“No. I’m going to take you to bed once you are well again, and make certain that you become pregnant. Pregnant ladies shouldn’t travel, you know.”
He paused a moment, aware that his body was quickly responding to his words and thoughts. He was picturing her flat belly rounding with his child. He turned away and began to make coffee.
“When are you going to bathe the rest of me?”
His hand trembled on the coffeepot. “Chauncey,” he said over his shoulder, refusing to look at her, “you are flirting with danger.”
She sighed. “I look awful.”
“Yes, but adorably awful. You’re also too thin, and you smell like a wet horse.”
The whiskey she had drunk had spread a warm glow through her mind. The throbbing in her shoulder had lessened considerably. “How long will I take to heal?”
“A couple more days. Then we’ll go to Grass Valley.”
“Why did the Indians attack us? Why did they take me?”
He handed her a steaming cup of coffee, then pulled it back. “No,” he said more to himself than to her, “the coffee will sober you up.” He cradled the tin cup between his hands and sat on the floor beside her, crossing his long legs. Then, in answer to her question: “I don’t know. Did they tell you who they were?”
“Yes, the woman who guarded me was named Cricket. She said that Chatca, their leader, had broken away from Chief Wema’s tribe.”
“Ah.”
“What do you mean, ‘ah’?”
“Nothing in particular, I guess. It’s just that the small bands of renegades have nearly all been wiped out. God, what we’ve done to the poor bastards!” He sipped at his hot coffee, his expression thoughtful. “If you are ready to tell me about it, I would like to know what happened, Chauncey.”
“Well,” she said tartly, “I can’t think of those Indians as poor bastards! They were filthy, smelled far worse than you can imagine, and lived like animals.” She sighed. “Perhaps they had no choice. But they didn’t have to shoot you and abduct me!”
“I would have abducted you had I seen you.”
“No, you wouldn’t. You would have waited for me to abduct you.” He’s made me laugh a bit, she thought. Is he afraid I’ll become hysterical? “I fought Chatca and he struck me. I don’t know how long I was unconscious, but when I came to and began to fight him again, he hit me again. When I woke up, I was in some kind of odd-looking lean-to—”
“A wigwam, it’s called.”
“—and this young woman was there. She said a priest had named her Cricket. She was one of Chatca’s wives. She told me Chatca wanted me.” She paused a moment, getting a grip on herself. The memory was humiliating and terrifying.
“Then he saw that you were bleeding and left you alone.”
“Yes. He was very angry. There was this other Indian woman, named Tamba. She wanted to slit my throat, but Chatca protected me. I stayed in that . . . wigwam for several days, until I thought I’d go out of my mind. Finally Chatca agreed that I could have a bath in the stream. Cricket took me there, and I coshed her on the head. The other woman saw me and pretended that she would help me escape. When I was riding Dolores through the camp, Tamba shot me. I prayed I was riding in the right direction.”
Delaney said nothing.
“It sounds like such a pitiful tale.”
“You were very brave,” he said finally, smiling at her. “I am proud of you.”
“Why are you looking so morose, if I’m so brave?”
He drank the rest of his coffee and merely shrugged at her question.
“Delaney, what are you thinking?”
“The truth, the tree without the bark on it, so to speak?”
“Yes, the truth, if you please.”
“I don’t know why the Indians attacked us. They shouldn’t have. It is not in their nature to do things like that. I cannot believe it was simply because this Chatca saw your lovely eyes and couldn’t live without you.”
Chauncey closed her eyes a moment, memory of her conversations with Cricket playing through her mind. “I remember Cricket telling me that there would be trouble.”
“With you in the vicinity, I can well understand her concern!”
“Will you always mock me and make me laugh?”
“I will certainly try.” He stretched out on his back beside her, pillowing his head on his arms. “Do you know what it was like? I was as helpless as a baby for that entire day, my mind bleary, my body shaking like a leaf in the wind. And then I couldn’t find you. I remembered every mean word I’d tossed out at you.”
