Promise Me (10 page)

She gazed up at him, licking her lips, looking as if she were anticipating a delicious meal. “I believe I said it before, Sam, you are a magnificent animal.”

He grinned. “I thought you were talking about my horse.”

She laughed softly. “Was I?”

Sam looked down at his engorged cock and he lifted his shoulders with pride. He'd seen his stallion set out to stud, and it was a generous comparison.

Covering her with his body, his lips sought hers and his tongue gently explored her mouth. She welcomed him eagerly.

Her legs wrapped around him again as her hips lifted, inviting him to penetrate her. He shifted his position and discovered she was hot, wet, and ready. He plunged deeply into her and couldn't breathe as her slick heat enveloped him. He'd never been so enticed or aroused by a woman. If desire were a hunger, he'd be a starving man.

He slowly withdrew, then drove into her again. She encased him in heat, bringing him to the brink of ecstasy with her urgency and her need.

Their bodies moved in a dance as ancient as the moon glowing high above them, its soft light reflected in the window. Bodies shifting, with a languid, sensual rhythm, they were unbridled in their need for one another. Every stroke brought him closer to the abyss, but Sam didn't want this excruciating pleasure to end. He held onto the shambles of his control with the thinnest of threads.

Finally, Amanda gasped and her body trembled against him. She reached her climax, and a look of pure ecstasy flashed across her beautiful face.

“Sam,” she gasped, her head twisting on the pillow, “oh yes, Sam!”

Sam covered her mouth with his own, wanting them to be fully joined when he finally released the iron control he'd fought so hard to maintain. Liquid heat poured out of him and stars flashed across his vision as he thrust hard, releasing. He gave a final roar of completion, satiated beyond his wildest dreams, and collapsed next to her.

Their hearts beat in unison. He didn't budge, afraid he might spoil the mood with even the slightest movement. It took several minutes to regulate his breathing. Finally, he lifted himself on one elbow to gaze down at Amanda.

“Did that fulfill your expectations, madam?”

She frowned, as if considering his words carefully. “I'm not sure; I think we should do it again. Perhaps this time you could put a bit more effort into it.”

Sam fell back onto the bed. “My God, woman, you're insatiable.”

Amanda turned on her side to tickle the soft down of hair on his chest. She formed her lips into a pretty pout. “What's wrong, Sam, are you afraid you can't live up to my standards?”

“You'll kill me with these demands of yours. I'm not a young man you know.”

Amanda traced her fingers across a nasty scar that created a jagged path near his right shoulder.

“Perhaps I should seek out a younger replacement for you.”

He touched her cheek with one finger. “If you do that, I might be forced to shoot the man. Let me prove my mettle before you replace me.”

Amanda narrowed her eyes. “Just remember, you made a promise.”

Sam closed his eyes and grinned. “Even if you do kill me, I'm sure to die a happy man.”

“What if you burn in hell for all the sinful things we've done together?” Her words were measured, and he sensed that beneath her worldly banter lurked a shamefully guilty woman.

He pulled her to him, wrapping his arms about her. “Then let's not waste any more time. We might as well enjoy our sinful ways.” He kissed the top of her head. “I'd trade one night of delight with you for playing a harp for eternity.”

“I don't really think you need to practice any harp playing, Sam.”

He laughed and closed his eyes. “I believe you're right about that, darlin'”.

They lay in silence. The warmth of their bodies entwined together made the quilt unnecessary.

Finally she spoke. “Did this happen in the war?” She touched the scar on his shoulder, sorrow evident in the emerald depths of her eyes.

He didn't answer for a long time, carefully considering what he would say. He tried to shield his thoughts from memories of the war, and he never spoke of it. Not even to Robert, who had shared so much of the pain.

If he told Amanda about it, trusted her with his secrets, she might turn away from him. Yet, for the first time in more years than he cared to ponder, he wanted to talk about his past. He'd start with a small piece of his past, and see how she reacted.

“I was wounded at Chattanooga. Taken prisoner and ended up in a Confederate prison camp.” He kept his voice cool and controlled, reciting the facts as if they held no emotion for him.

She studied him, patiently waiting. He wanted to tell her more, to talk about the hopeless days that had followed one after another in that hellish place. Perhaps that was why the devil held no sway over him. He'd faced the cruelty that men could heap upon each other, been to the depths of despair and survived the landscape of hopelessness. It was easier to keep the lid tightly shut on the part of his life, old battle scars were better left alone. Especially when the worst scars were on his heart.

“It was a long time ago,” he said.

She touched her lips gently to the scar and kissed it. “I know, but the pain is still there, isn't it?” He was swept away by a feeling of loss. He struggled within himself, wanting to tell her more, to release the pent-up loneliness and sadness. But he remained silent, closed up, attempting to nail a “No Trespassing” sign across the memories.

“It's over.” He shifted position and gathered her closer into his arms. She snuggled against him, and he covered them with the quilt that had slipped to the floor during their lovemaking.

They lay together, and he fought with his emotions, knowing he could use their tryst to destroy Amanda and achieve all of his goals. Yet also understanding that despite his agreement with the mine owners, and the possible threat to his mission, he couldn't hurt her.

“You still have to go, regardless.” He tightened his jaw. “Maybe even because of this.”

Her head shot up, the expression on her face reflecting her confusion.

“So, is that what this was about, Sam? You wanted me, but now that you've made it into my bed, you'll get rid of me as soon as possible?” Tears shimmered in her eyes and she brushed them away.

