Sam’s Creed (8 page)

“You’ll feel better afterward.” He started the rolling for her.
Madre,
he was strong. Tucking her arms under her, she went with his urging until she flopped onto her stomach, moaning as the protest rippled through her muscles.

“Easy.”

“I was easy until you had to have your way.”

“It’d serve you well to remember I always get my way.”

Another warning? “I am used to getting my way, too.”

Cool air wafted over her back as he lifted her shirt. It was quickly followed by the warmth of the cloth making gentle sweeps over her back. She rested her cheek in her hands. Her eyes drifted closed on the surge of bliss.

“I like that little noise.”

She did not realize she’d been humming in her throat. She did not know what to say. She settled for “Thank you.”

The cloth swished in the kettle. Droplets fell like rain as he wrung it out, and then once again he was moving it over her back in those long sweeps that encouraged the tension to leave and relaxation to set in.

“Admit it,” he whispered in her ear. “Turning over was a good idea.”

She did not want to say no and lie, but she also did not want to say yes and prove him right, so she settled for another hum in her throat, hoping that would satisfy him. It didn’t.

The swat Sam gave her right buttock stung, hot and sweet, the foreign pleasure flowing into the space between her legs, pulsing for two heartbeats before flowering in anticipation.

“Answer my question.”

It was an order, spoken in that tone that found the wanton chord in her. The one that delighted in his dominance, lived to challenge it.

She did not answer immediately, in part because it was her nature to fight authority and partly because of the lingering heat. If he spanked her again, would it grow or had it been the surprise that made it such an erotic little experience?

The oilcloth rustled as Sam changed his position. Her muscles drew taut; anticipation ran rampant. She forgot to breathe, every muscle quivering…. Would he?
Dios,
would he?

The spank did come, a little lower, a little harder, the sharp bite throwing her off balance. She rocked forward. His hand pressed in the middle of her back. “Hold still.”

Burying her face in her arms, she groaned. Another spank, another surge of hot pleasure contained by the weight of his hand covering her buttock. “Answer my question, duchess.”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Turning over was a good idea.” If she had wanted him to know how depraved she was. Which she had not really wanted him to know. Her mother had said her wild side would bring her nothing but harm. Maybe she was right. A grown woman enjoying a man spanking her could not lead to good.

This time when Sam’s hand settled over her buttocks it was not a spank but a caress.

“What’s put that tight note in your voice?”

She didn’t look up. “I am not used to a man…handling me.”

He continued his gentle washing of her back, removing the grit and grime. “Is it that you’re not used to a man handling you or you’re not used to how you feel when a man does?”

“Both.”

“At least you are honest.”

He tugged her shirt down.

“I always try to be honest.”

He patted her butt. “Unless a lie will serve you better?”

“No.” He rolled her back over. It did not hurt so much this time. She stared up at him as the shadows played across his face—the smile on his lips and the speculation in his eyes.

“So why are you upset that you enjoyed that little spank?”

He would notice that. “Why does it upset you to like me?”

He went still, just for a second, but it was enough to prove to her that she was right. He did feel something for her. He just didn’t like it.

“What makes you think I like you?”

“What makes you think I liked your spank?”

His head canted to the side. His shadow shifted with the move, surrounding her in darkness. “Instinct.”

“It is also instinct that tells me you like me.”

“You’re not old enough to have instincts.”

She propped herself up on her elbow, shoving a stray tendril of hair out of her eyes. “How old do you think I am?”

His gaze fell to the open front of her shirt. “Too damn young for me.”

So this was his problem. “Is that why you bathe me and spank me, because you think of me as your child?” She did not know how she would get around that if that was the case.

The vehemence with which he said “Hell, no” was a relief. But now he had her curious. “Then why do you?”

“I wanted to.”

That was not the whole truth. “And what Sam wants to do, Sam does?”

“Pretty much.”

From the left, Kell growled. The change in Sam was immediate. Gone was the lover and in his place was the killer. Placing his finger over her mouth and his hand on her shoulder, he pushed her back down.

