Orchids in Moonlight (17 page)

Laying down on her blanket, she blinked back frustrated tears. In the beginning, he had been pleasant company, enjoyable and humorous. They'd had good times on the trail and shared warm conversations at night. So what had happened to make him so cranky and mean?

Probably, a little voice inside needled, the same thing that had made her so crotchety of late. Being alone together was a strain on both of them.

She tried to dwell on other things to get her mind off the misery.

The haze of a purple sky descended. They had camped where others had been before them. Cord had pointed out the remains of other cooking pits, and Jaime had been saddened to see a cluster of stone-covered graves.

"That meant cholera hit hard as they were passing by," he had explained. "They probably stayed longer than usual due to so many being sick. Looks like they even made a hut of some kind."

Jaime wished it were still standing, but there was nothing left but a small pile of rotting boards. However, beside a small stream, it appeared someone had once tried to plant a flower garden. Cord had told her how pioneers brought along all kinds of flower seeds and cuttings, wanting to have something from their old home to take to their new.

She had wanted to tarry, to look around for even more evidence of those gone before, but he had kept after her to prepare for the night. They had to get an early start, he'd said, at first light. There was no time to dawdle.

Wriggling around, trying to find comfort when there was none, she thought how he would be even crankier in the morning after stalking about all night pouting. Maybe he would fall in a hole and break his leg, and—

She shook her head to dispel such a horrible thought, especially when it frightened her to think of him injured or in danger.

And smoldering just beneath the surface was her own awareness of how, like it or not, she had come to care for him deeply.

A cool wind was blowing, and she snuggled beneath the blanket. Above, opaline clouds scurried across the sky, bowing to the radiant glory of the full moon. The world about was bathed in silver, an air of magic shimmering across the landscape.

Now a familiar intrusion into the silence, the wail of a prairie wolf made her feel terribly lonely. She resolved, then and there, to make Cord see they needed to talk about their sniping at each other. Surely, if they both tried, they could be civil to each other for the duration. They would just have to mutually agree to avoid sarcasm and sniping, and—

Suddenly he was there, having approached, as always, in silence. He sat down, cross-legged, near the fire, staring down at his right wrist, which he held with his other hand.

Then she saw it.

Blood!

Scrambling forward, she crouched beside him. "What happened? What did this?"

"Snake," he said tonelessly, then quietly added, "I'm right-handed. It'd be best for you to do it."

Jaime shuddered, knowing what he wanted.

"Cut it. Take my knife out of my left boot and stick it in the fire. Then cut."

She reached for the knife, washed with dread as she offered a silent prayer.

In that instant, nothing else mattered.

She was not concerned over her fate if he died, only how much she had grown to care for him. And, yes, loved him.

Swallowing against the rising hysteria, she resolved to do whatever was necessary to try and save his life. "I know about snakebites," she said, in a voice so controlled she could not recognize it as her own. "Wilma Turnage told me how it has to be cut and then the poison sucked out. Don't worry. I can do it.

"And I know to pack it with chewed tobacco," she went on nervously, taking out his knife to hold in the flames as he had instructed. "Only I'm afraid we don't have any. Maybe you know some Indian potions. Just tell me what I need, and I'll make a torch and go look. Maybe whoever planted that little flower garden also planted some herbs we can use."

She was talking, rambling, to try and steady herself, but finally it was time. She approached him with the knife, the tip poised and ready to slice into his flesh.

His left hand shot out to close about her wrist, and she froze, eyes wide with frightened confusion. Then, in the rich glow of the fire, she was further puzzled to see the play of a smile on his lips as he looked up at her in wonder.

"You were going to do it, weren't you? I wanted to see how far you'd go before you started screaming, but you were actually going to cut my wrist open and suck out the wound, weren't you?"

Baffled, she nodded. "Yes. That's what Wilma said—"

In a lightning-quick movement, he took the knife from her and tossed it aside. In the same instant, he grabbed her and pulled her against him, taking them both to the ground. Rolling over, pinning her beneath him, he looked down at her and grinned. "Sunshine, you never cease to amaze me. I was all set to laugh in your face and prove myself right when I said you were worthless."

Jaime was still confused—and also starting to get mad. "But you said you were bitten by a snake."

"But I didn't say what kind. It was a whipsnake. They aren't poisonous. I was lying down, trying to go to sleep, and I guess I put my arm right on top of him. He did what comes naturally, and, being a whipsnake, quick as hell he was gone the second he bit."

"Are you sure that's what it was?"

"I've got teeth marks, not fang marks. If you'd ever seen a rattlesnake or copperhead bite, you'd know the difference."

Testily, she murmured, "So it was just your idea of a joke, to scare me to death, hoping I'd start screaming and run."

He did not answer right away. Instead, he continued to hold her, gazing down into her face, so lovely bathed in moonlight, enjoying the moment, reveling in the feel of her heaving bosom against his chest. "Now I'm not so sure. I'm starting to think maybe this was what I was hoping for all along, to somehow wind up with you beneath me."

Jaime felt his hardness pressing into her just as she was forced to acknowledge the sweeping rush of her own arousal. Cursing herself for not trying to push him off, instead she dared to tease. "I thought you said you didn't seduce women."

He released her and rolled to lie on his side. "I don't. I was hoping you'd seduce me."

