Angel Creek (20 page)

“1 brought a full canteen.” He plucked a blade of grass and tickled her nose with it. “Always take care of your animals first. They'll keep you alive.”

“Since we're less than an hour from town, I think we'll make it before we run out of water,” she said gravely, then she laughed again.

He looked up at the blue bowl overhead, and the searing white sun. “If it doesn't rain soon, the water situation could really get desperate. The creeks on the Bar B are almost dry, and I imagine the other ranches are in the same shape.”

“I hadn't realized things were that bad,” she said, ashamed that she hadn't thought of it. “Are the wells going dry, too?”

“So far, no, but they could.”

All of the ranchers, big and small, kept their money in her father's bank. If they went broke, then the merchants would lose money, too. She had always imagined the bank as permanent, but in a flash she saw that it depended on the solvency of the people who used it, which could never be guaranteed. Prosper itself had seemed invulnerable to the vagaries of boomtowns, as firmly rooted as any of the cities back East, yet could it survive if a drought destroyed the ranches? People couldn't stay if there wasn't any way to make a living. Shops and stores would close, neighbors would move away, and Prosper would die.

Everything people built was so fragile, at the mercy of weather or disease or just plain bad luck, and survival was no more than a matter of chance.

She looked up at the sun with both fear and worry in her eyes. Luis was sorry he had mentioned the growing dry spell, for there was nothing that could be done. He was a fatalist; life had taught him to accept what couldn't be changed, and he had learned early that either you survived or you didn't. If a drought
destroyed Prosper, then he would roll up his bedroll and saddle his horse, and when he left he would take Olivia with him. Life was too short to fret over changes. He could be just as happy with her sitting at a campfire as he could in a house with a roof over his head.

But she was already fretting about the people she knew who would be hurt by a drought, and he wanted to pull her head down to his shoulder and protect her from those worries. Instead he stretched out on the ground and pillowed his head on her lap, nestling down on the softness of her thighs.

The pressure of his head made her lower body tighten in reaction to his nearness. Olivia held her breath, almost overcome by the sensation flooding her. Her breasts began to throb and swell, yet at the same time she felt oddly protective toward him. Tentatively she touched his damp black hair, then smoothed it away from his forehead. He sighed as if in relief. Once she had touched him there seemed to be no reason why she shouldn't continue, so she began tracing the lines of his face with her fingertips.

His eyes were closed. “Umm, you smell good,” he murmured, turning his face toward her. With his head on her lap he could smell the warm, female scents of her body, and he was growing hard.

Olivia smiled, thinking of the perfume she had applied that morning, glad that he liked it. She had even dabbed a bit between her breasts, feeling wicked as she did so. She wondered what he would do if she leaned forward so that her breasts were closer to his face. Would he nuzzle against her in search of the elusive sweet scent?

But she didn't dare, and regretfully she wished that ladies didn't always have to be retiring and genteel, to let the men take the lead. For that matter, ladies weren't even supposed to think of such things!

She looked down and saw that he was watching her and smiling, and she realized that she had heaved a sigh. “It's so hot,” she said quickly, by way of explanation.

“Yes, it is. Why don't you unbutton your collar and roll your cuffs back?”

If she did, her immaculate starched blouse would be decidedly rumpled when she returned home, but she was feeling stifled, and baring her arms would bring a small measure of relief. She ignored the first part of his suggestion and briskly unfastened her cuffs, turning them back several times so her forearms were bared.

“That's good,” he said, then he lifted his hand to the buttons at her throat.

She stilled, her blue eyes darkening as his strong, lean hand slowly released each tiny button in turn. Her collar loosened, and fresh air seeped in to cool her heated skin. His hand moved down past her collarbone. “That's enough,” she said, trying to sound casual.

“Is it?” He didn't stop but unbuttoned the next one, then the next. And the next. The weight of his hand was lying between her breasts now, brushing them with every movement. His eyes held a hooded, sleepy sensuality. His mouth looked full, his lips slightly parted as if he waited for a delicious treat.

