A Heart So Wild (16 page)

“I'll need a gun,” Courtney suggested as she got to her feet.

“Like hell!” Pretty Boy snarled.

“God sakes, are you going to be a fool to the bitter end?” she snapped. “I might not have much experience with guns, but at least I can hit what's right in front of me.”

“Yeah, like me.”

Frank snickered, and Courtney gritted her teeth in exasperation.

“Look, hasn't it dawned on either of you that
anyone
might be out there?” she asked sharply. “It might even be a wild animal—there haven't been any more screams. Or maybe Evans had an accident.”

“Man don't scream like that over accidents,” Frank said.

“All right,” Courtney conceded, hesitating a
moment before she said, “But I have to tell you something. It's not likely to be Chandos out there, not this soon anyway. He was snakebit, and still recovering when Evans got me. That's really why I didn't want Romero to confront Chandos. Chandos wasn't up to it yet. And although there were some Indians in the area, it's pretty farfetched to think they would come to rescue me. Can you imagine a full-blooded Comanche riding to rescue a white woman?”

“I can imagine a white woman would say anything to get her hands on a gun. You know you would, darlin',” Pretty Boy replied. “You can talk till you're blue and the answer's still no.”

“You—”

His temper flared. “Shut your goddamn mouth so I can hear what's going on out there!”

Courtney clamped her mouth shut. And just then, Frank gasped, “I don't believe it! The bastard's crazy. He's coming in
alone
.”

Pretty Boy and Courtney turned to look. It was Chandos, and he was alone, astride Surefoot, winding slowly through the trees as he came into view about ten feet away. Courtney's heart lurched. He had come for her! Sick as he was, he'd come to rescue her!

He looked terrible. Two days' growth of whisker stubble and rumpled clothes exaggerated his haggard appearance. He hadn't even changed clothes.

Pretty Boy was grinning. Frank held his gun firmly.

Chandos held his reins, his gun holstered. When his gaze moved over Courtney, taking in her torn clothes, he tensed, his jaw hardening.

“You alone, mister?”

Chandos didn't answer Frank's question. He dismounted and stepped slowly in front of his horse. Courtney held her breath, for he hadn't drawn his gun yet, and it would be so easy for Frank to raise his gun a little and shoot. But then she saw that Frank seemed intimidated by Chandos's boldness and was hesitant. Pretty Boy made no move, either. Courtney realized then that both men probably thought there were arrows trained on them. They didn't believe Chandos would walk into their camp alone unless he was being covered by his Comanche friends. Was he?

“You Chandos?” Frank ventured.

Chandos nodded. “Your tracks read there's four of you. Where's the fourth?”

Pretty Boy smiled. “Wouldn't you like to know.”

“The Mexican's dead, Chandos,” Courtney said.

“I told you to keep your mouth shut!” Pretty Boy yelled, moving to hit her.

“I wouldn't.”

Chandos's voice stopped him, and Pretty Boy lowered his hand slowly, turning so he faced Chandos squarely. Courtney suspected he was about to draw his gun. Frank stalled him, however, for Chandos had revealed something.

“You don't ask about Evans, so that means it was you who killed him.”

“He's not dead,” Chandos told him.

“Then what the hell did you do to him to make him scream like that?”

“I didn't like some of the things he had to say, so—”

“I don't want to hear this, Chandos!” Courtney screamed.

“Yeah, never mind,” Frank agreed. “But he's not dead?”

“I left his rifle near him.”

Courtney didn't understand the significance of that, but the men did. It was the goad needed to end the parley, for there was no longer any doubt about Chandos's intentions. The air became electric as the three men faced off, waiting for the first move. It came from Frank, who jerked his gun up and fired.

Courtney screamed. Frank's nervousness ruined his aim, and the bullet flew wide of its mark. Chandos's gun cleared leather in that instant. Pretty Boy's did too, but Chandos hit the ground as he fired off two shots, the first taking Frank center chest. He was dead in a moment. The second shot made Pretty Boy jerk forward, eyes wide with disbelief. He hadn't fired a single shot. He pulled the trigger, and his gun flew out of his hand as Chandos fired a third shot. The impact spun Pretty Boy around, so that when he dropped to his knees, he was facing Courtney.

