Ride the Thunder (44 page)

“Let me help.” She rose on her knees, not feeling the gritty floor beneath them. “I had some practice at this the other night.”

Without arguing, Brig laid back on his coat, crossing his hands beneath his head for a pillow. Her smile trembled with the exquisite intimacy of the moment. Carefully Jordanna worked his clothes over the bandaged wound. It was difficult to concentrate under the disturbing inspection of his gaze surveying the naturally graceful movements of her nude form.

When his clothes were discarded, Jordanna sat on her bare heels, poised near his knees. She sought his eyes, feeling that wonderful unsureness that only comes with love. Brig stretched out a hand toward her, his eyes warm with command. Hesitantly, she took hold of his hand, his strong fingers entwining with hers. With the ease of a big man, he pulled her to him, laying her down to stretch her length beside his.

A skillful hand began caressing her body, languidly stimulating flesh that needed little incentive to react to his touch. The fleece lining of his coat was beneath her, but Jordanna was more conscious of the warm feel of his hard body. Seeking her mouth, Brig turned on his side. Dark chest hairs tickled her sensitive breasts. The delightful torment arched her closer until the solid wall of his chest was flattening her breasts and the curling hairs brushed all the way to her stomach.

His breath quickened, like hers, as he eased his weight around her. His hands and mouth were coaxing and driving gasps of pleasure from her. Jordanna’s reaction stimulated him and sent her own senses spinning. The urgent need of his thrusting male form communicated
itself to her and there was an answering ache within her, exciting and overwhelming. It was a rapturous discovery, to not only love but be loved in return.

Her fingernails flexed catlike into his hard shoulders as his mouth seared a passage down her throat and followed the natural valley between her breasts to her stomach. His tongue traced a hot circle around her navel. Jordanna bit at her lower lip to hold back the moan of sheer pleasure.

“Don’t hold back,” Brig ordered thickly. “Scream, if it’s what you feel.”

His mouth brushed the tender tips of her breasts, then rolled one around his tongue. The delicious sensation curled her toes and Jordanna didn’t check the wild moan of ecstacy that came from her throat. His hand glided along her inner thigh and she moved against it. Her caressing hands felt his muscles trembling under her touch. She thrilled to the sound of her name, and the murmured love words he whispered. Brig groaned with shivering longing as he shifted his weight on top of her, pinning Jordanna to his jacket. His mouth crushed onto her in hard demand and she wrapped her legs around his hips, lost to the sensual claims of the act of complete love.

J
ORDANNA LAY INSIDE
his arm, facing him, her fingers tracing the hard features. Her flesh had been calmed by his lovemaking, but her soul was still soaring on the wings of his love. One, rough, masculine leg was hooked over her knees to keep her near, while a hand absently roamed the curve of her waist and hip. His eyes were brown velvet, sliding over every detail of her face.

“I never understood why women always wanted to talk after they had made love.” His low voice retained its seductive pitch.

“What did you want to do?” Jordanna let a fingertip follow the sensual outline of his bottom lip, liking to watch his mouth form words.

“Most of the time I listened to their comments and questions while trying to figure out a way to get the hell out of the bed,” Brig admitted without remorse. “Otherwise, I either wanted to roll over and go to sleep, or make love again.”

“Which do you want to do now?” Her teasing question was faintly breathless and perfectly serious.

His gaze was dark and solemn. “I just want you to know how much I enjoy making love to you, and how good it feels to me to be inside you. You can’t possibly know what it’s like to feel your breasts against my skin or the thrill it gives me to know you are as wildly aroused as I am.”

“I’ll bet there are sensations of my own that are comparable.” Jordanna lightly contested his implication that the intensity was one-sided.

“It’s more than that.” Brig refused to make light of it. “There is quiet pleasure in having you ride beside me through the mountains, a hidden joy in sharing the grandeur of the scenery with you, and a satisfaction that can’t be described sitting with you in front of a campfire. It’s your company that pleases me, Jordanna. The sexual gratification your body provides has become a fringe benefit.”

