The Endless Sky (Cheyenne Series) (5 page)

      
Haunted amber eyes stared back at her from a pale ivory face with a nose a trifle too long and a chin decidedly too bold for conventional beauty. And to make matters worse, her hair was neither blond nor brown but some strange almost metallic color, so coarse and heavy it defied all her maid's attempts to style it in the sleek poofing pompadour currently the fashion. No help for it, she was tall, thin, with a decidedly unpretty face...lord, perhaps even a bit hatchet-like because of that accursed chin. And she liked Aristotle. Poor Oliver with his double chin and sweetly vapid mind was probably the best she could do unless she wanted to settle for a fortune hunter like the Lawrence boy…who come to think of it, wasn’t all that bright either.

      
Just then her maid, Constance, entered the room bearing the new sable coat her father had given her for Christmas. The lustrous furs would have utterly delighted her if Josiah had not tartly informed her that if she did not like it she could take the matter up with his secretary's wife, who had been sent to select it. Slipping into the satin-lined wrap, she prepared to enjoy her afternoon sleigh ride with Oliver. Her father would not even notice she was gone.

* * * *

      
“Don't you think we're going a bit too fast?” Stephanie asked Oliver, chewing her lip nervously as she watched the gleaming blades of the Portland Cutter slice through the crisp white snow at a constantly accelerating rate of speed.

      
“Nonsense, my dear. There's no way to overturn a cutter as heavy as this one,” Standish replied, snapping the reins across the horses' rumps once more.

      
The Neponset River wound alongside the rolling hills as they raced by its frozen course. They had left the city behind hours ago, speeding southward over the trackless mantle of white. Now as the pale winter sun began to drop low on the horizon, Oliver urged his team homeward. Billowing gunmetal clouds began to mass ominously, ready to dump a fresh deluge of January snow on them. Her eyes scanned the riverbank ahead looking for a passable refuge if they could not outrun the impending storm.

      
The Remington’s' country place was only a mile or two away, but it was unlikely to be occupied in the dead of winter.
As if I'd want to appear a soggy, snow-covered beggar at Chase's doorstep
, she thought tartly. Yet remembering long-ago summers spent here brought a bittersweet pang to her heart.

      
Her childhood reverie was interrupted as she was flung sharply against the side of the seat when the sled sharply changed course. “What are you doing, Oliver?” she gasped, holding onto the seat awkwardly with mittened hands.

      
He was forced to lean closer to her to be heard over the noise of the rising wind. “I'm taking us down to the river. We'll make better time on the flat surface.”

High above on a bluff, a lone figure sat on his ebony stallion, watching the expensive conveyance careen onto the frozen river. Muttering a curse, he kneed the horse into a canter. Didn't that fool driver realize last week's warm spell had partially thawed the big river? With the past few days of dropping temperatures and heavy snowfall most of it had refrozen, but it was sheer stupidity to put anything as heavy as a Portland Cutter on that ice.

      
The horseman swooped downhill at an angle to intercept the sleigh. Snow flew up in stinging clouds beneath the stallion's churning hooves. As they neared the bank of the Neponset what he feared occurred. The sleigh tilted sharply to its side as one heavy runner sliced through the broken ice. Over the howl of the wind a sharp cracking sound heralded the breakup of the ice and freezing gray water bubbled up, sucking under the gleaming red and silver sledge. A woman's sharp scream echoed as she was thrown from her seat, tumbling into the icy grasp of death.

      
Ignoring the stupid driver who was struggling to whip his team into pulling his fancy toy away from the water, the horseman urged his big black to the water's edge. The woman was clawing frantically at a broken slab of ice which bobbed in the rising current. Her heavy fur coat, so excellent a protection from the storm a moment ago, now might well prove to be her shroud as its waterlogged weight dragged her under.

