Passage West

“Before you what?” Her breath was hot against his cheek. “Leave me again?”

  “I told you I wasn’t leaving you. That deer in the corner ought to convince you.”

  She swiveled her head. Abby’s expression changed from anger to stunned surprise, and then to the sudden knowledge that this had all been a terrible misunderstanding.

  “You bagged a deer? You were hunting? You really weren’t leaving me?”

  Rourke let out a slow hiss of anger. “If you hadn’t behaved like such a damned little fool, you could have spared us a lot of trouble.”

  Trouble? He’d been furious when he’d found her gone. And terrified, if he wanted to be honest. To have come through so much together, and then to lose her. He couldn’t bear it. Like a wild man, he’d rushed out into the blinding snow with no idea where to go, how to find her.

  But now she was here, frightened, cold, furious, but safe. Back in his arms, where he could reassure himself of her safety.

  Though he continued to hold her firmly against him, she felt the slight change in pressure in the hands holding hers.

  “I’m sick and tired of having you call me a little fool.”

  She saw something flicker in his eyes and felt a moment of fear. Then, as he continued holding her, the fear turned to something new, something that exhilarated yet still frightened her.

  “If you don’t want to be called a fool,” he muttered, his voice suddenly low and husky, “don’t act like one.”

  He drew her perceptibly closer, and a little thrill raced along her spine.

  “Rourke, I...”

  “Don’t say another word,” he murmured, brushing his lips over hers.

  Heat, liquid, golden heat flowed through her, leaving her flushed and breathless.

  He’d had no other plan than to hold her. There was no passion, no rush of desire. All he wanted was to keep her close, to share his warmth until he felt her flesh heat, her trembling still.

  He took the kiss deeper, savoring the sweet, wild taste of her lips, her mouth, her tongue. He couldn’t have enough of her taste. There would never be enough of her. Plunging his hands into her hair, he tipped her head back and plundered her mouth, filling himself with her.

  As he lifted his lips, he heard her little sigh of pleasure.

  “I’m sorry about all this, Abby. I didn’t want to wake you this morning. You were sleeping so peacefully. But I should have realized you’d react like a scared little kid if you found me gone.”

  “Kid.” He saw the temper return to her eyes. “There you go again. Stop calling me that. I’m a woman, dammit.” Clutching the front of his shirt, she pulled him close. “And I want you to treat me like one.”

  His eyes narrowed. Staring down at her, he muttered, “I don’t think you know what you’re saying.”

  “Yes I do,” she whispered, bringing her arms around his neck and drawing him even closer. “Oh yes I do.”

  He took a step backward, staring at her as if he couldn’t believe what he’d heard. Touching a hand to her cheek for long moments, he stared down into her eyes, as if trying to read her mind. He had promised himself that she would have to make the first move. But now, as he watched her eyes soften, felt her body press closer into his, he was thunderstruck.

  Slowly, slowly, his arms came around her, drawing her close, pinning her to the length of him. His mouth covered hers in a hot, hungry kiss.

  He wanted to drown in her kisses. She was sweet. So sweet. Yet there was something new in her kiss. Something bold. There was a giving, a taking, that he had never sensed in her until this moment.

  Abby felt as if her very breath was being taken from her. And still he lingered over the kiss, as if worshiping her mouth. She sighed and felt herself filling with him, his taste, his breath, his tongue, moving with hers, daring her to explore his mouth as he was exploring hers.

  Tentatively, she followed his example, and thrilled to the intimacy of his mouth. She heard his sigh of pleasure before he took the kiss deeper, and she felt herself being caught up in feelings she had never known existed.

  Her body strained against his, eager, pliant. Running his hands along her sides, he explored the narrow, slender hips, the tiny waist. When he encountered the swell of her breasts, his thumbs began to stroke, until he heard her little sigh of impatience.

  Always before, these sensations frightened her. She had feared losing control. But now, hungry for more, she gave in to the pleasure his touch brought.

