Susan Johnson

  “And I don’t skin buffalo either.”

  He laughed. “That could make you the toast of Boston, darling. Maybe you should try.” The dark look she cast him prompted him to add quickly, “Don’t worry, love. Unlike other tribes, skinning buffalo isn’t a woman’s job. The men kill, skin, and butcher the buffalo and bring it back to camp. When I dump it in front of the doorway, it becomes your problem.”

  “Where do I find a frying pan that large?”

  “And then again,” he swiftly amended, recalling her cooking and not at all certain her remark was meant facetiously, “I’m sure we can make other plans.”

  “Now I’m relieved,” Blaze laughingly responded and they both rested a little easier.

  AS THE riders came within a mile of the buffalo, there was no talking except by signing. Buffalo, like most four-footed animals, were wind-readers, but there was nothing wrong with their hearing, so the barefoot ponies on well-grassed sod and the silent riders were noiseless as they approached. When they’d traveled another half-mile, the scout loomed up on a butte signing with his robe. It meant the herd was in sight and close. The signal caused everyone to spread out. Sliding from his pony, Hazard stripped off his skin shirt and leggings. Silently, he and Blaze traded horses, and kissing her lightly, he mounted his buffalo pony. The scout on the butte swung his robe twice around his head and dropped it. Before it hit the ground every buffalo pony was running, leaving little curls of dust in the grass behind them. Hazard’s roan pony, decked out in feathers at tail and foretop, went wild at the scent and, without urging, sped like the wind toward the herd. At the top of the ridge, the buffalo—two thousand or so—were in sight, all spread out grazing. Before the clouds of dust starting rolling, Blaze caught a glimpse of Hazard shooting his first buffalo. He was leaning forward close to the roan’s neck, his toes hooked under the pony’s foreleg for balance, and firing with one hand. After that the galloping herd pushed him out of view.

  An hour later the dust had settled over the grassy plain and hundreds of dead buffalo littered the landscape. The women rode down then with the young boys and old men, leading the pack ponies. Blaze found Hazard a mile away butchering a fat cow. He was sweating under the hot sun, cutting with precision in strong slashing strokes, his hands drawing Blaze’s attention, as so often in the past, to their grace and strength. Several large portions of meat were already stacked on the hide he’d skinned.

  “This could take a while,” he grunted, heaving another large cut of meat onto the robe. “You might rather go back to camp.”

  “How many do you have to butcher?”

  “I shot five, but my uncles are taking care of three of them.” Hazard looked at the sun. “It’ll take me at least another two hours.” The sun was almost torrid as it reached its zenith. The buffalo horse was lathered and panting; Hazard’s bare body clothed only in a breech cloth glistened with sweat. “Why don’t you get out of the sun?” he suggested, blowing a strand of hair out of his eyes.

  “I don’t mind the sun,” Blaze replied, jumping off Peta.

  Looking at her, bare-headed, bare-armed, barelegged, he said, “Boston society won’t approve of your brown skin.”

  “I’m not going back, so I can get as brown as I like.”

  Hazard didn’t respond, but continued, his knife cutting and carving with a sureness honed by scores of buffalo hunts. All he could think of was the pleasure in her staying.

  “Did you hear me?” Blaze asked, dropping down on the trampled grass in a flurry of beaded fringe.

  Hazard’s knife stopped then. Half turning his head, he gazed at her from under dark lashes. “And if your father has different ideas, or your mother maybe, or Yancy Strahan?”

  “Do you want me to go back to Boston?” She waited for his answer without breathing.

  His gaze didn’t flinch. “You know I can’t think about what I want. I have to worry about my claim and my people.”

  It wasn’t the answer she wanted, but it wasn’t negative either. She resumed breathing. “Discounting those problems,” she impulsively pressed, her voice suddenly timid, never in her coddled life having wanted anything so fiercely.

  “If we discount those problems, we discount the world, bia,” he quietly said, jabbing abstractly at the ground with his knife point.

  “Just say we could.”

  “A dream world.” He smiled indulgently. “Is that it?”

  “Yes. Then what? Say it is, Hazard, then what?” she demanded.

