Authors: Connie Mason
“He said we ain’t to touch her, Dusty,” Lyle warned as he watched Sam cavort in the water. “Not like you mean, anyways. We’re just supposed to kidnap her. Once we get shed of this place you’ll have money aplenty for whores.”
“One that looks like her?” Dusty asked doubtfully. His eyes glittered greedily as he devoured every inch of Sam’s exposed flesh. “Reckon we oughta do it now?”
“Naw, let’s wait till she comes outta the water,” Lyle suggested craftily. “If we show ourselves now, she might swim to the other side and we’d be outta luck. She’ll come out soon enough. While you’re waitin’ you can look your fill.”
They settled down behind low scrubs and tall grass a short distance from the stream. Suddenly another rider came into view, and Lyle cursed violently. Dusty tore his eyes from the vision in midstream to watch the horseman enter the clearing.
“Shit!” Dusty spat, incredulous. “I swear that man knows everythin’ what’s goin’ on. He turns up at the dangedest times.”
“Hush up. Maybe he’ll go away.” They flattened themselves against the dusty ground and waited.
Colt had remembered the stream from earlier travels in the area and had aimed Thunder in that direction with the thought of filling his canteen and washing the trail dust from his face and neck. He nearly fell off his horse when he spied Sam this far from the ranch playing naked in the water without a care in the world. He kneed Thunder down to the water’s edge intending to give Sam a piece of his mind when the stallion snorted nervously. Colt reined in sharply, his senses alert, his body tense, sniffing the air as if he could smell danger. Smoothing a hand down Thunder’s heaving neck, he spoke softly in his ear.
“You sense it, too, don’t you, boy? There’s somebody else here, isn’t there?” Thunder emitted a soft snort in reply.
Colt glanced toward the stream where Sam was gloriously oblivious, her head submerged beneath the surface. Colt’s hand inched toward his saddle holster, carefully removing his Winchester and placing it across his knees.
“Let’s get the hell outta here,” Dusty whispered, frightened. “There’s no use hangin’ around and lettin’ that Ranger feller find us. We can get the girl another time.”
Lyle hesitated. He wanted to kill Colt so badly he could taste it. He raised his gun. Then Colt turned in Lyle’s direction, and though he was well hidden, Lyle had the uncanny feeling that Colt could see him through the dense foliage. Lyle’s finger fondled the trigger, so close to firing he could smell blood. But at the last second some sixth sense warned Colt and he brought his rifle up, aiming it in Lyle’s direction. It was enough to convince Lyle to heed Dusty’s advice as he scrambled to his feet and beat a hasty retreat. Colt made to follow the noise, but when a polecat ambled out of the bushes he relaxed, thinking he must be getting trigger happy. Then he turned his attention and well-aimed anger on Sam.
Blissfully unaware that Colt stood on the bank, Sam continued her bath. His voice was harsh when he spoke. “Get the hell outta there!”
“Colt! Where did you come from?” Shock shuddered through her when she saw Colt standing on the bank, fuming with rage.
“Are you nuts, Sam? Don’t you realize what a damn fool thing you’re doin’? You’re askin’ for trouble.”
“Trouble?” Sam scoffed derisively. “The only trouble here is you.”
“What about Indians and outlaws?”
“Indians? Outlaws?” Suddenly she didn’t feel quite so confident.
“Yep. You’re dang lucky that was only a skunk in the bushes. Who knows what might have happened if it had been the Crowders instead. Now come outta there. Get back to the ranch.”
“You go on,” Sam hedged, unwilling to bare herself before him. “I’ll come along later.”
“Don’t be bashful, darlin’. I’ve seen every gorgeous inch of you.”
When Sam made no move to obey, Colt began stripping off his shirt, cursing beneath his breath. Wide-eyed, Sam stared as Colt pulled the shirt from his trousers, baring his bronzed chest. Sam knew exactly what he intended, and when their eyes met there was no surprise, just a tingling awareness and anticipation that unnerved yet tantalized her. Colt was the most intriguing, exasperating man she had ever known, and Sam felt herself melting beneath his steady perusal, compelled by something she did not understand. A familiar shiver of arousal set her atremble as Colt’s pants slithered over his hips to join his shirt and boots on the ground.