His arm tightened around her. It was painful to say the words, and he regretted what he was forced to do. It was for her own good, he kept repeating to himself, to protect her.

“I care about you, Amanda. Too much to let anyone hurt you.” He let one finger gently trace down her cheek. “But, you're still in danger. There are men determined to stop you and your Miners' Benevolent Association.”

“I told you before, I'm not afraid of hooligans who try to scare me with veiled threats.”

Sam frowned. “You have your Pinkertons, right?”

She blushed and tried to hide her face. He wasn't going to give up.

“When does your agent expect them to arrive from Chicago?”

Amanda didn't answer. Finally, he lifted her chin gently to force her to look into his eyes.

“There are no Pinkertons, are there, Amanda?” She remained silent, and a flush of dark color slid across her cheeks.

He swore under his breath before releasing her. Climbing out of bed, he gathered his clothes. “I'm going to make arrangements for you to get out of Willow Creek, today if possible.” He searched for his other boot, swore again, and leaned over to look under the bed.

“I'm not going anywhere until I've finished what I came here to do. I made a deathbed promise to Arthur, and I refuse to be run out of town.” Amanda folded her arms and cocked her head.

Sam stood up to stare at her. A muscle near the edge of his cheek began to throb. “You will leave in the morning if possible. The day after at the latest.”

She shook her head and held out one hand to study a cuticle carefully. “I don't believe I will.”

“You can't stay here. I told you, it's dangerous.” Waving the lone boot around, Sam exploded in anger. “These men are killers. You can't protect yourself.”

“I know—that's why I need you.” She thinned her lips and twirled a lock of copper-colored hair as she waited for his reaction.

He stared at her in silence and wondered if he should simply storm out of the room. Why was she being so disagreeable? He was only trying to protect her by getting her to leave town. Did she expect him to become her bodyguard? To spend each day dogging her steps and every night exploring the boundaries of desire in her bed? His mind filled with images of those possibilities. He shook his head to clear it.

She seemed to know she had the advantage now, and she didn't waste any time considering the consequences. Flinging the quilt aside, she stood in front of him, naked and vulnerable.

“Please, Sam,” she begged, “I need you.” Her fingers slid up his chest. He swallowed, but he knew he was softening.

“You don't know what you're asking, Amanda. I'm not the kind of man a woman can rely on, believe me.”

“If you send me away, there won't be any more passionate, sweet nights making love.” She placed her lips on his skin and her tongue skimmed across the exposed flesh. Heat sizzled through his veins.

That's good, because if I continue behaving like this with the Widow Wainwright, I'm a doomed man. But he couldn't form the words to send her away when her arms were encircling his neck, pulling him down toward her.

Her body leaned into him, and the places their bare flesh met seared him. “I can't,” he protested, thinking he should push her away, yet aware he couldn't muster the courage.

She kissed him eagerly with a confidence that swept away all of his illusions about sending her anyplace she didn't want to go. Her tongue moved from the center of his chest toward his navel, and the power of his desire increased with every inch. Her fingers traced the outline of his erection as she lingered at the top button of his trousers. She lifted her eyes and arched a well-shaped eyebrow.

Blood rushed through his body and pooled in his nether regions.

He needed to say something, do something, but the tension, the waiting, the wondering if she would...

He had his answer and his bones melted along with any resistance. Amanda drew him into her mouth, and he knew in an instant he could never send this woman away. He was her captive in a prison constructed of his own passion and need. It was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time, and he fell into an abyss of sensual pleasure.

Chapter Eight

“I can arrange it easy enough, Amanda,” Harriet Parmeter said, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. “But, are you sure about this? It's a small town. The people who live here love to gossip.
It's about all the entertainment we've got.”

Amanda brushed crumbs off her lap and gave the hotel owner a smug smile. “I want them to talk, it's the key to my plan.” She spread raspberry jam across the muffin she held in her left hand, then waved the knife to punctuate her words.

“If people know Samuel Calhoun is protecting me, they'll think twice before interfering with my work.” She dropped the knife and took a bite of the muffin, savoring the sweet flavor.

Harriet tapped her fingers on the oilcloth. Amanda wondered at the woman's reluctance to assist her. After all, it was Harriet who had informed her that widows were not given the intense scrutiny conferred on virgins. Nor were they expected to adhere to the rigid rules and expectations of society. Losing a husband gave widows permission to ignore some of the silly rules that governed women. A fair trade-off, in Amanda's opinion.

She knew Harriet struggled with the concept of moving Sam into the room next to hers. The room with the connecting doorway. It was the perfect means for turning Sam into her protector. Once she arranged all the details with Harriet, she'd hurry to the lumberyard and tell him. She sipped the rich, dark coffee and tried to imagine his reaction. Sam didn't seem to be a man who would enjoy being told what to do.

She had discovered a way to manipulate him though, with soft, silky caresses and blazing desire and need. But she'd only just awakened her sensual side and had no idea how long lust worked on a man. Perhaps he'd quickly grow tired of her and she'd lose her advantage. She wished she could ask Harriet about the powers of sensuality, but even though the woman was becoming a friend, those kinds of questions were too intimate.

She dabbed at the corner of her mouth with the linen napkin, then folded it carefully and settled it next to her plate.

“Tell your boarder I'll pay his rent for the next month if he'll move to another room.” Amanda stood and brushed the soft dark silk of her gown before picking up her bag.

“I'm sure Sam will want to move in right away, so could you have the room cleaned as soon as possible?”

“You discussed this with Sam, right?” Harriet held the tray of dirty dishes on her hip and waited for Amanda to answer.