Noble Savage Read online

"Why don't women use buttons a body can get hold of," he muttered, working to release the first one.

  "Let me--"

  "Got it!" He caught her hand. "Don't you know half the fun's in the waiting?"

  Another button popped loose, letting cold air waft across Katie's bare breasts. She felt her nipples contract, tighten even more.

  A third button, and his hands were on her, hard against the tender skin of her breasts, yet gentle, caressing. Holding himself on his elbows, he loomed over her, using both hands to mold and squeeze, dipping his head to wet her turgid nipples, blowing his hot breath across their wet peaks.

  Totally captive of the sensations he evoked in her body, Katie gave herself up entirely to desire.

  Wherever he touched, she burned. Wherever his hands roamed, they found threads stretching to her very core, threads that transmitted torment and rapture to the farthest reaches of her being.

  And then she burst into flame.

  An eternity later, Katie forced her eyes to open. The shelter was almost totally dark, only an orange glow marking the fire's remains. She was sprawled naked across Luke, her head lying on his firm belly. His hand lay on her head, fingers just touching the shell of her ear. Her hand was...omigod!

  Carefully she moved her fingers, exploring the object she seemed to be holding tightly. Steely-hard, yet covered with baby-soft skin. Experimentally she tightened her grip.

  "Careful."

  "I thought you were asleep. You were so still." She moved her fingers again. His shaft leapt in her hand, startling her, and she instinctively tightened her grip.

  The hand that clamped around her wrist reminded Katie of the time a trap she was baiting snapped shut on her pigtail. Impossible to escape.

  "Turn loose," Luke hissed. "Right now."

  She did. And gasped, as she found herself lifted and tossed down on the pallet like she was no heavier than a feather pillow.

  His hand swept down her body, skimming breast and midriff, lightly brushing hipbone. And then it cupped her mound, lying heavy against her. Bringing back the hungry ache to her belly.

  "What are you...I thought we...Luke!" She gasped as his finger dipped into her, sliding slowly deeper.

  "Ahhh, Katie. You're so sweet. So hot." Luke stroked her, inside, feeling the honey of her passion welling about his finger. "I want you so damn bad."

  But he would not take her. He simply didn't trust himself to withdraw. She was so responsive to his every touch. If he took her, he wouldn't want to stop until he'd poured himself deep, deep inside her.

  As he almost had. God! I was that close. Her climax had come quickly, only an instant after he'd touched the swollen bud hidden in her silky curls. Taken unawares, he'd found reason overtaking hunger, had held himself back from her while she reached completion.

  "Please," she panted, arching against his hand. "Luke, please--"

  He kissed her, used his thumb to excite her again, all the while imagining himself rolling in the snow outside, diving into an icy stream. Of anything but the way she writhed in his arms, panting out his name as she ignited once more.

  It did him no good. The next moment the dam of his passion burst and he spilled himself across her belly.

  Chapter Fourteen

  "I don't think that's quite how it's supposed to happen," Katie said, stroking her hand across Luke's back. It was damp with sweat, solid with muscles built with hard work.

  He lifted himself off her, rolled on his back and covered his eyes with a forearm. "It's the only way it can happen for us."

  She knew, but had to ask, anyway. "Why?"

  "A week or so to Salt Lake City, then you'll go your way and I'll go mine." His voice was as hard as his muscles. "Likely we'll never see each other again."

  "Is that the way you want it, Luke?"

  "That's the way it's got to be, Katie. I hired on for a job. When it's done, I'll be moving on."

  "So this--" Her gesture took in their bed, the cave. "This doesn't mean anything to you but a job." Her voice threatened to break, and she took a deep breath. "You were horny, and I was willing."

  "Where'd you learn language like that?" he demanded, thrusting himself up on his elbow. He loomed over her, scowling.

  She ignored him. Half-rising, she shook her petticoat down, gathered its fullness in one hand. As she duck-walked to the fire, she buttoned her camisole. The embers still glowed, so she added couple of short, thick branches. Soon small flames danced along both sticks.

  "Damn it, Katie!"

