At first he just teased her, touching her and backing off. “You ever been kissed before, mustang girl?” he asked, his voice tender.
Tomasita shook her head.
He laughed, a low, husky sound. “You wanta be kissed some more?”
Tomasita smiled. “
His lips barely touched hers, skimming one side of her mouth and then the other. He teased and taunted, his tongue dipping out occasionally to taste, to wet her lips, to probe, and then to retreat.
At the same time, his hands roamed her body. He palmed a breast and the nipple budded beneath his fingertips. His hands danced across the heart of her desire, too quickly gone for her to offer a protest. He chased a shiver down to the small of her back with his fingertips.
Working in tandem, his mouth and his hands played with her like a wolf with a lamb. There was never any question he would have his quarry.
Tomasita met Luke’s lambent green eyes through a haze of pleasure. Every nerve was sensitized. Her whole body felt weak. There was no chance to flee-her legs would not have supported her.
But she had no desire to flee. Right or wrong, good or bad, nothing seemed to matter. Only the man and the moment.
“That’s it, mustang girl. Open your mouth for me now. Open up and let me come in.”
The feel of his tongue in her mouth was not so foreign as she might have imagined. He thrust and withdrew, thrust and withdrew, and she found herself wanting to keep him there. So the next time he thrust she caught his tongue and sucked on it to hold him there and heard him groan.
Her hips arched into his hardness. She tried to slip her fingertips beneath the cloth at his waist, to reach his buttocks, but the buckskin pants he wore fit too well.
He slipped her skirt and underdrawers off, and soon she felt the grass beneath her back, cold and slightly wet with dew. Just as quickly, he undid the ties on his own pants and shinnied out of them.
She was immediately aware of the feel of his warm hardness against her, probing, prodding.
His hand teased its way down across her naked belly into the curls below, until he reached the petals he sought. His knee nudged its way between her legs, separating her thighs, opening her, making her vulnerable.
She whimpered, frightened.
“Easy, now. It’s okay to buck a little now. Don’t want to tame you, mustang girl. Just want us to take an easy ride together. You and me, girl. Just a crazy, wild, man and woman ride.”
She could feel his fingers touching-soft, careful, wonderful. His mouth teased hers. His fingers taunted her nether lips. Then his hands were on her hips, tilting them, and he was probing, pushing.
She met his eyes, his gaze heavy-lidded as he slowly pressed inside her, filling her full of him.
She cried out with the pain as he took her innocence, bucking wildly, wanting free. His lips caught the sound, soothed it, made the pain his own, until he had slipped deep inside her, possessing her, making them one.
“It’s all right now. The worst is over. Only pleasure now. Just the two of us. Together for the ride.”
He kissed her tears away. Then, slowly, gently, he began to move. The sensations were overwhelming. She felt suspended. Her hips arched up to him, her hands grabbed hold of him, determined to stay with him.
Luke groaned with pleasure.
Tomasita groaned, too.
She felt a rushing pleasure, a fleeting sensation that threatened to leave her in the dust if she did not reach out for it. She found his mouth with hers, grasped his shoulders with both hands, and let the feelings roll over her. Overwhelming. Unbelievable. Undeniable.
When she was herself again, she felt the weight of his body shift off hers, felt him pull her snug against his warmth. Between gasps of air, he chuckled to himself. She chuckled too.
She felt wonderful. She had found her life mate, her heart’s desire. She had found the man who would be her husband. She would gladly stay in Texas now.
“When will you speak to Don Cruz?” she said, her voice soft, shy.
“Speak to him? About what?”
“About our marriage.”
She felt him stiffen beside her. She met his solemn gaze with eyes that had seen too little of the world.
“Sorry, mustang girl. I’m a bronc that can’t be lassoed. Guess I should have realized you wouldn’t know that.”
“I do not understand.”
He huffed out a breath of air. “I’m not the marrying kind, Tomasita. I’m a Texas Ranger. That makes me a traveling man. I’m on my way to San Antonio right now. Don’t know when I’ll get back.”
Something curled up tight inside her. She had made a terrible mistake, made assumptions she should not have made. No other man would have her now.
She felt her throat constricting, felt her chest tightening until she was afraid she might suffocate. She rose awkwardly and searched desperately for her clothing, dressing herself as quickly as possible.
Nearby, Luke clothed himself slowly, methodically.
When she was dressed, Tomasita turned to face the man who had taken her virginity. “I… I did not know… I should not have presumed…” She swallowed over the lump in her throat.
Luke felt bad. He felt awful, in fact. He had only intended to steal a few kisses. Or maybe just caress her soft skin a little. Somehow things had gotten out of hand.
He had always been able to stop himself in the past. But he had wanted Tomasita like he had never wanted another woman. Needed her like water in the desert. And he had known he might never have another chance to possess her.
So he hadn’t stopped.
Luke reached out to touch Tomasita, but she jerked away. “Will you be all right?” he asked.
“I will be fine. Do not concern yourself.”
Tomasita turned and walked away from him back toward the hacienda. She heard him swear under his breath, heard him kick his mount, heard the muffled hoofbeats as the horse galloped away.
Suddenly, the night sounds were deafening. Crickets and frogs. The water. The wind. The scream that rose in her throat and could not find escape.
Chapter 13
CRUZ TURNED TO FILL HIS SENSES WITH THE woman lying across from him in the huge Spanish bed they shared as man and wife. The linens smelled of the lavender soap she used, and the musky odor of sex.
She looked like a woman who had been well loved. Her sable hair billowed around her face on the pillow, her lush sable lashes fanned her cheeks, which were scattered with a light dusting of freckles. Her mouth was parted and her lips were full and swollen from the passionate kisses they had shared during the night past.
Her fiery responses had enflamed him. Over the past two months they had spent together, the loving had only gotten more intense, more fulfilling. He knew he would never get his fill of her.
But though he had possessed Sloan’s body, she had kept her heart and soul apart. He was hardly in a position to cast blame, however, since he also had been selfish with parts of himself.
His clandestine work for the British had forced him to exclude Sloan on more occasions than he wanted to consider. It had taken a lot of time to gather the information Sir Giles wanted, and he could hardly tell his wife the real reason he had not wanted her to come along with him on his journeys.
He had also been unable to share with her his fury that Alejandro Sanchez had escaped justice. Cruz had chafed at the fact that until the Republic no longer had any need for his services-that is, until the annexation of Texas had been approved by the American Congress-he could not take any action against his brother’s murderer.
He had bitten his tongue and bided his time through November and December. Three encouraging political events occurred during this period that led him to believe annexation might finally be at hand.
In Mexico, a revolution drove Santa Anna from the presidency and the new president, General Jose Joaquin Herrera, was a man disposed to peace with Texas.
In Texas, Dr. Anson Jones, a man pledged to support Sam Houston’s policies favoring annexation, was elected to replace Houston as the next president of the Republic.
In America, a virtual unknown, James Knox Polk, of Tennessee, a friend of Sam Houston’s and a man in favor of westward expansion, was elected to replace President John Tyler.
Lately, Cruz had read accounts in American newspapers that said the annexation of Texas was “inevitable.” In fact, it was considered a foregone conclusion that when the American Congress reconvened in February, 1845, it would immediately ask Texas to become the twenty-sixth state.
Cruz had not been surprised to receive word that Sir Giles wanted to see him. He suspected the British had come up with some final, desperate plan to thwart annexation. Because once Texas was annexed, the British citizens who had invested millions of pounds in Mexican bonds secured only by land in Texas would have to admit, at last, that their investments were not worth the paper they were printed on.
