her strangled cry along with the twisting of her face away gave him pause. Caroline’s hand’s stilled as well, and she twisted back staring into his dark, dark eyes. “We can’t do this here,” she whispered, her voice fraught with barely suppressed frustration. “Mary... Mistress Quinn,” she managed to say between taking ragged breaths that wouldn’t calm.

If she thought to refrain him, for him to release her, the strong hand that curved about her hip, drawing her firmly against his loincloth quelled that supposition. He was hard and throbbing, and her body ground against him instinctively.

“There is nowhere else,” he sighed, his mouth again covering her. Yet when the kiss ended, he lifted her, standing himself and took the few strides necessary to blanket them in shadows.

They stood in the corner of the cabin set aside for storage: Caroline, her back flush against the rough wall; Wolf, his body hard and protecting against hers. It was foolish, she knew, partially surrounded by barrels of bacon and bags of cornmeal to want him. More foolish still to want him period. But there was no denying it.

And no stopping her body from reacting to his touch.

They were both fully clothed, and if anyone should awake, which Wolf thought doubtful, they would see only a kiss. The fact that it was this man and this woman exchanging the caress might surprise some, though he had a feeling not Mary. But still it was only a kiss.

Except that Wolf wondered if he could stop with that. Even now his hands itched to touch her in all the places he’d touched her before. He spoke the truth when he told her of his inability to forget her. What he hadn’t mentioned was how damnably hard he tried.

But it did no good. Neither did his visit to a doxy in Charles Town that left him disgusted with himself, nor the difficulties between the Cherokee and English. Good Lord the act of trying to help the two sides work out a fair peace plan should take all his energies. Yet here he stood, pressed against this slip of a woman, fingers curved around her ribs, thumbs tucked beneath the swell of her breasts. His body aching.

She wore no stays, and Wolf deepened the kiss while his hands moved settling over her distended nipples. Whether she sensed that no one was coming from the other rooms, or whether she was too drugged by passion to care, Wolf didn’t know. But she sighed into his mouth and her arms wrapped tightly about his neck as he pressed closer.

Her skirts were few. She’d long ago given up the English desire to wear as many petticoats as humanly possible. Still, Wolf had a difficult time working his hand beneath the layers of linen. The feel of her skin, smooth and silky, made him wish savagely for an hour of privacy. Her thighs opened instinctively and he sought her moist heat.

“Raff.” The word escaped her on a breath of air as he slid his fingers into her body.

“Shhh. No one can see,” he assured, hoping his back proved a wide enough barrier should anyone come into the room... barely caring. She was tight and hot... wet. Wolf relished the feel of her, the way her hands tightened in his hair, the expression in her shadowed eyes when the tremors started through her body.

“Touch me.” Wolf wasn’t sure that he’d spoken his request aloud till he felt her fingers fumbling beneath his shirt and loincloth. Her hand circled his swollen flesh.

He lifted her then, impaling her upon his length, wrapping her skirt-covered legs around his hips. She climaxed instantly, milking his body with her own, causing him to spill his seed into her.

Their breathing was still raspy when he leaned his forehead on hers and shut his eyes. “I did not plan this.”

“I know you didn’t.” Reason was clawing its way through the sensual haze of Caroline’s existence. And its message wasn’t pretty. She made love with him before when she fancied herself in love, and then even after he’d left her. Before she’d been foolish, thinking he cared for her. But now she knew the folly of that. He’d used her as a means of revenge. She knew the truth from his own lips and still she couldn’t seem to stop herself from making love to him. And worse, from loving him.

He lifted her from him, and Caroline did her best to straighten her petticoats, turning away when he tried to help. “Don’t, please.”

“I will not apologize.”

His tone made Caroline stop brushing at her skirts and glance up at him. His expression, what she could see of it, was hard. His black hair hung around his face and at the moment he looked very much the savage. Caroline wondered that she wasn’t the least frightened by his scowl. “I don’t recall asking you to.”

“I did not force you.”

“You never have,” Caroline conceded with a lift of her head. “All you need do is wait for me to act like the foolish woman I am.” She tried to move past him but his hand caught her upper arm. Even when she yanked, he held tight.

“You are not foolish.”

“Really?” Caroline shot him a look over her left shoulder. “What would you call a woman who allows herself to be used, not once but over and over again?”

“I did not use you, Caroline.”

“Oh please, don’t lie.” She faced him, hands on hips. “We both know the truth of it.”

“Is it the truth you desire?”

“’Twould be a pleasant change. And we both know I can handle it. After all, look what has happened even after I knew what you did to me had naught to do with caring and everything to do with revenge against your father.”

He said nothing then, only staring at her, his eyes dark in his dark face.

“Well, what were you planning to tell me this time?” Caroline waited a moment, glaring at him, then whirled around, giving him her back. “I think you should leave.”

“Not before I have had my say.”

The hands that clasped her shoulders gave her no choice but to be still even when the door to the bedroom opened and a sleepy, disheveled Mary stepped into the room. “’Tis everything all right?” she asked as she dragged a shawl around her shoulders.

“Yes.” Wolf was annoyed by the interruption.

