Thunder on the Plains (29 page)

“Yes, I've read it myself. This country should be ashamed it lets such things go on.”

Colt picked up a small stick and poked at the fire. “I know this war is more political than anything else, but the fact remains that if the Union wins, there will be no more slavery in the South. And if my death comes in the process of doing some kind of good, then it hasn't all been for nothing.”

She closed her eyes and sighed. “Colt, the others are right. You can't blame yourself for what happened to your wife and son. It isn't like you to just
let
yourself die, and I don't believe you want to. It's just something that sometimes sounds easier than facing the pain of your loss.” She turned to face him better. “I know how it feels to want to die. I know there is no comparison, but there were moments when I didn't want to go on after Father died. I've suffered my own form of hell, Colt. I know my life looks fancy and easy, but believe me, my enemies are just as real and vicious as yours. The only difference is you can easily point yours out and physically face them. Mine are hidden behind smiles and handshakes and fancy clothes.” A piece of her hair came loose and drifted across her face. She grasped it and pushed it behind her ear. “You and I are as different as night and day, but in some ways our worlds are a lot alike.”

Colt thought about what he had seen earlier in the evening—the ostentatious mansion, the class of people he had met, the way Sunny had looked, the air of authority and smell of money about her. “Well, I suppose in a very abstract way our worlds are alike, but in reality I can hardly see a comparison.”

Sunny smiled softly. “All right. I guess I have to agree with that one.”

He turned and looked at her. “Enough of me.” He leaned down on his side, resting on one elbow. “What about you? You said I needed to talk. Maybe you do too. Tell me about your father, and Vince. You must have gone through hell the last few months, from what I read in the papers.”

Sunny drew a deep breath, allowing herself the liberty of spilling out her emotions, the trauma of losing her father, followed by the ugly court proceedings Vince had dragged her through. “I had a nervous collapse after everything was over,” she said, swallowing back tears. “It wasn't just Father's death and all that hell with Vince. I think it was more from the realization that at the young age of eighteen everything would fall into my hands.” She reached out and began sifting some sand through her fingers. “I wasn't ready emotionally. Father had taught me so much, but I thought I would be older when all this happened, maybe married, with a husband who could help me.”

Colt could feel her pain, hear it in her voice. “Your brother should have wanted to help you, not make things worse for you. I've met him only once, and I can see what a bastard he is. You're a hell of a woman to have come through it all like this.”

She shrugged. “I don't know. It took me five months to come out of my grief enough to take over my duties. A person simply does what she has to do, I guess. I thought about Father, what he expected of me. In everything I do I think of him, what he would say, how he would react, how strong he'd be. That's all that gets me through.” She turned to face him. “And your letters. I got the first one the very day I started back to work. I can't tell you what it meant. Something about it just, I don't know, it made me stronger, gave me more courage.” She leaned down beside him. “I don't know why you thought I might have forgotten you, Colt. You know how I felt.”

Their eyes held in remembered emotions, and Sunny felt the flush coming to her cheeks again in sudden embarrassment. “I mean…” She looked down at the blanket. “I was young and full of fantasies then. I know that. I acted like a silly child, but my feelings about the kind of person you are, my respect for you, and my appreciation for the things you did for me—that never changed these past five years.” She met his eyes again. “And neither have my memories of the West and how much I loved it. I can hardly wait to get back to Omaha. This whole thing is so exciting, Colt. I want to be a part of every aspect of building the railroad. I want to be right there, visit the construction sites. It's like—I don't know, like if I'm there, Father will be there too. He would have dearly loved to have been a part of all of it! I prayed so hard that he would stay well and that it would happen for him.”

Colt grinned, cautiously touching her hand with his own. “Something tells me he knows exactly what is going on, and he's very proud of you. Finishing his dream, that means a lot to you, doesn't it?”

How was it that after five years this man could instantly give her such comfort? “I think you understand that better than anyone in my whole family. It means everything, especially with all the things Vince has done to try to stop me. He even tried to stop my father before he died, tried to keep people from investing in the Union Pacific. I'll never quite understand Vince. It's like he literally hates me, and I've never done anything against him. He has a strange contempt for me. Father used to say he was angry that my mother had taken Vince's mother's place, and Vince thought that was wrong. Stuart did, too, for a long time, but he's changed a lot since marrying Vi. Vi and I have become very close. She's a good woman, very sincere and honest.”

“I could tell by her eyes in that one introduction. I'm glad there's
somebody
in your family you can turn to.” He squeezed her hand. “What about Blaine? Does he support you? Can you talk to him?” Colt caught the hint of nervousness in her quick little laugh.

“Blaine is the kind of man who can talk business all night. He's a wonderful support as far as discussing financial problems, investments, the railroad. Sometimes I almost feel in competition with him. But it's—it's hard for me to explain how I feel about other things. He's very eager to marry me, and he doesn't understand why I need to wait. I can't make a commitment like that until the railroad is at least well under construction. There's so much to do, and it's going to take a lot of my time. I think when a woman marries she should be ready to devote all her attention to her husband, ready to have children. I'm not ready for either.”
Why
am
I
telling
you
these
things, Colt? Why do I already know you understand when no one else does?

He rubbed a thumb across the back of her hand. “Do you love him?”

She looked down at the strong fingers that held her hand. “I honestly don't know. Sometimes I think I do, or at least that I should. As you could tell at the party, everyone thinks we're the perfect match.” She looked into his eyes and smiled nervously again. “Vi thinks just the opposite. She thinks we're too much alike for it to work. He would want to take over everything that's mine, and I couldn't let him do that. I couldn't let
anyone
do that. Vi says that if I'm so full of doubt, I must not love Blaine. She says when the right man comes along—”
My
God, Colt, she says I'll feel about him the way I have sometimes felt about you! No
, she argued inwardly.
This
is
ridiculous!
She pulled her hand away from his. “That I'll just know,” she finished.