“Guess I…should've…believed you, darlin'. The bastard's…killed me.”

He wasn't dead yet. He wouldn't be dead for some time to come. But he would die. There wasn't anything to be done for gutshot and he knew it. His lovely violet eyes filled with horror.

Chandos rose and walked forward, his expression hard as granite. He retrieved Pretty Boy's gun, then came to stand in front of him. With his eyes on Pretty Boy, Chandos slowly
holstered his own gun and then stuck Pretty Boy's gun in his belt. Through the haze of pain, Pretty Boy understood.

“You left Evans his rifle,” Pretty Boy said with a groan. “Leave me my gun.”

“No.”

“Chandos, you can't leave him like that!” Courtney cried.

He didn't even look at her. His eyes were locked with Pretty Boy's. “He hurt you. He pays.”

“It should be up to me!”

“It isn't.” He gave her a quick look, then gazed back at Pretty Boy. “Get on my horse, lady. We're leaving.”

She ran toward his horse, but he sensed her intention. She wasn't going to wait for him. She wanted to get away from him and his ruthless justice. He charged after her and caught her.

“He hurt you, didn't he?” His voice was like steel.

“Yes, but he didn't do what you think. Evans's screaming stopped him.”

“But he still hurt you, so don't question the penalty. I could have made his death a lot worse. I could have made it last much longer.”

He let go of her, and she cried, “Why are you so vengeful?
You're
not the one he hurt.”

“Are you sorry I came for you, cateyes?”

Courtney lowered her eyes. “No.”

“Then get on my horse and don't even think about leaving without me. I'm angry enough with you. You didn't signal me this morning that you were in trouble. Don't make me have to chase after you again, because there's no way in hell you can get away from me, lady.”

Courtney nodded briefly, then turned toward Surefoot. She was so angry with Chandos that she almost forgot how grateful she ought to be. He had saved her from Pretty Boy…but all she saw in her mind's eye was his granite face and cold expression.

T
HIS was the second time Courtney had left a scene of bloodshed during the night. She rode in front of Chandos, enveloped in the warmth of his protection. Again, he had killed for her. He only wounded men who were after him. He killed men who were after her.

But he was angry with her. And only moments after they finally stopped riding, his passion erupted. He lifted her down from his horse, and her blouse spilled open. Perhaps that triggered it. Or maybe it was the killing. He hadn't only killed but had himself come close to dying. It was as if he needed a reaffirmation of life, and found it in her soft, yielding body.

Courtney was overpowered. There was to be no denying Chandos. But she wasn't frightened. What she felt was a trembling excitement, his intensity overwhelming her. If Chandos needed to exert his male dominance this way, she was happy to let him. She had her own anxieties to release, after all, and she could think of no better way to release them.

And in the back of her mind was the comforting thought that if he wanted to love her, he couldn't be
that
angry with her.

He lowered her to the ground, and she clung
to him, pulling him down with her. Grass and stones spiked through her clothes, but she barely felt it as his lips fastened on a nipple and he began to suckle hungrily.

Sounds of pleasure gurgled in her throat. Chandos groaned and settled his weight between her legs, his arms wrapping beneath her to hold her even closer. His belly pressed against her groin, moving against it, a stimulation that sent exploding sparks of pleasure into her deepest core.

She was wild for him, there was no other way to put it. She bit, scratched, pulled him toward her. He yanked off her skirt and petticoat, piling them beneath her hips. It didn't really make their bed any softer, but she didn't care. Her eyes, slanted more than usual by her passion, were caught and held by his fiery gaze as he knelt between her legs and unbuckled his belt and holster. Even in the dark his look had the power to take her breath away. She couldn't bear it when he moved away, and she pulled him back to her the moment he finished shedding his clothes.

Penetration was immediate. A hungry growl accompanied his fierce thrust, matched by her own sigh. She gasped as he withdrew, then impaled her again. He pounded her depths and she met him with equal fervor, glorying in their mating until she reached a shattering, explosive climax. Her ultimate ecstasy was prolonged as he buried himself deep, pressing, straining, until she felt the gushing warmth of his release filling her.

