Only Mine (32 page)

“You’re killing me, Jessi. You could take every bit of me without pain and you must know it as well as I.”

Heavy-lidded eyes opened and watched Wolfe as he teased the sensitive flower that had opened for him. Passion burned as deeply in her glance as it did in her body.

“All I know is that you are not the same as other men,” Jessica said.

“In this,” he moved his hips, “I am no different.”

“Dear God,” she whispered. “Again.”

“What?”

“Do that again. Please, Wolfe. Again.”

With a whispered curse that was also a prayer for strength, Wolfe moved within Jessica once more and at the same time caressed her with his fingers.

She made a low sound as a network of sensation raced through her, leaving ecstasy shimmering in its wake. She gave herself to the tender ravishment and to the man who had called passion from her depths. With each sensual peak shivering through her, she kissed him, whispering to him, telling him the only truth that mattered.

“You are…my Lord Wolfe.”

Her words became part of the blood hammering through Wolfe’s veins. Feeling and hearing the silky climax unravel Jessica was burning him so softly, so completely, that he didn’t know he was wholly afire. A shudder went through him at each touch of her mouth, but her words were even more seductive, telling him what he had always known and never wanted to face.

“I will take…no other man…into my body.”

Jessica’s hands slid down Wolfe’s hot back to the rigid muscles of his hips, seeking his very different flesh, finding it. With exquisite care, she drew her nails over him.

“Make me yours, Wolfe…only yours.”

Jessica’s name was an anguished cry against her throat as Wolfe’s control broke. He drove completely into her, changing her body in a sweeping, irrevocable instant.

Her breath tore as she was filled to overflowing. He was so deeply inside her that she felt the pulses of his release as clearly as she felt her own heartbeat. She put her arms around his shaking body and held him, kissing his eyes and cheeks and the corners of his mouth until he had the breath to speak once more.

“Now you are mine, Jessi. Only mine.” As Wolfe lowered his mouth to hers, he whispered, “May God have mercy on my soul.”

“Wolfe?” Her arms tightened around him. “What’s wrong?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore. I’ve burned for you so long that Hell has nothing new to teach me. But I have new things to teach you, Jessi. Heaven and Hell combined.”

Before Jessica could say anything more, Wolfe sealed her lips with a kiss that claimed her mouth as completely as he had claimed her body. Then his hips moved powerfully and she forgot everything but his heavy presence within her.

Pleasure coursed through Jessica with each thrusting motion Wolfe made. Her body tightened and tightened until she couldn’t breathe, yet still Wolfe moved in sensual rhythms over her, against
her, within her, setting fire to every bit of her, burning her alive.

She tried to speak but could think of no words, much less shape her tongue to form them. All she could say was his name, and she said it again and again as he ripped the world away, leaving her nothing to hang onto but him.

Forerunners of savage ecstasy clawed through Jessica, drawing her body into a shivering arch. She gasped at the unexpected sensations. They were more acute than anything she had ever known, almost frightening in their intensity.

“Wolfe?”

“You’re feeling it now, aren’t you?” Wolfe’s voice was as dark as his eyes watching her. “You wanted this, Jessi. You’ve wanted it since you were fifteen. And since you were fifteen, I’ve wanted to give it to you.”

Jessica gasped and her eyes widened with surprise as sensual lightning transfixed her, arching her into Wolfe’s driving body. He laughed and bit her neck hard enough to leave passionate marks.

“Heaven and Hell combined, Jessi. I’m going to burn you all the way to your soul.”

The restrained savagery of Wolfe’s teeth against her hot skin dragged a moan from Jessica. When she made a sharp, rising sound, he sealed her mouth with his own. He took her cries into himself and dragged more of them from her, wanting all that she had to give.

Nails scored Wolfe’s skin, drawing a primitive sound of need from him. The small pain simply served to focus the seething violence of pleasure. When he shifted his mouth to the pulse beating wildly in Jessica’s neck, she responded to the
barely veiled savagery of the caress by arching like a drawn bow.

Wolfe held her there, stretched and quivering on a rack of pleasure, and then he began moving again, driving her higher and higher with each powerful motion of his body. Her breath became as broken as his, her skin as hot, as slick, until she was wild with need for the consummation that he kept just beyond her reach.

“I can’t bear it,” Jessica said raggedly, dragging her teeth across Wolfe’s chest in sensual punishment, twisting beneath him, seeking relief.

Wolfe laughed and bit her shoulder as he pinned her with his hips. “I’ve burned like this for five years. Surely you can stand five minutes?”

When Jessica’s hands slid down Wolfe’s body, he shuddered, caught her wrists, and held them in one hand above her head.

