Rainbows and Rapture (10 page)

Red ants were crawling all over her. In an instant, he was at her side. He knelt beside her and proceeded to roll her all around on the ground. His efforts succeeded in wiping many of the ants off her nightgown, but he could still see some underneath it. Without a second’s hesitation, he snatched the flimsy gown off. His hands stinging from the numerous bites he received, he slid them firmly over Russia’s bare body, crushing the insects beneath his palms. When he could find no more to kill, he scraped the dead ants off and sat back on his heels.

Russia struggled to a sitting position and brought her knees to her chest. The stings she’d suffered felt like bits of fire buried beneath her skin. As she flicked a dead ant off her foot, her eyes filled with tears.

Santiago watched them drip down her cheeks. They made him feel just as sad this morning as they had last night. He still didn’t want to feel that way about them, and so he looked away. “You slept with the raisins,” he informed her, carefully keeping his gaze away from her face lest he see those tears again. “They’re stuck all over your quilt. The ants found them sometime during the night.”

Gingerly, she touched several angry welts on her arms, shoulders, and calves. She saw many more stings all over the rest of her body. “Would you git me my dress?”

He rose, finding the dress still snagged on the yucca. “Don’t put it on yet,” he said as he handed it to her.

His instruction widened her eyes. She stared up at him, memories of last night pounding through her mind. “I thought you hated whores. Changed your mind, and now you’re gonna take me here in the dirt?”

He didn’t bother to explain his intentions. Instead, he picked her up and carried her toward his own bedroll. She tried to squirm out of his arms, but he held her tighter and laid her down on his bed.

She pulled his blanket over her bare body and watched him kneel at the remains of last night’s fire. He built another one, then set a pan of water on it. While the water heated, Russia watched him walk around the area and gather prickly pear. She wondered if he was making breakfast when he brought sections of the plant to the fire and tossed them into the pan. “I ain’t eatin’ that, Zamora.”

“I wasn’t going to ask you to.” He allowed the prickly pear pieces to boil and soften, then removed them from the pan and placed them on a plate. With his knife, he removed their thorny outer layer.

Russia saw him pick up a large rock and begin crushing the plants into mush. “What are you doin’?”

“Making a poultice. Prickly pear is the best thing I know of for stings.”

“But it’s hot,” she said as he approached her, plate in hand. “It’s gonna burn—”

“It’s not hot anymore. It’s warm. Take off that blanket.”

“But—uh…”

“Are you embarrassed?”

She heard the astonishment in his voice and knew what caused it. “I ain’t workin’, Zamora,” she tried to explain. “I ain’t never embarrassed when I’m workin’, but—this—what we’re doin’…it ain’t work.”

He supposed there was some logic in her explanation, but decided that trying to figure it out would take too long. “Take off the blanket, Russia.”

Looking into his eyes, she thought she saw a bit of concern in them. Maybe he wasn’t frantically worried about her, but it sure did seem like he cared a little bit. “Why’re you botherin’ with these stings o’ mine? I thought you hated me.”

He did hate her, he told himself. But he could hate her and still feel the need to dress the ant stings, couldn’t he? “Look,” he began, forcing himself to sound harsh, “if we leave these bites untreated, you’ll dig at yourself all day long. That’ll slow us down, and I’m not going to let this journey with you be dragged out any longer than is absolutely necessary. Now for the last time, take
off
that blanket.”

His insistence made her want to get up and run. But the stings were hurting so badly, it felt as though the ants were still biting her. She glanced at the plate of plant medicine he’d made, wondering if the mess would do her any good at all.

He read her thoughts. “I swear it’ll work.”

She nodded and tried to relax.

“I’m going to take off the blanket now.” Slowly, he reached for the edge, ready to let go if she showed any sign of protest. When she didn’t, he pulled it off, trying his damnedest not to notice she was naked.

“I’m nekkid.”

Santa Maria!
Why’d she have to remind him? “Do you think I’ve never seen a naked woman before?”

“Well…”

“And I’m not looking at your body, Russia, I’m trying to—”

“You are so lookin’ at it. You’re—”

“All right, I’m looking at it, but— Dammit, I
have
to look at it! How the hell else can I find the ant bites? Now be quiet and lie still!”