Love shimmered in her eyes, glistening jewel-green. “And you said you weren’t any good with words.”

“I’m not.” His dark brows furrowed together. “If I was, I’d find some easy way to ask you to marry me without feeling like I was tripping over some stilted phrase that had become so overused that it lost its meaning.”

“I would be proud to marry you, Brig McCord. You don’t even have to ask.” Her voice wavered on an emotionally charged note.

Brig kissed her hard, sealing the promise while holding back the passion. A crooked smile slanted his mouth as he drew back and sighed. “I guess I’ll have to build a bunkhouse for the boys, so we can start filling the upstairs bedrooms with children.”

Children, Jordanna thought, with dusty brown eyes and dark brown hair. She wanted to wrap the images in her arms and hug them close. She could picture a small version of Brig tagging behind his father as he
walked across the ranch yard. She could even see herself standing on the porch of the log house watching the two of them.

She gazed at Brig, unaware of the serene radiance in her expression. “We might be starting a family sooner than you think, thanks to your virility and the fact that my pills are back at camp,” she admitted quite happily.

His nostrils flared to take in a quick breath; then his hand slid protectively over her stomach. With a groan, he buried his face in the curve of her long neck. The grip of the hands that held her close was fiercely gentle. Jordanna remembered that a male wolf shared equally the responsibility of raising the cubs with its mate. It was several minutes before the faint tremors stopped quivering through him and he drew away.

“Listen to me, Jordanna.” His hand trembled slightly as it smoothed the hair behind her ear. The sternly serious look in his eyes was vaguely frightening. “Tomorrow Jocko will be out looking for us. He’ll know something is wrong when we don’t come back to camp today. If I’m lucky, I’ll find Jocko before your father finds me.”

Reality crashed onto the untainted beauty of her love. In the midst of its enchantment, Jordanna had momentarily forgotten the suspicions Brig had about her father and her own confusion about them.

“No.” She rejected the subject from their conversation, wanting nothing to spoil the precious moments they were sharing. “I don’t want to talk about it.” She looked away, focusing her gaze on the ivory wool of the inside lining of his jacket beneath them.

“We have to,” Brig insisted and continued. “When I leave in the morning, I want you to stay here where you’ll be safe.”

“No!”

Brig pretended not to hear her. “I have the paper from my cigarette pack. I’ll draw a map to show where
the cabin is . . . in case something happens to me, then they’ll be able to find you.”

“Nothing is going to happen to you!” She violently denied the possibility. It was a double denial—both a belief that he was wrong about her father and a heartfelt plea that fate wouldn’t be so cruel as to take Brig from her so soon.

The pitying look in his eyes at her continued disbelief was hard to hold. “Not if I can help it, it won’t.” He stroked a caressing finger across her cheek. “I’ve never had more reason to want to stay alive than I do now.”

“Stop it!” Jordanna choked on the words. “You’ve made a mistake about Dad. Somehow you have things confused.”

“For your sake, I wish I did.” His voice was heavy.

“We’ll find him tomorrow. And he’ll explain it all.”

“You’re going to stay here in the cabin,” Brig repeated. “I don’t want to risk a chance that you might be harmed.”

“Dad would never hurt me. That’s absurd!” she denied.

“Not deliberately, he wouldn’t,” he agreed. “But a quick shot, a bad aim, a bullet that goes astray, a ricochet—No, there are too many possibilities. As long as I know you are here and safe, I’ll only have myself to worry about.” Brig ignored the protest in her expression. “I’ll make certain you have plenty of firewood and set out some snares before I leave tomorrow. If no one comes for you by the day after tomorrow, set the cabin on fire. Someone is bound to see the smoke and come to investigate.”

“No!” She angrily rejected his suggestion, her eyes flashing with unshed tears of pain. “I’m not staying here without you. If you leave tomorrow, so do I.”