“None of your sweet tricks, elf.”

“You are—torturing me.”

“I’m torturing
me.
I’m teaching you. Wrap those beautiful legs around my waist. Yes, like that. Now lift your hips,” Wolfe whispered against Jessica’s mouth, biting her between each word, “and you will find what you’ve been seeking so hotly.”

Jessica lifted toward him as he drove into her. The ecstasy was so intense, she would have screamed if she could have, but Wolfe had taken her breath even as he had claimed her mouth. He slid his arm beneath her hips, dragging her so tightly against his body that he could feel her very bones. Then he thrust into her hard and deep, wanting to find the point beyond which she would refuse him.

What he found was more sleek yielding to him, heat surrounding him, burning him, Heaven and
Hell combined as he hurtled headlong with her into the sun.

L
ATER
, much later, Wolfe held Jessica while she slept and he counted the cost of what he had done.

W
HEN
Jessica awoke the next morning, Wolfe was standing by the window, as naked and magnificent as the mountains rising to meet the dawn. He was looking out over the rugged land with an expression of loss and yearning that made her heart turn over. She wondered what he was seeing in the wild sunrise.

And why it made him so sad.

“Wolfe?”

As he walked toward Jessica, his expression changed. The gentle smile he gave her made tears burn behind her eyelids. Indigo eyes swept over her, lingering on the banked fire twisting through her hair and the crystalline perfection of her light eyes. Long, lean fingers traced her eyebrows, her cheekbones, the curves of her mouth. He sat on the bed beside her and kissed her tenderly.

“Good morning, Mrs. Lonetree.”

Wolfe had not called her that before. The words pierced Jessica as deeply as the sorrow beneath her husband’s smile. Trembling, she smiled up at him in return; and then her heart caught and her smile threatened to turn upside down.

She had never seen anything as poignant as Wolfe’s haunted eyes and tender smile.

“Did I remember to tell you last night how beautiful you are?” Wolfe asked.

“You made me feel beautiful.”

“You are.” His eyes closed for an instant as though in pain. “And so fragile.”

“What’s wrong?” she whispered.

“Nothing. Save this…and this…and this.”

As Wolfe touched each small mark he had left on Jessica’s skin, he pulled down the bedcovers. The silence became thick with emotions and unspoken words.

“I’ll be more careful of you next time, elf.” He looked into her clear, pale blue eyes. “If you want a next time.”

Jessica caught one of Wolfe’s hands between hers, kissed his palm, and pressed it to her cheek.

“I loved joining with you,” she said in a low voice. “I want there to be times without number.”

Black eyelashes swept down, concealing the haunted indigo depths of Wolfe’s eyes. “I’ll try not to get you pregnant, but…you burn through my control.”

“Don’t you want a child?”

“I’ve caused you enough fear and hurt. I won’t tear you apart bearing children who have neither titles nor estates to inherit.”

“Wolfe,” she said brokenly, “I want your children!”

“Hush, elf,” he murmured, touching her lips with his thumb. “It’s not necessary. I won’t cry annulment for lack of heirs. You’re safe with me. You’ll never have to fear for your life again.”

Jessica’s hands tightened on Wolfe’s. The grief in him was as real and yet as impossible to touch as night itself. It tore at her in ways she couldn’t name.

“I love you, my Lord Wolfe,” she said, lifting up to his lips. “I’ve always loved you. I always will.”

“Yes. I’ve always known that.”

Jessica waited, but Wolfe said no more. Pain twisted through her as she finally understood the source of Wolfe’s unhappiness.

Tree That Stands Alone.

“You don’t love me,” she whispered, realizing too late what she had done to the man she loved.

“I want you, Jessi. I’ve always wanted you. I always will.”

Wolfe fitted his mouth to Jessica’s with exquisite care before he took her with a single, slow penetration if his tongue. The kiss deepened and changed until she was breathing quickly and moving hungrily against him.

“Wolfe,” she said raggedly.

“Lie with me, Jessi. Let me worship your body with mine.”

Jessica couldn’t withhold herself from the naked hunger in Wolfe’s eyes and in his body. She let him come to her, let him take her in burning silence, let him unravel her so gently that she never knew she was undone until the world turned to gold around her and she wept Wolfe’s name and her love against his chest. Then he held her, letting her tears scald him in the long minutes before she took a shuddering breath and lay quietly once more.

Slowly, Wolfe eased from the bed and pulled on his clothes. The bedroom door opened and closed soundlessly behind him. Moments later, Jessica’s eyes opened bright with tears. Impatiently, she wiped them away and reached for her clothes.

