Wild Is the Night (20 page)

Apparently, his little scholar had other ideas.

Tearing off the trousers, he quickly rifled through the rest of his clothes. It was just as he thought. Shirt sleeves were still torn and buttons were missing, collars were unfastened, and socks were undarned. She hadn’t done anything to his clothes at all except the trousers, and those she had made worse. Outrage flooded through him, and as he gritted his teeth, he thought of how immensely satisfying it would be to turn the lovely genius over his knee and teach her a lesson she never learned in college. As he stared at the clothes, the absurdity of the situation struck him and unwillingly, he burst out laughing.

He had to admire her. The woman had a brain, and apparently was determined to use it.

He stuffed the clothes into a bundle, then slipped into the one intact pair of trousers he still had, forcing down his laughter.

So Amanda Edison wanted to play rough.

She had no idea just how rough it could get.

“Did you wish to see me?” Amanda stood before him, looking incredibly lovely as the moonlight made her hair appear like polished wood and brightened the stark blue-green of her eyes. The scent of bacon and beef drifted from the chuckwagon, complimented by the aromatic smell of the bitter coffee. The religious folk had finished their meal and were starting to pray, so that Luke and Amanda were quite alone when he’d called her. Now she stared at him through thick black lashes, and Luke was genuinely glad to see apprehension there.

He was beginning to think the woman felt nothing at all.

“Yes, Amanda, please sit down,” he said evenly.

Amanda glanced around the interior of the covered wagon. It was far too intimate, this rough hewn cart with its thick, canvas covering. The floor was made up of crude seats and a warm bed, and it was here that her eyes wandered. Blushing hotly, she looked back up, then carefully schooled her features.

“I am comfortable standing, and I would prefer to remain so.”

“Ah.” He smiled, his grin filled with warmth. Amanda was instantly wary. “Suit yourself. As a devoted husband, I wouldn’t dream of discomforting you.” Slowly, he began to unbutton his shirt, his eyes never leaving her face.

“What are you doing?” Although their wagon was a short distance from the fire, Amanda could see him all too clearly, and the gorgeous body that emerged as he tossed his shirt aside. He seemed to consider her words for a moment, then he sat down and began to remove his boots.

“I’m undressing,” he said, as if announcing the weather. “You see, I’ve done more than my share of the night watch, so the Reverend decided to appoint some of the other men. It’s just as well. These are my last pair of trousers.”

“I see.” Amanda swallowed hard. She was beginning to see exactly. “I think I’ll go get some coffee—”

“Don’t even think about it,” Luke continued, a light threat in his voice. “As I was saying, when I went to get dressed this morning, something had happened to my clothes. It seems someone hasn’t sewn them at all. It also seems that the tear in my buckskins now extends to both legs, from one end to the other. Naturally, that will cause me some inconvenience, but none that I haven’t experienced before. In the war, you are often without a change of clothes, so do you know what you do to keep your wardrobe intact?”

Aesop squawked. Amanda stared at Luke, her eyes as wide as cornflowers. “No.”

“You try not to sleep in them.” He stood up, less than three feet away from her, and began to unbuckle his belt. “Otherwise, your shirts become sweaty too fast, they wrinkle and tear. Even your trousers should be removed. When you’re down to one pair, you don’t have much of a choice, do you?” He raised her chin, forcing her to look at him.

“I wouldn’t know.” Amanda choked, the color staining her cheeks a bright pink. She was aware of him shucking his trousers and then his drawers, of him standing so close to her that she could feel the warmth of his body, even through her own clothes. It was erotic and strangely compelling, to be standing in the confinement of the wagon, with Luke buck-naked just a few feet away. She almost swayed toward him, her fingers aching to touch the bronze chest that faced her, or the masculine heat just below his waist that she knew without looking was hard and ready for her.

She wanted him. God, how she wanted him. Yet, she was afraid. Luke had the power to hurt her, and she didn’t want anyone to have that kind of power. Closing her eyes, she let a single tear drop as his fingers gently caressed her face, then softly, enticingly, her lips. She gave a little gasp as he pulled her into his arms, his body, naked and arousing, pressed against her own. Any doubt she had about his own arousal was swiftly destroyed as she felt the heat of him rubbing against her, throbbing and unforgiving.

“Feel that and tell me you don’t want me.”

It was as if he could read her mind. Amanda’s lips parted to flatly deny him, but his mouth took hers in a kiss, her words with it. It was just like the night in the Harvey House, just like the night when he seduced her with such expert tenderness. Amanda could do little more than push against him half-heartedly as his tongue played with hers, then slipped inside her mouth in a wildly exciting rhythm that made her forget everything except the man who held her. A moist heat spread through her body like hot honey, flooding her veins, culminating there, where his hardness teased her with a searing promise.

“Amanda. Mandy, sweet Mandy.” He groaned, cupping her round bottom, pulling her impossibly closer. Logic swept from her mind, reason deserted her. No book ever taught her how to deal with this, and now, although every instinct was against it, her body cried out for what he was giving her.

“Please.” She whispered when his mouth left hers, though her body still leaned toward him. She gasped when he cupped a breast, his thumb brushing the taut nipple through the fabric, arousing her in spite of herself.

