Sam’s Creed (15 page)

She stared at the man. He did not look so scary now. She should feel guilty. Her mortal soul was in jeopardy. But she did not. This man was evil. He had tried to kill the ones she loved. She would forgive him eventually for the attempt—her God demanded that—but she would never regret putting an end to his attempt.

Forgiveness, however, wasn’t going to help her with what she needed to do. She needed the knife. It stuck up from where she’d buried it in the curve where the outlaw’s shoulder met his neck. She reached for it. Her stomach rose. Kell moaned. She bit her lip and forced the nausea back. Sam would not hesitate. He would just do what needed to be done. So would she.

The blade grated against bone as she pulled it out. She felt the vibration all the way up her arm. It was more than her stomach could take. The second the knife came free, she turned and vomited. There was nothing in her stomach to lose but the nausea didn’t care.

“I do not think I will make a good bandit,” she told Kell breathlessly as she grabbed a stick from the small pile by the remains of the fire.

Stirring the ashes, she found a few viable coals. She nurtured them to flame with slow breaths and tiny pieces of grass. To that she added twigs and then bigger sticks. Inside, impatience whispered, “Hurry, hurry.” The flame took its own sweet time catching. Inside her the urgency grew at a much faster pace.

Kell was bleeding to death. She did not have time for dawdling fires. Finally, the flame bloomed high enough to take the few logs left over from last night. She tossed them on. She didn’t have time to watch to see if they caught. Glancing at the sky, she grabbed up her petticoat from the pile of clothes. “This I leave to you. Make it burn.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to give God orders.”

Sam. He was back and he had that easy smile that meant nothing on his face. The one that hid what he really felt. She sighed. Her task might be harder than she thought.

She stood, gathering up her knife and petticoat. “I would not presume to tell God what to do.”

He glanced at the knife in her hand and frowned. “Where’d you get that?”

She motioned to the dead outlaw. “From him.”

“Jesus, Bella.”

If she hadn’t been watching carefully, she would have missed the guilt that flashed in his eyes, it came and went that quickly. He was very good at hiding his emotions.

“It was necessary. I can do what is necessary.”

“That’s not the kind of thing a woman should have experience with.”

“It is the kind your woman would need.”

“You’re not my woman.”

She rolled her eyes. “You begin to bore me with these words all the time.” She held his gaze as she walked up to him until her breasts pressed against his bare chest through the blanket. Switching the knife and petticoat to one hand, she slid the other over his uninjured shoulder, curving it around the back of his neck, pulling him down. He bent, not touching her, giving her what she wanted up to a point like he always did. His eyes searched hers, his gaze empty. When his mouth was a scant breath from hers, she whispered, “I am sorry, my Sam, for my words. I do not always think before I speak, and sometimes the words I say paint a picture other than the truth.”

He breathed in, hopefully taking her words deep to the part of him that hurt so maybe the wound she’d caused could heal.

His “You were right” held no emotion.

She shook her head, holding tightly to him, not letting him pull back. Kissing the corner of his mouth, she whispered, “I felt very helpless, and I thought giving orders could fix things. But I did not say the things I wanted to say. They were stuck inside.”

“Like what?”

Like I love you.

She couldn’t say that right now. She was beginning to understand him. Sam could deal with emotion as long as he could create safe spaces for it. Such a blunt declaration would not fit neatly in a safe place.

She kissed him lightly. He didn’t respond. He was being very stubborn. “It scared me when you disappeared into the dark. I could not see if you needed me.”

His fingers sank into her hair, ruthlessly holding her gaze to his. “The one place I will never need you is in the middle of battle.”

She could have taken that as an insult. She didn’t. “Because you want me safe.”

The tension in him increased. A tremble started in his hand. “Yes.”

The hardness of his erection pressed against her as she leaned against it. She cuddled it into the softness of her stomach. “I must have scared you very much when I protected Kell.”

She couldn’t bring herself to say “stabbed that man.”

“Hell, yes.” He shook her. “I almost shot you.”

The tension in him was near the breaking point. He would need to release it soon or it would become another scar inside he didn’t need.

She looked at him innocently. “This means I was very bad?”

He frowned and growled. “Very.”

She dropped her head as if ashamed. “I am sorry.”

Immediately his hand came to her shoulder. A concession because for all his growling he was very soft when it came to those he cared for. Not comfortable when they were upset.