“If you refuse to come out I reckon I’ll have to come in after you,” he said with casual softness.
Her throat was dry and tight as he waded into the stream. A tangible air of brute strength clung to him as slick muscles rippled beneath taut skin with each step he took. His muscular form had the same vitality and masculinity of the stallion he rode.
Then suddenly their bodies were touching. Sam could feel his big manhood hard and throbbing with life against her leg, knew he was ready to take her, to prove his mastery over her as he had before. But he would not master her, Sam vowed; she would give as good as she got. Taking wasn’t just a man’s prerogative. She would enjoy him as much as he seemed to enjoy her. She would tease him, taunt him, and bid him good-bye when the time came without tears or recriminations.
When his lips brushed over her nipples she inhaled sharply and moaned her encouragement. His tongue circled one taut peak before taking it into his mouth to suck on it, then he did the same to the other. His hands moved around her softly rounded hips to capture her firm buttocks. Fascinated by his growing desire, she slipped her hand below the water to touch him, hot, throbbing, and growing even larger in her hand as she stroked and fondled him.
“Christ!” he exploded, grasping her hand and holding it in place. “You little tease. Don’t stop. Don’t—”
Then his mouth was on hers, his tongue discovering its softness as he shifted her upward and his manhood found her sheath. Then she could feel him throbbing deep within her. Impaled on his hard shaft, she felt him move with merciless regularity until she could no longer control the beat of her heart, and she plunged recklessly down into passion’s abyss. Once again their fiery lovemaking melted their icy anger and transformed it into a passionate flame.
With Sam held tightly in his arms, Colt carried her out of the water and set her on her feet on the bank, her body sliding down his with provocative slowness.
“Why is it I can think of nothin’ but makin’ love to you?” It rankled to think that lust for the little wildcat consumed him so completely that his job came in a poor second.
“Because you’re randy as a billy goat!” Sam shot back.
The corners of his mourn twitched suspiciously, but Colt would not give Sam the satisfaction of laughing. He had to force the harshness into his voice. “Get dressed, you’re goin’ back home. I don’t have time to stand around listenin’ to your insults. Jake’s goin’ to catch hell for lettin’ you wander off by yourself.”
“Don’t blame Jake. Him and the boys are out rounding up unbranded mavericks. I did this on my own. Go ahead and scold, I can take it.” Her stubborn little chin lifted in the air, and Colt suffered a pang of jealousy.
Did Sam admire Jake? Is that why she defended him so staunchly? Colt had to admit Jake was an attractive rascal, but he damn well better keep his hands off Sam.
“Is somethin’ goin’ on between you and Jake?” His voice was harsh with reproach.
“Do you think all men are like you?” countered Sam angrily. “You’ve got an active imagination as well as a dirty mind. Jake and I are friends.”
“Just remember, darlin’, you’re mine till I say otherwise. No one has the right to touch you ‘cept me.
“You hard-headed jackass! Nobody owns me.”
“You’re tryin’ me somethin’ fierce, darlin’. Get dressed and go back to the ranch. I’m goin’ to mosey around a spell longer. I’ll see you back at the ranch.”
That little black-haired bundle of calamity set his teeth on edge more than any woman he had ever known, Colt reflected as he watched Sam ride off. For some dang reason that feisty brat turned his insides to mush. What he should do was kick the dirt off his heels and hightail it out of Karlsburg. He had no earthly business sniffing after a girl like Samantha Howard. Dolly Douglas was his kind of woman, not someone like Sam who threatened his very way of living. What in the hell was the matter with him? Being tied down was worse than a death sentence. Besides, he hadn’t entirely given up on finding his sister. Someday, somehow, he’d get her back from those savages who had stolen her. Until then there was room for no other woman in his life. Not even a passionate little hellcat like Samantha Howard.
Sam took her time returning to the ranch. Her heart was racing wildly and her body sang a song composed by Colt. He had only to tempt her and she gave herself willingly, gladly, joyfully. One touch from the handsome devil and her wits scattered like sagebrush in the wind. Originally he might have forced her compliance, but that was no longer true. She wanted him. But was lust all that was involved? Sam asked herself. Sometimes her wanton behavior with Colt downright shocked her. Could it be—? Was it possible—?
