Montana Wildfire (30 page)

"Jake?" Amanda shifted, turned, nuzzled her cheek against his shoulder. His shirt felt cool and wet. She didn't mind. The skin beneath felt warm and solid, the play of muscles strong and firm. She sucked in a tiny breath and thought he smelled even more wonderful than he felt. His sharp, woodsy scent wafted around her, enveloped her, made her head spin.

"Jake?" she said again when he didn't answer. She glanced up, but at this angle all she could see was the strong, smooth underside of his chin. The urge to reach out and touch him was strong. She didn't bother trying to deny or repress it. Her palm cupped the hard, square line of his jaw. She felt him startle. "Jake?"

His gaze sliced down to her, over her,
into
her, then quickly returned to the snow-dusted woods through which they continued to pick their way. "Hmmm?"

"I want to apologize."

One inky brow rose. Those were
not
the words he'd expected a properly bred society snob would say to the man who'd just stolen her virginity. Amanda Lennox should, to his way of thinking, be having a fit right about now. Wasn't that what all well bred young "ladies" did? Begged a man, teased him until they'd brought him to his knees, then cried that he'd forced her afterward? Yes, that was exactly what
ladies
did. He knew.

But not
this
lady. Amanda wasn't reacting at all the way he'd expected her to. In fact, she seemed oddly pleased with the loss of her innocence. Instead of coy or fearful or repentant, she looked... well, downright rejuvenated,
that's
how she looked. And, Jake groaned inwardly, she also looked like she wanted to talk.

"Are you going to accept it?" she prodded.

"Accept what?"

Amanda sighed. Whatever he was thinking about was too distracting. She decided it was time to distract his mind back to her. Lifting one of her hands, she toyed with the buttons trailing up his shirt. Actually, she spent more time on the warm, silky flesh her fingers frequently slipped beneath the plackets to stroke.

"My apology, Jake," she said finally. "What else?"

What else? God, he could think of several dozen things he would gladly accept from this woman right now. Hot, hungry, lustful things. An apology wasn't one of them. He forced a shrug. "All depends, princess. What are you apologizing
for?"

"All the terrible things I said to you back there, before we... you know."

"No, I don't know." The barest trace of a grin tugged at his lips as he slanted her a look. His steely gaze was teasingly hot. "Before we what?"

"You know!" she insisted. Her blush deepened. His grin broadened. Amanda huffed and turned so that her back was again cradled by his chest. "I really am sorry, Jake."

"Did you mean what you said?"

She thought about that a second, then nodded. "Yes."

"Then don't apologize."

"But—"

He sighed. "Drop it, Amanda. Please, just let it go."

Amanda strained against him, craning her neck to look into his face. His long, inky hair was dusted with snow, his skin wet from where the flakes had melted to his body heat. His thick, dark lashes were at half-mast, his steely gaze lazy and hooded. Only his expression looked tight and controlled: tense, anxious.

She stiffened warily. "Jake?"

"Hmmm?" Blinking hard, Jake forced his eyes to pull the snow-dusted woods into focus. He scowled when his attention dipped, and his gaze meshed with haunting green. Her eyes were large and round and confused. He shifted uncomfortably, and pretended to tug on the reins that tethered her horse to his.

"Are you...?" Amanda pulled in a steadying breath. Something wasn't right. Her suspicions were confirmed when she saw the muscle in his cheek twitch, and she took note of the way his body had gone rigid against hers. "You aren't sorry we... well, about what happened, are you?"

"Oh, yeah," he said, his voice a soft, throaty whisper. "I'm
very
sorry about it. You should be, too."

Amanda's bubble of contentment burst, pricked by the sharp bite in Jake's tone. She winced, feeling as though he'd just reached inside her and ripped out a chunk of her heart. In a way he had. A very large chunk. While she knew the logic behind his words—his reasons undoubtedly stemmed from their last argument—knowledge didn't make her feel better. He was sorry he'd made love to her... oh, how that hurt!

She wasn't the only one hurting. Jake was shocked to realize that he was hurting, too. What had happened between him and Amanda was special—
Jesus, was it ever!—
but it was also confusing as all hell. He needed time to sort out his feelings—whatever they were. Time to think. Time to put his unnatural desire for this woman into its proper perspective.