“At least you didn’t have a terrifying Indian wanting to make you his wife!”
“All you had to do was tell him that you were already married to the most perverse man in the state.”
She giggled and immediately regretted it.
He turned onto his side, facing her. “Easy, love,” he said, lightly stroking his fingers over her jaw. He saw her lashes flutter downward as she closed her eyes, not wanting him, he knew, to see her pain. “Please,” she whispered between gritted teeth. “Talk to me.”
“When I was in England in fifty-one, the Duke and Duchess of Graffton were dead set on marrying me off. I swear to you that I must have attended every soiree, ball, masquerade, and formal dinner in London. There were so many debutantes, all dressed in virginal white, all of them anxious to meet the rich American and simper at him. Lord, what time we would have saved had you only been in London then. You would have abducted me, ravished my poor body, and made an honest man of me.”
“Yes, I would have.”
“I was even presented to the queen, a plump little lady who had the nauseating habit of continually saying ‘we’ this and ‘we’ that. As for her Albert, I found him so stiff and formal that I was certain he’d break if he tried to stand against a strong wind. I suppose I was something of a two-month wonder, this barbarian from the wilds of California who’d struck gold and made his fortune. Do you know that one old fellow—Lord Fanshaw, I believe his name was—practically offered to sell his daughter to me, provided I was willing to change my name. Her name was Bernice, as I recall, a pretty little blond—”
“A blond named Bernice!”
“Well, perhaps it was Alice,” he said, smiling down at her.
“Alice the awful?”
“No, Alice with the very pretty, very white breasts.” He lightly laid his hand over her breast, kneading gently. “I suppose I have always been perverse,” he continued after a moment, resolutely removing his hand. “The prettier the young lady, the more aloof I became. I must have known even then that you were there waiting for me.”
“More a nemesis than a sweet young lady.”
“A reformed nemesis, I trust?”
“When I am well again, you will see how reformed I am!”
He saw her lips tense, and quickly said, “I figure that you and your fire cost me about four thousand dollars. I trust you will recompense me for damages?”
“Yes, I shall do everything in my power to recompense you completely.”
“Will you tear up that agreement and turn all your money over to me?”
She saw the teasing gleam in his beautiful eyes. “So you were after my money all along?”
“Your body first, then your money.”
“I . . . I wasn’t a terribly good wife to you,” she said.
“On the other hand, you never bored me. Such a challenge you were to my masculine ego! Then, with that attempt to remove you from my sphere of influence aboard the Scarlet Queen, I realized what passion you had kept from me.”
She swallowed, remembering in painful detail her wildness, her utter abandon. “I liked it,” she said.
“But for all the wrong reasons,” he said quietly. “So you want to know something, love? I avoided you at first because you scared the hell out of me. A man doesn’t like to feel that he’s lost control, you know.”
“So you mean, you miserable wretch, that I didn’t have to get kn
ocked off my mare by that damned tree branch?”
“No, that was very well done of you, and probably sealed my fate. Once I saw you in my bed, I was ready to surrender unconditionally.”
“You didn’t show it.”
“I had to win Mary over first.”
“You did. I spent a great deal of time angry at her for her defection to the enemy. Del, do you think it possible that Chatca could have tracked me?”
He stiffened, his jaw tightening. “No,” he said after a brief pause, “I don’t believe so.”
He saw that she would keep probing, and quickly got to his feet. “Now, little one, I’m going to change that bandage. Then we’ll have another grand feast of roast rabbit.”
Chauncey left off her questions, for her shoulder was throbbing again. It took all her resolution not to cry out when he bathed the wound. “Much better,” she heard him say. “No sign of infection. Another day, love, and I’ll let you do the hunting.”
It rained throughout the night, a hard, pounding rain that, strangely enough, soothed Chauncey. She slept deeply, unaware that Delaney held her close against his body.
