The Temptress (15 page)

“When do I meet Sam?” Beynard was saying.

“Soon now. I don't want any trouble near my place.”

Beynard gave Owen a smirk. “So you can save your trouble for your nephew? I never met a more repulsive kid.”

Owen smiled. “Isn't he? No one will mind when he meets his fate. See that timberland? This time next year it'll all be mine.”

“How do you plan to do it?”

“That cousin of his will. Eskridge has already embezzled, driven a man to suicide, and he beats that little wife of his. It should be easy to prove he'd murder too.”

“What about the wife?”

Owen and Beynard exchanged looks. “She's served her purpose. Shall we get on with this? I'd like to get out of here before this storm breaks.”

To Chris's utter disbelief, the men turned in unison and started toward her. It was almost as if they knew where she was. Of course that couldn't be but she crouched lower—and the men kept coming.

Then suddenly came the sound of a man whistling and both of them stopped—the men less than a yard from Chris's hiding place.

“Hello!” came Tynan's voice and Chris could have cried in relief. “I guess those horses belong to you, Mr. Hamilton.”

“What are you doing here?” Owen snapped.

Chris put her head up enough to see Ty. Over his shoulder was slung a couple of rabbits.

“Unity sent me out for rabbits.”

Chris wiped away the first drops of rain that fell on her face.

“And I wanted you in the garden,” Owen said.

Chris saw that Dysan, who'd been looking across the valley while Ty and Owen talked, turned to look at Tynan.

“And I expect you back there as soon as possible.”

“And withstand Unity's wrath?” Tynan said cheerfully, blinking against the rain that was coming down steadily. “No thanks, I'll stay here and get all three rabbits, just as I was ordered.” He paused as lightning lit the valley below them. “You gentlemen are sure gettin' your fine clothes wet,” he said in a drawl.

For a moment, Chris held her breath, for the three of them looked for all the world as if they were going to shoot each other. Why? she wondered.

Dysan backed down first. “Let's go,” he said, and, quietly, Owen followed him.

Chris crouched low in the bushes, trying to keep the rain out of her face and to keep Tynan from finding her.

There was no hiding to be done. Two minutes after the men left, he grabbed her arm and hauled her up before him. “I ought to take you over my knees. Do you know you could have been killed?”

Water was running off his hat onto her face. “How did you know where I was?”

“Pilar saw you going off and told me.” He had a nasty grip on her upper arm. “Now come with me.”

“But my horse, it's—”

“You think they just left it?” He started down the hill the opposite way she'd come, pulling her behind him.

She kept her head down against the pelting rain, tripping along behind him. “Where are we going?”

“Home! To your father. You've taken twenty years off my life already and I don't have many more left.”

“But what about Asher? They're going to kill Lionel and blame it on Asher.”

“That's his worry. You're mine.” He stopped at a saddled horse and helped her up, then mounted behind her.

“Can we get back this way?”

“We can get to your father's this way.”

“Tynan,” she said, turning in the saddle and putting her arms around his chest. “We can't leave Asher there. We have to go back and warn him. Please.” She looked up at him with pleading eyes.

He studied her for a moment. “All right, damn it. We'll warn him but then you go.”

“Yes, Tynan,” she said, still holding onto him as they rode. His muscles under her cheek completely blotted out the thrashing of the rain and the slash of the lightning.

He was traveling as fast as the laden horse would go when its front hooves suddenly came off the ground and Ty fought to control the horse and hold Chris in the saddle.

“Damn!” he said in a way that made Chris twist around to look. Lightning had struck the bridge, and the swollen stream was far too violent to cross.

“We'll have to go back the other way,” Chris said, looking up at him.

“There is no bridge on the other side.”

He was holding the reins of the horse tightly, both of them drenched with rain, lightning all around them—yet Tynan made no effort to move.

“Hadn't we better go?” Chris asked, wiping water out of her eyes. “This storm is getting worse.”