His gaze had settled on the top of her head. His attention shifted, focusing on the woods the white was weaving its way through. They were almost at the top of the hill. Soon they would crest it. In only a few short minutes he would leave Amanda at the cabin that neither of them had dared to mention for quite a while now. Only a few more minutes.

Jake knew there were things he should say to Amanda right now, while he still had the time. Words he didn't want to say, words she probably didn't want to hear, words that needed to be aired all the same. He should have said them a while ago, but he hadn't. Looking back, he realized that immediately afterward, neither of them had talked at all. It was as though they'd both clung to the same desperate need not to say anything that would shatter the contented afterglow. Amanda hadn't cried, hadn't begged him to make false promises that he would live to regret come sundown. Promises he could never hope to keep to a woman like her.

While they'd dressed, their gazes had met and held often. Quick, hungry glances had spoken all that needed to be said at the time.

Again and again, for as long as it lasts.
That was what Amanda's eyes had promised, what Jake's urgent gaze had reinforced. That, and nothing else.

Passion had eventually thawed. Reality had returned.

Never, never again
was what Jake's gut was telling him now, what the protective shell encasing his heart demanded. One quick, almost awkward encounter with Amanda had made all the women who'd come before her pale into insignificance. Jesus, even now when he closed his eyes and tried to picture a face or body beneath him, the only one he could see was Amanda's. He couldn't remember another's, didn't
want
to. Only hers.

That was not a good sign. No, not good at all. And it sure as hell wasn't safe. In fact, his fascination with all things white and prissy could wind up being lethal for them both.

Maybe Amanda couldn't see the trouble their being together would bring, but Jake knew. Hell, he'd already lived through the experience once. His jaded eyes saw what hers could not. He saw the pain ahead of them with graphic clarity, and he wanted no damn part of it.

"We're going to the cabin, aren't we?" Amanda asked as she snuggled against him. Something, she wasn't sure what, had changed since he'd helped her onto the horse. Then, they'd moved together, in tune to each other, in tune to the white as it jostled them. Now, the tension in his body, the tension in hers, made them move awkwardly apart.

"You
are," he corrected. Though his drawl was lazy and thick, there was an edge to his words. "Like I told you, I'll meet you back here in a couple of days, once the storm's over."

Her shoulders sagged. Her chin lowered, and her head hung limply on her neck. A defeated little sigh whispered past her lips. "I thought you'd changed your mind. I really thought—"

"Wrong," he grumbled, and shifted so his body was no longer gloving her slender back and temptingly soft bottom. "As usual, you thought wrong." Sighing, Jake plowed the fingers of his free hand through his cool, damp hair and shook his head. He was glad Amanda wasn't looking at him, glad she couldn't see how much his next words cost him. The fingers cushioned atop her thigh tightened, squeezing the tender white flesh beneath the bunched folds of calico. He hesitated, then his touch melted away. "Time you faced facts, princess. What happened between us was inevitable. And I'd be lying if I said it wasn't good." He swallowed hard. "It was.
Real
good. But it doesn't change a damn thing."

"It doesn't change the color of my skin, in other words," she whispered shakily under her breath, more to herself than to him. Amanda thought she should have known better, should have known Jake would hear. She should have learned by now that little snuck past the man.

"I've slept with white women before, princess," he said flatly. "The color of your skin doesn't bother me much. At least it doesn't bother me in the ways you think."

If he'd slapped her, his words couldn't have had a greater impact. Amanda's chin snapped up, and he grunted when the top of her head bumped his jaw. Her spine went rigid. Her heart drummed a painful, erratic beat against her ribs. "You told me you'd only been with
one
white woman. You said—"

"White
lady,"
he growled. "I said I'd only been with one white
lady.
And," he sucked in a long, thoughtful breath, "yeah, I'd have to stand by that. I've still only been with one,"

Her voice humiliated her by cracking. "You don't count me?"