  When his lips abruptly left hers, she felt bereft. But before she could protest, he brought his lips to her throat. He murmured words of endearment as he ran openmouthed kisses along the column of her throat, before dipping lower to the soft swell of her breast.

  She gasped and clutched at him when his lips found her breast. Needs pulsed through her, and she felt warmth radiating through her veins, until she thought she would suffocate from the heat.

  His fingers found the buttons of her shirt, and he slipped it from her shoulders and bent his lips to the ridge of her collarbone. His lips, his fingertips, followed the lacy edge of her chemise until he untied the ribbons that held it. With the rest of her clothes, it drifted to the floor about her feet.

  “Abby, you’re so beautiful.” Drawing her close, he kissed her eyelid, her cheek, the corner of her mouth, then brought his lips lower to trail her neck, the hollow of her throat, her breast.

  She shuddered. Heat seared her. She felt her knees buckle, and before she could fall he swept her up in his arms and carried her to the blanket. When he lay beside her, she reached for the buttons of his shirt. As her awkward fingers fumbled, he helped her, until they lay at last, mouth to mouth, flesh to flesh.

  “Do you know how long I’ve wanted you?” He buried his face in her hair and inhaled the wonderful fragrance of evergreen and forest that mingled with the woman scent of her.

  “Oh, Rourke,” she breathed against his neck, sending spasms of pleasure along his spine. “I don’t know what to do. I’ve never loved a man.”

  “Shh.” He touched his lips to hers, stilling her words. “There’s nothing to know, Abby,” he murmured, rubbing his lips across hers. “We’ll take a journey together. We’ll explore,” he whispered, tracing a finger across her eyebrow, to the curve of her cheek, and then along the sweep of her jaw. “Together.”

  As his lips followed his fingertips, she relaxed, allowing the pleasure of his touch to soothe, caress. Steeped in pleasure, she felt warm and contented. But as his lips and fingertips moved lower, the warmth became heat.

  He nibbled the slope of her shoulder and pressed kisses to the inside of her elbow, her wrist, her palm, until, hungry for his lips on hers, she drew his face back to hers. No longer content with just her lips, he brought his mouth lower, to taste her neck, and feel her pulsebeat at the hollow of her throat. Then his lips moved lower still, to tease and taunt her already erect nipples. Contractions began deep inside her, and she moaned and clutched at him, begging for release. But he had only begun. Moving lower, he explored the smooth flesh of her stomach, then lower still to the softness of her inner thigh. Before she could jerk away he kissed the back of her knee, and she began laughing.

  “Oh, you think that’s funny?”

  “It tickles,” she said, and laughed again as he continued kissing her leg, her ankle, the bottom of her foot. “Rourke, it tickles. Stop.”

  But he didn’t stop. He ran his tongue along the sole of her foot until she yanked it away.

  “So you want to play.” Twisting, she caught his leg and tried to kiss the back of his knee, but he moved and she caught him at mid-thigh instead.

  Her laughter died as her fingers began exploring the muscular, hairy leg. She had never before thought of touching a man like this. But he felt good. All of him, she realized, not just his arms, his lips. Explore, he had said. She suddenly realized she wanted to explore him as he had explored her.

  Touching a fingertip to his chest, she moved over him and heard his little moan of pleasure. Beneat
h the nest of rough hair, beneath the warm flesh, she could feel the powerful muscles. “So strong,” she murmured, running kisses across his rib cage. “And yet so tender.”

  “Just weak,” he moaned. “You make me weak.”

  Bending, she brought her lips to the flat plain of his stomach. For the space of a heartbeat, she paused, wondering if she dared to be any bolder. But he had touched her in ways she had never dreamed of, and she longed to know all of him.

  Slowly, tentatively, she moved her fingers lower. As her hand found him, he murmured words she couldn’t hear. And then he dragged her against him, and his kisses were no longer gentle. Roughly he drew her head back and kissed her until she was breathless.

  Needs, savage, driving needs pulsed through them. Gone was the delicious languor that had seeped through them only minutes ago. Now they were eager, agile, seeking.