“Don’t move.”

She gave a short nod to let him know she understood.

He ran his knuckles across her cheek and touched the corner of her mouth as something soft moved through his eyes, but then it was gone and so was he.

It was the hardest thing she had ever done to lie there, knowing something, someone, was out beyond the firelight, waiting to attack. Sam had no such problem. With a nonchalance she envied, he moved the kettle off the fire. With a scream that made her jump, a man leapt out of the shadows straight for Sam’s back. Except Sam was not there anymore. So fast she was left blinking, he rolled back in the direction of the attacker, his body catching the other man under the knees, flipping him down beside her. The stranger landed with a thud two feet away. He reached out.

Isabella twisted to the side, her body screaming, her mind screaming, her teeth biting into her lip so she would not actually scream and distract Sam. Scrambling to her knees, she tried to crawl away. Pain slashed through her scalp as she was yanked back. Clawing at the hand that held her braid, she twisted and fought. The man grunted again and then she was free. She scrambled away, watching as two shadows rolled across the fire. Sparks flew and smoke puffed. Kell came up beside her, a dark snarling menace. Kneeling up, she shoved at his side. “Get in there and help!”

The dog snapped at her hand and then turned back to the fight, head low, his snarl in a constant rumbling accompaniment. She wished she could snarl. All she had were backed-up screams waiting to be released. The shadows rolled again into the darkness, away from the light. One shadow rose above the other in a faint silhouette against the deeper black of the night that stretched beyond the firelight. She recognized it immediately. Sam. She sagged in relief. It was Sam.

For one second he was silhouetted against the glow from the scattered flames, arms extended downward to the head of their assailant. Then with a quick jerk and twist, and the snap of bone against bone, the fight was over. Sam straightened.

Isabella grabbed her stomach as he came over. He’d just killed a man. With his bare hands. Kell whined and thumped his tail in greeting. Sam bent and patted his head. “Good dog.”

Though she could not see Sam’s eyes, Bella knew he was watching her. Watching her shake like a coward. She tipped her chin up. “He did not help at all.”

A rustle beyond the firelight made her jump again. Sam didn’t even turn his head. “He did just like I told him to do. So did you.”

“Why wouldn’t you want him to help you?”

Why wouldn’t he want her to help him?

“He’d be in my way.”

She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, looking past Sam to the body lying on the ground. She kept expecting him to get up.

“He’s dead. He’s not getting up.”

She glanced at him, shocked. “How did you—”

Squatting in front of her, he cupped her cheek briefly in his hand, a gesture of comfort, approval. Of caring. “You have a very expressive face.”

He’d just snapped a man’s neck. How could he be so tender now? “Oh.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No. Just a little scared.”

“You don’t need to be.”

She motioned to the body. “Was he one of Tejala’s?”

“Nah. Just someone wanting company for the night.”

She blinked as his meaning sank in. “He wanted me.”

“I think we settled he can’t have you.”

Her knees buckled. He caught her against him. “I am sorry. I did not realize there would be any other threats.”

For so long Tejala had been the one consuming threat; she had lost sight that there could be others. She had been blind, selfish. “When I asked you to let me stay, I did not expect…” She glanced at the body again. “I thought there would only be Tejala. You would take me to San Antonio. There would be no complications.”

“You trying to back out of our deal?”

She couldn’t get past the image of the man jumping Sam, wanting to kill him because of her. She twisted her fingers into the front of his shirt, trying to go beyond the realization. But she couldn’t. “I did not think there would be others….”

Sam shrugged, the heavy muscles under her cheek flexing with the movement. “There will always be others like him.”

As if that were nothing. “They would not bother you if it were not for me.”

Sam turned her face back to his. “Don’t even think it.”

“What?”

“Setting out on your own.”

Her mind had not gotten that far, but it was the logical solution.

“I will not have anyone else killed because of me.”

She wouldn’t have him killed because of her.

“I’m not that easy to kill.”

