Carol Finch (13 page)

Even if his kindness, generosity and inborn need to protect and defend had touched the deepest reaches of her soul she
had
to forget him. If she couldn’t remember that she didn’t deserve to love and be loved, she could always depend on Vanessa Payton to remind her of her place.

R
afe was three miles from the fort when he encountered Karissa. Instantly, he knew something was amiss. He could tell by the way she sat her horse, the way she withdrew into herself when he hailed her.

It was difficult to believe this was the same woman who had been so overjoyed at staking her property that she had thrown herself into his arms and laughed with pure delight.

“What’s wrong? More trouble with claim-jumpers?” he asked in concern.

“No, everything’s fine,” she mumbled, staring at the air over his left shoulder. “I have all I dreamed of, don’t I? What else could I rightfully hope to want?”

“Rightfully?” Rafe frowned, disturbed by the way she phrased the question. This didn’t sound like the free-spirited woman he had come to know. Even her voice sounded subdued. Where was the lively animation he had come to expect from her?

She evaded his question by saying, “I should go. I’m keeping you from your duties and your fiancée.”

Ah, now he was getting somewhere. He would bet the entire Hunter family fortune that Karissa had encoun
tered Vanessa. No doubt, Vanessa had taken grand pleasure in rubbing the wedding plans in Karissa’s face.

A wry smile pursed his lips as he eased his mount forward until he and Karissa were sitting knee to knee. Could it be that Karissa had become so fond of him that the prospect of his marriage tormented her? That was encouraging, because he was more than a little fond of her, too.

The fact was that he had reached the point where he was willing to do just about anything—aside from breaking the laws he was obliged to uphold—to become the recipient of her blinding smiles. They provided a warmth and pleasure that surpassed anything he had ever experienced. That was saying a lot, because his life had been rife with vast and varied experiences.

Impulsively Rafe brushed his fingertip over Karissa’s dewy lips. And suddenly she was tumbling toward him and he was lifting her off the mare to plant her in his lap. His horse shifted sideways as Rafe guided her legs around his hips and cuddled her in his arms.

He didn’t know what prompted the urgency he sensed when she kissed him, as if she needed to share his breath in order to survive, but the impact of having her in his arms, her lips hungrily merging with his, left him hard and needy in one second flat.

There was no tenderness in the way they kissed. They devoured each other. She tried to consume him as completely as he tried to consume her. His hands, as if they possessed an ungentlemanly mind of their own, roamed over her lush curves and generous swells. Rafe pulled her hips to his, settling the apex of her thighs atop his rigid manhood. Damn but he resented the fabric that separated him, resented the fact that he couldn’t see the feminine flesh that he touched so familiarly.

“This is goodbye,” she whispered when he allowed her to come up for air. “I’ll never forget you, never forget all you’ve done for me and my family.”

Rafe didn’t like the sound of that, didn’t like it one whit, but his senses were exploding like a Gatling gun. The taste of her, the feel of her body pressed intimately to his, made it impossible to think, only respond in hungry desperation.

He couldn’t recall how or when he had loosened the buttons on the back of her gown, but the garment gaped, granting him a view of her tattered chemise and the supple curve of her breasts. Angling her sideways, he skimmed his mouth over the column of her throat and nuzzled his cheek against her breast until he had moved the fabric aside so he could claim her nipple.

Her breath broke as she arched upward, as desperate for his brazen touch as he was to suckle her greedily. “Sweet mercy, I—”

He didn’t let her complete her sentence. He wanted her mouth again—and he needed it now. Rafe forgot the meaning of noble restraint as his hand dipped beneath the hem of her gown to caress the silky flesh of her thigh. When she gasped at his bold touch, he plundered her open mouth. Kissing and touching Karissa was like devouring a succulent feast after weeks of fasting.

She was driving him crazy. Or maybe he was driving himself crazy for wanting her beyond reason. Rafe found himself comparing the impersonal couplings of his past, for the sake of sexual gratification, to the incredible sensations he was experiencing with Karissa. There was no comparison. He had never desired a woman the way he desired Karissa.

He wanted to tap into the passionate spirit that made her the remarkable woman she was and greedily hoard
it for himself. He wanted to know that she, like him, was so caught up in the compelling sensations that nothing on earth was quite as important as satisfying a need that raged through him like wildfire.

