Page 13 of Tender Is the Storm

  "But how did you get here?"

  "Slade brought me."

  "You mean he's here? Why didn't you say so?"

  He moved away and doused the fire with dirt.

  "Lucas, wait!" she cried, and he swung around to face her, waiting. "Must we join them? He . . . he'll still be here in the morning."

  He looked puzzled. "You mean you want to stay here?"

  "Yes."

  "I've only got one blanket."

  She missed his warning completely. Her mind was on postponing a confrontation, and she wasn't lis­tening carefully. "It's not really cold," she replied carelessly.

  Lucas hesitated. Did she know what she was letting herself in for? It appeared she had trans­ferred her fears from him to Slade. He had hoped that would happen. He owed his brother a debt of gratitude.

  "You might as well make yourself at home then." He grinned and tossed the meat back to her. "Help yourself to that, and you'll find some biscuits in my saddlebags."

  Sharisse moved over to his blanket and settled herself. She removed her hat. Then she blushed, realizing he had probably recognized the hat and shirt as his.

  "I borrowed a few of your things to get here," she said. "I hope you don't mind."

  "The shirt looks better on you than it ever did on me."

  He built the fire again, concentrating intently. She spread the food out beside her, hesitating only a moment before breaking off a piece of meat with her fingers. She was starved.

  "You want to tell me about it now?" he asked quietly, sitting near her.

  "What?"

  "About what got you up on a horse to come here. I could've sworn you were dead set against riding."

  "Oh," she hedged.

  She really didn't want to tell him what a despica­ble man his brother was. He might not even believe her, and then what?

  "The ride wasn't as bad as I thought it would be," she said. "But then, I didn't have to control the horse. I ... I rode in front of Slade."

  "Did I mistake you? I thought Slade was why you're here."

  "Well, yes."

  "Yet you agreed to let him bring you, and even rode double with him?"

  "Lucas," she said, "he didn't leave me any choice. He saw that I was leaving the ranch to find you and took it upon himself to join me. He even sat me on his horse and took off before I could do anything about it. I didn't want him to bring me. Heavens, the very rea­son I had to leave was . . ."

  She hesitated, and Lucas grinned. "Was to get away from him?"

  "You find that amusing?"

  "Slade's like that, honey. He very seldom asks per­mission before he does something. You're just not used to Slade."

  "I don't intend to get used to him." She was begin­ning to feel put-upon.

  "Aren't you being a bit hard on him?"

  "No!"

  "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

  "Well . . . no."

  "All right, Sharisse." He was annoyed over her evasiveness. "What exactly did Slade do?"

  She couldn't bring herself to meet those probing eyes. "He kissed me."

  "That's all?"

  "Lucas!" She cried, her voice bouncing off the walls. "Isn't that enough? He knew I was your fiancée and he kissed me anyhow!"

  "Honey, I can see where it might have upset you, but I can't really blame Slade for trying. Maybe you don't know what a temptation you are," he said bluntly.

  She looked away. She had expected him to be an­gry, not amused. Had she reacted hysterically? The threat had seemed so real. Still, Slade had brought her to Lucas, and he hadn't forced himself on her, only threatened to.

  "I still don't like him." Agitation sharpened her tone.

  "Not many people do, honey."

  Was that bitterness in his voice? He sounded so sad. "I'm sorry. You're not angry with me, are you?"

  "No."

  "I wouldn't have come if he didn't make me so ner­vous. You see, I just couldn't stay there alone with him."

  "It's all right, Shari." He smiled reassuringly. "You're not to worry about it. He won't bother you again."

  Not as long as I'm with you, she added to herself. "I'm glad you're not like him," she said impulsively. She couldn't read the look he gave her.

  Chapter 19

  SHE wasn't asleep, and he knew it. She was rest­less, turning toward him, turning away. Lucas lay there, fighting with himself, wondering what was wrong with her.