  She continued to ignore him. Knowing she'd been a fool was one thing. Letting him see she knew it was more than she could do. She felt cheated--and a little bit ashamed. She'd acted the harlot. And Luke had been a gentleman.

  Once she was sure the fire was burning well, she reached beyond and pulled the washrag from the knob of rock where Luke had hung it. Keeping her back to him, she wet it with a little of the still warm-water in the coffeepot, raised her petticoat, and bathed her belly. Not a sound came from behind her until she knelt and stirred the fire once more.

  "You're lookin' for a husband? Is that it?"

  "If I was looking for a husband, why was I running away? Whitney wants to marry me." Her stomach roiled at the thought, but she wasn't about to admit it.

  "Shit!" A scuffle behind her, a mutter of unintelligible words, and a hard hand caught her bare arm and swung her around.

  "Then what do you want? A baby? It only takes once, damn it."

  Retreating until she was pressed hard against a warm donkey body, she tried to pry his hand from her arm. "Let me go!"

  "Not 'til you answer me. What do you want from me?"

  Katie looked up into his face, half-lit by the now flickering fire. Perhaps it was time to be honest. "I guess I wanted to know what it was all about," she admitted. "All the fuss."

  His expression hardened.

  "That sounds awful, doesn't it?" Biting her lip, she tried to find the right words. "Luke, when you kissed me, well, I'd never felt that way before." With her free hand, she touched her lips, swollen now, and tender.

  "I kept hearing about how wonderful it was between a man and a woman, and I'd never felt a thing. Mostly when someone tried to kiss me, it was unpleasant. About as exciting as gruel."

  His mouth twisted, but he didn't quite smile. "That's a hell of a thing to tell a man."

  "I wasn't talking about you." A shiver shook her. "I'm cold. Can we go back to bed?"

  "I don't think that's a good idea." But he released her.

  Katie rubbed her arm. He hadn't really squeezed, but his big, work-hardened hand had been tight enough to bruise. "I promise I won't lay a finger on you."

  One eyebrow lifted. "This ain't settled."

  "I know that. But it's late, and I'm half-frozen. Put on your longjohns and let's go back to bed." Three steps took her back to the pallet.

  When Luke came to bed, he had a choice of lying right up against her backside or being only half covered. She kept her breathing deep and even as he settled himself.

  He lay awake beside her for a long time. Katie knew that, because she didn't sleep either.

  * * * *

  Luke had long since learned that problems didn't go away just because he refused to face them. Sometimes, though, a man could postpone them. If he was lucky.

  He wasn't. Not today.

  The only good thing about morning, when it came, was that he didn't have to lay there and pretend to sleep any longer. The light that shone feebly through the slanted entrance to their shelter was pale and cold. Snow drifted across the floor, half filling the opening, sloping down almost to the foot of the pallet.

  Salome and Sheba stood hipshot, head to tail, eyes closed, ears drooping. Lafayette's head was draped across Sheba's back, as if he hadn't the strength to hold it up. He was snoring again. All three animals looked a hell of a lot more comfortable than he was.

  Risking frostbite, Luke rolled out of bed. As he did, Katie stirred. He froze, but her breathing didn't change. Qui
ckly he crawled across to where he'd left his pants, wriggled into them, then pulled his boots on.

  Damn, it's cold! He scraped together some crumbled cedar twigs and piled them in a circle around last night's still warm embers.

  A shiver wracked him, and he took a moment to slip into his shirt and vest. Both were still damp, especially around the collar, where snow had found its way inside his coat while he was gathering firewood.

  Bending over the fire ring, he blew gently. A curl of smoke appeared, twisting and disappearing. He blew again and again, never more than a gentle whiff of breath. At last a flicker of flame from the tinder told him he had a fire. Carefully he fed it until it had grown big enough to sustain itself. Only then did he set the coffeepot on the three rocks Katie had used last night.

  "Coffee's in the small burlap bag," Katie said. Her words were muffled.

  Luke glanced across his shoulder. All that was visible of her was the top of her head and a few black strands of hair curling across the rolled-up shawl she'd used as a pillow.