“She's probably right. Just don't go marrying a man because everybody else
thinks
you should, or because you think it's time to marry. You ought to really want him. It makes the things that come after easier.” Colt immediately regretted the remark.
Jesus, why did I say that? What the hell am I doing talking to her about marriage and sex?
He watched Sunny turn away, and he knew he had embarrassed her. “I'm sorry, Sunny. I had no right saying that.”

“It's all right. You care, and that's nice.” She allowed her eyes to meet his own, feeling a desperation, realizing this might be their only chance to talk for a long time to come, maybe forever. “It does scare me sometimes, but if I really love a man, it shouldn't, should it?”

Colt searched the blue depths of her trusting eyes. “No,” he answered in a near whisper.

Sunny swallowed, shivering with the need to say it. “I wouldn't be scared with you.” Why did she say it? Why? She covered her face with her hand and started to sit up, but he grasped her arm, pulling her back down, gently taking her hand from her face. “I'm sorry,” she whispered. “It's so easy to talk to you, so easy—”

Colt put a big hand to the side of her face. “Maybe Blaine doesn't know how to treat a woman so she's not afraid,” he told her. “And maybe I can't stand the thought of him doing that to you.”

Part of her wanted to run, but Sunny lay still as he came closer. Yes, they
were
older now, and both had suffered great loss and heartache. Such a good friend he had become through his letters. Why
shouldn't
they have the right to take comfort in each other? Neither of them had any real ties to another, and there was something they both needed to know, wasn't there?

In a moment his warm lips were pressing against her own, so gently, searching with a feathery touch, making her mouth open just slightly. No, there was no fear here, only a wonderful desire to taste his lips back, to let this wild, dangerous, forbidden man pull her tight against him as he was doing then, to let him move his weight on top of her, let his tongue search deep in a kiss that was becoming hotter, more demanding.

Sunny thought of the night Blaine had kissed her neck and breasts. There had been a kind of forcefulness about it that frightened her. Yet nothing Colt did made her afraid. The kiss became almost desperate, and Colt made a soft groaning sound as he finally left her mouth, his lips traveling to her eyes, back to lick her lips, down over her throat, and to the open neck of her shirt.

“My God, Sunny,” he groaned, pressing a strong hand against her side, moving it to the fullness of her soft breast. “You looked so beautiful tonight. I've never in my life seen anything as pretty as you.”

She grasped his hair, whispering his name, part of her screaming that she should stop him, that this was wrong, yet finding no strength or any desire to say no. What was this wild, foolish thing she was doing? She had not seen him for five years! But the letters…his terrible need. She whimpered when he moved his hand to the opening of her blouse and ran a thumb inside over the white of her breast. He moved it farther inside to feel her taut nipple, and both of them shivered from the thrill of the touch.

Colt whispered her name and gently pushed the blouse and her camisole away to expose one breast. He leaned closer and took her virgin nipple tenderly into his mouth, tasting it gently, his tongue rubbing over her hard ripe fruit. Sunny grasped his hair, her whole body on fire, painful urges surging deep inside that Blaine had never roused in her. She thought how right Colt was. A woman should never be afraid if it's the right man touching her.

She felt Colt begin to tremble as he sucked lovingly at the breast as though it was something delicious. Finally his lips moved back over her throat, met her mouth again in a near-savage kiss. Both of them groaned when he moved a hand down to her skirt and under it, over the scar left on her thigh from when he had burned out her infection years before. Their kiss grew deeper and hotter as she felt his strong hand move over her bottom, between her legs, pushing gently so that she whimpered his name. He moved the hand to the waistline of her bloomers and down inside them, and Sunny cried out with ecstasy at the feel of Colt Travis touching private places. It was so easy to let him touch her intimately, as though she already belonged to him. He began working wonderful magic with his fingers.

“It has to be you, Colt,” she whispered. “Love me. Just love me. It doesn't matter what happens after tonight.”

After
tonight
, Colt thought.
After
tonight.
He stiffened. What the hell was he doing, using this sweet woman to soothe his own sore heart, taking advantage of this moment when he knew he was going off to war tomorrow, a war from which he might never return? Part of him wanted her to be LeeAnn, and that wasn't fair to Sunny. He relished the feel of her satiny juices on his fingers, would like nothing more at this moment than to plant himself in her virgin depths. But it was wrong, and he damn well knew it!

He took his hand away and pulled down her skirt, kissing her eyes as he did so. He gently moved her camisole and blouse back over her breast, kissing her ever so lightly then as he squeezed and caressed her breast once more. “Not like this, Sunny. My God, I'm sorry. It's so wrong. So goddamn wrong.”

“Colt—”

He moved away from her, sitting up, then rising and half stumbling off into the darkness for several minutes. Shaking, Sunny sat up herself, still feeling the fire in her blood, licking the taste of his sweet kiss on her lips, the smell of him lingering in the air, on her clothes. Her insides throbbed with aching, newly awakened desires.

“Colt?” Had she made a fool of herself? Did he think less of her now? Her breast burned from his touch, and an even hotter fire swelled deep in private places, places only Colt Travis had been allowed to touch. Did he think her brazen, perhaps as easy as the whores he visited? Why had she let him do that? Neither of them had said anything about love or commitment. They were as wrong for each other as fire and water. Blaine was the one who should have been allowed such privileges, and yet with Colt it had been so easy.

In the moonlight she could see him moving around near his horse. He brought the animal closer, and she could see that it was fully saddled. He leaned down and picked up his saddlebags.

“Colt, what are you doing?”

“Leaving—right now—before I do something we'd both regret.”

“Colt, please don't go. I—I'm sorry if it was something I did or said.”