Wolfe found Reno in the kitchen. The empty
mugs and plates on the table showed that Caleb and Rafe had already eaten and gone out to work. From the other bedroom came the sound of Willow singing softly to her baby as she nursed him. The gentle music burned Wolfe like acid, reminding him of what he had done to the delicate girl who had always trusted him to protect her.

But he had taken her instead.

“Is Jessi all right?” Reno asked.

Wolfe gave him a slicing, sideways glance, wondering if the other man had somehow guessed that Jessica had finally become a wife in fact as well as in name.

“She’s fine,” Wolfe said curtly. “I told her to sleep late. Why?”

“Willow said she looked real ragged last night.”

“So did I.”

“That’s the God’s truth,” Reno said.

“Three days of a Hell-wind like that would take the starch out of the Devil himself.”

Reno smiled and resettled his hat on hair that was thick, black, and shiny. The light green of his eyes was like cut crystal. Looking at him, Wolfe wondered how Jessica had avoided succumbing to Reno Moran’s dark charm and physical grace. Or to Rafe, who had the smile of a fallen angel and eyes that had seen Hell. Wolfe couldn’t help thinking that either Moran would have been better for Jessica than a halfbreed who had nothing to speak of but an uncanny skill with mustangs and long guns.

Yet Wolfe knew he would have killed anyone who tried to take away the beautiful, sensual elf who came to him so perfectly, exploring the shimmering reaches of passion with him as no other woman had.

“That’s a brave girl you have,” Reno said. “Not many women would have gone out in that storm for love or money, much less for a mean steeldust mustang that most men would shoot on sight.”

Wolfe’s eyes narrowed against the darkness and pain streaking through him. “My fault. Jessi was trying to prove I shouldn’t send her back to England.”

Reno gave Wolfe a questioning look.

“Jessi told me how you stood over more than one foal, holding off wolves with your six-gun,” Wolfe said, changing the subject as he poured a mug of coffee. “I owe you.”

“Like Hell you do. If it hadn’t been for your skill with a rifle, Jed Slater would have killed Willow, Caleb, and me.”

“You get the pick of my foals,” Wolfe said as though Reno hadn’t spoken.

“Lonetree, sometimes you can be a bullheaded son of a bitch.”

“Thank you.”

Reno shot him a disbelieving look, then laughed out loud.

Wolfe smiled, but it faded quickly. The shadow of a bird flying beyond the window caught his eye. For long, aching moments, he looked past the grass and trees to the unbridled glory of the San Juans. He hadn’t truly known how much a part of his soul the mountains were until he looked at them and knew he must leave their wildness behind. The pain of it drew deep brackets around his mouth.

But it had to be done.

“Remember that blue roan you fancied?” Wolfe asked quietly.

“The wild one you caught a few summers back?”

Wolfe nodded.

“I remember. Hell of a good desert horse. Best I’ve ever seen.”

“She’s yours.”

“Now look here,” Reno began.

“You’ll earn her,” Wolfe said, cutting across Reno’s objections. “It will cost you most of a summer of gold hunting.”

Reno’s eyes narrowed as he measured the man sitting across from him.

“I want you to ride with Jessi and me as far as the Mississippi,” Wolfe continued. “Between the Indians, the gold hunters, and the dregs of the soldiers on both sides of the war…” He shrugged.

“It gets real lively,” Reno agreed.

“If it were just me, it wouldn’t matter. But Jessi will be along. I’d feel better knowing you were at my back.”

Reno’s expression became intent as he sensed the turmoil behind Wolfe’s calm words.

“I’d gladly ride to Hell with you,” Reno said calmly, “and you know it.”

“I’m not going to Hell. Not quite.” Wolfe’s smile thinned.

“England?” guessed Reno.

“It’s Jessi’s home.”

“You’ll have a hard time hunting mustangs for a living in England.”

“Lord Stewart has wanted me to work for him for years. He’ll get his wish.”

Reno said something under his breath in Spanish about Wolfe having the heart of an ox—and the brains.

“
Gracias,
” Wolfe said sardonically.

There was silence, followed by the sound of Reno’s work gloves snapping against his palm.

“When do you want to leave?” Reno asked finally.

“Soon. Jessi isn’t cut out for the West.”

“I haven’t heard Red complain. Have you?”

The question was ignored by Wolfe. After a moment, Reno stood with the lazy grace that had fooled more than one man into thinking he was slow.

“
Amigo,
I think you’re making a mistake.”

“No. I’m merely paying for one.”

“What mistake is that?” Jessica asked from the doorway.

“He’s got some damn fool idea about—” Reno began, then broke off abruptly. The look Wolfe was giving him would have frozen lightning.