She closed her eyes as the memories howled. “I thought the same about my father, yet Tejala killed him.”

“While you watched?”

She shook her head. She could feel the rope around her neck again, feel the incredible pain, the terror. “I had my eyes closed.”

“Because he was strangling you.”

She jumped. “How do you know?”

His lips brushed the top of her head. “You’re touching your throat.”

“It is a bad habit.”

“It’s a hell of a bad memory.”

As if that justified anything. “And I do not want your death to be my next one.”

He held her for a minute, not saying anything, just holding her. “Bella?”

“
Sí.”

“I’m not letting you go.”

It took all her willpower to untangle her fingers from his shirt and push to her feet. “Then you must take me to San Antonio directly.”

“I can’t.”

She blinked. “Why?”

“I’m looking for someone.”

“Who?”

“A woman.”

Her stomach dropped into her toes. Of course a man like him would have a woman. She took another step back. He let her, watching her. Too closely. Too intently.

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Good. Go sit on the bedroll while I clean this up.”

The bedroll was four feet behind her. Closer to the darkness. “Maybe he had friends.”

“He didn’t.”

“How do you know?”

“His kind never does.” Sam snapped his fingers and pointed. “Kell, guard her.”

She went to the bedroll, knees weak, heart pounding. Kell paced by her side and stood in front of her as she sat. The only plus she could find was he blocked her view of what Sam was doing. Stiffening muscles made lying down awkward. She did not care. Pulling the blanket over her, she stared at Kell’s leg, counting the spots from his shoulder to his knee. Eight, he had eight. And counting them was not doing anything to take her mind off the knowledge that Sam had a woman.

Was she beautiful? she wondered. Isabella shook her head at her foolishness. Of course she was beautiful. She probably had pale white skin, beautiful blue eyes and long blond hair. She probably was everything proper, everything right. She heard the sound of something being dragged. Isabella pulled the blanket over her head. Sam probably loved her very much.

All too soon the blanket was pulled back. Sam slid in beside her. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, he tucked his hand under her shoulder and pulled her into his embrace.

“What’s wrong?”

The words just popped out. “Do you love her?”

“Who?”

“This woman you search for.”

“No.”

That was it. No other explanation, but it eased the knot in her stomach. Sam would not be so casual about a woman he loved.

“Anything else you want to know?”

“No.”

He shifted, jostling her as he found a more comfortable position. Pulling his hat down over his face, he ordered, “Then go to sleep.”

She closed her eyes. Sleep didn’t come. The ground was hard, her shoulder began to hurt and her mind kept racing, speculating about the unknown woman, about Sam, about how he made love to a woman.

“Can’t sleep?”

She jumped. “I thought you were asleep.”

“You’re too restless to allow nodding off.”

“My shoulder hurts.”

“I can fix that.”

Cooler air washed over her again as the blanket was lifted and she was lifted, too, until she was draped across Sam as thoroughly as any blanket. “Better?”

In some ways yes, in others no. Lying on top of Sam was like lying on top of pure temptation. Her mouth dried to a husk, and every point where her torso touched his tingled and burned. She could feel his heartbeat against her breasts, rode the rise of his breath. And against her stomach, his cock pressed. The ache she had been trying to suppress inside broke free, spiraling outward. She dropped her head to his chest. “Yes.”

His big hand came up and cradled her skull, keeping her against him. She expected him to say something. He did not, but the expectation would not go away, just built right along with the desire between them. His breaths grew shorter, choppier, his grip tighter. He felt the attraction, too. Finally he asked, “So how old are you?”

She smiled against his shirt. Ah, he was working his way around that obstacle.

“Old enough.”

“T
hat was not an answer to my question.”

Mischief was in Bella’s eyes as she looked up at him. “It was as clear as any answer you give me.”

The mischief drew Sam harder than the call of battle, soothed him better than aggressive sex. Working his fingers into her hair, sliding them down until he reached the base of her braid, Sam said, “Ah, but you’re not me.”