The beginning swells of her breasts were exposed, then the lacy edging of her shift. Slowly his fingers
moved downward all the way to her waist, leaving her blouse gaping open in their wake. She sat very still, hardly even daring to breathe.

He shifted more onto his side, facing her. Slowly he pulled her blouse free of her waistband, then spread it open. Her lovely breasts were covered only by the thin cotton shift, her nipples clearly peaked beneath it. He traced both of them with a light fingertip, loving the delicacy of her, then moved closer and lifted his head just a bit to close his lips firmly around one of them.

Olivia bit her lip, her eyes closing at the feel of his mouth clamping down on her nipple. His mouth was hot and wet, and his tongue curled around the tip, stroking it through the damp cotton. Then he began to suck, and the rhythmic pulling started a fire that ran straight to her loins.

They were utterly silent. She heard the horses stamping nearby, the chomping of their big teeth on the grass. A small breeze rustled the leaves overhead, and insects droned lazily in the heat. He suckled her with a complete lack of urgency, not caressing her in any other way.

Until Luis, she hadn't known that a man would ever want to put his mouth on her breasts. She had thought of suckling babies but never imagined that such a maternal act could, with a man, be so erotic. The strong mouth working at her breast couldn't be mistaken for an infant's sweetness, nor could the rasp of his beard-roughened cheek against her soft skin. The secret flesh between her legs was throbbing in rhythm with the pull of his mouth, and she leaned helplessly forward to give him better access.

He responded by taking her deeper into his mouth.
Her shift was so wet now that it might as well not have been there, but suddenly it was maddening. Frantically she shrugged her shoulders, letting the straps fall down her arms.

“Be still,” he whispered around her nipple.

“No—wait. Here.” She whispered, too, lifting her hand to push the loosened shift down over one breast, baring it. She guided the nipple back to his mouth and whimpered softly at the exquisite pleasure of his lips on her nakedness. She cradled his head in her arms and held him to her, suffused with warmth and desire.

Her body delighted in the sensations it was feeling, both subtle and intense. When he finally sat up away from her she made a low sound of regret, but he hushed her with a finger on her lips. “You'll like this, too.” And he pulled off his shirt, revealing a broad, muscled chest with a diamond of soft, curly black hair stretching from nipple to nipple.

Olivia reached out to circle her fingertips around the tiny points, marveling at how different they were from hers. They hardened instantly, and she looked up in surprise to see a taut expression of enjoyment on his face. “They aren't so different after all,” she murmured, stroking them again.

He put his hands over hers and guided them over his chest. “No, not so different. I love it when you touch me. I want to feel your hands on my bare skin. It feels the same to me as it does to you when I touch you.”

His hands left hers, but she didn't move them. She liked it too much, liked the feel of his muscled body under her fingers. She slid them along his rib cage and let them lie there for a minute, enjoying the way his
chest expanded and contracted with each breath. His stomach muscles were hard and flat, but the skin on his belly was silky smooth, indicating his vulnerability. Back at his chest again she felt the strong, steady pounding of his heart. His shoulders were wide and sleek and hard, the skin gleaming like satin in the sunlight. He was beautiful. Without thinking Olivia touched her lips to the tender skin just beside the shoulder joint, her tongue lightly tasting the faint saltiness of perspiration. Luis shuddered, and his hands closed hard on her waist, drawing her against him.

Incredibly, she had forgotten that her blouse was open and one breast bare. The warm, hard pressure of his chest against her brought a sharp cry from her, and slowly he turned her from side to side, rubbing her breasts on his hard body.

“Luis.
Luis!”

“What is it, love?” he asked softly. “Do you want more?”

She dug her fingernails into his upper arms, gasping with the delight of it. “Yes,” she said. “Please.”