  Sharisse had protested when he lay down beside her, but there was only the one blanket. She had to lie next to him, and she'd even accepted his arm for a pillow. But she was as nervous as a cat. She was un­doubtedly worried about their close proximity, but so was he. He was, in fact, amazed by his own restraint. He had her where he wanted her, was even reason­ably sure he could make her respond to him, yet he kept away.

  She would have to come to him. She trusted him to protect her, so he could not take advantage of her. That trust gave him a satisfying feeling, and he wouldn't betray it.

  Sharisse was exasperated with herself. She had been lying there staring at the dying fire, sleep im­possible. She had never slept next to a man before and had no idea it would be so disturbing. Was this desire? Did she want a man to the point of aching for him? From the moment Lucas had joined her on the narrow blanket she had felt this strange disquiet. What would end this awful wondering? She had been willing to give herself to Antoine when there hadn't been any of this restless yearning, so why was she re­sisting so hard now? It wasn't as if anyone would find out. Her friend Sheila had said there were ways to make a man believe you were a virgin when you were not. But what about the other way around? To make a man think you weren't a virgin when you were? She couldn't give herself to Lucas and take the chance that he would be able to tell, for then he would know she had lied about being married. It was too late now to admit the truth.

  "Shari, you're not asleep."

  It was not a question.

  She stayed as she was as long as possible, then slowly turned around to look at him.

  "Lucas? Is something wrong?"

  How inane that sounded. She knew very well what was wrong. He didn't bother to answer.

  "Shari." He said that and nothing more.

  His expression, what she saw in his eyes, told her what he was going to do. And dear Lord, she wanted him to do it.

  His eyes were moving over her face, caressing each feature. His gaze settled on her lips, and then his mouth descended to claim hers. The taste and smell of him was intoxicating, filling her. Time stood still. There was only his mouth, working magic. The pins fell from her hair, releasing it to a glorious fall, and she felt his fingers running through it. Her hands moved up to encircle his neck, letting him know it was all right. His tongue slipped between her teeth, and she welcomed it, teased it, hesitantly following with her own tongue.

  He groaned, his lips moving along her face to her breasts. She clasped him tighter. He was beginning to undress her, and soon her shirt was open, then her skirt. Her many petticoats were untied, and even the hooks on her corset gave way under his deft fingers.

  He pulled her to her feet in a sudden, swift move­ment, and half her clothing dropped to the ground. He caught her to him with one arm and finished disrobing her with the other. By the time she thought to say no, she was entirely naked and he was lowering her to the blanket again. His fiery kisses dispelled the last of her resistance, and she gave way with all of her being.

  He stroked her wonderingly, making her quiver with urgent desire. He stopped suddenly and moved away from her, and she nearly cried out to him. He shed his clothes and moved across her again.

  His eyes raked her, burning with a passion that mesmerized her. This was, she knew, her last chance to stop him. No words came. There was only the glo­rious feeling of him, the hard, masculine body. She reached up to draw him closer, and he hesitated for just a moment, then let himself be drawn by her un­til his weight covered her. His mouth captured hers in a heated kiss.

  He entered her
slowly, savoring her. But his ten­der care allowed for a steady build of pain as he pressed against the membrane that would not give. Sharisse pushed against him a little, but he contin­ued kissing her breasts and moving inside her. His lips worked their magic, and when he suddenly thrust deep inside her, the stab of pain was over be­fore it began.

  It was done. Sharisse felt a terrific relief. An in­credible burden had finally lifted. He filled her deeply, touching her in a way that brought surge af­ter surge of renewed desire. Fire grew in her loins, and soon there was only the pleasure, increasing with every thrust. The pleasure became nearly un­bearable, frightening in its intensity. Waves rushed through her, sweet shocks flooded her, and she was left weak and trembling. Lucas tensed, clasping her to him for a final plunge. She felt his throbbing, and a tender feeling for this man consumed her. She held him to her as tightly as she could.