  He had wanted to be slow, to make this first time easy and gentle for her. But needs ripped through the last shred of his control, driving him to the brink of madness, until all he could think of was her.

  When he took her, he felt her strong fingers clutch at his shoulders. At her little gasp, he covered her mouth with his. Slowly, fighting to bank his needs, he felt her begin to move, and he moved with her, allowing her to set the pace. He felt the wild rhythm of her heart keeping time to his.

  For Abby, all thought ceased. Now there were only feelings. She had never known such feelings. His heartbeat was her own. His sighs, his moans, became her own voice. They moved in an ageless rhythm, and as needs drove her, she discovered a strength she had never known she possessed. She called his name, or thought she did. Clutching his shoulders, she soared higher, then higher still, until she felt as if she had touched the sun, and it had exploded inside her. She felt him follow her into the sunlight, and together they burst into tiny fragments.

  He was part of her now. And she was part of him. They had given something precious, something very special to each other. Something they could never take back. And from this moment on, their lives would be forever changed.

  Shuddering, she drifted on a cloud of liquid gold. She had left this western trail of pain and was suspended somewhere in the sky. And with her, locked in her arms, was the man she loved. No one else existed for her. No one else mattered now except Rourke.

  Damp with sheen, still joined, he continued holding her. Slowly, languorously, he drew the blanket over them, then rolled to his side and cradled her to him.

  As he bent to kiss her, he tasted her tears. “Oh, God, I’ve hurt you.”

  She smiled through her tears and brushed them away. Rubbing her lips over his, she whispered, “These were happy tears. You could never hurt me.”

  Drawing her close against him, he buried his face in her hair and fought back the little worries that nagged at the corner of his mind. He could hurt her, in ways she never dreamed. God, what had he done? He had no right to keep her with him. It only endangered her more.

  She sighed and drew him closer, and he felt his worries slip away. At least for this night, she was warm, and safe. And loved. God forgive him, though he had no right, he loved her.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Abby shifted in the blanket and felt an arm tighten about her waist, holding her close. Her lids flickered open and she found herself staring into Rourke’s slate eyes.

  How had she ever found his eyes cold? she wondered. They were liquid silver, and she could see herself reflected there.

  “Good morning.” She knew she would never tire of hearing that rough, scratchy voice in the morning.

  She smiled and stretched, then snuggled close beside him. “How long have you been awake?”

  “Hours I think. I was watching you sleep. You sleep like a baby. Peaceful. No fears.”

  She placed a finger over his lips. “I thought you were going to stop calling me a child.”

  He bit her finger and she laughed and pulled it away. “I haven’t forgotten you’re a woman. My woman,” he growled, pulling her on top of him.

  Her hair fanned out around him, drifting about his shoulders, kissing his cheek. Grabbing a handful, he stared at it, then at her. “My brave little fire woman.”

  Resting her chin on her hands, she stared down into his eyes. As his fingers began tracing the contours of her back, she shivered. “Do you know what your touch does to me?”

  “I hope it’s the same thing you’re doing to me.” She felt his hands move along the flare of her hips, then upward, to span her waist. For all time, he had left his fingerprints on her. She would know his touch even in the dark.

  She was aware of his arousal, and of the look of desire in his eyes. It was a strange feeling to have such power over a man. Enjoying her newly discovered power, she shifted slightly and heard his little moan.

  “You’re a witch. You know that, don’t you?”

  She laughed and ran a hand over his scraggly growth of beard. “And you’re a wild man. My wild mountain man.”

  She was so surprising. Soft when he expected her to be hard. Tough when he thought she’d fall apart. There was so much to learn about her. So much to share. Share. A strange thought to entertain. In his life, there was no room for sharing.

  As he continued staring into her eyes, she smiled, a wicked, woman’s smile. “Rourke, are you ignoring me?”

  With a single fluid motion, he turned and pinned her beneath him. “Is this enough attention for you?”

  Framing her face with his hands, he rubbed his lips across hers. Her lips parted for his kiss, but he paused, studying the look in her eyes.

