Tender Is the Storm

  "There was no need to tell you. You were supposed to get an annulment. Remember?"

  "Why was it necessary for me to ever meet you as Slade?" she demanded. "You know how he terrified me."

  "I'm afraid that was pure selfishness on my part. I wanted you so much, but you were playing hard to get. I couldn't think of anything except you. I fig­ured, as Slade, I could send you running to Lucas for protection. It worked."

  "Well, of course it worked," she snapped. "Lucas wasn't nearly so frightening after Slade. Who could be?"

  "That was the idea," he admitted. "I couldn't un­derstand your fear of Lucas. You were supposed to be a widow, for one thing, and your response to his kisses contradicted your protests. You put him off, yet I knew you wanted him."

  She blushed and looked away. Did he have to be so blunt? "It was only afterward that I realized your re­action would have been extreme with any man who threatened your virginity. You really should have told me you were a virgin."

  "So you simply changed places that night on the mountain? Of course, Billy played along with it, making me think there were two of you." It all came back to her in a rush. "No wonder Slade let me go so easily when we got there. You just assumed you would bed me later, as Lucas!"

  "True. You can't deny that I made it easier for Lu­cas. You wanted us both. He was your choice, but the harsh Slade you feared could also have made love to you, and you know it."

  Oh, how she wanted to deny it. But she couldn't. And he knew she couldn't. It infuriated her.

  "Pure selfishness is not a good enough term for your actions," she said bitterly.

  "You can't make me feel guilty at this late date for making love to you! I could have gone to Rosa's place in town and had my pick, but I wanted only you. Hell, I wanted you even before you got there, just from your damned picture. Do you have any idea how ridiculously delighted I was when you showed up instead of your sister?"

  She was absurdly pleased to hear him say that. And, truth to tell, she didn't regret for a minute giv­ing herself to him. But it wasn't him—it was Lucas. She'd made love only to Lucas, and he wasn't Lucas.

  "Oh, I'm getting so confused."

  He kept silent, letting her sift through her thoughts. "Why did you show up that second time at the ranch? It was bad enough that I suspected you had the same power over me as Lucas did. Did you have to prove it and make me feel even worse?"

  His mouth hardened. "I was hoping to disprove it. It didn't sit too well with me that you wanted us both. I thought you would forget about me after Lu­cas made love to you, but you didn't, did you?"

  Her eyes widened at his sharp tone. "You can't be jealous of yourself, Slade."

  "You didn't know we were the same man, Shar-isse. In your mind we were completely different men."

  "In my mind you were an extension of him, the dangerous, unpredictable side—" She stopped as he began that infuriating grin. "What is so amusing, please?"

  "You just admitted that you love me, honey."

  "I most emphatically did not!" she said indig­nantly. "I fell in love with Lucas, not you." His cool look flustered her. "Oh, you know what I mean!"

  "And what makes you think I'm not the man you fell in love with?"

  "You don't act the same. You're not nearly as nice."

  "There's only one man, Sharisse—me. Now I can be myself. No more acting, no more having to be cau­tious every time I do something."

  "But you always frightened me as Slade."

  "That was intentional, honey. You don't think I wanted you giving in to both of us, do you?"

  She remembered the first two times she had al­most succumbed to him, that first time at the ranch, and then again at the mountains. Not almost—she had succumbed. And she recalled her confusion as he set her away from him both times. She remembered his look of triumph when she said she would beg him to leave her alone. She had thought at the time it was because he enjoyed humiliating her, but now she realized it was because she had made the choice—she didn't want them both.

  "But why did you show up at the ranch again?" she asked him. "You had already accomplished your purpose. Lucas and I—"

  "That time wasn't intentional, Sharisse. The fact is, I was heading home early that day because, after the way we had parted, I couldn't wait the whole day to be with you again. But then I ran into those Apaches, and I knew I couldn't show up with them as Lucas. You might have wondered why I could com­municate with them so easily."

  "But you didn't have to make advances again."

  "No, but after I got there, I remembered what we—or you and Lucas—had fought about, and it was an impulse to get that settled once and for all. And you made your choice. But you certainly enjoyed rub­bing it in, didn't you?"

  She couldn't meet his knowing eyes, recalling her vindictiveness once she had been assured he would leave her alone. "What if I hadn't started crying? Would you have made love to me?"