Yet, he felt her resistance, knew she was still fighting both herself and him. Gently, he released her, staring at her with a frown, angry at himself for the desire she aroused with little more than an innocent kiss. He had meant only to teach her a lesson, and now found himself tortured as well.

She gazed at him with passion-drugged eyes, and he saw those eyes cloud with confusion, then mortification as she realized what had happened.

He had taken pity on her and released her. Embarrassment flooded her, and she covered her mouth with the back of her hand, fighting the sobs that threatened.

“Here.” He handed her the clothes. “Fix them by morning. Or else you’ll be sleeping with me naked every night. And I’m not sure either one of us could take it.”

She nodded, horribly grateful when he eased away from her, then slipped into the bed, covering his dark, masculine body with a quilt silvered by moonlight.

Amanda may not have known everything. But she knew when to quit.

“He ain’t gonna be too happy about that telegram.”

Damien spat onto the ground, then settled more comfortably against the pine bluff. They were already deep in Indian territory, the last legal refuge for the Five Civilized Tribes. But there were others about, others that didn’t conform to any government edicts, who saw a white man as nothing more than a potential scalp. Damien didn’t like to think about that, and he pulled down his Stetson and glanced about uneasily.

“Haskwell don’t like much,” Butch agreed. “And he was pretty pissed about us losing that girl. How long we been tracking her now?”

“Too long.” Damien shaded his eyes and stared at the endless horizon. “We should have been able to catch up to her easily. If it wasn’t for your horse going lame, we’d have had her.”

“What the hell did you want me to do? When you steal a horse, it sometimes happens. I should kill that sheep rancher. Trust a sheepman to have a lame horse.”

“You know, if Miss Amanda Edison had turned to school manning like any normal woman, this wouldn’t have happened. No, she had to write a book and finger Haskwell,” Damien said.

“And if she should take it into her head to testify, he’d be dangling neck first from a cottonwood,” Butch sneered. “She’s startin’ to piss me off, too. I ain’t had to work this hard since we went after Clyde Barnes.”

“I remember old Clyde.” Damien grinned, his soulless eyes showing dim emotion. “Chased him from Nevada straight east to Texas. Caught him in the panhandle and staked him out for the Indians.”

“Right.” Butch grinned, his scar whitening. “By the time them Commanches were through with him, old Clyde had nothing left but his—”

“Butch, lookey there.” Damien cut off this pleasant discourse and pointed to a puff of dust in the distance.

Butch rose, then joined his companion on the bluff. There, just below them, was the outline of a small wagon train keeping faithfully to the Chisholm trail.

Butch and Damien exchanged a grin. Seems like luck was turning their way.

“I have to admit, I don’t understand.” Aileen gazed at Amanda, her freckled face wrinkled in a frown. She bent over the swiftly rushing Canadian River, beating a shirt against the rocks, forcing the crystalline water to cleanse the garment. “I wouldn’t mind being married to Luke Parker. He’s quite a handsome man.”

“I am aware of his physical qualities,” Amanda replied, dipping her feet into the pool—anything to keep from thinking about that night. Luke had her completely in his power, and he knew it. She, Amanda Edison—who’d won prize after prize at college for her treatise on “Natural Selection and the Earth Today,” on her calculus papers, on her editorials—was putty in the hands of the southern gunslinger. She could almost hear his smug laughter. It wasn’t to be borne.

“And he’s nice enough. Just yesterday he helped Jake when that bear cornered his calf. Scared the living heck out of Jake. But Luke has good aim and a cool head. He killed the bear and helped Jake out of a jam, without anyone getting hurt. Even Pop said it was quite a feat.”

“I know,” Amanda said.

“Then what is it? I remember that night you were going out. Didn’t it go well? Does he have problems in bed? Can’t go the whole trail? I can help you with that. Sex happened to be my former occupation, you know.”

Amanda felt her color rise straight up to her hair. “I don’t think that’s his problem.” She choked, pulling her feet from the water.

“What then? What is really bothering you?”

Amanda shrugged. “Luke just isn’t…right for me. And I have no intention of calling any man my master! And it’s other things. I don’t know how to describe it.” Amanda glanced down at her journal.

He called me Mandy. He held me and I wanted him so badly I could think of nothing else. This desperate longing never ceases, but grows by day like the endless fields of blue-bonnets. I’m afraid I shall be consumed by it, lost like Tantalus, stooping to drink from the water which is always receding and must always recede….

“Then what are you going to do?” Aileen laid out a shirt, then reached for a pair of trousers, holding them in the water once more. The water swirled through the legs, washing away the dust and grime from the trail, taking the sweat and smell of cattle from the rough material. The current was so strong that Aileen had to grasp the material with both hands to keep it from washing downstream. “I think it’s a mistake to keep defying him. It didn’t work the last time.”

“Perhaps,” Amanda replied coolly. But her emotions were neatly capped. Pride and intelligence dictated that she win this one, and not just the battle, but the war. Her lack of self-control frightened her, along with the thought of what would happen if they were alone again. “But then again, perhaps I haven’t tried hard enough. As John Dryden said, ‘Beware the fury of a patient man.'”

Picking up Luke’s laundry, Amanda sent it over the river’s edge, and watched it float downstream, ignoring Aileen’s gasp of horror.

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