She tried her best to obey, but when she saw his poultice-covered finger coming toward her belly and realized he was going to touch her all over, she began to quiver. “I’m cold,” she tried to make him believe.

His finger stopped a mere inch from her skin. “It’s ninety degrees in the shade. You’re not cold.”

“Well…them bites give me a fever, y’see, and I’m shakin’ with it.”

He rolled his eyes. “For God’s sake, Russia, don’t you think I
know
why you’re shaking? You’re naked, and I’m getting ready to touch you, but dammit, I’m just trying to get this medicine on you! Now, are you going to let me do it or not?”

The bites stinging viciously, she nodded again.

He placed his finger on her stomach, smoothing the medicine across several stings and feeling as though he were caressing a rose petal. He began to feel a little shaky himself.
Santa Maria
, he had to get hold of himself! “This is not a sexual encounter,” he said out of the blue.

“All right.”

“And for you to lie there and think I’m going to take advantage of you—”

“All right.”

“It’s—it’s damn stupid, is what it is. I’m—”

“I said all right!”

“
Santa Maria
, I’m not so desperate that I’d assault a woman with ant bites all over her! Now be quiet!”

“But I didn’t say—”

“Quiet!”

“All right!”

Satisfied that he’d made everything clear to her, he searched for more bites and found two on her left breast. For some reason beyond his understanding he felt real anger at the sight of such perfection marred.

Russia went completely rigid when his finger swept lightly over the side of her breast. Deep waves of strange anticipation washed over her. “You said this weren’t one o’ them sex encount—”

“It’s not!”

“Well, you’re—”

“I know I’m touching it!” he finished for her. “But you’ve got two stings on it!”

“It’s all your fault, y’know! Them stings—”

“I’m not the one who bit you, Russia.”

“If you hadn’t give me them raisins, I wouldn’t have been bited!”

“I gave them to you to
eat!
I didn’t tell you to
sleep
with them!”

She lapsed into nervous silence.

He finished with her breast, then smoothed more medicine on her slender thighs, trying not to look at the nest of honey curls that lay between them. He failed miserably. The sight unleashed his full, unrelenting desire. He made a fist of his hand, accidentally touching her with it.

She gasped when she felt his wrist brush across her femininity. The slight contact lit a fire within her depths. She felt as though she’d lost control of her own feelings. Burning with the need for something she couldn’t understand, she reached for his hand, her fingers closing around it.

Confusion gripped her. Part of her yearned for him to touch her again. More intimately. Another part shied away from the very thought, insisting that she move his hand away.

“Russia.”

In answer, she squeezed his hand tighter. She was afraid he’d touch her. She was afraid he wouldn’t.

He opened his fist, but her fingers intertwined with his. “There are more bites,” he whispered.

“More bites,” she repeated, mesmerized by the ebony shine of his eyes and the way the thick silk of his midnight hair curtained the sides of his face.

“I didn’t mean to touch you like that.”

“I know.”

“The medicine,” he murmured.

“Yeah, the medicine.”

“Will you let me put the rest on you?”

She nodded.

“Let go of my hand.” He raised his hand to show her how tightly she held it.

She released it. “I’m— Sorry. I don’t know what’s happenin’ to me. I feel so hot.”

“You just said you were cold.”

“Now I’m hot. Must be the bites. Hurry up and finish curin’ ’em.”
Before I catch on fire and burn to death!
she added silently, still struggling to contain the sultry sensations his touch brought.

He spread more of the poultice on her calves, relishing the way her soft skin felt beneath his fingers. God, she was beautiful. “Stand up now,” he instructed, cursing the tremble in his own voice. “You have more stings on your back and your— Uh, you have more stings on your other side.”

When she obeyed, he stood beside her, his chest at her shoulder. She kept her eyes straight ahead, waiting for his touch. So great was her anticipation for it, her knees buckled.

Instantly, his arm encircled her waist, steadying her. He bent down to her. “Easy,” he whispered, his mouth close to her temple. He dipped his other hand into the last of the poultice and dropped the empty plate to the ground. Moving Russia’s hair off her back, he smoothed more medicine along the nape of her neck.