  He shook his head. "I would have found some other way of making you fight me. You were never in any real danger of my ravishing you, beautiful."

  "I wish I had known that at the time," she said tartly.

  "You know I always let you go. It wasn't easy," he said. "Every time I got near you I got carried away, no matter which role I was playing. And they were both roles, Sharisse. I'm not like the Slade you met in Arizona, and I'm not Lucas, either."

  She frowned. He was a combination of them both,

  and he was neither. Well, hadn't she once wished

  they could be the same man? Whatever else he was,

  she knew one thing. This was the man she had fallen in love with, despite her firm resolution never to lose her heart.

  But what did he feel? She would be able to get used to him as he truly was. But what did he feel toward her?

  She gazed at him for a long while, and then she asked, "Why did you follow me to the stagecoach that day?"

  "I saw you leaving the ranch and figured you'd try to leave town."

  "But why come as Slade?"

  "If you were upset enough to leave Lucas, then I figured you'd cause a scene in town if Lucas showed up."

  "But you could have caught up with me before I got to Newcomb. Why did you let me get to the stage?"

  "I felt I'd done you enough harm, Sharisse. If you were set on leaving, I wasn't going to stop you. That wouldn't have been decent. But I had to say good-bye to you, or say something. I could manage that as Slade without making you panic. I couldn't just let you leave without doing something."

  "Why not?" she asked.

  "For God's sake, woman, haven't you realized yet that I love you? Why the hell else would I be here? And why would I be standing here answering these fool questions when all I really want is to take you in my arms and show you how much I love you?"

  "Well," she said quietly, "what's stopping you?"

  Slade stared in surprise, then burst out laughing.

  "You truly are amazing, Mrs. Holt. Is that all it took to win you over?"

  Smiling, she came into his arms.

  "I love you, beautiful," he murmured. "I want you. I need you. Now let me show you."

  Chapter 43

  THE carriage moved along Fifth Avenue at a brisk pace, but it couldn't be fast enough for Sharisse. She was in a fine rage, and it was all her father's fault. Slade, on the other hand, sat noncha­lantly gazing at her from the other seat, looking as if it hardly mattered that they had been interrupted just as he lifted her in his arms to carry her to bed.

  It was more than a girl should be asked to bear. She had waited a year for this man to come back into her life, a whole year of dreaming of him, yearning for him, and just when she discovered that he loved her as much as she loved him, her father ruined everything by sending over two strongarms who in­sisted they return to Hammond House.

  Sharisse glared at Slade. "How can you just sit there? Aren't you the least bit angry?"

  Slade smiled at her display of temper. "Their tim­ing wasn't appreciated, but I e
xpected them. I knew your father would do something. He was just too agreeable about my taking you. I'm sure he's been worried about you."

  "But-"

  "Once your father is assured you're all right, we'll find a way to be alone."

  "You promise?"

  He laughed, delighted by her frankness. "Come here, you." He pulled her across the carriage onto his lap. "I can't make love to you right now," he whispered, "but at least I can hold you. Would it embar­rass you to be fondled in an open carriage?"

  "Let's find out." She grinned, entwining her arms around his neck as he captured her lips in a searing kiss.

  Slade ended the kiss while he still could, taking a deep breath. He set her back on the seat across from him. "That wasn't such a good idea, Sharisse."

  She smiled at his discomfort. He wasn't sitting there so calmly anymore. And there was a light glowing in his eyes just for her. She sighed, silently urging the horses on.

  She tried to think of a distraction, anything to calm her racing heart. "I don't know if I want you living in New York, Slade. There are so many beau­tiful women here—"

  He shook his head. "When are you going to accept the fact that no other woman can compare with your beauty?"

  She glowed. "Shall we settle here, do you think?"

  "For now, though I'm partial to the West. I thought about starting another horse ranch, seriously this time. What would you think of spending half the year here and the other half out West? Of course, you wouldn't have to do the cooking and cleaning this time."

  "I think I might like that—if you relent and buy me a carriage."

  "I suppose I could tolerate one carriage. By the way, how's Charley?"

  She laughed. "He's not jealous of me anymore, if that's what you're thinking. He has his own little family now."