“Then maybe, after we get Kell comfortable—” she touched just below the nasty cut on his upper arm “—and your wound is tended, you had better spank me.” She looked at him from under her lashes, the way that always made the desire burn in his eyes. At the last second she decided to add a little wiggle. “So I remember not to make the mistake again,
sí?
”

Shock, desire and something she couldn’t identify flashed across his expression.

“Fuck.”

And then she couldn’t see anything except the deep tan of his skin as he drew her so hard to him she thought her bones would snap. Above her head he snarled, “Count on it.”

His cheek pressed to her head, Sam held her as if he was never letting her go, his breath coming first in ragged jerks and then in carefully measured draws as he slowly regained the control he held so dear. And she said nothing. Letting him take what he needed, understanding for him this was a big thing. He did not do so well with needing. When the calm returned to him she whispered, “Sam?”

His lips brushed over her hair in the gentleness he always gave her when he was in control. “Yeah?”

“We have things to do.”

His chin slid along her hair as he glanced over at Kell. “I know.”

He sounded so sad as he let her go. “I’ll take care of it.”

She pulled the blanket around her as he walked over to the dog and squatted down beside him. She couldn’t hear the words he said, but she recognized the gentle murmur for what it was. An expression of love. She took the knife over to the fire. It was burning brightly. A positive sign. She glanced up as she knelt. “Thank you.”

She placed the knife blade in the fire before looking over at Sam. He was still talking to Kell, his arms resting across his knees. The only sign of how upset he was lay in the curl of his fingers. He was just short of making a fist. She reached for the petticoats, judging how big a bandage to tear.

As she watched, Sam reached out and stroked the dog’s shoulder before moving up to his ruff. His fingers clenched in the thick fur and there was a flinch around his eyes before he shifted his hand up to the dog’s head.

Kell turned on a pained whine and licked his wrist. Sam swore. Kell dropped his head back. Before it could hit the ground, Sam caught it and eased him down the last inch, keeping the dog from hurting himself in his weakness. Isabella smiled. He was a good man. He would make a good father—playful, watchful, loving.

With a grimace Sam sat back. He petted the panting dog, regret and apology in every stroke of his hand. With a sigh, he put his hand over the dog’s eyes. With another he reached back to his holster. Isabella watched in complete disbelief as he placed the muzzle against the dog’s big head. His “I’m sorry, boy” came clearly to her.

She leapt to her feet. “Stop!”

Sam looked over at her, his expression one of grim resolution. “Look away, Bella.”

“I will not.”

“He’s in pain.”

She threw the petticoats at him. “So are you.”

A rock would have been better. The petticoat merely flew two feet before drifting to the ground. She stepped over them. “Yet you do not see me with a gun to your head.”

He looked at the petticoats, at her and then back at the dog. “If I ever get this bad, you have my permission.”

“Never.” She dropped to her knees by his side, snatching the gun from his hand. “Never will I give up on you.”

Kell whined and struggled. The anger in her voice was distressing him. She took a breath and struggled for calm, not understanding why Sam was doing this. Yes, it was what anyone else would do, but not Sam. “This is not how we are, Sam.”

“It’s not?”

How could he not see it? She placed the gun far on the other side of her and stroked her hand soothingly over the wolf, calming him. “No. Kell needs our help. We will give it.”

Sam put his hand over hers, halting her stroking.

“He’s just a dog.”

She turned her hand and threaded her fingers through his, squeezing tightly as she met his gaze squarely. “Who we love.”

Sam shook his head, looking at her but not seeming to see her. “It’ll be hard, duchess, and in the end he might die anyway, after a hell of a lot of unnecessary suffering.”

And there was her explanation for his strange decision. He was protecting her from the pain of trying and failing.

“He also might live. That is the hope I will fight for.”

Sam’s mouth tightened to a grim line and he no longer saw her, his gaze in the past. “If he doesn’t you’re going to feel guilty. Trust me, there’s no end to the hell someone can put a person through in a selfish need to keep them alive.”

Another clue to the way he was. She squeezed his fingers. “Who did you fight for, Sam?”

Who did you fight for and lose?

“It was a long time ago.”

“You will tell me anyway.”

His gaze hardened. “You don’t give me orders.”