  How was it possible that he could want her again so desperately? All night they had loved, then dozed, then loved again, exploring each other’s body with an urgency bordering on madness. They should be sated. But even while he’d watched her sleep, he’d been waiting impatiently for her to wake so he could see himself in her eyes once more.

  He’d waited so long. Wanted so long. He stifled his needs, wanting to go slowly, to savor. All night, with lips and tongue and fingertips, he’d learned her texture. She was so small, so slender. But not fragile. He felt her strength and thrilled to it. No, this was no shy, shrinking female. She was curious, and bold, and as eager as he.

  His mouth moved over hers, and the familiar heat spread through his limbs, leaving him by turns weak and then eager, almost frantic for more.

  As the wind and snow raged against the mountains, Rourke and Abby lay in each other’s arms, lost in a world of intense pleasure.

  * * * * *

  The blizzard lasted for nine days.

  For Abby, these were the happiest of her life. Thanks to Rourke’s cautious forays into the wilderness, they had food, shelter, and heat. And best of all, they had time. Time to explore each other’s mind and body. Time to get to know each other slowly, intimately.

  Rourke heard about her life on the farm, and her preacher grandfather, and the fragile Margaret, who had meekly tried to give James a son. And she told him about her father’s deathbed admission, that she was not really his daughter at all, but Lily’s. Abby told him what little she knew about the beautiful, strong- willed Lily, and Rourke realized from where Abby had inherited her indomitable strength.

  He revealed little about himself. When Abby pressed, he described his home in Maryland and his loving parents. But hearing the pain in his voice, she decided not to pursue the subject. It obviously held some painful memories for him. And so she talked about her past, and what she hoped would be her future in California.

  Rourke loved to listen to her. With that low, husky voice of hers and her youthful enthusiasm, he couldn’t help but enjoy her. While she looked for new ways to prepare venison, he tended her torn, blistered hands and was pleased to see them slowly heal.

  This was what home meant, Abby thought, as she watched him go about mundane chores. While he made repairs to the saddle and mended a bridle, he shared thoughts about this great country, about the opening of the west. The men in her life had never shared the
ir thoughts before. And like a flower she opened to him, sharing secrets that until then had only been in her heart.

  This was what love was, she realized. Not just a joining of two bodies, but two minds as well. They shared little intimacies that bound them ever closer. While they worked around the cave, Abby found herself humming little tunes from her childhood. Rourke would glance over, their gazes would meet, and each seemed to sense what the other was thinking. Their eyes would soften, with a gentle, knowing smile lifting the corners of their lips.

  Rourke thought she’d never looked lovelier.

  Abby thought he’d never looked so handsome.

  And though Rourke never spoke of the war, or of his life in Maryland, she knew it was because the memories were too painful. Someday, she told herself. Someday, he would be able to put aside the pain. On that day, they would be free to share everything, both past and present.

  The nights were meant for loving. While the storm continued to rage, and the fire burned to glowing embers, they lay together, warm, loving, content.

  And the days. Abby had never before experienced the luxury of doing nothing more demanding than feed the horses and cook a simple meal. Lying beside Rourke, nestled deep in fur throws while morning light came stealing through the cave, was the sweetest of pleasures.

  Watching her, Rourke felt a measure of contentment he hadn’t known in years. When was the last time he’d lingered in bed, feeling the warmth of a woman’s softness? If this was what heaven had in store for him, he’d willingly go to his death. He knew a happiness, a sense of joy he’d never thought would be granted him again in this life.

  * * * * *

  On the ninth day, Rourke returned from foraging and announced that the sky was once more clear. “The snow has stopped,” he said, placing a log on the fire.

  Abby felt her heart contract. If she could, she would have stayed here forever. Hoping her voice wouldn’t betray her, she asked, “Will we leave tomorrow?”

  He nodded his head, sensing her reluctance and sharing it. “It’ll be slow going. We’ll probably have to lead the horses. But we have to get out of here before the next blizzard or we could be trapped here until spring.”

  She felt her heart breaking. “That would be fine with me.”