Cursing under his breath, Reno snapped his gloves against his hand again and went out the back door without another word.

Jessica looked at Wolfe curiously.

“I’m giving Reno the pick of the foals,” Wolfe said.

“That’s hardly a mistake. He earned it. Without him, we would have lost more than one foal.”

“That’s what I told him.”

As though pulled against his will, Wolfe turned again and stared out the window. Jessica saw deep emotion kindle in Wolfe’s eyes, then fade into the haunted shadows she had first noticed that morning when he watched the sunrise. She went and stood beside him. She saw nothing beyond the window but the beauty of the vast land.

“Wolfe? Is something wrong?”

He turned and looked at her with haunted eyes.

“Wolfe,” she whispered, reaching toward him.

“Kiss me, Jessi,” he said, bending down to her. “Kiss me hard and deep. When you kiss me, I don’t
think about what must be.”

With a small sound, she went up on tiptoe even as he lifted her in his arms, letting the wildness inside him focus in the passion only Jessica had ever been able to summon from the depths of his soul.

“Does this mean you’ve forgiven Jessi for going out in the blizzard?” Willow asked from the doorway.

Reluctantly, Wolfe ended the kiss and tucked Jessica’s scarlet face against his neck. He smiled at Willow despite the bittersweet combination of sadness and desire twisting through him.

“We’re negotiating,” Wolfe said.

“Her surrender or yours?” retorted Willow.

“Mine, of course. Elves are too fragile. They either win or die.”

“In that case,” Willow said dryly, “I’ll get Ethan’s bathwater and leave you to your, er, negotiations.”

As Wolfe lowered Jessica’s feet to the floor, a cool premonition slid down her spine, the echo of Wolfe’s words.

Elves are too fragile. They either win or die.

Jessica said nothing until Willow went out of the kitchen carrying a pan of warm water in her hands. When Jessica turned to Wolfe, he was staring out the window once more. The expression of sorrow in his eyes made fear squeeze her heart.

“Love, what’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

She shook her head slowly. “Your eyes are haunted.”

“‘Tis your imagination.” Wolfe smiled and touched her cheek gently. “Elves are noted for their imagination.”

“Wolfe,” she whispered. “I can’t joke about what I see in your eyes. Who or what are you mourning?”

His eyes narrowed in surprise. He hadn’t expected Jessica to see into him so clearly, even more clearly than he saw into himself.

Mourning.

“I’m always sad to say good-bye to Caleb and Willow,” Wolfe said after a moment, the only part of the truth he would discuss.

It was Jessica’s turn to be surprised. “We’re leaving?”

“It’s too wild here.”

Wolfe’s voice was resonant with finality and grief. A chill roughened Jessica’s skin.

“What are you saying?” she whispered.

“We’re going to England.”

“I’d rather hunt mustangs,” she said, “or did you want to wait until autumn, when this year’s crop of foals will be weaned?”

Wolfe turned away without answering.

“Wolfe?”

“We’ll be in England when the foals are weaned.”

“Then we’ll come back next spring.”

“No.” The word was soft, final.

“Why not?”

“Spring and fall are when Lord Robert’s managers are most needed on his country estates.”

The chill moving through Jessica congealed into ice and settled into the pit of her stomach.

“What does that have to do with us?” she asked tightly.

“I will be one of those managers.”

“What are you saying?”

Wolfe looked out the window. “We will live in England.”

“You hate England.”

Wolfe shrugged. “Parts of the countryside are quite pretty.”

“They’re not a patch on this,” she said, indicating the wild beauty of the mountains beyond the window.

“No. They’re not.”

“What of your mustangs?”

“I’m giving them to Caleb.”

Jessica swayed and whispered. “You mean never to come back to the West!”

Wolfe didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. The shadows in his eyes said all that was necessary.

“But why? You love this land. I’ve seen you, Wolfe. You watch these mountains the way a man watches a woman he loves.”

“Let it go, Jessi.”

“No! Why can’t we live here? Why must we live in England?”

“This is no place for you,” Wolfe said quietly. “You have to be born for this land. You weren’t.”

“And you were.”

He made an odd, almost helpless gesture. “Yes. But I can survive England. You can’t survive the West.”

“Dear God, how you must hate me.”

Swiftly, Wolfe turned and touched Jessica’s cheek. “I don’t hate you, elf.”

“You will. I’ve cost you the only thing you’ve ever truly loved. You will hate me as surely and as deeply as you love the land!”

Wolfe saw the shine of tears on Jessica’s face and gathered her into his arms. “Hush, wife. You’re only hurting yourself.”