Breathing heavily, he lifted his head and surged helplessly toward her. He watched her eyes fly open as he moved rhythmically against her, despite the infuriating barrier between them. He swore he would never forget the astonished look on her face as she curled her arms around his neck and sought his mouth as hungrily as he sought entrance into her body. He didn’t care if they came together on the back of his horse. It didn’t matter where they were, because he had become a senseless slave to passion.

As his free hand lifted to capture the full mound of her exposed breast he became vaguely aware of the thunder of hoofbeats in the distance. Karissa reacted more quickly than Rafe did. He was still lost in a desperate haze of unfulfilled desire.

And suddenly his hands were empty of her satiny flesh. Only a drifting breeze greeted his lips and he realized his pulsating body was perched—alone—on his horse. Like a man emerging from a hypnotic trance, Rafe blinked and glanced sideways to see Karissa fumbling to fasten her dress as she resituated herself on her mare.

“Here’s your pistol,” she said on a seesaw breath. She clutched his hand and dropped the weapon into it. “Thanks for the use of it.” Her passion-drugged gaze swung to him then flitted away. “I have to go home.”

“Karissa, I’m—” He wasn’t allowed to apologize for losing his head because she gouged the mare and galloped off without a backward glance.

Rafe twisted in the saddle, watching her pass six sol
diers who were returning from patrol. God! He needed to pull himself together!

Scowling at his bewildering loss of control, Rafe dragged in a few shaky breaths and prepared himself to encounter his men. He couldn’t remember what he said to them as they rode toward the garrison. His mind was still numb with forbidden pleasure and his body was still thrumming with sensations that defied description.

Damn, he thought as he gingerly dismounted, he needed a dousing in a cold bath and he needed it quickly. He was so determined to closet himself in his quarters that he broke his established routine and asked one of the soldiers to tend his horse.

Rafe sighed in frustration when he realized Vanessa was dogging his steps into the officers’ quarters. Well, so much for the time and space needed to regather his composure.

“Hello, Rafe,” Vanessa called out before he could open the door and seek the solitude of his room. “I’m so relieved that you’re back safely. Some of the soldiers described that wild stampede for land and I was deathly afraid those land-hungry heathens would trample over you to stake their claims.” Her nose wrinkled distastefully. “It sounded like desperate folly to me.”

Rafe couldn’t picture Vanessa breaking a sweat or dirtying her hands in any manner whatsoever. She would never lower herself to racing cross-country to stake free land. She had been raised like a princess. Struggling to make ends meet was beyond Vanessa’s comprehension.

With a trill laugh, Vanessa swept, uninvited, into his room and he politely refrained from voicing his objection to being alone with her. He made a point to leave the door wide-open. He had no reason to believe Vanessa would stoop to devious means by claiming they
had been intimate, thereby creating the need for a wedding. No, he left the door open because, having come straight from Karissa’s arms, with the intoxicating taste of her on his lips and the feel of her lush body branded on his skin, it was inconceivable to imply intimacy between him and Vanessa.

Primly, Vanessa spun about, graced him with an enchanting smile and said, “Now that the hurdle of the Land Run is behind you we can finalize the wedding date. I think this weekend will be perfect. I have had a grand time making preparations and writing invitations to distribute around the garrison. I think a military wedding will be most impressive.”

Feet askance, arms crossed over his chest, Rafe stared at his fiancée. “I’m sorry, Vanessa, but this just isn’t going to work.”

She smiled a little too brightly. “If there are duties that demand your attention, then I’ll select another date. But I see no need to wait.” She batted her lashes and peeked up at him with practiced charm. “But surely you realize that I have no objection to being a wife to you in every sense of the word. I think I have fallen in love with you already, Rafe.”

Rafe nearly strangled in an effort to prevent bursting out in incredulous laughter. Did she really think him so egotistical to believe that nonsense? He appraised his crude living quarters then focused his attention on the attractive woman who appeared hopelessly out of place in his room, in his life.

“There isn’t going to be a wedding, Vanessa. I’m a different man than I was when I left Virginia and the hallowed halls of West Point behind,” he told her as gently but firmly as possible. “I’m as much a part of this last frontier as these settlers. I have no intention of
requesting a transfer, and I doubt you could ever be happy here.”