She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. Of course she did. The same way he gave them to her. “That was not an order. I merely say the facts.

“Do not look angry at me,” she interjected before he could say something mean. “This is a good thing.”

“Tell me that later after you’ve held Kell down while he screams in agony.”

She swallowed hard. He painted a very vivid picture. “Why would he scream?”

It was a stupid question which he answered evenly. “I have to dig those bullets out.”

And the doubt in his eyes said he didn’t think she’d be able to endure it. She squared her shoulders.

“You have much to learn about me, Sam MacGregor.”

S
am eyed Isabella as they rode out, Kell trailing on a makeshift litter behind the most docile of the bandits’ horses. Which wasn’t saying much. The animals were mistreated and green broke to the point he wouldn’t have bothered at all if the other horses weren’t played out. They spooked at every sharp noise and movement. He shook his head. It was a damn shame. A good horse meant a man’s life out here. Either the bandits had no reason to fear nature and the elements or they were just plain stupid with the overconfidence that came from belonging to Tejala’s gang and striking fear into all they met. His money was on the latter.

What was said about a good horse also applied to a good woman. He eyed Isabella as she rode on his other side. She was a good woman, and she was right. He did have a hard time seeing her the way he should. Not because he didn’t appreciate her. He reached for his smokes. But because he appreciated what her looks, youth, and position could attain for her if she wasn’t caught up in the false intimacy of their situation. She could marry any man she wanted, virgin or not. Men with wealth, not aspirations for it. Men who could keep her protected and sheltered. Men who could guarantee she’d never be in the position of having to drag a knife out of a dead man’s neck in order to cut bullets out of a dog.

Her horse stumbled, causing her breasts to sway beneath her shirt. He tucked his makings back in his pocket. But that man hadn’t made his appearance yet. And right now Bella was with him. And he sure as hell wasn’t a saint.

“Bella?”

She didn’t turn around.

“How long are you planning on giving me the cold shoulder?”

“Until my anger at you dies.”

They’d been riding two hours. He’d never known her to be silent more than two minutes.

“How long will that be?”

“I will let you know.”

He gave an exaggerated sigh, watching her closely. “You’re a hard woman, Bella Montoya.”

Her head turned just a little. Sunlight glinted off the blue-black of her hair. “No longer the
little girl?
”

He smiled. “No little girl could hold silent this long.”

“I thought you wanted me silent.”

“So did I.”

“You have missed my talk?”

“There’s no need to go hog wild with supposition.”

That might have been a snort. Hard to tell as she wasn’t looking at him. He squeezed with his knees, urging Breeze faster. The horse was eager to comply. He wasn’t one for following either. Unfortunately, the bandit’s horse wasn’t so inclined. He balked, jostling Kell, who whined.

“Easy, boy.”

Bella turned. “Do you talk to the horse or the dog?”

“Whichever one will listen.” He countered the pack horse’s yank back with a slight redirect to the side. Kell struggled in the travois. The packhorse panicked. Sam had the devil’s own time, keeping the other horse from bolting as Kell flopped on the makeshift sled behind. He heard Isabella cluck with her tongue, had a brief glimpse of her calves as she rode by and then she was at the other horse’s head, singing a soft song. The horse rolled his eyes but quit yanking back.

“Whatever you’re doing, keep it up.”

Her brows arched as she looked down her nose at him, appearing every inch the aristocrat he suspected her to be.

“Is that an order?”

She was throwing his own words back at him. The perverse side of him liked it. The lustful side reveled in it, anticipating the moment he’d reinstate the balance to their relationship. Desire surged at the challenge. “Defiance comes with a price, duchess.”

“I merely ask.”

The woman never
merely
did anything, let alone ask. Taking advantage of the packhorse’s distraction, he lined the horse straight in the makeshift traces.

A cluck of his tongue put Breeze in motion. Bella wasn’t far behind. “You might want to stay back with Kell. His horse seems to like yours.”

“Bueno.”
She held out her hands for the third horse’s reins.

Sam held them back for the sheer pleasure of seeing her get her dander up. She was something when riled. “I don’t know. He spooks easily. You might not be able to hold him.”

“He likes my horse. They will be fine.”

“You sure?”

“You will doubt me on this, too?”

“You’re not much of a rider.”

She rolled her eyes. “It does not take much to lead a horse at a slow walk.”