She gasped when the touch she’d been waiting for finally came.

“Easy, Russia, easy,” he whispered again, his arm tightening around her.

She felt his warm breath ruffle her hair, then felt his hand traveling lower. It slid slowly down her spine, smoothing over every curve it encountered, lingering at the small of her back, and finally resting on her bottom. Round and round his fingers went, making small, firm circles before he fanned them and spread the whole of his hand upon her.

Though she couldn’t see what he was doing to her, she imagined it. His long, dark fingers and wide, thick palm. So strong, yet touching her white skin so gently. Delicious sensation swirled through every part of her. A low moan escaped her parted lips.

The soft, utterly tantalizing sound was more than Santiago could bear. With one hand still on her bottom, he moved his other to her breast, cupping and kneading both sensuous parts of her until his own desire was so intense, he could no longer control it.

He spun her around to face him, her hair swirling against his legs. “Russia.”

The husky sound of his voice stirring her thoughts, she felt his arms pull her, crush her to his chest. Her body seemed to melt and mold to the contours of his hard, lean form. “Zamora,” she whispered.

He yearned to hear a plea for more in that whisper, and so he heard it. Whether it was there or not, he didn’t care. His hands trailed slowly up and down the hollows of her back, curling over her bottom again, urging her closer, closer…and finally into him.

And there he kept her. Both with the strength of his arms and the glittering command in his eyes. He moved his hips against hers, allowing her, forcing her to feel his need. “Russia,” he told her again.

She opened her mouth to answer, but had no time to speak. His lips moved across hers, stealing her breath, her voice, her strength, her every thought except those of him.

He felt her weaken in his arms, just as he had the night in the hotel. “
Santa Maria
, not again, Russia,” he entreated, his mouth still clinging to hers, his hands still keeping her next to him. “Don’t. Not this time.”

So many emotions spun through her, she couldn’t separate them. She felt just as she had the night they’d met. The yearning was there. The hot hunger. The confusion. The desperate need to understand what it was he did to her that no other man had ever done.

And the fear was there. Dear God, she felt so afraid of him. Of what he wanted from her.

And of what he would give her in return.

“I’m afraid,” she told him so quietly she could barely hear her own words.

“Afraid! Of what?” Dammit! he fumed.
Now
wasn’t the time for her to start being afraid of him!

Her heart thundering wildly, she slipped out of the circle of his arms and was relieved when he allowed her this. “It— This ain’t never happened to me before,” she said softly, trying to find the right words to temper the irritation she suspected he felt. “When you touch me, it’s like I’m meltin’. I ain’t never feeled this way. I even moaned. I usually fake them moans, y’see. But when I done it with you…it was a real moan. It come out all by itself.”

He took a step away from her. “All by itself?”

Her chest heaving with the emotions still pumping through her, she brought handfuls of hair over her shoulders, dropping it so that it covered her entire torso. “I know you’re mad, and I know why. But—I— What you do to me…it scares me.”

He frowned. She wasn’t at all made apprehensive by his fierce reputation, but her sexual response to him scared her. He couldn’t figure that out, nor could he comprehend the deep blush spreading across her cheeks. “Russia, I don’t understand what—”

“Neither do I.” She hung her head. “I know ever’thing that can happen betwixt a man and a woman. I been touched all over, hear? Only I ain’t never felt nothin’ like what I feel with you.”

Lifting her head, she saw him watching her. His bold, steady stare made her tremble anew. “See?” she yelled. “You ain’t even gotta touch me! All’s you gotta do is
look
at me! Your eyes— Smidgens o’ starry midnight, and when you turn ’em on me… I fall plumb nelly to pieces!”

He jerked his fingers through his hair, thoroughly bewildered. Whoever heard of a harlot who was ignorant of sexual pleasure? There was no such thing!

“What game are you playing with me, Russia?” he demanded.

“Game? I ain’t playin’ no game.”

He didn’t know what to make of her. His only rational thought was that the moment of passion was definitely over. Well, good, he thought. He didn’t need a tease like her to satisfy his needs. She wasn’t the only woman in the world, and he’d find a more suitable one the first chance he got.