The next day he allowed her to sit up, braced by a rolled-up blanket against the wall. She watched him clean his rifle and his handgun. She found her eyes drawn again and again to his hands. Strong hands, tanned and callused, his fingers long and blunt. He spoke of his brother and sister-in-law in New York.
“Giana is a woman after your own heart, Chauncey. She hasn’t a dependent bone in her body and gives my proud and dominating brother quite a time. I do believe though that she turns into a proper submissive woman in my brother’s bed.”
“How did they meet?”
“I know the story they gave out, but I don’t believe a word of it. Alex hinted to me once that Giana had enjoyed quite an unusual experience in Italy and that was where he had first met her. If they visit us, I hope to get Alex drunk and pry out the whole story. You will like both of them, I think. Alex is a charming dog and Giana is a little whirlwind.”
“When you visited them, did they introduce you to all the young ladies in New York?”
“A goodly number. There was one woman whose company I truly enjoyed. She was a friend of Giana’s, and married. Her name was Derry Lattimer. Alex wrote me last year that she’d finally given birth to a son, after some five years of marriage.”
“I trust your heart wasn’t broken,” she said somewhat sharply.
“No. Well, perhaps for just a while.” He raised his head and grinned wickedly at her. “Then there was her stepdaughter, Jennifer.” Before Chauncey could take him to task, he said, “What a shrew! I couldn’t believe it, but some six months after I left New York, they’d even managed to marry her off. To a tobacco planter in Kentucky. The poor fellow’s probably become a drunkard by now.”
Chauncey laughed. “I don’t deserve you,” she said suddenly, tears springing to her eyes.
“True, but you will have years and years to come about. I plan to give you every opportunity to become worthy of me.”
“Less than an ounce!” she exclaimed, sniffing.
“Less than an ounce of what?”
“Of wit!”
“Such a mouthy little wench,” he remarked to his rifle. “I think, madam, that soon you will need another kind of attention. If you are truly winsome this evening, I shall consider shifting all your feelings and sensations a bit lower.”
“Is that a promise?” she asked softly, aware that her heart had begun to thump erratically.
“Only if I can convince you to bathe first.”
“Del, you just wait until I am well again! And what about you? You aren’t exactly like the sweetest rose of summer!”
“You are the rose, love. Think of me as the stem.”
28
Chauncey awoke early the following morning feeling more human than she had since before Chatca abducted her. She lay still for a while, not wanting to awaken Delaney. She was pressed against the length of him, her cheek on his shoulder. She wriggled her nose against a tuft of soft light brown hair. Her shoulder was only a dull ache, and she set her mind to ignoring it. She slipped her hand down his chest to his belly. She loved the feel of him, the texture of his flesh, the ridges of muscle over his stomach. He’d become thinner too, she realized as she lightly stroked her fingers over him. Her hand moved lower, and she entwined her fingers in the bush of thick hair at his groin.
She touched him tentatively, then closed her fingers around him. To her surprise and delight, she felt him harden.
“Chauncey, you’d better consider well what you’re doing.”
She grinned against his shoulder. “It’s most exciting that I can make your body . . . different with but a touch.”
“I have told you that men are simple creatures. Their control ceases at the groin. If you keep caressing me, I’ll . . .”
“You’ll what?” she asked softly, nipping at his shoulder blade.
“Sweetheart,” he drawled, his voice cracking a bit, “stop it. I refuse to take the chance of hurting you.”
“But you promised last night that you’d shift all my feelings lower.”
“I changed my mind after I changed your bandage.” Resolutely he removed her hand and brought it to his chest and held it there, palm down.
“Your heartbeat is fast.”
“I imagine so. Now, listen to me, you seductive little wench. Depending on how you feel today, I’ll bathe you and let you move about for a while. No, love. Keep your hands still or I’ll have to get up.”
“I love how you smell.”