  “Then, sweet puss,” he softly said, “I’d want you with me. I’d never consider living in my dream world without you.”

  “It’s going to work out,” Blaze happily replied, with irrepressible spirit. “Just wait and see.”

  “As it always has for the pampered Miss Braddock?” Hazard mildly inquired.

  “Just so,” Blaze impetuously agreed, and in a whirl of happiness and flying fringe she launched herself at Hazard. She knocked him backward, falling atop his sprawled form, and kissed him capriciously, heedless of others, only knowing he was her whole world.

  His own reactions as rashly ungovernable with Blaze’s soft body pressed into his, Hazard returned her kisses. Smiling and laughing and kissing, they rolled like puppies at play, the clean fragrance of crushed grass like heady perfume in their nostrils. “You’re a tempting distraction,” Hazard whispered long moments later, half out of breath, their positions reversed with his glistening body atop hers, “but—”

  “But what?” Blaze lightly panted, the playful wrestling having winded her as well.

  “But the ants are going to eat the two buffalo I’m supposed to be butchering.”

  “Really?” Blaze playfully murmured.

  “Word of honor. Perhaps a raincheck for—”

  “An hour from now?”

  Hazard quickly glanced at the two carcasses he’d yet to complete butchering. “Make it two and I’ll show you a quiet mossy pool not too far from here.”

  “Deal,” she said with a wide grin. “Let me help.”

  Pushing himself away, Hazard drily said, “If you help, it’ll take three hours.”

  “I shan’t raise a finger,” Blaze quickly acceded.

  Hazard set a new record skinning the second buffalo.

  Chapter 26

  They rode to an abrupt break in the terrain a few miles distant, where a deep chasm cut through the undulating grassy highlands and a strange bluff loomed like a tower at its entrance. Dismounting, they were immediately cooled by the shaded slope thick with foliage and undergrowth and cascading trees that had partially fallen down the bluff and chasm walls. “Wait,” Hazard said, leading the horses through the dark, wild underbrush before returning for Blaze.

  The ground sloped steeply down and after twenty paces into the lush vegetation the silence was rich and fragrantly verdant. Sunlight, gold and pale yellow, found its way in serene shafts of light through the overhead canopy of green. They passed silently through the hushed wildness of growth and burgeoning fertility, the scents of blooming wildflowers and green-tipped elders pungent in their nostrils. Holding Blaze’s hand to guide her through the strange undercliff, Hazard looked at her with a smile. And then suddenly he was holding back a ladened plum bough and inviting her forward.

  Blaze stepped into a little green meadow studded with clumps of buttercups and drifts of wild roses. It was a tiny south-facing dell surrounded by enormous soaring ash trees and cottonwoods—a kind of opulent paradise. Two cherry trees framed the inlet of a large, clear pool that trickled away to the east over a rustic outcropping of moss-covered rock. Warblers and thrushes sang overhead. It was rare and beautiful like a jewel.

  “Would you like a swim?” Hazard asked. “I would. Unless, of course,” he teasingly said, “the sight of blood excites you.” His glistening bronzed body, stripped to a breechcloth, was smeared with buffalo blood.

  “We Boston debs were always taught,” Blaze mockingly replied, her eyes a twinkle, “to ask a man to wash off the butcher’s blood
from his body before making love. It’s rule number two.”

  “What is rule number one,” he sardonically drawled, “in this hierarchy of etiquette?”

  “Take off your own gown first in case your escort didn’t follow rule number two,” she sweetly replied, her smile merry.

  “And do you adhere to this fascinating protocol?” he silkily murmured, advancing toward her.

  “Of course,” Blaze demurely retorted, pulling her dress over her head and dropping it at her feet.

  Hazard’s dark eyes heated. Blaze stood slimly erect, her delicious breasts upthrust like offerings waiting to be touched. “Come here,” he murmured.

  “Unthinkable to break the rules, sir,” she drolly replied with a wicked grin. “I’m going to swim.” She turned and ran through the cool grass toward the pool. It pleased her to tease Hazard; he played the game of love effortlessly, sportively, like a man who enjoyed giving pleasure to women.