      
Stephanie felt her grip on the ice slipping as her whole body went from icy cold to a terrifying numbness in what seemed like only a heartbeat. The rushing gray water took her into its embrace. Suddenly a powerful vise seemed to squeeze the breath from her lungs. Stephanie was pulled from the water and flung soggily against the hard wall of another human body. The harsh force that had literally taken her breath away was a man's strong right arm. Before she could see her deliverer's face, he tossed her over his shoulder and dashed off the frozen river as the ice cracked and broke behind them.

      
When he reached the bank, her deliverer put her down in front of him, still holding onto her arms to steady her. ‘‘Chase,” she gulped from frozen lips. Her mouth did not seem to work properly.

      
“Don't try to talk. You're half-frozen,” he explained as he helped her to sit down on the snow-covered ground. Then he turned to the big black horse waiting patiently and unfastened a blanket from behind his saddle. He wrapped it around her shivering body.

      
Frantically she looked over her shoulder at the river for a trace of Oliver Standish and his sled. One gleaming silver runner was lodged at a peculiar angle in the ice, all that remained visible of the conveyance. “Oliver! You must find my friend!” she gasped.

      
Chase could see a man's head bobbing in the water as he clung to one of the two thrashing horses which miraculously began to scramble back onto solid ground a dozen yards away. “As far as I'm concerned that idiot can drown for pulling such a reckless stunt,” he yelled over the wind.

      
“But he's hurt,” she cried, seeing the bright crimson stain spreading across Oliver's temple as he dropped from the horse onto the ground.

      
Snow had begun to fall in earnest now. “I have to get you to a hot fire and dry blankets immediately.” Feeling her stiffen in his arms, he knew she would not allow him to leave her companion to freeze to death, no matter how richly deserved the fate might be.

      
Oliver was up on all fours now, his head injury bleeding freely. With a particularly vile oath, Chase reluctantly left Stephanie and went to assist her companion. Stripping off his gloves, he reached inside his greatcoat for a handkerchief, which he quickly tied around Oliver's head to staunch the bleeding sufficiently for him to be able to see.

      
“I'm going to boost you up on this horse as soon as I unhitch it from the other. You'll have to ride it bareback or else I'll be forced to leave you,” he yelled as he began unfastening the heavy harness in a race with the growing numbness in his fingers. Once the horses were free, Chase seated Standish on the gelding, then led it over to where Stephanie huddled on the bank. The blue blanket around her shoulders was already white and stiff with snow. He lifted her up onto his horse and swung up behind her. As the frozen trio headed up the hill toward the house, he was grateful it was only a few hundred yards beyond.

      
When they reached the mansion, the steward, Essex, took one look at his master's two frozen charges and set to work with typical New England practicality, stripping the ice-encrusted clothes from the man, discreetly leaving the young lady for his womanizing employer to deal with.

      
“See to his head injury. Once he thaws out it may start to bleed again,” Chase instructed Essex before carrying a semiconscious Stephanie down the hall to his bedroom at the end of the hallway. Sheltered beneath a huge chestnut tree, it was the coolest place in the house in summer and, because it faced south, the warmest in winter.

      
“I’m so sleepy,” she murmured thickly, her head lolling against his chest. She felt so safe held tightly in his arms. When he laid her on the big bed and moved away, she cried out, bereft of the solid comfort of his body. Her eyes roamed blearily around the room which was spacious and masculine. She was barely aware that he frantically tugged off her wet clothing, beginning with her boots.

      
“Did you shoot that deer?” she asked, staring at a magnificent rack of antlers hung above the fireplace.

      
“No. My people don't waste meat killing for trophies,” he replied, cursing to himself as his fingers, numb from the cold, fumbled over the loops holding the heavy fur coat closed.
The first time in years I've been clumsy undressing a woman
, he thought wryly as he pulled her up against him so he could peel off the coat. As soon as her arms were freed from the coat, she threw them around his neck, hanging onto him with surprising strength.

      
“You're so warm,” she breathed next to his ear.

