“Carlotta’s.” She threw the name at him with all the hurt and fury that was bottled up inside of her. “You left me to go to her. If that wasn’t enough hurt and humiliation, you told her to hire me.”
“Hire you?” Shock had his fingers tightening, bruising her flesh. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You know very well you told her she should hire me to sew dresses for her and her-the others.” “Sew?” He didn’t know if he should laugh or curse. Slowly he released his grip and let his hands fall to his sides. “Whatever else you think about me, you should know I’m not stupid.”
“I don’t know what I think about you.” She was fighting back tears now, and it infuriated her. It was the gleam of those tears that had him explaining when he would have preferred to keep silent.
“I never told Carlotta to hire you, for anything. And I haven’t been with-” He broke off, swearing. Before he could stride out, she snatched his arm again. She’d conquered her tears, but she couldn’t stop her heart from pounding.
“Are you telling me that you haven’t been to the Silver Star?”
“No. I’m not telling you that.”
“I see.” With a bitter little laugh, she rubbed her temple. “So you’ve simply found, and bought, another woman who suits you. Poor Carlotta. She must be devastated.” “It would take a hell of a lot more than that. And I haven’t bought anything in the Silver Star but whiskey since you-since I got back to town.”
“Why?” She had to force even a whisper through her lips.
“That’s my business.” Cursing himself, he started out again, only to have her rush to stop him.
“I asked you a question.”
“I gave you my answer.” He scooped up her shawl and pushed it into her hands. “Now go to bed.”
She tossed the filmy lace on the ground again. “I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you until you tell me why you haven’t been with her, or anyone.”
“Because I can’t stop thinking about you.” Enraged, he shoved her back against the wall with a force that had pins scattering and her hair tumbling wild and free to her waist. He wanted to frighten her, frighten her half as much as she frightened him. “You’re not safe with me, Duchess.” He leaned close to her, dragging a hand roughly through her hair. “Remember that.”
She pressed her damp hands against the wall. It wasn’t fear she felt. The emotion was strong and driving, but it wasn’t fear. “You don’t want me.”
“Wanting you’s eating holes in me.” His free hand slid up to circle her neck. “I’d rather be shot than feel the way you make me feel.”
“How do I make you feel?” she murmured.
“Reckless.” It was true, but it wasn’t everything. “And that’s not smart, not for either of us. I’ll hurt you.” He squeezed lightly, trying to prove it to them both. “And I won’t give a damn. So you better run while I still have a mind to let you.”
“I’m not running.” Even if she had wanted to, it would have been impossible. Her legs were weak and trembling. She was already out of breath. “But you are.” Knowing exactly what she was doing, what she was risking, she raised her chin. “Threats come easily to you. If you were the kind of man you say you are, and you wanted me, you’d take me. Right here, right now.”
His eyes darkened. They were almost black as they bored into hers. She didn’t wince as his fingers tightened painfully in her hair. Instead, she kept her chin up and dared him.
“Damn you.” He brought his mouth down hard on hers. To scare her, he told himself as he pressed her back against the wall and took his fill. To make her see once and for all what he was. Ruthless, knowing she would bruise, he dragged his hands over her. He touched her the way he would have touched a girl at the Silver Star. Boldly, carelessly. He wanted to bring her to tears, to make her sob and tremble and beg him to leave her alone.
Maybe then he would be able to.
He heard her muffled cry against his mouth and tried to pull back. Her arms circled him, drawing him in.
She gave, herself totally, unrestrainedly, to the embrace. He was trying to hurt her, she knew. But he couldn’t. She would make him see that being in his arms would never cause her pain. She gasped, forced to grip him tighter to keep her balance, when his mouth roamed down her throat, spreading luxuriant heat. The scraping of his teeth against her skin had her moaning. Too aroused to be shocked by her own actions, she tugged at his shirt.” She wanted to touch his skin again, wanted to feel the warmth of it. He was losing himself in her. No, he was already lost. Her scent, the fragility of it, had his senses spinning.
Her mouth, the hunger of it, clawed at his control. Then she said his name-it was a sigh, a prayer- and broke the last bonds.
He pulled her down into the hay, desperate for her. The silk of her dress rustled against his hands as he dragged it from her shoulders. A wildness was on him, peeling away right and wrong as he tore the silk away to find her.
Terror rose up to grab her by the throat. But it wasn’t terror of him. It was terror of the need that had taken possession of her. It ruled her, drove her beyond what could and could not be. As ruthless as he, she ripped at his shirt.
He was yanking at her laces, cursing them, cursing himself. Impatient with encumbrances, he shrugged out of his shirt, then sucked in his breath when her fingers dug into his flesh to pull him closer.
Hot, quick kisses raced over her face. She couldn’t catch her breath, not even when he tore her laces loose. They rolled over on the hay as they fought to free themselves, and each other, of the civilized barrier of clothing. She arched when he filled his hands with her breasts, too steeped in pleasure to be ashamed of her nakedness. Her pulse hammered at dozens of points, making her thoughts spin and whirl and center only on him.
She was willow-slim, soft as the silk he’d torn, delicate as glass. For all her fragility, he couldn’t fight her power over him. He could smell the hay, the horses, the night. He could see her eyes, her hair, her skin, as the moonlight pushed through the chinks in the shed to shimmer over them. Once more, just once more, he tried to bring himself to sanity. For her sake.
For his own.
Then she lifted her arms to him and took him back. He was lean and firm and strong. Sarah tossed her common sense aside and gave herself to the need, to the love. His eyes were dark, dangerously dark. His skin gleamed like copper in the shadowed light. She saw the scar that ran down his arm. As his mouth came bruisingly back to hers, she ran a gentle finger over it. There was no turning back for either of them. The horses scraped the ground restlessly in their stalls. In the hills, a coyote sent up a wailing, lonesome song. They didn’t hear. She heard her name as he whispered it. But that was all.
The hay scratched her bare skin as he covered her body with his own. She only sighed. He felt the yielding, gloried in it. He tasted the heat and the honey as he drew her breast into his mouth. A breathless moan escaped her at this new intimacy. Then his tongue began to stroke, to tease.
The pleasure built, painful, beautiful, tugging at her center as his teeth tugged at her nipples. It was unbearable. It was glorious. She wanted to tell him, wanted to explain somehow, but she could only say his name over and over.
He felt her thigh tremble when he stroked a hand along it. Then he heard her gasp of surprise, her moan of desire, when he touched what no man had ever dared to touch.
His. He took her as gently as his grinding need would allow toward her first peak. She was his. She cried out, her body curving like a bow as she crested.
The breath burned in his lungs as he crushed his mouth to hers and took her flying again.
She held on, rocked, dazed and desperate. So this was love. This was what a man and woman brought to each other in the privacy of the night. It was more, so much more, than she had ever dreamed. Tears streamed from her eyes to mix with the sweat that slicked her body and his.
“Please,” she murmured against his mouth, unsure of what she was asking. “Please.”
He didn’t want to hurt her. With that part of his mind that still functioned he prayed he could take her painlessly. His breathing harsh and ragged, he entered her slowly, trying to soothe her with his mouth and his hands.
Lights exploded behind her eyes, brilliant white lights that flashed into every color she’d ever seen or imagined. The heat built and built until she was gasping from it, unaware that her nails had scraped down his back
