Wyoming Wildfire (27 page)

“I’ll show you,” Burch said, lowering himself into her welcoming embrace. She rose to meet him and together they raced toward a fulfillment that shook them, enslaved them.

At last they had been truly joined, each an inseparable part of the other.

Sibyl opened her eyes. The pale winter light coming through the windows was too weak to chase the shadows away entirely. It could only drive them into the corners of the room where they would slink about like a sulky vanguard, waiting for night to return and reestablish their supremacy.

The sound of soft breathing directed Sibyl’s attention to the man lying in peaceful slumber next to her. A smile of utter contentment transfigured her face, a metamorphosis not unlike the rising sun’s transformation of morning’s dew-moistened landscape. A profound peace filled her and caused her to gaze upon him in wonder. How was it possible that the love of one man, even one so nearly perfect as Burch, could change everything so radically? It seemed as if she were looking at her own life with new eyes, seeing things she had never seen before, seeing sides of issues she never knew existed. And all because of a few tempestuous hours spent in the arms of that insatiable beast.

She smiled again, more like a satisfied cat this time, pleased with herself, content for the first time to be a woman, willing to admit that she enjoyed being a woman. On this momentous morning all the slights and restrictions didn’t seem very vital. She had no intention of giving in to Burch on every point, but she envisioned a much more satisfactory way of overcoming their differences.

It seemed strange to be in Burch’s room, to share his bed as though she belonged there. She looked about the room, aware of the strong masculine feel of it. The absence of lace and frills, the bare dresser tops, the razor and strop next to the bowl and pitcher; the abundance of browns gave the room a rich mellowness that had none of the cloying feeling of pastels or the giddiness of checks and prints. Its strength lay in it stark simplicity, and it was that that made Sibyl feel so deliciously safe.

She snuggled down next to Burch, her bare shoulders chilled by the coldness of the unheated room. Burch barely moved, the muscles in his powerful shoulders remaining soft and supple, the sinews in his huge thighs and legs completely relaxed.

Such a contrast from last night. Then his entire body seemed to grow increasingly more tense, more rock-hard, until he was like marble despite the heat that poured over her like spray from a waterfall. Then his strength, the brutal power of his body, was never more apparent, and Sibyl felt helpless in the face of this annihilating power. He was insatiable. Sibyl had begged, then pleaded with him to stop, too exhausted by her own desire to be able to endure another shattering experience. Yet now, as she felt the warmth radiating from his body to hers, it didn’t seem too much at all, and her fingers began to trace tiny arabesques over the surface of his skin. But she didn’t get to enjoy the novelty of being the aggressor, regardless of how minor the aggression, for very long. There was a great rustling of bed covers and protesting of springs as Burch woke up, turned over, and wrapped himself about her.

“You smell good,” he murmured sleepily, “like roses or summer lilac.”

“Make up your mind,” she teased. “They’re not in the least alike.”

“Flowers are all alike.”

“Some compliment,” she said, punching him lightly. He didn’t even open his eyes.

“My aunt used to keep little boxes of dried flowers in all the rooms.”

“Sachets.”

“I guess so,” he said, burying his face in her bosom. “ You smell like those, all fresh and outdoorsy. Like springtime.” The pleasant glow spreading all through her wasn’t entirely due to the delicious words. Burch’s warm breath on her breast and the touch of his tongue on her sensitive skin caused the feelings of last night, waiting just below the surface, to leap to the fore without the least warning. All at once Sibyl found herself trembling in Burch’s arms like a frightened maiden, looking forward to what she knew would soon follow, afraid that it would not be as wonderful as she remembered.

“You’re soft and warm,” he whispered, taunting her nipples with his teeth and tongue.

“Well, you’re certainly warm” she said breathlessly, brazenly trailing her hand from his chest to his abdomen, then lower. His response to her touch was electric; his entire body seemed to come alive with pulsating energy, energy that meant to devour her.

“If you keep your hands there, I won’t be responsible for myself,” he said through strained lips.

“Do you mean this?” she asked, giving him a gentle squeeze. His teeth bit painfully into her aroused breast.

“Gawd almighty woman, let go unless you want me to throw you down and virtually rape you.” The brutal force of his words left no doubt in her mind as to their truth.

“I didn’t know you could be so sensitive.”

“Do you mean like this?” he asked, his jagged breath blurring his words, his fingers finding her and plunging deep within. Sibyl’s sharp intake of breath smothered her protest.

Burch’s exploring fingers, seeking out and finding sensitive spots she didn’t know she had, deprived her of speech. Her body arched convulsively, and as his hands continued to plunge within her, driving her to a frenzy, she could only manage an agonized “Stop!”

Burch’s hand withdrew partially, but it was enough for her to regain some sense of control, to back away from the feeling that she was going to explode any minute. But both of them had gone too far to hold back for long. Sibyl’s agonized writhing had brought Burch fully awake and unleashed his craving for her; he didn’t need her touch on his member for it to be achingly hard, painfully so. Quickly and without prelude he eased into her, feeling the warmth of her change the pain into longing. Sibyl, too, was beyond the point of needing any encouragement to meet him. She rose, wrapping her body about him, feeling his need, demanding that hers be met. They reached the peak quickly, like a rocket soaring straight up and then bursting in one single, magnificent explosion of color and light. They lay back, panting, in wonder at the power of their combined passion.

“Is it always like this for you?” she asked moments later when the pounding in her temples had stopped.

“How do you mean?”

“I’ll not sure. I always thought I wouldn’t enjoy making love. I never knew precisely why because no one would talk about it. It was like they were secretly ashamed of it.”

“Did your mother tell you that?”

“No. She died when I was ten, but I just supposed that’s the way it was. Everyone always spoke of girls who liked boys as shameful creatures. I suppose it was natural to think that no good woman would enjoy what they did with those men.”