“I’m sorry if we woke you.” Caroline tried to take a step forward, but the pressure on her shoulders stopped her.

“Oh, you didn’t wake me. Colleen did. I just was surprised to hear voices coming from this room.” As she spoke, Mary backed into the doorway. Caroline could hear Colleen whining in the basket by Mary’s bed.

“Caroline and I were just talking.” Wolf’s tone was more friendly this time. “I will be leaving soon.”

“Actually he’s leaving now. Aren’t you Raff?” Caroline twisted enough to stare at him.

“I said soon—”

“I’m going back into the bedroom now.”

Caroline and Wolf looked around in time to see Mary shut the door behind her.

“Now see what you’ve done.” Caroline took an indignant breath.

“What I have done is assured us a moment of privacy.”

“Well, I don’t want to be alone with you,” Caroline hissed.

“That is not the way it appeared earlier.”

With a sudden movement, Caroline managed to yank herself free from his hold. She stood in the middle of the room, her back to him, her pride in shatters. “Please go.”

“Caroline.” He stepped closer, his arms wrapping around her slender form. But this time there was no force, only a gentle caress as his hands linked about her waist. “Please,” he murmured, his mouth so close to her ear that his breath fluttered the tendrils that curled about her face. He felt a shiver race through her.

“It was never my intent to hurt you. I admit that before we made love the first time my motive was revenge. But when I held you, that was not what was in my mind.” When she said nothing, he began moving his hands, caressing her... letting her know how much he desired her. She relaxed against him and he lowered his face to breathe in the sweet, clean scent of her hair. Wolf gave himself a moment to savor her essence.

He was a man of words yet he never before felt so clumsy. He wished she understood Cherokee for he felt he could tell her more of his feelings in that language. But though she’d learned much he doubted Sadayi had taught her what was in his heart.

Wolf pulled her more firmly against him, his hands on her hips. “You must know that I care for you, that—”

His words stopped so abruptly that Caroline opened her eyes and tried to turn around. That’s when she realized where his hands were.

She’d known he would find out... this was hardly the sort of thing one could hide forever. Yet as often as she’d thought about this moment, she hadn’t prepared herself for the silence that followed his discovery. Outside the wind howled, a chilling counterpart to the pounding of Caroline’s heart. She wanted to say something... to explain. But what? Her lips were dry, and she wet them, swallowing as he slowly turned her to face him.

Caroline wished she could see him better, then nearly laughed at her foolishness. She had no desire to read the disappointment in his dark eyes.

If she were to waste her time on wishes, it should be that she’d made a decision about what to tell him. Should she opt for the truth no matter who was hurt by it... or the lie that would assure her baby his birthright? Truth or deception? Her mind vacillated between two sides of the same coin.

He waited for her to say something... anything. Wolf hadn’t imagined the swell of her stomach beneath the camouflaging skirts. The pronounced curve was in sharp contrast to the rest of her body that appeared to have lost weight since her arrival on the frontier.

Seconds passed, punctuated by the beating of his heart and still she said nothing. When Wolf finally broke the silence, it was with a question more circumspect than his typical abrupt manner. But he found himself unable to ask who had fathered her child. His weakness where she was concerned disturbed him.

“When?”

Caroline took a calming breath and purposely misread him. “In the spring.”

His hands dropped from her shoulders, and Caroline missed his warmth. “Ah, the spring,” he said, pacing to the hearth and back. “Such a perfect time to give birth. The trees are in bud, the air is warm, a time for renewal.” As he spoke, keeping his voice low, he moved back toward her. When he stopped, she was close enough to touch. His thumb caught beneath her chin, lifting it, forcing her to look at him.

“When in the spring is your baby due to arrive?” It was difficult not to take her in his arms and demand to know the truth. He slowly, purposely, dropped his hands to his side.

“I’m not certain.” Caroline wanted to look away from him, but couldn’t. She wanted to tell him he had no rights to her. He’d given them up that day he left her at Seven Pines. Left her to his father. To marry. Wolf must have known then that she would have stayed with him forever. That she loved him. But he abandoned her, forcing this decision on her. This decision she didn’t want to make.

How could she choose between what was best for the man she loved and what was best for her child? How could any woman?

And she wasn’t even certain that Wolf wanted to know the truth. After all, he’d made no declarations of love. No vows of undying devotion. She was a recent widow, true. But on the frontier, women did not stay unmarried long, especially young women. Had he come to her with a proposal of marriage? No. He wanted her body to be sure. That he would admit to.

But nothing he ever said led her to believe he wished the responsibilities of a family. He was like his brother. A wanderer, who’d soon be off, leaving her alone. Leaving their child.

She had shown herself to be foolish where he was concerned since she first set eyes upon him. Time and again. She’d risked her future, her brother’s future for the touch of his hands on her body. This time had to be different.

“All right, Caroline. You seem vague about the timing. Are you implying you do not know who fathered your child?”

“Must we discuss this now?” Her voice bore the unmistakable tone of pleading, and she didn’t care. “Mary can no doubt hear us, and she—”

“Yes, Caroline, we must.” Wolf gave in then and reached for her arms. “I imagine Mary knows more of this than I.”