Melodramatically, her hand swept up to her brow and she braced herself against the back of the chair. “You are breaking our engagement? But you can’t! I told you that I have grown immensely fond of you, even if I’ve only been here a short time. I can be happy here, as long as I’m with you.”

Rafe suspected she nearly choked on that declaration, but he gave her high marks for her theatrics.

He had been pursued several times in the past because of his wealth and his family name. And just because he had spent the better part of the week dodging Vanessa and ignoring her insistence to set a wedding date didn’t mean he had turned into a complete idiot. He knew what she ultimately wanted from him—financial security.

Maybe it wasn’t even Vanessa’s fault that wealth and prestige were so vitally important to her, when it came to prospective husbands. But Rafe’s indifference toward marriage had changed radically the past few weeks. So had his perspectives.

He gestured toward the open door and smiled kindly. “I think it would be best for both of us if you returned to Virginia. Your life is in the East, Vanessa, and mine is here. We simply will not suit, I’m afraid.”

For a moment he swore she was going to lash out at him. He noted something less than attractive in her snapping blue eyes and the sour curve of her lips. But dignified lady that she was, she drew herself up to a proud stature, grabbed the front of her silk skirt and swept regally toward the door. “I think I picked a bad time to discuss the arrangements with you, Rafe. Perhaps tomorrow, when you aren’t thoroughly exhausted, we can
continue this conversation in a more reasonable manner.”

“Nothing is going to change, Vanessa. I’m sorry,” Rafe said to her departing back.

Vanessa employed every oath in her repertoire as she stalked from the building. When she saw Micah coming toward her, she was tempted to club him over the head with her fists. This half-breed was partially to blame for Rafe’s infuriating decision, she mused angrily. The man was a bad influence on her fiancé. Rafe had become so conditioned to consorting with a lower class of individuals during his assignments on the frontier that he had befriended the likes of this ill-mannered subordinate.

Refusing to acknowledge Micah’s presence with even a passing glance, Vanessa stormed away, and then glanced around frantically. She needed to summon Harlan immediately. Blackmailed or not, she was forced to resort to relying on that weasel’s services once again.

No marriage? Indeed! No one, including the illustrious Rafe Hunter, was going to break the engagement. If Vanessa decided she would marry the man then she would, no matter what lengths she had to go to secure the match.

If she could get her hands on that redheaded tramp this minute she would strangle the life right out of her! Karissa had sunk her claws into Rafe, had bound him to her with her risqué antics in bed, no doubt. And if Rafe hadn’t left the door to his room standing wide-open, Vanessa would have made a play for him. Or at the very least, let it be known around the fort that she and Rafe had become intimate so that marriage became necessary to protect her reputation.

Vanessa was so blinded with fury that she plowed into a soldier who passed her in the shadows. She bit the
man’s head off for not watching where he was going—and then realized it was Harlan who had rammed her broadside.

Vanessa clutched his skinny arm and towed him toward her quarters. “We have arrangements to make,” she muttered.

“Fine, but remember that it’s going to cost you,” Harlan said as he quickened his pace to keep up with her pelting stride.

No matter the cost, it would be worth it, Vanessa assured herself. When Karissa Baxter was out of the picture, Rafe would give up his ridiculous fascination with her and come to his senses. And when he did, Vanessa would still be here to make the last-minute arrangements for the ceremony. She was not leaving this god-awful frontier post without a marriage license in hand and a ring on her finger!

Karissa spent the day after the Run helping Clint and Amanda dig postholes and build a corral to hold their livestock—an aging mule, the gray mare and milk cow. They formed a pitiful-looking crew, what with Amanda’s delicate condition and Clint’s injuries. But they managed to make the necessary improvements on their property that would allow them a legitimate deed to their homestead.

The hard labor and long hours served a second purpose—keeping her thoughts occupied. She was thoroughly ashamed of herself for the way she had behaved the night she encountered Rafe outside the garrison.

Since she had realized that it was best if she never saw him again, she had been overwhelmed by the impulse to hold him close to her heart for a few minutes before she rode away and left him to his spiteful fiancée.