  Chapter 20

  SHARISSE woke with a start. As she sat up, one of her petticoats fell away, the only covering she had. She had been draped in her petticoats. She blushed furiously, for Lucas must have done it. He had watched her while she was sleeping. How em­barrassing!

  "Good morning, beautiful."

  She gasped, and whirled around to face him, clutching the blanket to her. "Lucas?"

  "You mean you're still not sure?" He chuckled.

  "Well, don't call me that!" she snapped, irritable because of the fear that had washed over her.

  "But you are beautiful."

  He came to her and knelt down beside her. Swiftly he stole a kiss. But just as her heart picked up its beat, he sat back, fingering a lock of her hair. He watched it float through his fingers until it fell back down to her waist. His eyes met hers. She remem­bered all of last night with vivid clarity.

  "Lucas?"

  He shook his head, sensing her serious thoughts. "I was damn curious about the length of your hair," he said in an exasperatingly casual way. "Why do you hide it in a bun?"

  "I'm too old to wear my hair loose."

  "Too old? What do you mean, too old?"

  "It's not at all fashionable, Lucas."

  "And you must stick to fashion, even out here?"

  The teasing light in his eyes unnerved her. That, and feeling how naked she was behind the blanket.

  "Lucas, this isn't an appropriate time to be dis­cussing my grooming habits. I would like to get dressed, if you wouldn't mind making yourself scarce for a few minutes."

  "Ah, that's another thing," he said, picking up her corset from the pile of clothes. "Why do you wear this grim contraption? You don't need it."

  "Lucas!" She grabbed it, thoroughly embarrassed. "What I wear or don't wear is none of your concern."

  "It is when you smother yourself beyond any good sense. Western women—"

  "I don't care to hear about Western women right now, Lucas. Please, just let me dress."

  "All right, honey." He stood up, amused. "I was just thinking of your comfort."

  Was he going to leave? The very idea of not wear­ing a corset! Whatever was the matter with him?

  "There's water in the canteen and a towel in my bags if you want to wash up," he said. "I'll give you ten minutes, so don't dawdle. It's going to take all day to get the mares to the ranch. Billy can handle it on his own, but he won't get started until we join them."

  "Them" meant that Slade hadn't left. How could she face him after last night? Would he be able to guess what had happened?

  A rush of heat spread up her neck, but fortunately Lucas had sauntered off through the passage and around the bend, giving her the privacy she wanted. He hadn't mentioned last night, had even prevented her from mentioning it. Here was the most incredi­ble experience of her life, and he acted as if it hadn't even happened! Well, that wasn't really true. Wasn't his manner more intimate, possessive even?

  And then she realized that his saying nothing meant he didn't know she'd been a virgin. She had worried for nothing.

  Her relief was tremendous, and not just because he was unaware of her deception. There had also been the possibility that he might feel honor-bound to marry her after taking her virginity, but now she didn't have to worry about that.

  She refused to think about it anymore and quickly made use of her ten minutes. But it was not long be­fore she was thrown into another quandary on dis­covering dried blood on the towel. She dropped it with a gasp and hastily ground it into the dirt. But no sooner did she feel the evidence was safely camou­flaged than the blanket caught her eye. There was no time to wash out the telltale signs there. She would just have to keep the blanket with her.

  She was putting on her boots when Lucas came back. "All ready?" he asked.

  "Yes."

  She hastily grabbed the blanket roll as he moved to gather his things. He looked at her questioningly, and she said, "I thought I'd use it as a cushion for the ride back."

  "Slade teach you that trick?"

  "Yes."

  "Thoughtful of him, wasn't it?"

  "I suppose," she muttered grudgingly.

  "You're not worried about seeing him again, are you?" he asked gently, holding her by the shoulders.

  "I ... " She stumbled over the words, his close­ness confusing her. "No . . . not as long as you'll be with me."

  "Good." He patted her and went for his things again, strapping on his gunbelt and tossing the sad­dlebags over his shoulder. "His visits are short and infrequent," he added. "So you'll never have to put up with him for long."