  Just as well. He wasn't ready to talk to her yet.

  He didn't know what to say.

  Roasting and grinding the coffee--the butt of one of Katie's pocket guns worked just fine to crush the beans--gave him time to ponder.

  Not about last night. He still wasn't ready to think on that. But about what they were going to do.

  He went to the entrance and peered out into the swirling snow. About a yard away a shrub was dimly visible, but beyond that he could see nothing. Just snow. Blowing, falling, drifting against the rocky walls of the gulch. A man could get lost within ten feet of sanctuary. He'd seen it happen in storms like this.

  They had food for perhaps a week--two if they stretched it. And they could eat one of the animals, if it came to that.

  Smith would never forgive me. But if it was a choice of all the stock starving--sixty pounds of grain wouldn't last long if they hadn't any grass to eke it out--or some surviving, he'd do what he had to do. And keep himself and Katie alive doing it.

  Lafayette lifted his long, bony head and opened big, brown, trusting eyes, staring right at Luke.

  "Shit!" Luke kicked at the stack of firewood, scattering it. How the hell could he kill and eat a friend?

  "Whasamatter?"

  "Nothin'. Go back to sleep."

  Katie sat up, holding the tarpaulin up to her chin. "I can't. You're making too much noise." She raised her arms, letting the tarpaulin drop, and finger-combed her hair out of her face. His body tightened at the sight.

  "Coffee ready?"

  "Almost. Where's the bacon?"

  "I'll cook," she told him. "Hand me my dress?"

  The dark calico seemed to hold her warmth as well as her scent. Luke wasted no time in tossing it to her. Quickly he turned his back, wishing he'd never looked her way this morning, never glimpsed the sweet curve of her breast, the slim strength of her bare arms.

  Her movements seemed unnaturally loud behind him. A body'd think the howl of the wind would drown out the whisper of fine cotton against satiny skin, the soft rasp of wool hose against slim calves. He could hear each button slipping into its loop. Even with his eyes closed, he could see the warm ivory curve of her throat as it disappeared behind the high calico collar.

  "I've got to see a man about a horse," he said, grabbing his coat.

  "Luke--"

  Ignoring her, he stepped outside, ducking through the low entrance. Two steps and he was far enough.

  Well, so did she, Katie admitted. She slipped into her heavy coat and went to the back of the cave. The opening was even smaller this morning, half-filled with a drift of snow. She kicked through it, and squeezed outside. Quickly, shivering all the while, she took care of her needs. If it got any colder, they were going to have to arrive at a better solution than this. If they were to survive this storm, they would have to stay inside the shelter and keep as much of the cold out as possible.

  Luke cared for the animals while she cooked. A little bit of bacon, the last of the biscuits crumbled in the fat, and coffee. They weren't moving around, so they didn't need much food. Just enough to keep their bodies warm.

  "Put on your hat," she told Luke when he squatted next to the fire. She handed him the small frying pan, having put a little of the food on their only plate for herself. "No sense getting yourself chilled."

  "Who appointed you my ma?" he said, around a mouthful of food.

  "Oh, for heaven's sake, Luke! Don't be so cranky. We're stuck here for God knows how long, and there's nothing we can do about it. So we might as well get along."

  "Then don't you be so bossy." He hunched over his makeshift plate, just like an old bear with a honeycomb.

  "Well, don't you be so doggoned stubborn. It doesn't make much difference how warm your coat is if your head's bare."

  "I know that."

  "Then put on your hat."

  He leapt to his feet, almost banging his head against the sloping stone roof. "Damn it, woman! Will you let be! I'll put on my consarned hat when I'm good and ready."

  Katie slammed the tin plate on the ground. "You haven't said a agreeable word since you got up this morning."

  "Well, maybe I haven't got anything to feel agreeable about." The frying pan clanged against rock beside the plate.

  "I don't know why. We're out of the storm. You're well fed. You'd be warm if you'd put on your ha--"

  "Will you just shut up about my hat!" He snatched it off the pile of gear and slammed it on his head. "I'm going after more wood." Luke buttoned up his sheepskin coat. "You can muck out this place while I'm gone."