“But you enjoy it?”

“More every time. And you?”

“I suppose I’m one of the men who gave those girls a bad name. I used them for my pleasure, to relieve a bodily need that periodically became so great I couldn’t dunk about anything else. But with you it’s different.”

“How?”

“I hardly know how to put it into words. It caught me by surprise.” Sibyl smiled pleasurably.

“At first I wanted you because you were the most desirable woman I’d ever seen. Despite your temper and the arguments, the mere thought of your skin, the way your breasts point up, would keep me awake at night. It still does, but it’s different now. There’s something about being with you that I never felt with any other woman. It’s odd because being with you makes me not want to be with another woman.”

“You’d better not,” she said, sitting up and playfully thumping his chest. Burch pulled her down to him, crushing her warm, soft breasts against chest.

“And what about you, my little chaste miss.’’

“I know even less than you because I’ve never been with another man. In fact, I never wanted to be with a man at all.

I thought it was degrading, or giving up my right to be thought of as an independent woman.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t pull a knife on me the first time I touched you.”

“I probably would have if I’d had the foresight to bring one. I never had the slightest desire to be touched by Moreton or Kendrick, but from the very first I had to fight against the attraction that kept drawing me to you. I would be so angry with myself I would take it out on you. Then I would go upstairs and think of all the ways I could unsay those words.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I know it sounds silly to you, but I had fought so hard all my life to be taken seriously as a capable, competent human, not a pretty female, that I was petrified of giving up an inch of the ground I had gained. It wasn’t until I could resist you no longer that I discovered I had grown, not diminished. I feel like I’m a part of you, that together we are more than either of us was alone.”

“What a great argument for making love. I’ll bet if we posted a copy of it on the walls of every bawdy house in the country, their business would triple.”

“You are an obnoxious beast, and I’ll never tell you anything again,” Sibyl cried, half serious, half laughing. She tried to poke Burch in the side, but he wrestled her down and began to tickle her feet. Sibyl kicked with all her strength, but her protests were barely discernible through shrieks of laughter. Burch’s blood was quickly aroused, and Sibyl could tell from the look in his eye that he was interested in more than feet. But a door was heard to slam downstairs and men sounds coming from the kitchen.

“Rachel!” gasped Sibyl, instantly sobered. “She can’t find me rolling around in your bed like an abandoned hussy.” She leapt up, grabbing up the pieces of her clothes that she had discarded on the floor the night before.

“Why should you be worried what she’ll say?’ asked Burch.

“It’s none of her business.”

“That’s just the kind of thing a man would say,” complained Sibyl bitterly, pulling her dress over her head and wrapping her underwear in a bundle. “Just because nobody cares if you sleep with every female that crosses your path, you think women ought to feel the same way. I haven’t got the time to explain it to you now, but I can promise you they don’t.” She peeped out into the hall to make sure no one would see her, blew Burch a kiss, and scampered down the hall to her own room. Burch lay back, laughing happily.

Breakfast was late. It was an unspoken rule that no matter how much Rachel was allowed to do about the house, Sibyl did the cooking. Balaam and Ned were in the ranch room, directing expectant and wondering glances toward the kitchen long before the smell of ham and coffee promised to relieve the gnawing feeling in their stomachs. Sibyl was sure the only thing that kept Balaam from taking her to task was the fact that Burch wasn’t down yet. Not even Balaam expected to be fed before Burch.

“I thought I was going to have to come after you with a lasso,” Balaam said when Burch finally put in his appearance looking more than ordinarily spruced up. “An old man like me could starve to death while you stay up there prettifying yourself. You ain’t expecting somebody special, are you?” he said, winking at Sibyl, who kept her gaze averted.

“Just thought I’d try and look my best for your hanging,”

Burch shot back. “You’re not worth much, but then it didn’t take me very long.” Ned’s crack of laughter wiped the smile off Balaam’s creased face.

“Have your coffee and don’t listen to him, Balaam,” Sibyl said, “or you’re going to get so upset you’ll spill it over yourself.”

That’s not anger, it’s just old age,” needled Ned. But this morning Sibyl was neither interested in nor amused by the men’s constant banter. Her heart beat a little faster when she noticed the extra care Burch had taken with his dress; she was in more danger of spilling the coffee than Balaam. She didn’t eat much, finding herself strangely agitated and compulsive about serving the men and refilling their cups.

“I ain’t finished this one yet,” Balaam grumbled, so busy planning how to get Ned back that his uncanny ability to notice the very thing one hoped would go unnoticed failed to see that Sibyl was acting unlike herself. Rachel saw it, but then Rachel never said anything.

“I expect I’ll be back for lunch,” Burch announced casually as he rose from the table.

“Of course you will,” added Balaam. “With that leg you’d be a fool to go further than the shed.”

“One of these days Ned’s going to find your broken and mangled body at the bottom of a canyon,” Burch said savagely, “and there’s going to be rejoicing throughout half of the territory.” Balaam beamed with pleasure.

“Ain’t nobody got the best of me yet,” he said proudly.

“That’s because there ain’t no best of you to get,” said Ned.

The two of them went out, happily abusing each other.

“Be careful of your leg” Sibyl said, very conscious of the restraint imposed by Rachel’s presence.

“Don’t worry. Just think of what I’d miss if I broke it again.” His gaze was not shy, and Sibyl found that she was blushing.

“According to the doctor, it would be your whole life,” she said gruffly, setting down the plate in her hand because she could not control the tremor. “You really shouldn’t go out at all.”

“Do you think I should stay?” Sibyl wanted to say yes, but she doubted she could endure the agony of having to act as though nothing had changed in front of Rachel.

The fresh air will be good for him, miss, and a little exercise won’t hurt a man as tough as Mr. Burch.”