  She was already in the water when she called out to him, “I’ll race you to the other side. The winner wins …”

  Hazard was swiftly untying the rawhide strings of his breechcloth when she dove under. “What does the winner win?” he shouted as she surfaced long yards away.

  “You!” she shouted back, languidly treading water, reminding him of a woodland sprite surprised at her bath.

  “What if I win?” he countered, kicking off his moccasins.

  Her smile was obvious even from that distance. “You won’t!” she cried, flipping under water with graceful precision and disappearing from sight. When she broke the surface, breathless, seconds later, she had a half-pool advantage over Hazard, who was slicing through the water behind her with the power stroke of a natural athlete. She was, Hazard saw, a first-class swimmer and, though he gained steadily on her, they were not grossly mismatched. She cut through the water like a whipcord, and it wasn’t until they were nearing the opposite shore that Hazard managed to pull level with her.

  “You’re going to lose,” he said, swinging his hair out of his face.

  She didn’t answer, only smiled, then dove under in a flash and forged toward shore with a dynamic kick that left a trail of frothy bubbles in her wake. He followed her with a smooth jackknife dive and, easing his own strong kick a few yards from shore, arrived gallant seconds behind and flopped beside her on the mossy shore.

  “You lost,” she sunnily declared between gasping breaths. Lying prone on the ground, her face turned toward his, he thought her soft cheek pressed against the emerald moss was like silk on velvet.

  “You’re damned good, Boston,” he smilingly commended, his own respiration ragged, “for a woman.” Waggish amusement slid lacily through the smiling words.

  Blaze sat up abruptly, the sunlight gilding her wet body like liquid gold, her breasts trembling slightly with the sudden movement. Hazard felt his arousal begin to swell against the cool ground. “For a woman?” she repeated. “That’s going to cost you, darling.”

  “What,” he asked, rolling over, nude and splendid, his face innocently bland, “does it cost?” Tucking his hands beneath his wet head, he looked at her with a roguish smile.

  “Our wager was the winner wins you. I won. Now you are mine.”

  “Was that ever in doubt?” he pleasantly said.

  “You have to do everything I want you to do,” she serenely explained.

  “My pleasure, ma’am,” he murmured, his gaze slowly roaming her body, his desire stiffening.

  “To begin with, come here and kiss me,” she ordered.

  Curling upward, he leaned across on one elbow and did.

  “Not bad,” she thoughtfully noted a moment later, as if there were some internal guide to excellence. Her mouth broke into a small grin and she demanded, “Do it again.”

  His kiss was languidly thorough this time but almost chaste. He hadn’t touched her with his hands.

  “Will it improve with practice?” she inquired nonchalantly.

  “We can only hope, ma’am,” Hazard wolfishly replied. “With madame’s cooperation, of course.”

  “Even if I don’t choose to cooperate,” she softly enunciated, “you must do as I say. Everything.” Her teasing smile lit golden sparkles in her eyes.

  “How nice,” Hazard said. “I’ve never done this before.”

  “You’re my chattel, Hazard.”

  His eyes widened appreciatively. “Do I get a turn in this charming game?” he asked.

  “No, darling, only one winner allowed. Now stand up.”

  He stood.

  “Walk over to that tree.”

  A moment later, leaning against the trunk, he raised inquiring eyes to hers.

  “Touch yourself,” she said.

  “Must I?”

  “You must,” she emphatically asserted. “You’re my chattel.”

  With a light shrug and a faint smile he did. His thumb and fingers closed around himself and with a light sliding motion of his slender hand, a swollen dimension was added to his arousal. Blaze watched his lovely rampant length and felt a trembling heat shiver down her spine. He stretched then, sliding his fingers through his damp black hair and flexing his back, like a pet gladiator on display or a splendid palace guard who had come to notice and found favor because of their beauty and size. “Do you like it?” he asked, gracefully dropping his hands to his sides.

  “I think I’d like to touch you, now,” Blaze said in a low, breathy voice. “Come here.” He walked over like a great dark cougar, his lithe body fine-muscled, his erection beautiful, and offering to her. Standing near, he quietly waited, playing her game with his familiar seductive charm. But when her lips touched him and her half-open mouth closed around him, her warm tongue delicately roving, his self-control broke and he trembled slightly.