“Dammit, listen to me, Jordanna.” He gave her a hard shake. “I’m trying to do what’s best.”

A stillness claimed her, hardening her determination.
“I’m not staying here alone, and you can’t make me, Brig,” Jordanna informed him. “Either I leave with you, or I’ll follow you. I won’t be left behind.”

An eyebrow arched in sharp query, his gaze becoming narrowed and probing. “Why?” he demanded.

“Because . . . ” She wasn’t sure of the reason.

“. . . because you aren’t positive that I’m wrong about your father. That’s it, isn’t it?” There was grim satisfaction in his conclusion and Jordanna wavered uncertainly.

“I . . . don’t know if you are or not.” The admission was frightening. She had known her father all her life. Yet she loved this man. It was a situation that pulled her trust and loyalty in two different directions. She felt trapped between two equally powerful magnets. “I won’t stay behind, Brig.” Jordanna insisted again. “Don’t ask me.”

“Don’t you see, Jordanna?” His mouth quirked in a rueful smile. “I don’t want you to get caught in a situation where you have to choose between us.”

It was a barely stifled cry that came from her throat. Immediately, she was wrapped inside his arms. She clung to him, needing his comfort and his strength. She began to cry softly and Brig kissed the tears that dampened her cheeks. From a distance she heard his words, swearing his love for her and his wish to spare her. When her face had been kissed dry, she began returning the kisses he showered on her. The response had a catalytic effect, producing a storm of passion that didn’t pass until its fury had been spent.

Brig was up before Jordanna the next morning. She knew if she hadn’t awakened when she did, he would have left without her, but she didn’t give him the chance. He tried once more to persuade her to stay where it was safe.

She had stood before him in stubborn defiance. “I’m going with you. Whatever happens . . . if anything
happens,” she had hastily corrected, “I am going to be there when it does.”

Brig had been angry, but without the means to force her to stay. They had set out from the cabin with a grim silence between them. He was limping, hampered by the wound. Jordanna’s insistence that they should take turns breaking a path through the snow was something he accepted very grudgingly. Logic made him agree to her plan, when pride demanded that he lead the way.

Again the skies were clear and the sun bright, but the temperature was cold. The snow, which in places had drifted to more than a foot, showed no signs of meeting in the glaring sunlight. Their breaths were vapor clouds, preceding each slogging step through the white powder.

The route Brig chose was not an easy one. They stopped often to rest, never allowing perspiration to form and freeze against their skin. They had traveled several miles before Jordanna realized Brig had not set a direct course back to camp. For a split second, she thought he might have lost his bearings, that perhaps a fever might have affected his mental state. An instant later, she guessed his reason for choosing this circuitous route through the roughest terrain. Brig was avoiding her father. The rest stops were chosen to occur at vantage points where he could survey the land ahead of them. Their route was dictated by the cover it provided—trees, rocks, or shrubs. Jordanna wanted to decry the need for such caution, but she was less positive than she had ever been before.

Animal tracks were plentiful in the snow, but there wasn’t a sign anywhere of any human passage except their own. They seemed alone in the mountains, with only the wind dancing over the snow and cloud shadows floating across the mountainsides. The loneliness didn’t bother Jordanna, only Brig’s wariness, which seemed to increase the more familiar the terrain became and the closer they came to camp. It was almost
tangible. His gaze was restless, never pausing, always searching. His alertness was uncanny, as if every one of his senses were honed to a sharp edge. The sensation shivered along her nerve ends. It reminded Jordanna of an animal sensing danger without knowing in which direction it lurked.

Leaning against a cold boulder, Jordanna shielded her eyes from the sun. Frigid air filled her lungs with each breath. Her gaze traveled to Brig. They hadn’t exchanged a word the last mile. Camp wasn’t more than two miles away. Brig was studying the country between them, careful not to skyline himself on the ridge. Jordanna heard him swear under his breath.