Page 28 of Comanche Magic

  When he shed his remaining garments and rose over her, splendid in his nudity, she caressed the powerful lines of his bronzed body with a loving gaze. Bracing his weight on his hands, he moved into position between her thighs. Muscle bunched and rippled in his arms and shoulders. His chest gleamed with a Film of perspi­ration. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to lock her legs around his and draw him to her.

  Holding her gaze with his, he thrust slowly into her. The planes of his face went taut, and his eyes went glassy with passion. Nostrils flaring, lips drawing away from his white teeth, he rasped, "Oh, dear God."

  Franny needed no other words. For she shared in his feelings. With a powerful push of his hips, he completely impaled her. Lowering his upper body over hers, he retreated only to thrust deep again. A glorious, white-hot tingling began within her.

  "Oh, yes . . ."

  With jarring impact, he set the rhythm, and she lift­ed her hips to keep measure, sobbing as the need with­in her built. And built. At last release rolled over her in spasmodic waves, filling her with a feeling she had never imagined could even be possible. As she crested and began her descent, his body knotted with rigidity, his thrusts became violently quick, and he let loose with a husky growl. An instant later, he jerked and froze. Tingling hotness spread through her.

  Magic . . . As he collapsed atop her, Franny closed her arms around him, too spent to move, too content to care. Dimly she heard birds twittering in the trees above them. Somewhere nearby, water rushed helter-skelter over a cascade of stones. The sweet scent of wild flowers wafted to her on a gentle, sun-kissed breeze. All com­bined, the things that assaulted her benumbed senses made her think of her meadow. Only this was better because Chase was here with her. And it was real.

  She could stay here, she realized. In his arms, in a dream, for as long as she wished. On that thought, Franny floated into a blissful slumber, protected head to toe by her husband's strong body.

  When next Franny opened her eyes, she was cradled in Chase's arms. With a start, she realized he was carrying her somewhere. Hooking an arm around his neck, she raised her head to see.

  Water. The cold hit her with a shock. She screamed and bucked, unable to escape his hold. "Chase! What're you—Oh, my God!"

  Laughing, he sank into the pool to his shoulders. "I told you what I do to females who splash me."

  She gave an outraged shriek and skimmed the sur­face of water with her palm, sending a spray across his dark face. He snorted and blinked, shaking the droplets from his dark hair. When his eyes met hers, there was no mistaking the mischief in his gaze.

  "Oh, ho-ho! You've really done it now."

  Franny giggled and twisted out of his arms only to discover her feet wouldn't touch. He caught her at the waist to buoy her, his dark face splitting in a white- toothed grin as he swept her in a slow circle into deeper water. Accustomed to the coldness now, Franny curled her hands over his shoulders, laughing in spite of her­self.

  "What have you got up your sleeve?"

  "I don't have a sleeve. I’m buck naked."

  She shot a glance at the dark surface of the water where it lapped against his chest.

  "And so are you," he said suggestively.

  She fixed him with a startled look. "Not in the creek, surely."

  "Why not in the creek?"

  "It'd be bad for the baby."

  He narrowed an eye. "How so?"

  "It might drown."

  He threw back his head and howled with laughter.

  "Well, it might. I remember hearing that even baths are dangerous."

  "Bullshit." He drew her close. "Put your arms around my neck."

  She obliged him.

  "Now your legs," he said huskily. "Lock them around my hips."

  She did so. "Chase, are you certain this is safe?"

  He kissed her throat. "No, it's dangerous as hell, but not for the baby, for you. You're fixing to get raped."

  She giggled and playfully bit his shoulder. In response, he lifted her and nibbled lightly at her hardened nipples. Franny braced her hands on his shoulders, locked her arms, and arched her back to accommodate him.

  "Minx."

  "Scoundrel."

  With a powerful thrust of his arms, he pushed her high out of the water and settled her knees on his shoulders. Fearful that she might fall, she grabbed hand- fuls of his hair to hold on. Flashing her a wicked grin, he nuzzled the golden curls at the apex of her thighs. Franny gaped, scarcely able to believe what her eyes were seeing. Precariously balanced, she risked falling if she shifted her position. He locked his strong hands over the backs of her thighs to brace her in the position that best suited his purposes.