He laughed a little at her impeccable manners even when they were both so aroused it was all he could do to keep from taking her completely. Only his acute instinct about women held him back, for though he could easily seduce her, she wouldn't yet give herself to him out of love. And it was love he wanted from her, not the knowledge that he was skilled enough as a lover to make her body ready before her mind was. When she was truly ready she would let him know. Until then he was prepared to suffer excruciating
torment in order for her to discover how much sheer enjoyment she could have with him.

He removed her blouse and let it drop to the ground, then slid the straps of her chemise all the way down and drew her arms free. The soft cotton draped around her waist, leaving her upper torso completely bare. She was blushing a little, her porcelain skin glowing. Shifting to his knees and drawing her up, too, he put his arms around her so that their bodies were together from shoulder to knee and began kissing her. He could feel her shiver with delight as her soft breasts flattened against the hard plains of his chest, feel the instinctive, startled recoil of her hips away from him as soon as she felt his arousal, but then shyly she returned. Her hips sought his, undulating gently as she instinctively searched for the most comfortable position, which was of course the most intimate. He groaned deep in his throat as she finally settled with her soft mound cradling his hardness, her legs parted slightly to make room for him. He thought that she might very well kill him with her own innocent brand of seduction.

“I want to lie naked with you,” he murmured. “Every night, love. When you marry me I'll teach you everything a man and a woman can do together, and you'll enjoy every minute of it.”

Olivia buried her face against his chest. He hadn't phrased it as a question, thereby relieving her of the necessity of answering. But he had said it so positively, as if he had no doubts she would marry him. Did
she
have any doubts? She didn't know. She was frightened of the sort of life he might expect her to
lead, wandering about the country, but at the same time the thought of it excited her. She didn't know if she loved him, but she did know she could barely exist through the week, that she felt truly alive only on the one afternoon a week when she was with him. And she very much wanted him to show her everything about lovemaking.

Since meeting Luis she no longer had any doubts about the bond between Beatrice and Ezekiel Padgett. It was the sweet, hot bond of the flesh, the shared delights when they were together in bed. And would she, Olivia, ever settle for anything less now that she sensed what awaited her?

“I think I love you,” she said, lifting her face to his. “But I'm not certain. The thought of marrying you frightens me almost as much as the thought of
not
marrying you. Would we go away from here? Would I have to leave my family?”

“Almost certainly,” he replied, not lying to her. His heart was pounding as he realized how close he was to having what he wanted. Her lovely face was troubled as she thought of leaving the secure home she had known all her life. “We would have wonderful adventures together, making love beneath the stars, or taking a train wherever it might happen to go. And we would have babies, love, and a home where they could grow up safe and secure. Do you think your parents would like to keep their grandchildren occasionally while we take to the trail for a while?”

She laughed shakily, her mind whirling with the images he had described, but she couldn't answer the question about her parents. They would be horrified at the thought of their beloved only offspring marrying
a drifter. They both wanted so much for her and would be terribly hurt and disappointed. They loved her, and she didn't think they would reject her no matter whom she married, but tears swam in her eyes at the thought of causing them pain. Still, she couldn't go on forever as she had been these past weeks, and neither could Luis.

She looked up at him with tear-wet eyes that held both pain and a promise. “I'll give you my answer soon,” she whispered.

Dee walked out on the porch and held out a glass of cool lemonade to Olivia, who sat on the very edge of the rocking chair, keeping it tilted forward on the rockers. She studied Olivia's face, thinking that she had never before seen her friend as edgy as she was now.

“What's wrong?” she asked.

Olivia sipped her drink, then rolled the glass back and forth in her hands. She watched the motion of her own fingers as if fascinated. “I think I'm in love,” she blurted. She drew a deep, shaky breath. “With Luis Fronteras. And I'm scared.”

“Luis Fronteras?” Dee asked blankly. “Who's he?”

“He works for Kyle Bellamy. He's a Mexican. A drifter.”

Dee gave a low whistle of astonishment and slowly took her own seat. This was like a queen taking up with a commoner.

“He wants me to marry him,” Olivia continued.