  Looking up after a moment, she softly asked, “Should I kiss you again? Does my vassal like that?”

  Hazard’s dark eyes were heavy-lidded when he looked down at her. “Like I enjoy breathing, ma’am,” he murmured and, sliding his fingers through her hair, pulled her back. Before long, Blaze’s own desires matched the stark evidence of Hazard’s need, and she felt the heat curl, flame-hot, to the very center of her pulsing core.

  Moving away, her heavy-lashed eyes came up. “I think I’d like to feel you inside me,” she slowly said, her face rosy with the fire beating through her senses.

  “I thought you might,” Hazard softly replied, his own heart thudding in his ribs. “Would you like it standing, ma’am, or there … where you are?”

  “Here,” she murmured, her eyes half closed, and leaned back on her hands.

  Dropping down on his knees before her, Hazard gently pushed her legs apart. “You’re very kind, ma’am, to the hired help,” he whispered, sliding his warm palms up her slender legs, his hands dark on her pale flesh.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” she asserted when his heated fingers touched her thighs, although her breathing had quickened. “I don’t want to anymore.”

  “Boston princess,” Hazard said very slowly, savoring the separate words, “you’re going to have a slave revolt on your hands unless you reconsider.”

  Blaze lifted one shoulder in a small shrug. “Well, perhaps a little, then,” she magnanimously agreed, as if granting a favor.

  Hazard’s eyes narrowed the tiniest fraction. “A little … like this, ma’am?” he gently inquired, moving up to touch the hot center of her desire.

  “Ummm.”

  “And this?” He slid inside her a teasing inch. Her eyes closed as Hazard’s hard body pressed her back onto the moss and followed her down. She could feel him begin to fill her and pleasure like opium dreams flooded her mind.

  “And now, ma’am,” he lazily drawled, withdrawing slightly, “that’s enough.”

  Blaze’s eyes snapped open. “No!” she protested, reaching up for him. Obligingly he sank back in, penetrating deeply, feeling her close tightly around him, hearing her smothered cry.

  And then he withheld himself again. “Do
you want more, ma’am?” he huskily inquired, watching her face.

  “Yes …” She moved her hips to feel him so beautifully inside her. “Oh, yes!”

  “Now, then, bia-cara,” he whispered, touching his lips to hers, “the slave becomes the master. I don’t think I want to anymore,” he murmured. “Maybe later.” And he moved back a fraction.

  “Hazard! I’ll have you shot, you impudent wretch!”

  “Not right now, you won’t,” he softly replied, gliding back in.

  “After, I will,” she whispered on a caught breath.

  “Then what will Your Highness do tomorrow,” he teased, “when your hot little body starts tuning up … when you remember how I felt inside you … and remember what I did to you? What will you do then?”

  “I’ll find someone else,” Blaze pettishly exhaled.

  “But would he know how to touch you here?” he softly thrust upward. “And here?” He moved against the quivering heart of her need and she whimpered. “Would he know that your breasts tingle when I bite them just this hard? Not too hard …” he said a moment later, sliding his mouth over to her other taut nipple, “but just enough.” And his teeth gently tightened on one pink peak.

  “Please, Jon. Don’t tease. I want to feel you.”

  “Like this?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she sighed.

  “And this?”

  “Oh, God, yes …” The world began slipping away.

  “And this?” His hands slid under her lush bottom and lifted her to meet him. Ecstasy washed over her.

  “In that case, Boston, you must do what you’re told, or I won’t give you what you want.” His rich, luxurious voice curled around her.

  “Hazard,” she softly implored. “Do you want me to beg?”

  “Lord, no,” he genially retorted. “Just hold your breasts up for me to kiss. They’re not close enough for me.”

  She didn’t move.

  “I think I’ll go for a swim.” Pulling away, he sat up.

  Blaze’s hands came up and pushed her round opulent breasts upward so they stood in high peaked presentation, the nipples displayed prominently.

  “That’s better, princess,” Hazard murmured approvingly. “See, you can follow orders after all. Which one should I kiss first?”