  "Chase, what are you—don't do that—have you lost—oh, my God!"

  His mouth, shockingly hot after the coldness of the water, closed over a sensitive place. She gasped. With a flick of his tongue, he made her jerk.

  "Chase? Don't—this is—you can't!"

  But, of course, he could.

  And he did.

  When Franny convulsed and shuddered, he lowered her gently back into the water, drew her close, and thrust inside her. Already limp with pleasure, she didn't believe she could bear any more, or that she could respond.

  But, of course, she could.

  And she did.

  Happiness. Franny realized she had never truly under­stood the meaning of the word. Loving Chase. Being with him. It was better than her dreams. There, along the shady banks of Shallows Creek, they loved the day away, as greedy for each other as children for candy, neither of them caring that their bellies rumbled with hunger. When they grew weary, they napped, secure in one another's arms. When they awoke, they made love again, sometimes in the water, sometimes on velvety grass, sometimes in shadow, sometimes in sunlight.

  Chase observed no rules when it came to lovemaking. In that, he was Comanche to his core. He was not only intuitive to her body's sensitive areas, but skilled at stoking a fire within her, his techniques sometimes shocking to her but effective. By day's end, she felt she had been loved in every conceivable way and found herself anticipating each experience again.

  Along about dusk, they dressed and walked slowly home, pausing frequently to embrace and kiss under the canopy of trees. Franny hated for their intimacy to end. If not for the practical needs, such as shelter and nourishment, she might have suggested they stay at the creek all night. As they approached the house through the backyard, she couldn't shake the feeling that her time with him was limited, that she could lose him in a twinkling.

  "Don't," he whispered.

  Franny glanced up, a little amazed that he could so easily read her thoughts. He smiled and lifted her hand to his lips.

  "Right now is all any of us have, Franny."

  She nodded, accepting that in her mind, but unable to in her heart.

  When they entered the house, the smell of food assaulted Franny's senses, and her empty stomach, which had been solid as a rock all day, took a sickening roll. Loretta had prepared fried chicken with all the trimmings for the evening meal. Usually, Franny loved it. But this evening, the very smell made her feel nause­ated. Chase must have seen the look on her face, for he steered her toward the table and set about putting some ginger tea on the stove to brew.

  "You've felt so good all day," he observed. "I can't believe one whiff of supper made you sick. I'm starving."

  Franny had been. Until she smelled food.

  "It's the grease," Loretta commented sagely. "Some­thing about it turns an expectant mother's stomach." She gave Franny a kindly smile. "Never you worry, the ginger will settle it down, honey."

  "I hope so," Chase said in a concerned tone. "She hasn't eaten all day."

  Franny tried to reassure him, but every time she started to speak, she felt as if she might get sick. Fortu­nately, Loretta was correct, and the ginger made her feel better. An hour after drinking a cup, she was able to eat a light supper, after which Chase hustled her upstairs to bed.

>   "I love you," he whispered softly as he helped her undress.

  Still a bit woozy, Franny smiled wanly. "I love you, too. I'm sorry I got sick on you. I felt fine until I walked in and got a whiff of that chicken."

  Her stomach rolled at the memory. Hearing its growl, he said, "Don't think about it."

  "Lands." Still wearing her chemise, Franny sank into the comforting embrace of the feather mattress. Curling an arm over her middle, she sighed. "This baby business isn't nearly as much fun as I thought it'd be."

  He stripped off his shirt, then sat on the edge of the bed to remove his boots. When he rose, he shed his pants. Pocket change jingled as he dropped the denim to the floor. Stretching out beside her, he whispered, "The sickness part will pass."

  She sniffed, unwilling to be so easily mollified. After sharing such a beautiful day, it didn't seem fair that her evening had to be ruined by a rolling stomach. "About the time the sickness goes away, I'll have a big belly."

  At that, she felt him grin. "You'll be adorable with a big belly."

  Franny heard the back screen door squeak and slam shut downstairs. She closed her eyes and pressed close to him. "As long as you think so."

  "I will," he promised.

  Franny could only pray she had that much time with him.