  The fact that he apparently found nothing wrong with what his brother had put her through made it worse. "That's encouraging."

  He either didn't detect the sarcasm in her voice or chose to ignore it. He untied the stallion and didn't speak again until the horse felt the slack on the rope and reared up, backing away from Lucas.

  "Follow well behind me, Sharisse," Lucas warned. "This fellow could try to make a bolt for it and I might not be able to hold him."

  As it happened, the stallion held back and had to be dragged and coaxed along the path until they neared the other horses. Then Lucas had to hold him back.

  By the time Sharisse reached the camp, Lucas had given the stallion over to Billy, who would have to manage him while herding the mares as well. She and Lucas would ride Lucas's own horse.

  It was Lucas who asked the question. "Where's Slade?"

  Billy didn't even glance up. "He got mad when you didn't come back to camp last night. I don't think he took too well to your staying with her when you might have visited with your brother." He looked up then, revealing that he found the whole thing highly amusing. "No, I don't think he liked that at all."

  "Is that what he said?"

  Billy grinned. "No. But that's what I figured was bothering him. Actually, he didn't say much of any­thing. You know how he is when he gets all quiet and closed off. It's easier talking to a mule."

  "Watch it, Billy."

  The Indian laughed, delighted. He tossed Lucas a rawhide pouch. "Here, you can eat this on the trail. I had nothing better to do while I was waiting for you to get down here."

  He was rubbing it in, and Lucas wasn't amused.

  Billy went to his horse and mounted. In another few moments Lucas had the rope untied that had confined the herd, and Billy started leading the horses through the passage. Sharisse sat down on a flat rock out of the way and waited. No more words had passed between the two men. Was Lucas angry?

  When the area was empty except for her and Lu­cas, he came to her, offering his hand to help her up. His expression reminded her of Slade, and she didn't like that at all. She felt compelled to say something. "I'm sorry he didn't wait, Lucas."

  His expression didn't change. "Are you?"

  Her back stiffened. "I'm not a hypocrite. I'm not at all sorry I don't have to see him again. But if he left because of me, then I'm sorry that I kept you. I mean, I'm sorry you didn't come down to see him."

  "Did he leave because of you, Sharisse?"

  "How should I know?" she asked, exa
sperated by this.

  "Maybe you neglected to tell me everything that went on between you two?"

  She became very uncomfortable. "I told you that he wanted me. And, well, he did give the impression that he ... might fight you because of me. Perhaps he changed his mind and left so the two of you wouldn't end up fighting."

  "My brother? Fight me over a woman? What the hell did you do to make him want you so badly?"

  "How dare you accuse me? I'm not at fault here!"

  Her dark amethyst eyes flashed in anger, and it was all she could do not to slap him. But Lucas was amused by her show of temper and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her resisting body close to him.

  "All right," he conceded. "I guess you didn't have to do anything. I know how easy it is to get carried away by you, Sharisse."

  She was amazed how abruptly his manner could change, almost as if his antagonism had been feigned, a deliberate attempt to provoke her. She was thoroughly confused.

  "Lucas . . . shouldn't we leave?"

  "I told you Billy could handle the horses once he got started. There's no hurry."

  The husky timbre of his voice warned her. She knew what was on his mind. The thought of making love in the bright light of day was something she couldn't even allow herself to imagine. Yet the way he was pressing her against his body stirred her. She finally managed to find her voice.

  "Lucas? Shouldn't we ... go?"

  He sighed and stepped back. "I suppose you're worried about your cat?"

  Sharisse was surprised by the question but latched '-' onto the excuse gratefully. "Yes, I've never left him ■ alone this long."

  "Well, come on then. It's a long ride. And you never know. Slade might have gone back to the ranch to wait for me."

  He settled her in front of him on the horse so that he could steady her, not, as Slade had done, so that he could touch her and frighten her. Oh, it was such a relief to be riding home with Lucas. And, yes, de­spite everything, the small house was beginning to seem like home.