      
“Well, you're not,” he replied, slinging the ice-covered coat onto the carpet, then unpeeling her arms so he could lay her back and attack the myriad of tiny buttons down the front of her heavy twill suit. By the time he reached the frilly white lawn blouse beneath, he was not cold anymore. In fact, parts of his anatomy were most definitely heating up.

      
By the time Chase rolled her over on her stomach and began to unlace her corset stays, Stephanie was beginning to thaw as well. His hands touching her bare skin felt blissfully warm and incredibly deft. “Bet you've had a lot of practice doing this, haven't you?” she blurted out as he pulled the damp restricting garment from her waist. Lord above, here she was lying in a man's bed nearly stark naked while he touched her in unmentionable places and that was all she could say!

      
Ah, but could she feel! Her frozen arms started to tingle as he massaged them with powerful long fingers until the blood seemed to roar in her ears. When he moved down her legs and took one small foot in his big dark hands, she closed her eyes in bliss, giving in to the utter madness of the moment.

      
Chase watched her thick dark lashes flutter down, closing over those fathomless amber eyes. His own eyes were drawn to study her lithe young body as he worked over it. Her skin was alabaster pale as much from residual shock as from her fair coloring. But he could feel the pulse thrum steady under the silky skin behind her knee. His hand glided up over the curve of a long, slim thigh. She was slender but sweetly rounded, poised on the brink of womanhood. Against his will his eyes were drawn to the steady rise and fall of her chest as she started to drift off to sleep. Palest pink nipples puckered tightly in spite of the torrid warmth penetrating the room. Her breasts were small but perfectly formed, upthrust proudly without need of whalebone supports. The foolish corset was completely unnecessary. Her waist was tiny, her belly flat and sleek.

      
Before he allowed his hands to trespass down the path his errant eyes traveled, Chase reached for several of the blankets at the foot of the bed and tucked them securely around the dozing girl.
She
is
only a girl,
he reminded himself sternly. A beautiful fairylike creature, virginal, innocent and completely unsuited to a man like him. A white woman from a wealthy family who would demand marriage as the price of her purity.

      
And he was a half-caste who belonged two thousand miles away...or at least he hoped that he still did. Unless he rejoined the Cheyenne, he would not have any identity, for he could never be a Remington.

      
Stephanie opened her eyes and met Chase's troubled gaze as he looked down on her. In spite of the warm room, she began to shiver beneath the scratchy wool blanket.

      
“Your hands...they warmed me,” she whispered, her voice hoarse and husky.

      
“You're still cold inside. Here, this should help you,” he said, rising to step over to the bedside table where a crystal decanter of brandy sat. His legs were actually weak and his hands trembled as he poured the drink. He knelt beside her and raised her head so she could swallow.

      
“Why is it you're always forcing spirits on me, Mr. Remington?” she asked dreamily.

      
But she swallowed obediently as he held the glass. “Not for the usual reason, I fear.”

      
“Too...too bad,” she said through chattering teeth, not really aware of what she was saying. The hot silky warmth of the French cognac eased the chill a bit but she still shivered.

      
He smiled bleakly. “Yes, it is.”
Leave now while you still can,
an inner voice of conscience screamed at him. “I’m going to fetch some hot soup from the kitchen—”

      
“N-no! P-please don't 1-leave me, Chase.” She sat up and her arms reached out to him. “I don't n-need soup—I need you.”

      
The blankets dropped to her waist and those perfect little upthrust breasts gleamed like pearls.
Not half as much as I need you.
With an oath, he began stripping off his boots.

Chapter Three

      
Chase slid beneath the sheets and pressed Stephanie's shivering body against his, then pulled the warm blankets over them. Inside the soft cocoon he could feel her heart pounding in cadence with his own. In his haste to get her out of the frozen clothes and warm her numb flesh, he had left her hair coiled tightly in a heavy chignon. Seeing the pins digging into her delicate scalp, he rolled up on one elbow, partially covering her body with his and began to work them loose, using his long fingers as a comb.

      
“You have so much hair,” he murmured hoarsely as the thick, lustrous waves spilled across the white pillowcases like bronze satin.