  19

  The first thing the next morning, Chase sug­gested that he and Franny should make a trip to Grants Pass to inform her mother and family of their marriage. Because of Franny's pregnancy, Chase hoped to take the wagon only as far as Jacksonville then take the train from that point on, which he felt would be a quicker and less jarring mode of transportation.

  Time being of the essence if they meant to catch the train, Franny hurriedly dressed and packed them each a satchel for the trip while Chase went to hitch up the wagon. Loretta had ginger tea brewed by the time Franny came down from the loft. The two women sat at the table together to drink their respective brews, Franny the remedy, Loretta her coffee.

  After finishing the first cup of tea and starting on her second, Franny began to wonder where Chase was.

  "It seems to be taking an uncommonly long time for him to hitch up the wagon."

  "It certainly is."

  After draining her second cup, Franny grew impa­tient and decided to go see what was keeping Chase. When she stepped out onto the porch, she saw him up out in front of the barn. He was bent over the left wagon wheel, which told her something was wrong.

  Feeling oddly exposed without her bonnet, Franny lifted her skirts and hurried down the porch steps. Her cheeks felt uncomfortably warm as she made her way toward him. Stuff and nonsense. Farther up Main, there were few people out on the boardwalks, and those who were didn't even seem aware of her. She couldn't hide forever. Sooner or later, she had to venture forth with­out her hat.

  Nonetheless, Franny felt conspicuous. Chase glanced over his shoulder as she approached. Upon seeing her, he flashed a smile. "No big delay. I just have to replace a rivet," he explained.

  "Will it take long?"

  "A few minutes, no more."

  Franny hugged her waist and glanced toward the saloon. "Um . . . do you think there's time for me to go see May Belle real quick? At this hour, the downstairs business will be slow, if not nonexistent. I'd like to let her know I’m okay and—" She shrugged. "Well, you know, tell her thank you and say good-bye."

  He shot a look at the Lucky Nugget. No horses were tethered outside. "I reckon it's okay with me."

  "If you'd rather I didn't—"

  "No, no." He stepped close to touch her chin. "I just wouldn't want you going in when there were cus­tomers, that's all." Dipping his head, he kissed her temple. "You go on ahead. Just don't stay long, okay?"

  Sensing that he had reservations about her going, Franny wanted to kick herself for making the sugges­tion. Of course he didn't want his wife traipsing over to the saloon. When a lady passed such an establish­ment, she stepped across the street and walked on the opposite boardwalk. "Nah. Now that I think about it, I'll just wait until you're done."

  Noting the high color coming to her cheeks, Chase narrowed an eye. "Franny, she's your friend. You were right to want to go see her. If you don't, she'll be hurt. I really don't mind."

  "That's all right. I . . . um—it's no place for a lady. I just forgot for a minute that—"

  "It's fine," he said, cutting her off. "Would you just go? I've got to go in the barn and rustle up a rivet. You'd just be standing here, twiddling your thumbs. When I get finished, I'll go in the house and grab myself another cup of Ma's coffee."

  As he stepped past her, he aimed a playful swat at her behind. Franny jumped and touched a hand to the spot. "You'll pay for that."

  "Promises, promises," he called over his shoulder as he went into the barn. "Tell May Belle hello from me." He disappeared into the cavernous shadows. Then a second later, he reappeared. "Now that I think on it, why don't you invite her and Shorty for supper?"

  "Supper? May Belle?"

  "My ma will make her feel welcome and so will my father."

  Franny couldn't conceive of anyone's asking a known prostitute to their home for supper. "Oh, Chase, I wouldn't want to inflict my friends on your parents. Truly."

  "My father's been trying to get May Belle over to our house for a coon's age." He cocked a finger at her and pulled an imaginary trigger. "You need to work on wifely obedience, you know that?"

  Franny bit back a smile. "Yessir."

  "Then get that cute little fanny of yours over to the saloon, and while you're there, issue my invitation."

  "Yessir."

  Dressed all in black, he quickly disappeared again when he moved back into the shadows of the building. Franny stared after him until her eyes burned. It was silly. Absolutely silly. But, in her mind, it was like a premonition. There one minute, gone the next.