He felt her smile, the hard peaks of her breast, the softness of her stomach, the inviting V of her thighs. He remembered the way she’d instinctively reacted to that little spank. His cock throbbed. He needed her to be old enough.

Weariness and desire meshed together. On top of him, Isabella shifted with the same combination. Inexperienced, she had less ability to disguise the havoc going on inside. He changed his grip from her back to her buttocks. The muscles tightened in a provocative clench. She groaned as her muscles protested, but when the pain finished its arc, her rear lifted, pressing up into his palm. She was a hot little thing.

“Sam?”

“What?”

“I can’t sleep like this.”

“Now, that is a shame.”

“Yes, it is. And you need to do something about it.”

“Are you giving me orders?”

In the faint light from the dying embers of the fire, he could see the nervous lick of her lips, before she nodded. “Yes.”

He tugged her up until her face was over his and her forearms were braced on his shoulders. The thick rope of her braid fell between them, linking them. “That’s a dangerous thing.”

“So is leaving me like this.”

He liked that she was open with him. “And how exactly is this?”

“Achy and feeling like I have missed something.”

“Are you by chance seducing me?”

“Am I succeeding?”

He slid her onto her side, rolling over her as her nails clung to his shoulder in protest at being dislodged. Nudging her hips with his, he let her feel the readiness of his cock. “You’re pretty close.”

“What do I need to do to succeed?”

“Convince me you know what you’re doing.”

Her fingers touched his cheek with the delicacy of a butterfly. “For this night I just wished to feel like the woman that I want to be. I wish for you to plant the sensation of how a good man can make a woman feel so deeply inside me that, no matter what happens in the future, I will never forget this time.”

It was so very Bella. A practical solution for a woman who lived with the knowledge that she was hunted, that she would eventually be found, and when she was, she would be raped and possibly killed.

“You want a lot.”

Her hands linked behind his neck. “Not so much for you, I think. You are the infamous Sam MacGregor.”

The woman was nothing if not single-minded. And incredibly appealing with that witchy smile that dared him to take her in hand.

“You’re asking for more than you know.”

“But you will give it to me.”

It wasn’t a question. “Maybe.”

Her fingertip pressed deliberately in the middle of his chin. “I think there is no maybe. I think I will be most irresistible to you.”

Hell, she was probably right. He smoothed the hair back off her temple, exposing the soft blue tracery of veins beneath her silky skin and the too-fast beat of her pulse. Fear or excitement? With Bella it was hard to tell. Touching his thumb to the pulse he asked, “Anyone ever tell you you talk too much?”

“No.”

It was so obviously a lie said deliberately to amuse him that he laughed as he lowered his head to hers, hearing that catch in her breath she couldn’t disguise, smiling because she was as aware of him as he was of her. And also because he had the advantage. He knew how to use her desire against her. “Good.”

“Why—”

It was incredibly easy to silence the rest of the question. All he had to do was drop his head that quarter of an inch that brought his mouth to hers. All he had to do was catch her gasp in his mouth, take it as his, and she was his. Body and soul, even if her mind didn’t agree. She could fight him all she wanted, but she was right on one point. Attraction this strong didn’t happen every day.

Grabbing her hands, he pinned them above her head, moving fully over her, settling his thigh over hers, his chest to hers, hating the barrier of clothing between them. Hating the barrier of her innocence. Hating himself because he was going to take it from her. Because he couldn’t help himself.

Isabella arched up and whimpered. Beneath his palms her wrists worked. Too much. He was putting too much weight on her hands. Sam eased back on his kiss, lust surging as she lifted her head, prolonging the contact.

He brushed his mouth over the side of her neck. “I’m not going anywhere, duchess.”

She whimpered and turned her head, her mouth blindly seeking for his. Anchoring both her hands in his, taking most of his weight on his forearm, he did, delving into the sweetness of her passion, the openness of her desire. She might be innocent, but she burned hotter, brighter than any woman he’d ever kissed. And he needed more.