He pretended to debate it before he handed over the reins. “Move slow.”

With a snort, she took the reins. “I am not stupid.”

No, she was clever, sexy and despite her comparative youth, more than enough woman for him. She tied the reins around the horn, before moving her horse so close to his their knees touched. “You want something?”

“I would like a kiss.”

He blinked. She was always surprising him.

“There isn’t another woman in the world like you, Bella.”

She held up her arms. “So you must appreciate me.”

“I suppose I must.” He hopped back onto the horse’s flank. Before she could realize what he was up to, he hooked his arm around her waist and pulled her sideways onto the saddle. “How’s this?”

“Your arm!”

“Is the better for being around you,” he finished for her as he looped her horse’s reins around his saddle horn. Bella twisted in his lap lifting the edge of the bandage. Her hands were very tender on his shoulder as she checked the wound. He didn’t stop her. It’d been a long time since a woman had fussed with him. “You should have let me sew you up.”

“There wasn’t enough catgut for Kell and me.”

“I could have made do.”

“We agreed. Kell was worse off.”

She waved her hand. “Pfft! You just do not like to be sewn.”

She had him there.

He pulled her against his chest.

She all but melted in his arms, snuggling into his shoulder with a hunger that struck him hard.

He tilted her head back. Her lips parted as easily as her smile welcomed him. She took his kiss the way she’d taken him last night, with a soft gasp and a trust that humbled him. The wildness he’d been trying to contain ever since they were attacked, sprang free in a lust he couldn’t contain.

Pulling back, he smoothed the remnant of their kiss into her lower lip. “This wasn’t such a good idea.”

“I am liking it very much.”

He dropped his forehead to hers. “Not for much longer you wouldn’t. I’m never stable after a fight.”

“I do not understand.”

“I’m on edge.”

She frowned. He sighed.

“I want you, Bella.”

“Right now?”

“Yeah.”

She looked intrigued. “How is this done?”

He shook his head. She had no idea what she was offering. “I wouldn’t be gentle like last night.”

She unbuttoned the top button of his pants. “Maybe I will like rough.”

Two more buttons gave, his cock pressed against the material, searching for freedom, searching for her. Her hand, softer than satin, brushed his stomach. Her fingers twined in the hair leading down, tugging, teasing. Her gaze didn’t leave his, free of shyness, full of confidence. He didn’t hide the effect she had on him, didn’t smother his groan when her hand closed around the head of his shaft, his shudder when she swiped her thumb across the tip.

He undid the rest of the buttons himself. He lifted her up. She panicked and grabbed for his shoulders.

Her magnificent breasts were even with his mouth. The nipples made small points under the pale blue fabric. Her short nails dug into his shoulder. Her lip slipped between her teeth, the peachy pink flesh plumping around her bite.

He eased her a little more to the right. “Swing your leg over.”

Startled, she glanced at him. “This is possible?”

He could tell she liked the idea from the way her lids lowered and her breath caught. When her thigh slid over his, he leaned in and caught her right nipple between his lips, nibbling gently on the taut nub, waiting for her to make that little sound in her throat that told him he’d found the pressure she liked. “Pull your skirt out of the way.”

Her hands cupped his head, fluttered down to his shoulders, and then came back to his head. “Now.”

The shiver that went through her confirmed his impression. As much as Bella loved to take control with words, when it came to her pleasure, she wanted to surrender. He could work with that. “Nice and easy, sweet,” he warned as she jerked about. “We don’t want to spook the horses.”

She tugged again. “My foot is stuck in my skirt!”

It was almost a wail. He’d never seen Bella flustered, but she was now. Because he’d given her an order and she couldn’t fulfill it. Holding her with one arm around her waist he reached down and covered her hand with his. “I’ve got it.”

He centered her hips against his torso and slowly eased her down. About three inches into the descent, she jumped and gasped. “What?”

“The buttons.”

He glanced down. Her pussy was aligned with the placket of his shirt. “Does it hurt?”

She blushed and didn’t answer. “Well?”

“No.”

“Then enjoy the ride.” He lowered her down.

If her subsequent gasps as he lowered her were anything to go by, she enjoyed every little flick to her pussy. His cock notched into the well of her vagina through the slit in her long johns. She was hot, wet and slick. She flinched.

And sore from last night. “Easy.”