  Taking herself firmly in hand, she took a deep breath and started up the street toward the Lucky Nugget. As she walked, she imagined what Chase would say if she told him of the thoughts that kept creeping into her mind. That she was being silly. That God didn't rain punishment on people's heads. That she had as much right to happiness as anyone.

  Somehow, thinking of what Chase might say wasn't as comforting to her as actually hearing him say it.

  As it always was during the day, the saloon was gloomy and dark when Franny stepped inside. Several years back, Swift Lopez and the previous owner of the Lucky Nugget had gotten into a fight and sailed through the plate glass in the front window. Because plate glass was fearfully expensive, the opening had been boarded up. Convinced the window would just get broken again in another fight, Gus had never seen fit to install new glass after he bought the place.

  A lone customer sat at a corner table, but the shad­ows were such that Franny couldn't see him clearly. The darkness suited her. If she couldn't make out the man's features, then he probably couldn't make out hers. She felt safer that way.

  Gus was behind the bar polishing glasses. When he spotted Franny, he raised a hand in greeting. "Well, now, if it isn't my favorite gal comin' back to her old haunts!"

  Franny laid a hand on the banister as she started up the stairs. "Only for a minute. I just wanted to see May Belle for a second."

  "She's gonna be next to leave, I hear," Gus said with a good-natured shake of his head. "Marryin' up with that ornery old fart, Shorty. Can you believe that?"

  Franny continued up the stairs. "I think it's won­derful."

  "Yeah, well." Gus slung his towel over his shoulder. "I s'pose it's fair. She put in a lot of years here, and every­body deserves a happy retirement. I have to tell you, though, that this old place just won't be the same, what with both of you goin' respectable on me and gettin' married. I reckon I'll have to run me an advertisement in the San Francisco paper to find me some replace­ments. It ain't just everybody interested in this kind of work, you know."

  Franny hesitated in her ascent. For all his bluster, Gus had been kind in his way, and he had always de
alt fairly with her. That had been especially true these last few weeks. Since meeting Chase, she had seldom been available to his customers. That had to have hurt his business. Yet he'd never said a word to her.

  "Gus, I'd like to thank you. For being so under­standing and—"

  He waved her words away. "Go on with you. There ain't nobody more tickled than me to see you find a lit­tle happiness, honey. From the first time I clapped eyes on you, I knowed you wasn't cut from the right cloth for this kind of life."

  The customer in the corner shoved back his chair and lurched to his feet. "No, she sure as hell isn't."

  That voice. Franny's stomach dropped, and she turned a stricken gaze to the speaker. Tipping his hat back, he stepped slowly from the deeper shadows in that section of the room. As he moved into the spill of light from the open doorway, she saw that his blue eyes burned like hot coals in his pale face.

  "Frankie," she whispered.

  He took another step closer. "No. Not cut from the right cloth at all. She came from respectable people."

  "Oh, Frankie."

  For the space of several heartbeats, he simply stood there and stared at her, his gaze searing. Then tears sprang to his eyes. "I came into town last night," he said softly. "With my friends. We heard tell that for ten bucks, a fellow could have himself the prettiest little whore this side of Frisco. A little blond name of Franny." He gave a harsh laugh. "Isn't that funny? I came here twice hoping to buy a poke with my own sister."

  Franny's legs tried to buckle. She grabbed the banis­ter with both hands so she wouldn't fall. "Frankie, I.. .

  I can explain." Shaking, shaking horribly, she moved back down the stairs. "Please, Frankie. You owe me the chance to explain."

  Those eyes. Filled with undiluted rage and tears. They cut into her. "So you can tell me more lies?" He hooked a thumb toward the upstairs rooms. "Like how you work as companion to a rich old lady named Mrs. May Belle?" He laughed again. And then, slowly and with exaggerated clarity, he said, "Have you any idea how I felt last night when I heard one of the miners in here say that the reason Franny wasn't available to cus­tomers was because she'd gone and got married? That it might've been to Chase Wolf, 'cause he was the only fellow in town anyone knew of who'd got hitched. My ears perked up at that because Chase Wolf had come to our house to court my sister."