“There's nowhere to go,” Tynan said. “We're cut off from the main road and there's only virgin forest north of us.”

“Ty! It's getting dark. We can't stay here all night. Is there any shelter nearby? The water will recede after the storm's over.”

Ty didn't answer, just sat there looking at the raging, deep stream.

“Tynan!” Chris yelled up at him. “Let's go back into the trees. Maybe we can find a rock overhanging or something.”

“There's a logger's cabin near here.”

“Then let's go.”

The horse was dancing about nervously and the rain was coming down harder, but Ty didn't move.

“What is
wrong
with you?” she shouted.

“You
are what's wrong with me,” he yelled back at her, then turned the horse and started north.

The cabin had originally been for a surveying crew that had worked in the area and, since then, it had been maintained by someone, probably Owen since it was on his land—or Lionel's as Chris insisted. It was one tiny room, completely bare except for a fireplace and a stack of wood. There was no furniture. Shortly after arriving, Ty had the horse stabled in a lean-to in the back and a fire going in the crude stone fireplace and the rabbits skinned, spitted and roasting. There was an abundant supply of dry firewood along one wall. Ty had removed the saddle and the bedroll and flung it into the cabin for Chris to take care of while he saw to the horse.

She removed the blanket from the bedroll and was pleased to see that it was relatively dry. Shaking it out, shivering against the wetness of her clothes, she began to be aware of just why Tynan had been so reluctant to stay in the cabin. With the rain coming down hard outside, the fire crackling warm inside, and with the prospect of removing her clothing and putting on the angle, loose blanket, she had an idea of what was going to happen.

With a whoosh of a sigh, she sat down on the saddle, the blanket clutched against her. What would her mother say if she knew what her only child was contemplating? Would she be horrified? Would Judith Montgomery have liked Tynan, this one-name gunfighter who didn't even know what the word “home” meant?

Chris turned the rabbits over the fire and tried to think as calmly and rationally as possible. She'd never even considered the idea of seducing a man before. Sometimes she thought it was ironic that all a girl's life she fought off men, starting when she was a child with her mother warning her against taking candy from strangers, and saying no until the very wedding day. Women were trained to say no, so how did she say yes now? Even more important, how did she say yes to a question that was never going to be asked of her?

She stood for a moment and gazed into the fire. Maybe Tynan didn't want her and that was why he was able to resist all her advances. Maybe the beautiful Pilar was enough for him.

She shivered once against her wet clothes and began to peel them off, still staring into the fire and wondering what she was going to do—and if she should do it—when Tynan came back into the room.

Instinctively, she pulled the blanket up to cover her nude body.

Ty, after one quick glance, looked away from her to hang the bridle on a nail by the door, then removed his hat to pour the water out of the brim. “It looks like it'll keep up all night. Are the rabbits ready?”

Chris wrapped the blanket around her and went to the fireplace to test the meat. “I think so but I'm not sure.”

She looked up to see Tynan staring at her and she realized that the blanket she wore was gaping open at both top and bottom. Ducking her head so he couldn't see her smile, she looked back at the rabbits. At least she had some effect on him, if only to make him look.

“I'll test them,” Ty said and that buttermilk voice of his was even richer.

She looked up at him through her lashes.

“Get back,” he said with force. “Go stand by the wall. No, not on this side, on the far side. Now stay there while I look.”

“Tynan,” she said, exasperated, “you act as if I have a contagious disease. I can assure you that I'm quite clean and free from all illness.”

“Hmph!” he grunted, tearing off a succulent, hot rabbit leg. His clothes were wet and they clung to his muscular body, outlining every hill and valley of his back. She could see where the whip marks had left some scars. “You are worse than disease, lady, you are poison.”

“Was prison that bad?” she asked softly.

“Unfortunately, the memory is fading. Here, take this,” he said as he removed the rabbits from the skewers. “On second thought, I'll put it here and you can come and get it.”

“For heaven's sake, Tynan! I'm not going to harm you. You act as if I were holding a rifle on you.”