Her heart whispered what logic so easily denied. She loved Colt! Yet that same logic spoke of the futility of her love. Colt wanted no commitments—nothing or no one to hold him to one place. In a few weeks he’d move on to another town, another woman—or women. Knowing Colt, she’d be no more than a fleeting memory with the passage of time, while her own heart might never recover.
“She’s alone,” Dusty crowed. “Best we do it now before the Ranger shows up again and spoils everythin’.”
“I knew if we waited around long enough our luck would change,” Lyle said eagerly. “It takes more brains than that Ranger’s got to outwit Lyle Crowder. Let’s go, Dusty. By tomorrow we’ll be a thousand dollars richer.”
He spurred his horse cruelly, leaping out from the oak and mesquite lining the trail to confront Sam, Dusty close on his heels. Sam had heard the clatter of hooves but failed to recognize her danger, thinking Colt had changed his mind about letting her ride back to the ranch alone. By the time she collected her wits it was too late. Lyle Crowder was already snatching the reins from her hands and bringing her horse to a skidding halt.
C
olt reined Thunder in the direction of the ranch, having found little indication that the Crowders were anywhere nearby, although he did find suspicious tracks that left him puzzled. He hadn’t talked to Jake since his foreman had taken over at the Circle H, and he was itching to chew him out for allowing Sam to wander off by herself. No doubt the little spitfire had used her feminine wiles on Jake, turning him inside out just like she did him. It took little imagination to picture her astride her mount, a banner of long black hair waving in the breeze, skin tanned golden by the sun, her tight little bottom clad in masculine trousers bouncing enticingly in the saddle and breasts jiggling beneath her shirt. Christ, what a temptress! No man had a chance with her around.
Jake and the hands were engaged in herding two dozen unbranded mavericks into pens when Colt rode up. He watched a few minutes, amused to see Will in the midst of things, obviously in his element and enjoying himself. Perhaps there was hope for the lad yet, Colt thought with a smile. He seemed to be prospering under Jake’s able direction despite the sullen glare the boy slanted at Colt when he rode up. Once the cows were penned, Jake detached himself from the cowboys and rode to meet Colt.
“A nice haul,” Colt acknowledged, nodding toward the sleek cows.
“About time you showed up, pal.” Jake grinned, slapping Colt on the back. “How’s things goin’ in town?”
“Nothin’ new,” remarked Colt glumly. “Jim’s workin’ on a link between the Logans and Crowders, but so far no luck. You seen anythin’ suspicious around the ranch lately?”
“Nope. Are you expectin’ trouble?”
“Saw signs and hoof prints in the hills but nothin’ to suggest the Crowders are still hangin’ around. Saw Sam down by the stream.”
“Sam was ridin’ out alone today? Damnation, I warned her about leavin’ the ranch by herself. She’s as contrary as a mule and twice as stubborn, but so damn beautiful she’d tempt a monk.”
“But you’re no monk, are you, Jake?” Colt expelled an exasperated bream. Life would be so much simpler without Sam driving him to distraction. He found himself acting like a jealous fool and didn’t like it one damn bit.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” bristled Jake.
“I warned you not to sniff around Sam.”
“I don’t see your brand on her.” Jake suppressed an amused smile. He rather enjoyed baiting Colt. Nothing delighted him more than seeing Colt brought low by a woman. Jake always knew that one day a special woman would enter his friend’s life. A woman as strong-willed and contrary as he was. It was long past time some of the ice melted from around Colt’s heart.
“Sam might not wear my brand but she’s mine just the same,” Colt announced arrogandy.
“I wonder what Sam would say to that.”
A lazy grin lifted the corner of Colt’s mouth. “Knowin’ her talent for cussin’, she’d probably spit out a string of words that would singe your ears.”
“You’re slippin’, Colt,” Jake laughed, delighted that he had ruffled Colt’s feathers. “Can’t you tame the little filly? Want me to lend a hand?”
Colt’s smile turned downward into a ferocious scowl. “I meant it, Jake. You’re to keep an eye on Sam and your hands off. That goes for the men, too.”