  "Luke, wait--"

  But he had disappeared into the storm.

  Katie followed him to the doorway and peered out, but she could see only inches into the swirling wall of white. "Darn him, anyhow!" Well, she'd be crazy to follow him. All she could do was pray he wouldn't get lost.

  Why was he being so cranky? She hadn't forced him to do anything he didn't want to, had she? Ma had warned her that men were far more the slaves of their desires than women. She'd taken the wisdom with a grain of salt, but now she wondered if there was any truth to it at all. Or was Luke stronger then most men?

  He had wanted her. No doubt about it. But he'd backed off more than once when he could have pressed his case. She, on the other hand, hadn't exactly acted like a shy virgin.

  "Wanton," she muttered. "That's what you were, Katie Lachlan. Just plain wanton."

  So why couldn't she feel ashamed?

  A twist of desire swirled in her belly. Ashamed? She would never regret what had happened.

  Her feelings when she awoke this morning had gone far beyond pleasure at having her curiosity satisfied. Her body seemed to glow. She'd felt like purring. Laughter still bubbled just inside, threatening to spill out.

  When she'd heard Luke moving about, she wanted to call him back to bed. To hold her close. To give her more of his mind-bending kisses.

  She had wanted him to make love to her again. She still did.

  Luke, it was perfectly obvious, had no intention of doing so.

  With a sigh, Katie picked up the shovel. This wasn't at all what she'd planned to do this morning.

  * * * *

  Luke wasn't more than twenty paces from the gulch when he realized he'd been a fool. Keeping one foot in place, he turned and looked around. Nothing. The world was a swirling, white emptiness, without feature or landmark. Even his tracks had disappeared.

  He knew he'd come downhill from the mouth of the gulch. So he went to his hands and knees. Yes! The ground was higher toward his backside. He turned around and started crawling, pausing now and then to make sure he was still going uphill. More or less.

  He counted. Five feet. Ten. When he thought he'd crawled far enough, he rose to his feet.

  He could see his hands at the ends of his wrists, covered with wet leather, curled and stiff. He ordered his right fingers to close, and they moved. Slowly. But he could still feel the pain when they did. Not froz
e yet, he thought thankfully.

  Peering about, he thought he saw a darker shape ahead. The cedar at the gulch's mouth? He hoped so. Cautiously he took a step. Then another. And tripped, falling full length across snow-covered brush and rocks.

  The wind drove snow down the back of his neck. Luke scrambled to his feet, cursing the impulse that had driven him out without the scarf Katie had given him. Forcing himself to stillness, he looked first one way then the other.

  There! He could make out the mouth of the gulch. Now if he could just follow it back to the shelter. He laid one hand against the rock wall.

  He counted five steps. Careful steps. Cautious steps, for to lose his touch on the wall could turn him around, send him back the way he'd come. Soon he would be at the shelter. He called, "Katie! Katie, answer me!" His voice was caught and carried away by the wind.

  At ten steps, he paused again, trying to see ahead. To call again. Surely he should be close to the shelter by now.

  A clot of snow fell onto the back of his neck, dislodged when his fingers brushed the narrow ledge on which it had collected. Most of it found its way inside. What worried Luke was that it didn't feel particularly cold.

  Am I close? Or is this the wrong gulch?

  He could feel his way up and down this rocky wall for hours, using up his reserves of warmth, exhausting himself, and be no closer to the shelter than he was right this minute. Once more cursing his own folly, Luke scrunched down against the wall, shifting around until he was more or less comfortable. His collar was snug about his neck, his hat pulled low. Only his hands and ears were in any danger. Tucking his hands into his armpits, he made himself as small as possible, in order to conserve what warmth his body generated. He just hoped he could last out the storm.

  Would Katie eventually grow worried about him and come looking? He hoped she had better sense than to leave the shelter while the storm was raging.

  Deliberately forcing his thoughts away from his predicament, Luke sat and watched the snow spin and dance about him. He'd already chewed to death the question of what to do about Katie. And he was no closer to an answer.

  He wanted her.

  He ached for her.