He could feel her warm breath against his shoulder, and his body quickened. He closed his eyes a moment, willing his enthusiastic member to calm. It was like swilling a powerful aphrodisiac, having his wife bent upon seduction. “Thank you,” he said. He refused to think about her lovely body pressed against his side. When he felt her thigh moving over his, he gently eased away from her.
“No, Del,” she said, clutching at him. “I promise I’ll not move again. Don’t leave me just yet.”
“Lie on your back, Chauncey.”
“Why?”
“Just do as I tell you. You are my wife, and it is your duty to obey me.”
She pulled at the hair on his chest, then quickly kissed him. Slowly, careful of her shoulder, she turned onto her back and gazed up at him. “Why do you want me on my back?”
He smiled at her, studying her face as he eased his hand under the blanket to her belly. She sucked in her breath. His fingers splayed downward, probing gently until he found her.
“Ah, it is a grave situation, just as I thought.”
“What is?” she managed, her eyes on his beautiful mouth.
Her delicate woman’s flesh was moist and swelled against his caressing fingers. He felt his own need growing by leaps and bounds, but kept a firm grip on himself.
“Your body, love.”
Her hips lifted without her even being aware of it. “You will make love to me, Del?”
“In a manner of speaking. As a responsible husband, it is one of my duties. Lie still, love. God, Chauncey, you feel so warm.”
She moaned softly, turning her face away from him. His fingers left her and she shifted back to look at him, her eyes huge with silent question and disappointment.
“I want you to look at me while I give you pleasure.” She shuddered at his words, embarrassment at her body’s response dissolving when he found her again. “That’s right. Believe me, I will let you return the favor once you are well again. No, don’t close your eyes. Give me the pleasure of seeing you respond.”
She gasped when his fingers took on a purposeful rhythm. Her tongue moistened her dry lips and he saw her eyes begin to take on a glazed sheen. Within moments she felt every ounce of her being concentrated beneath his fingers. “Del,” she whimpered softly, biting her lower lip, “it is more than I can bear . . . Oh God! Help me, please!”
He felt her muscles tighten, felt the convulsive move
ment of her hips against his fingers. He thought he would yell at the pleasure of seeing her respond so completely to him.
“Del!”
“That’s it, love. Let go.”
Her body exploded as wave after wave of intense sensation washed through her. She was crying out softly, panting, unable to control herself, her back arching wildly.
He eased the pressure of his fingers, bringing her back to him very slowly, very gently. Her face was flushed, her lips parted as she sucked in breath.
“So beautiful,” he said softly, leaning down to kiss her. “So responsive.”
She felt his manhood hard and throbbing against her thigh, and tried to turn toward him. He stilled her. “No, not now. I swear I’ll survive. Remember, a gentleman always sees to his lady’s pleasure first.” He paused a moment, slowly easing his hand back to her belly. “There has been much between us, Chauncey.”
“The wrong kind of ‘much.’ ”
“Perhaps. But do you want to know something? When you were ill in my bed from your elaborate and aborted charade, that was the first time I envisioned truly having children of my own. It was all I could do to keep my hands off you.”
“You must have been upset with me when I asked you to prevent my becoming pregnant.”
“I didn’t wish to be unfair,” he said steadily.
“Shall we have an army of children?”
“And all our girl children will be the generals?”
She giggled. “Whatever they are,” she said, her eyes twinkling, “they will have the best father in the whole . . . city of San Francisco.”
“Mouthy baggage.”
“All right, the state of California.”
“Most generous, ma’am. Now, my love, I am in desperate need of sustenance and coffee. Tell me honestly how your shoulder feels.”
“It doesn’t hurt at all.”
“Honestly, Chauncey.”
“It does throb, but just a bit, I promise.”
“Good. I’ll bathe you this morning, then set you out in the sun this afternoon.”
“You’re hoping that like a flower, I’ll bloom?”
He grinned at her wickedly. “You already have. The perfect rose.”