So did she, if her response was anything to judge by. She drove her hips up into his, the angle of the rhythm reflecting her inexperience, but the eagerness…Damn, the eagerness.

Taking care not to rub against her chafed thighs, he directed her movement. “Like this.”

It only took a slight tilt in her hips to deliver the pressure to where she needed it.

Her
“Dios”
exploded past his ear.

“Feel good?”

She nodded, those fine white teeth sinking into her lip.

“How good?”

“I cannot describe it.”

“Try.”

“How does it feel to you?” she shot back, exasperation pitching her question high.

He didn’t have to think about it. “Like sweetest fire beckoning.”

“Yes,” she gasped, her head arching back as he pressed into her softness. “It burns.”

“I like that.” He unbuttoned the fly of his pants. “You burning for me.”

He worked his cock free. It fell thick and heavy to the thin wool of her skirt. The scratchy material teased the sensitive length. His hips bucked involuntarily. Her skirt rode up as he notched the blunt head between her legs, adjusting it with his hand until she gasped and arched again.

“Damn, when I get you naked, we’re going to have fun.”

“I want fun now.”

She had no patience. He wished he could find it as a fault but he was as eager as she was.

He rolled to the side pulling her against him.

Her arms wrapped around his neck. “I do not have time to wait for you to fight with your conscience, Sam.”

Because she thought Tejala or another would find her and take her choice away. Sam didn’t bother to tell her again that would never happen. That he wouldn’t let it happen. She wouldn’t believe him. “I know.”

Her lashes fluttered against his neck. “So you will hurry?”

He stroked her hair, catching her braid in his fist, sliding his hand down to the bottom and working the tie free while his heart twisted in his chest. The tie came undone. He unraveled the braid one loop at a time, letting the thick silky strands of her hair glide across his fingers.

“Relations…” he used the word to spare her sensibilities “…are not supposed to be rushed.”

Wrinkling her nose at him, she said, “You can stop calling it that now.”

“I think it’s cute.”

“You think it is funny.”

She was a quick little thing. He smiled, easing her back down, gathering up her skirt. “That, too.”

With a flick of his wrist, he tossed her skirt up over her hips. She squeaked, but held still. The sight that greeted his gaze as her skirt cleared her thighs made him frown. Very gently he pressed on her left knee. She instinctively moved her leg away from the intimate touch. The delicate flesh on the inside of her thighs was raw and raised with blood spots. “Hell.”

If her thighs were raw her pussy had to be bruised. He cupped his palm over the warm pad, holding it to her. He should have foreseen her inexperience. Seen her difficulty riding earlier. “I’m sorry.”

She frowned. “For what?”

“For not seeing you were having so much trouble.”

“I was hiding it from you.”

There was no way she could have hidden it from him if he hadn’t been doing his best to keep from staring at her like a green boy. “Uh-huh. Well, if you ever hide your hurting from me again, I’ll paddle your sexy little rear.”

Isabella smiled that bad-angel smile. “Do you promise this?”

He tucked his finger between the slit in her pantaloons, working between the silken folds of her pussy, testing, exploring. “Absolutely.”

Her legs spread farther. “Good.” In a slow languid movement, she put her hands back over her head.

“So accommodating.”

Her hips lifted to the rhythm he set. “I want to please you.”

The confession went straight to his cock.

“That’s not a hard thing to do.”

She shifted under his touch, gasping when she created a deeper pressure. “I think it’s a very hard thing to do, so much so that I think I’m going to have to ‘study up’ on it.”

She was throwing his own words back at him as she taunted the lust forward with a complete disregard for the consequences, seeking the pleasure with reckless enthusiasm that summoned an equal enthusiasm in him. Sliding down between her thighs, knowing he should put the salve on her injuries again, knowing it was going to wait, he asked, “You do, huh? Well, maybe you should see what you’re getting into first.”