  "He might not be jealous anymore, but I sure as hell used to be, watching him curled up on your lap being petted and coddled. You don't know how many times I used to wish I could trade places with that cat."

  They arrived at Hammond House, and the two large men who had ridden up front jumped down quickly to escort them inside the house. But no sooner were they standing in the hallway than Slade laid a fist to the jaw of one man, then landed a punch to the gut of the other. Two more fast jabs sent both men to the marble floor.

  "What the hell-?"

  Sharisse turned toward her father, who was watch­ing Slade. Slade casually straightened his clothes and said, "Just so you see that I'm not here because you decreed it, Mr. Hammond."

  Sharisse giggled nervously. "I wish you had done that back at the hotel."

  She moved into Slade's arms and hugged him. Her eyes locked with his, and she felt a jolt of desire that forced her to move away before she forgot where she was.

  "It was rather high-handed of you to interrupt our honeymoon, Father, but I appreciate your concern for me. You can see that I'm fine now." To Slade she whispered, "I'll wait for you in my room. You won't have to break the door down this time."

  She ran up the stairs, leaving the men eyeing each other. Slade was surprised to see that the older man didn't look displeased. He would have been amazed if he'd known just how delighted Marcus really was. At long last he had a son-in-law capable of taking over his businesses, capable of handling Sharisse. If not Slade, then one of the fine sons he would have would run Marcus's empire. He had little doubt there would be sons, lots of sons. And Marcus was just stubborn enough to live long enough to train his grandsons himself.

  "Do you still have doubts, Mr. Hammond?" Slade asked simply.

  Marcus chuckled. "Not a one, my boy, not a one. And since your wife is waiting for you upstairs, I think we should put off our talk till later. Don't you agree?"

  Slade relaxed, his yellow-green eyes lighting up. "I do indeed."

  Sharisse lay back on the bed, her eyes dark with passion. Her lips were sore from Slade's fevered kisses, but it was a pleasant soreness, and she was eager for more. He stood looking down at her as he began to undress, and she felt the familiar constric­tion in her chest as those green eyes moved over her. This was not the roguish charmer, Lucas. Slade's very seriousness filled her with a thrilling excite­ment that bordered on fear.

  She began to remove her gown, but Slade stopped her, joining her on the bed, his voice deeply persua­sive as he took hold of her hands.

  "Let me, Shari. I have dreamed of this so often it seems like forever."

  She gave herself up to his ministrations, moving only as he directed her to, until she was naked. She could not keep her hands still, needing to touch him, to feel the virile strength that was him. It had been too long.

  "You've had a baby."

  Stunned, she followed his gaze to her bare breasts. The telltale stretchmarks were revealed. She looked away from him and lay back with a sigh. The time had come, hadn't it? There was nothing she could do but tell him.

  "Yes," she said evenly.

  "Were you thinking about informing me—ever?" he asked icily. "Or did it perhaps escape your atten­tion that I didn't know?"

  She looked him in the eye and said calmly, "Slade, you emphatically didn't want a wife. How could I force you to stay in a marriage you didn't want? If you'd known about the girls you'd have felt obli­gated to stay married, and I have some pride, you know." Her voice rose as she felt all the tiredness, the secrecy of the last year overwhelm her. It took her a while to realize that he was staring at her with complete incredulity.

  "Girls?" he repeated. "More than one?"

  "Twins," she said. "And thank you for warning me that twins were a possibility. It might have helped to've had a little warning."

  "Twins? Daughters?" he asked, stupefied, and she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss.

  "I will be more than happy to fill your ears with every little detail about your daughters, but not now!"

  "All right, beautiful." He smiled down at her. "But remind me to tell you later how wonderful I think you are."

  He kissed her soundly before she could say any- thing, and very quickly there was nothing to think about except the tremors and the fire being rekin­dled. It was going to be all right, she told herself as the flames rose within her. No, it was going to be bet­ter than that. It was going to be wonderful, wonderful. And it would last forever. They would go on and on together, consumed by their love as she was being consumed by passion right then.

  She wrapped her arms around him fiercely, hold- ing her love with all her might, and he answered with a passion as great as hers, leading her from one peak to another until they blazed together into a glo­rious, never-ending white-hot flame.

 

 

  Johanna Lindsey, Tender Is the Storm

 

 

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