He looked her up and down for a brief second. “I'd rather deal with twenty rifles. Eat that and then lay down over there and go to sleep. We'll leave very early in the morning so I can get you back as soon as possible. Then, as soon as you get Prescott, we'll leave again. I don't want you near Hamilton.”

Chris stretched out on the hard plank floor, chewing on the meat while trying to get comfortable, but not succeeding. The blanket was small and her legs remained uncovered from the knee down. She tried to put them under her but had no success. If she covered her legs, her shoulders were exposed to the cold, and if she covered her shoulders, her legs got cold.

“Will you hold still!” Tynan suddenly shouted.

She looked up at him in surprise. He was sitting on the saddle, chewing on a piece of rabbit and looking into the fire. “Well, Tynan, I'm just trying to get comfortable and not freeze to death.”

“It was your idea to come to this cabin so make the best of it and stop complaining—and go to sleep.”

“How am I supposed to sleep when I'm freezing to death? And why are you still wearing your wet clothes?” She sat up. “Look at your skin! It's turning blue with cold. Is there anything that we can use for a coffee pot? I'll make you something to warm you up.”

He didn't bother to answer her or even acknowledge her presence, but just sat there glaring into the fire and chewing.

Chris moved to sit in front of him, and when he continued to look over her head, she took his hands in hers. “Is something wrong? Does this cabin remind you of something bad that happened to you? Maybe one of the outlaw gangs you've ridden with? Or the man who was your friend who was hanged?”

Ty looked down at her with an expression that asked if she'd completely lost her mind.

His hands were as cold as a piece of metal left in snow. She began to rub them between her own blowing on them, trying to warm him.

“Chris,” he said in a husky whisper. “I don't think I can take too much more. Please go over there and leave me alone.”

“You'll never get warm if you sit there in your wet clothes. You'd better take them off.” She looked up at him and she knew that what she felt for him was in her eyes, yet he didn't seem to react at all. He just sat there looking at her, and if there was anything in his eyes, it was sadness.

She was about to say something else when suddenly he reacted. He grabbed her in his arms and pulled her up to put his lips on hers. If Tynan was good with buttons, he was even better with blankets. Before his face was touching hers, the blanket was off, flung somewhere across the room. Chris gasped when Ty's cold clothes touched her warm, bare skin, but her arms went around his neck and pulled him closer.

“Tynan,” she whispered as he began to hungrily kiss her neck, his hands running up and down her back, his fingers curving over her buttocks.

He took her head in his hands and looked at her. “Chris,” he murmured, “I've never wanted anything as badly as I want you at this moment. This is your last chance to say no because from now on I won't be able to help myself.”

Their noses were touching so she turned slightly so she could give him a quick kiss. “Yes,” she said joyously. “Yes and yes and yes.” She punctuated each word with a kiss.

He began to smile then, a warm, seductive smile that made Chris's skin tingle. So, she thought, this was the face of Tynan the lover.

With a broader grin, he ruffled her damp hair, leaned forward and began to use his teeth to nibble at her bottom lip. Chris was taken by surprise. She knew the basics of how humans mate, but this had nothing to do with what she'd heard.

“Come here, you tempting little imp,” he said, pulling her up higher. She was between his legs, his wet trousers pressed against her ribs, holding her in place while he kissed and nibbled on her ears, her neck, across her shoulder, down her arm.

Chris's neck began to weaken. “Oh, my, but I do like that,” she murmured, eyes closed. Tynan's hands began to rub on her body, warming her. He seemed to be able to reach all of her, from the soles of her feet, up her calves, lingering on her buttocks and then his fingertips massaging up her spine.

After a moment, she no longer felt his cold clothes, felt, instead, only his hot hands on her skin, felt only his lips moving over her body—a body which had never known a man's lips before.

He was as smooth at moving her about as he was at unbuttoning her dresses. She had no idea when he changed her to a prone position—but she was aware when his lips first touched her breasts. Her eyes flew open, startled, and she looked at him.