She groaned as he lifted her legs over his shoulders. He gritted his teeth. He was a goddamn animal. She couldn’t move without pain and he was all over her, breathing in the scent of aroused woman like it was ambrosia, anticipating how good the juices coating her folds were going to taste on his tongue, coaxing her into accepting the pain so he could have the pleasure.

Animal or not, he wasn’t stopping. Couldn’t stop. Two more inches and he had the first taste of her on his tongue. Tangy sweet, like a summer storm, rolling through his system. Perfect. She made that little squeaking noise again. He recognized that sound. Sweet, generous surrender.

A second later there was a soft thud as her head fell back.

“You are sure this is right to do between men and women?”

“Very sure.”

“But it is not proper?”

“Not a bit.”

“Then proceed!”

He did just that, laughter rippling through him as he lapped at the spill of her pleasure, listening to her soft cries, her gasps, the occasional moan of dismay which directed him back to where she needed his touch most. Satisfaction infused passion as he let her pleasure wash over him, fill him deeply with her un-inhibited joy.

He dipped his finger into the well again, coating himself with the promise of pleasure. His cock throbbed. He breathed deeply, inhaling her scent. Womanly spice and musk. A very potent combination. One he wasn’t going to be able to resist much longer. He’d never been long on honor or self-sacrifice.

“Just relax and enjoy.”

He nudged his finger aside with his tongue, penetrating her the only way that was safe, the only way he would allow himself. He didn’t rape women and taking one knocked out of her good judgment by fear was the equivalent of it in his book. But he wasn’t above stealing a taste. He was risking getting his ass shot off. He deserved at least a taste. A deep, lingering, thorough taste of what he’d be giving up.

“Spread your legs further,” he growled. She did, immediately, naturally, parting her thighs until he could feel the muscles tremble, all the while watching him with an expectancy that spoke of a deeper need. One that he was more than ready to feed.

“Come for me, Bella.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.” He pushed her thighs a little wider, keeping the tension stretched tight as he lapped delicately at her clit, easing her back into the storm before picking up the pace and pressure, driving her into the passion, holding her legs apart when she would have closed them, keeping her still for the lash of his tongue, the softness of his kiss, the graze of his teeth, keeping her put as the climax rocked her. His name broke from her lips, a breathless mix of fear and joy.

“It’s all right, Bella. Let it happen. Come for me.”

Her fingers fisted in his hair as she jackknifed up into the press of his mouth, holding him to her as the next spasm took her. He backed off the pressure as the contractions lightened, laving her gently, easing her through her shock to the satisfaction on the other side. Her hands opened on his skull as her breath shuddered out on a long sigh.

Bracing himself on his elbows, Sam looked up only to find Bella watching him in a combination of wonder and fascination.

“All right?”

She nodded, leaning forward, touching her forehead to his. Her hair fell about them in a silken curtain, creating the illusion of just them, just now.

“You were right. I do not think that was at all proper.”

“But it was fun?”

“Oh yes.” She nodded, sending her hair swishing about his shoulders and back. “Very fun.”

He eased his shoulders out from under her thighs, steadying her with a hand on her arm when she swayed. “Good, because we’re not done.”

“I think I am.”

“You have no idea how much pleasure I can give you.” He released her arm, watching to make sure she had her balance. Her fingertips riffled through the hair at the nape of his neck, soothing and stimulating at the same time.

“There is more?”

“A lot more. Lean back.”

Isabella didn’t hesitate. She didn’t imagine anyone hesitated when Sam used that deep sexy tone of voice. She caught herself on her hands. The pull in her shoulder muscles blended with the shiver of arousal as she arched her back, thrusting her breasts up, shaking her hair out of her eyes. “Like this?”

“Oh, yeah.” Each deep syllable stroked her desire in a rough caress. “Exactly like that.”

Sam came up on his knees, palming her breasts, catching her nipple between his thumbs and the edge of his hands, grazing the sensitive tips with a touch so light she had to strain to feel it. Then he did it again, a little harder, the echoing pulse lodging deep in her core, setting off tiny explosions of delight that detonated outward.