"Un-uh." Jake paused, then very coldly, very precisely, drawled, "Don't sound so surprised, Amanda. I mean, you're close, I'll give you that. On the outside you're all prissy politeness and manners, but we both know that's only a front. Because on the inside, you're hotter than a burning coal. On the inside, Amanda Lennox, you ain't no lady."

Amanda had spent too many years trying to emulate her mother's memory to appreciate hearing those words. All right, maybe ladies didn't sleep with half-wild savages and enjoy it, not the way she had. In that respect, maybe she wasn't as refined as she hoped. But she was still a lady, Goddammit! And why couldn't Jake see that?

"Want me to tell you why?" Jake asked.

Despite her resolve not to, Amanda nodded.

He leaned forward, molding his chest to her back. He was close enough for his breath to blast hotly in her ear as he drawled, "Ladies don't scream when they come, princess. Not the way you did."

"I didn't!" she gasped, and felt her cheeks heat even as her mind raced. She had
not
screamed... had she? Oh Lord, she couldn't remember. All Amanda remembered about that particular moment was the wonder, the breathtaking
feelings.
Her body had exploded in fiery white sparks. Delicious spasms of sensation had consumed all her attention. She was
still
tingling with the aftereffects! If she'd cried out, she hadn't heard it, didn't remember it. But if she
had
cried out the way Jake said she had... then he was right. She was no lady.

"I—I didn't," she repeated softly, and hesitated self-consciously. "Did I?"

"Um-hmmm. You don't remember?"

She shook her head.

Jake felt her tremble, and he leaned back quickly. The distance helped, but not much. That might have been because there wasn't a whole lot of distance between them. Certainly not as much as he would have liked. Her hips were wedged between his thighs. He remembered how the body pressing against him felt in his hands, how it felt to be sandwiched between those long, enticing white legs.

"I remember," he said gruffly. What he didn't tell her was that, if he lived to be a thousand, he'd never be able to forget. "You screamed, lady. You cried out my name, and your voice was all low and throaty and raw. Remember yet? It was just before your fingernails tore bloody ribbons down my back."

Her sob ripped through Jake. He tried not to let the soft, plaintive sound affect him. If he was going to stop this madness, he couldn't do it by half-measures. He would fulfill his obligation—he'd find her cousin, he owed her that much—but when it was over, when she had the kid back, he wanted the break between him and this white woman to be immediate and clean and as painless as possible. For them both. The only way to accomplish that was to keep their relationship as simple as possible. And to not, under
any
circumstances, lay with her again!

They crested the hill in silence, their passage marked by the sound of hoofbeats crunching over newly fallen snow. Jake reined in the white. Though he didn't glance down the snow-dusted slope, he knew the cabin was there. Things around these parts, in particular people's attitudes, rarely changed.

He looked at Amanda. Her head was down, the thick gold hairs that had escaped her braid concealed most of her expression from view. All he could see was the moist curve of the lower lip she was nibbling between her teeth. The lip trembled.

"Ready?" he asked, tearing his gaze away. When he felt her nod, he leaned to the side, helped her to the ground, and untied the mare. He held the reins out to her. She wasn't looking at him and didn't see the offer. "Amanda?"

Her gaze lifted, and her cheeks colored. Her breath quickened, as though she'd been surprised to hear his voice.

"Take the reins, princess. Hurry up. The snow's starting to come down harder."

Was it? she wondered. Odd, but she'd barely noticed, hadn't really cared. The weather was the least of her problems. Her gaze dropped to the hand Jake had extended. With concentration, her gaze managed to pull into focus the leather strips draped over his big copper hand. "Thank you," she mumbled, reaching for the reins.

Her trembling fingers grazed his roughened knuckles. The contact, though slight and blessedly brief, was electric.

Amanda snatched her hand back. Curling it into a fist, she hid it in the folds of her skirt. Her determination that Jake not see how deeply even that accidental touch affected her made her tilt her chin up proudly. Her gaze met his.

Jake saw the telltale moisture clinging to her lashes. Not all of the wetness could be attributed to melting snow. If he'd ever seen anything more heart-wrenching than the hurt shimmering in Amanda Lennox's big green eyes, he couldn't remember it. If his heart had ever fisted so painfully in his chest, he couldn't remember that either.