Jaime urged the smoldering anger forth, to sweep her up and away with indignant rejection, but her body, her heart, betrayed her.

Slowly, easily, as though in a trance, she moved into his arms.

He kissed first her temple, in tenderness, then moved his lips to each cheek in turn. "I think we both knew this was coming," he said softly, brushing his mouth across hers. "And you don't have to be afraid. I know it's your first time. I'll be gentle."

He probed her mouth with his tongue, delighting in the taste of her, the feel of her. He had waited a long time for this moment and intended to savor each and every sensation.

Responding, welcoming, she drew him deeper inside, fingers dancing into his long hair that touched his shoulders, gingerly pulling him closer.

Her soft whimper came from deep within as she gloried in the kiss. Cord lingered a moment longer, devouring her with his lips before allowing his hands to move with a will of their own. In near slow motion, he touched her chin, then her throat, finally maneuvering to use both hands to cup each breast simultaneously.

"I want to feel you," he said raggedly, pausing anxiously in disciplined assault to open her blouse. With one quick jerk, her chemise was open, spilling forth her breasts. "I want to touch you, feel you, all over..."

He dropped his head to take as much of her in his mouth as he could, sucking hungrily, voraciously, before withdrawing to pucker against her nipple as he flicked wildly with his tongue.

Jaime entwined her hands in his hair even tighter, arching her back and urging him to continue feeding his hunger, for the sensation was a hot burning knot in her belly that she wanted to last forever.

As he suckled, his fingertips tormented her free breast, kneading, rubbing his thumb over and around in a circular motion that made her gasp out loud. He began to switch from one to the other, assailing first with his tongue, then taking all of her, only to withdraw and flick to and fro upon her nipple once more in a torturous rhythm.

Finally, when her ecstatic whimpers had become a long continuous moan, he drew back to look down at the tightly beaded nipples as he continued to work the firm, smooth flesh. "God, you're beautiful," he murmured. "I knew the first night we met your body would drive me insane."

Hotly, he took her in his mouth again, and she cried out in sweet joy, twisting against him, reveling not only in the luscious attack upon her breasts but also trembling to feel the hard pressure of his manhood as it demanded to be unleashed.

He jerked at her bloomers, yanking them downward, as she wriggled to help. In the night glow, he feasted on the slender curve of her hips, the honey-colored thatch of pubic hair, as he swiftly tore off his own clothes.

She lay back and he caught her mouth with his, scorching, searing, till she was shaking and limp and clinging to him in helpless surrender.

He could feel her fever and rejoiced to confirm it had been there all along. This night, while she succumbed to her desire, he would take charge, knowing she was afraid. But later, during the lonely nights ahead, he would teach her everything she needed to know to please a man.

"Easy..." he coaxed, when, instinctively, she closed her thighs at his first touch there. "I won't hurt you. Open your legs to me, Jaime. I'll be easy, I swear."

Only partially did she relax. She felt one tiny jab, one sharp pain, and then only a warm spreading that told her, somehow, the last barrier to her innocence was well on the way to oblivion.

Cord thought he was going to explode. Using every ounce of self-control he could muster, he held back. God forbid he should hurt her. She had to be ready, ripe for his penetration. Some women, he knew, from listening to their besotted husbands in smoke-filled saloons, merely tolerated sex. They spread their legs long enough to be rutted, then snapped them shut and turned their backs and prayed a lot of time would pass before they were again required to succumb to marital duty. Cord did not want it to be like that for Jaime. He hoped she would learn to crave it as much as he did; only then would they both know true fulfillment and pleasure. Frankly, he didn't care if they did it all day, every day, and took the next year to get to California, because he sensed, somehow, she had been waiting for the right man to come along and awaken all her carnal senses.

And he was damn glad to be that man.

She was moving her hips, undulating as he brushed his thumb across that nuclei of sensation, the crest of her womanhood. She was enraptured, drowning in a sea of ecstasy unparalleled. Opening her mouth, she clung to him as he claimed her once more in a bruising kiss.

If life ended here and now, Jaime knew she would have no regrets. And she told herself he had to care about her, if only a little.

Cord could resist no longer, had delayed as long as possible. The heat had built beyond control.

Raising up, he clutched her waist and stared down at her face, a mirror of yearning and wonder. Her hair and flesh was damp, wet with perspiration, despite the night chill. They were both naked, the cold wind delicious against burning skin.

As he lowered his mouth to hers, she felt his first hard jab and instinctively, sensuously, lifted her legs to wrap around his thighs and hips. Digging in her heels, she received him.

Cord sensed he was hurting her and started to withdraw, but, feeling his reluctance, she clawed at his back to hold him tighter. Helplessly, all resistance melting beneath her eager invitation, he drove into her. Again and again, he rocked to and fro, and she met his every thrust by lifting her hips.

Jaime could feel the crescendo building, awed by the intensity of raging delight, as though molten lava coursed through her veins, up and down her spine, twisting, twining, jerking her about like a puppet on a string. She had no will of her own any longer, was powerless to withdraw from the hypnotic power that held her in its velvet grasp.

Cord felt her shuddering within and lifted his mouth from hers to allow her to unleash exultation's cry.

Only then did he push ever deeper into her, no longer able to be gentle, for he was lost in his own glory.

But Jaime felt no pain, only the supreme fruition of her body, her spirit... her heart.

Chapter 11