“You said you did not want easy.”

He didn’t. He’d planned on fucking her fast and furious, to release the tension in a violent emotionless pounding, the way he always did. “I forgot how good you feel.” Lowering her slowly, gently, to let the weight of her body take them past that first resistance, controlling it. Her head fell back. Her lip went back between her teeth. “Sam!”

He didn’t have to ask, he knew. Too much too soon.

“Brace your knees on my thighs.”

“Why?”

“So you can be in control.”

“And what will you do?”

“This.” He placed his thumb on the damp point of her clit and made a little circle.

“Ah!”

“Any complaints?”

Her braid whipped back and forth as she shook her head. “No.”

“Then why don’t you take us both for a ride.”

“O Dios!”

Bella opened her eyes in time to see the stern line of Sam’s mouth soften. His head tilted infinitesimally to the side. His fingers brushed her cheek and tiny smile lines fanned out from the corner of his eyes. No words, just the utter comfort of knowing he liked what he saw. What he felt. She had to bite her lip to keep the tears at bay.

His cock throbbed between her thighs, nudging her intimately, melting her with his heat and strength.

The weight of his hand on her shoulder urged her down as if he’d pushed. “Lower yourself onto me.”

She bit her lip and tried. His cock felt so much bigger like this. Too big. Too demanding. As if he understood, Sam’s lips whispered across her forehead, traced her right eyebrow and then her left, patient, coaxing.

She closed her eyes and relaxed into him, not smothering her cry of distress, of joy, as that broad tip wedged the first inch into her pussy, the intimate burn spreading outward, fanning the pleasure simmering deep inside. Her fingertips curled into the solid muscle of his shoulders. Oh God, she loved this. Loved him. She took more, a little awkward as the pommel caught her hip. It was nothing compared to the sharp ache as her inner muscles were forcefully parted.

Immediately, Sam’s palms cupped her bottom, holding her still, supporting her through the discomfort, preventing her from taking more of that pleasure pain she craved. “Gently, Bella. Gently.”

Sam didn’t like gentle. He’d already told her that and if she was going to walk away from this affair with one thing, it was going to be the knowledge that she’d pleased him. No wondering. No what-ifs. She was going to know. Maybe in her dreams their next time would be with candles, champagne and sweet murmuring, but dreams weren’t reality. Right now, Sam was very real. Very potent. And just out of reach.

Isabella forced a smile and an “I’m fine” as she steadied herself. She rose up with the horse’s gait until the wide head of his cock just pulsed against her, teasing herself and him with the promise of her descent, feeling the cream spill from her body and her muscles, still stinging from her last attempt, flex in anticipation. His cock answered with a pulse of its own. A more genuine smile welled from deep inside.

This was Sam. She knew what he liked and she knew making it good for him would eventually make it good for her. She just needed to get this first time behind them. When her body re-accustomed to his, it would be her turn to fly.

Instead of smiling back, Sam’s gaze wandered her face, lingering on her cheek, her chest, places where she could feel the heat of her blush. A frown settled over the passion in his expression. Oh, damn, she’d waited too long, let him see too much…

“You’re sore.”

“I am fine.” She wiggled in his grip, sinking the tiniest fraction onto his heat, shuddering as it seeped into her channel, gasping as her very womb clenched in anticipation. “More than fine.”

She’d bear any amount of pain if she could just feel him like that again, deep and hard, possessing her fully inside and out. The truth came spilling out as his cock jerked against her. “I need you, Sam.”

His expression sharpened with the force of his emotion in direct contrast to the softness of his voice, his gaze. His fingers grazed her left nipple, catching it between the knuckles, squeezing.

She arched her back until her shoulder blades hit Breeze’s neck, offering her nipples to his mouth, his teeth. The bite of his fingers into her hips was as erotic as the flare of his nostrils.

Levering herself up and down she asked, “What is the word for what I do now?”

“Making love.”

She shook her head, going a little faster. “What is the dirty word?”

He hesitated. Leaning forward, she nibbled on his neck, letting the rocking gait of the horse impale her in tiny increments on his cock. “If you teach me the dirty word, Sam, I will use it in a sentence for you.”

He swallowed hard. “Shit.”

She sucked the flesh on the side of his neck into her mouth. With a pulse of her hips she tempted him more. “Tell me.”