Courtney lay sprawled beneath him, his weight beginning to hurt. But she wouldn't
have stirred him for the world. Her heart was pounding, and her breathing hadn't returned to normal yet. Thoughts drifted through her mind, and suddenly she had a clear picture of how she had just behaved—almost as savagely as Chandos!

He stirred. His lips brushed her neck and he sat up, taking most of his weight off her chest. He looked down at her.

“You screamed.”

“Did I?” She was amazed by how nonchalant she managed to sound.

He smiled and kissed her and his lips were soft as they slid back and forth, teasing.

Courtney sighed. “
Now
you're gentle.”

“You didn't want gentleness, kitten,” he declared, and the truth of it made her blush. “But you do now, don't you?”

She was too embarrassed to answer. He rolled over onto his side and pulled her against him. Her breasts pressed comfortably into his side. A breeze caressed her, and she shivered.

“Cold?”

“Only a little—no, don't get up.”

She threw her arm across him. A puny effort to restrain a man like him, but it worked. His arms locked around her in a protective circle.

“Chandos?”

“Yes, cateyes?”

There was silence as she struggled to put her thoughts in order.

“Couldn't you call me Courtney?” she finally said.

“That isn't what you were going to say.”

No, it wasn't. “Do you think he's dead yet?” This in a hesitant, childish voice.

“Yes,” he lied.

Her fingers glided through the hairs on his chest. There was another long silence while Courtney debated whether to ask why it was necessary for Pretty Boy to die so cruelly. But there was that primitive elation in the realization that her man had avenged her.

“Chandos?”

“Yes?”

“You really did come for me alone, didn't you?”

“You expected me to gather a posse out here?” he asked dryly.

“No—no, of course not. But there was your friend, Leaping Wolf. I know he was nearby. I didn't think you were up to finding me yourself.”

The muscles across his chest grew tight, and she realized that she had questioned his masculinity—and after he had proved himself so heroically!

“So you thought I couldn't protect you? Is that why you didn't bother to call for my help this morning, when they took you?”

Courtney groaned.

“I'm sorry, but you weren't exactly in blooming health, you know,” she defended herself. “I was afraid they would kill you.”

“You'd be surprised what a man can do when he's got a reason. Didn't I tell you that last night?”

“What was your reason, Chandos?” she challenged. It was a brazen question, she knew that.

“You're paying me to protect you, or did you forget that, too?”

Disappointment was a thick knot in her throat. She was paying him. Was that the only reason? She started to get up. He held her fast.

“Don't ever sell me short again, cateyes.”

His hand came around to her cheek, moved to the silken hair by her temple. He pressed her face back down against his chest. His voice had been warm, and the lump in her throat eased a little.

It was something, anyway, that he didn't want her to get up. But she wanted more—much more. She wanted him to care.

“Don't be angry with me, Chandos. You found me. I never really doubted that you would.”

After a while she asked, “Then you really are recovered from the snakebite?”

“You can ask me that—now?”

She pressed her face harder against his chest, wondering if he could feel the heat of it. “I mean…does it hurt anymore?”

“It still hurts like hell.”

But he'd come riding after her in spite of it. She smiled, unaware that he could feel the movement against his skin. Her finger absently twirled circles around his nipple.

“Chandos?”

“What now?”

“What happens if I get pregnant?”

He let his breath out in a long sigh.

“Are you?”

“I don't know. It's much too soon to tell.” She hesitated. “But what happens if I am?”

“If you aren't, you won't be.” There was a long pause before he ended. “If you are, you are.”

A thoroughly unsatisfactory answer. “Would you marry me if I am?”

“Could you live the way I do? Always on the go, never staying in one place for more than a few days?”

“That's no way to raise a family,” she pointed out irritably.

“No, it's not,” he said with finality. Then he moved her aside and got up.

Anger and disillusionment tore through her as she watched him dress and then lead Surefoot away to unsaddle him. As he moved away, he tossed his bedroll down and she sat staring at it for a long while. How cold and unfeeling Chandos could be!