The dark room with only the firelight from behind Tynan made him better-looking than usual and Chris suddenly thought that perhaps Apollo, the god of the sun, was making love to her. She put her hand in his dark hair, pulling his head up to hers so she could kiss him. “I love you, Tynan,” she said, putting her arms around him and kissing him. She wasn't even surprised to find that his shirt was gone. No doubt he was as skillful at removing his own clothing as he was with women's.

His hands kept moving up and down her body in a sensual, caressing way, roaming over her stomach, down her thighs, up to her breasts. He felt so good to her, his big, wide shoulders, the way his muscles moved under her hands as he moved, the way his hips were gently undulating against the side of her hips.

Chris's heart was rising in her throat, pounding, as his hands began to caress the soft inner flesh of her thigh, kneading on the skin, touching soft, quiescent muscle. Of her own accord, her legs began to open.

“Ty,” she whispered. “My lovely Tynan.”

He didn't say a word, but began to move his lips downward as Chris arched her neck back in anticipation of what was to come. His hot, wet mouth closed on her breast, causing a groan to escape her lips. He continued to make love to her breast as his hands roamed over her legs.

When he moved on top of her, she clutched him to her, wrapping her legs about him instinctively. Gently, he disengaged her legs and moved them so they were bent, knees up, by his side.

When he entered her, Chris gasped, opening her eyes to look at him. He lay still on top of her, smiling at her, seeming to be at ease, but there were great drops of sweat on his forehead.

She had expected pain but there was none, only surprise at how lovemaking actually felt. Blinking a few times, she moved her hips slightly upward, toward his and she saw Ty's eyes close, his head lean back and he entered her fully.

Chris thought her heart was going to leap from her breast as he began to move inside her, so gently, so slowly at first—and the sensation was absolutely heavenly. Slowly, deeply, rhythmically, he moved, touching her in a way that seemed to consume her, to make her grow bigger, to expand until she felt as if she might explode.

“Tynan?” she said and there was some fear in her voice because she didn't know what was about to happen.

He caught her legs, moved them back around his waist then lifted her hips upward so that half of her body weight was supported by his hips. He began to move more quickly and, if possible, more deeply. Chris put her hands up to touch the heavy muscles of his chest, clutching at him, digging her fingers into the thick muscles, wanting to claw him. Her head began to turn back and forth and there were little sounds coming from her.

Tynan's movements quickened until Chris thought she might explode.

Afterward, she lay still, clinging to him, not wanting to let him go.

“You can, can't you?” she said at last.

With a chuckle, Ty moved off of her, but held her close, one arm under her head, one thigh across hers.

“That was lovely,” she said, stretching. “Did I do all right? You weren't disappointed?”

“No,” he murmured.

“You aren't falling asleep, are you?”

“Not if you keep jabbering. Chris, we have to get up early tomorrow, this has been one hell of a day, what with you climbing across roofs, so I'd like to get some sleep.”

“Sleep?” She moved so she could look at him. “But I'm starving and we have so much to discuss. I want to know how you found out about my following Owen and when we'll be married and what we'll do about Lionel and Pilar has to go and—”

“Wait a minute!” His eyes flew open. “Married? Who said anything about marriage?”

“But I thought…I mean, after what we did…”

He rolled away from her, pulling on his pants.

She watched, the blanket clutched to her, as he built up the fire then lifted the cooked rabbits and began to reheat them. At long last, he handed her a big chunk of meat before he went to stand by the door.

“I never wanted this to happen,” he said, turning to look at her. “I meant to keep my hands off of you, just like your father demanded.”

“If you're worried about the pardon,” she said, mouth full, “I'll see that you get it. My father won't send you back to jail.”

“Don't you have sense enough to understand that it's deeper than that?” he asked angrily. “Somebody like me can't marry somebody like you, and besides, I don't
want
to get married.”

Chris paused in eating. “Oh, Tynan, you have such a low opinion of yourself.”