WM02 - Texas Princess (37 page)

When he didn’t say anything, she told him of the places she liked to go. She described in detail how it felt to sit in the balcony and listen to Congress and how on the Fourth of July the entire town had a party. People danced in the streets and music seemed to come from everywhere. She told him of her morning walks where she stopped in at a little bakery for tea and scones just like the English have.

Final y, they fel into a comfortable silence, each lost in thought.

About the time the moon came out, Liberty whispered, “If I asked you to come—”

He stopped her with “If I asked you to stay?”

Neither answered the other’s question.

An hour after midnight, the drunk in the back yel ed, “When do we get to the hospital?

I’m dying back here!”

Liberty laughed and Tobin stopped the wagon.

He walked around to the back and untied the drunk. “You’re not dying,” he said calmly.

Libby heard the drunk tumble out of the wagon and run for the trees. “What’s he doing?” she whispered.

“Don’t ask,” Tobin answered.

“Oh.” She was thankful Tobin couldn’t see her blush. “Do you think he’s coming back?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Before Tobin could say more, the drunk stumbled out of the trees. “Water,” he yel ed.

“I’m dying for a drink.”

“He’s got more lives than a cat,” Tobin mumbled to Libby as he shed an old canteen out from under the seat.

The freighter downed it al and burped. “What the hel is going on?”

Before Tobin could tel the truth, Libby lied. “We’re saving your life, and I’l thank you not to swear around me.”

The drunk looked confused. “What happened?”

He scratched his head and Libby swore she could see eas jumping free even in the moonlight.

“Whatever it was, I ain’t responsible. When I get a little too much, I sometimes do things. It ain’t nobody’s fault but the bottle.”

Libby played along. “That’s what I told the captain, but he said you could cool off in the stockade for a month. Lucky for you we were leaving and offered to drive your team out or you’d be in jail right now.”

“I don’t remember nothing,” he chal enged.

“Do you usual y?”

“Nope,” he nal y admitted and turned to Tobin. “I guess I owe you folks a debt.”

“You’re welcome.” Tobin glanced at Libby, obviously not as comfortable with lying as she was. “If you’l let us ride along with you for a spel , we’l cal it even.”

The drunk nodded.

“I’l take care of the mules if you’l start a re,” Tobin said to the man as he helped Libby down.

The drunk remembered his manners and made a slight bow to Liberty. “Nice to meet you, missus. I’m Hoot Brown. How long you and your man been married?”

“A month,” Libby lied again as quickly as she had the rst time. “He kind of rode in and swept me off my feet.”

Hoot grinned, but no teeth showed in the moonlight. “I did that once, but the gal didn’t take to the idea for marriage when I got her home.”

Libby had no trouble guessing why. She reminded herself to stay upwind from the man.

The damp grass was cold as she walked in her stocking feet, but she didn’t mention her lack of boots and Hoot didn’t seem to notice. When Tobin came back he’d rel ed both canteens. She reached for Tobin’s, knowing she’d die of thirst before she’d drink from Hoot’s.

Hoot built a re and offered them the wagon, claiming he preferred the ground to sleep on. He didn’t ask about his food, just nished off the bottom few inches of his whisky bottle and curled up near the re.

Tobin didn’t say anything until they heard him snore. He helped her in the wagon, then slid in beside her. With the hay stacked up, they had a smal amount of privacy.

“I’d like to make love to you,” he whispered. “But . . .”

“I know,” she answered. The idea that Hoot might wander around the wagon and see them made her shiver. “Maybe we’d better just sleep tonight.”

She lay her hand on his chest and he covered her ngers with his.

Just after dawn when Hoot awoke, his mood was dark. He mumbled, swearing at the mules and claiming Tobin had fed them far too much. “They’l be fat and lazy for a week.”

As he kicked out the re, he complained about the cold and the mud and the blasted hay someone had put in his wagon. Though he admitted to being a mean drunk, sober he seemed little improved.

Libby made a point of staying close to Tobin and wasn’t surprised when he saddled his horse and bid the drunk goodbye.

Hoot seemed surprised but was obviously a man who enjoyed being alone. He waved them off, claiming they’d taken him a day out of his way.

Tobin lifted Libby up on the horse. “We’d better be miles away before he gures out we ate most of his food.”

“What wil he do?” she whispered afraid Hoot might turn around and decide to fol ow them.

“Eat one of his fat mules,” Tobin answered.

Tobin turned into the trees fol owing no path that she could see.

“Where are we headed?”

“We’l cross into the hil s and come out north of Elmo’s Trading Post. We can make better time this way, and the soldiers never ride through here.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s my grandfather’s hunting grounds.”

chapter 29

Y

Libby wasn’t sure what she expected. She knew

she’d be safe with Tobin, but having him tel her he was half Indian and seeing him ride into an Apache camp like an old friend was something else. A few people turned to watch, or gathered closer in curiosity, but for the most part they simply raised a hand in welcome and went on about their work.

“Stay on the horse,” he whispered against her ear a moment before he slid down. She watched him move into a group of people casual y surveying her.

Liberty had been around foreign diplomats most of her life. She’d been able to speak French and Italian before ten. Listening to people talk in languages she didn’t understand was nothing new to her, but Tobin crossed into another culture without hesitation. And, more surprising, they accepted him.

He talked with a brave who looked about his age, then nodded and returned to her.

“My grandfather is north of here hunting.” Tobin touched her leg as he spoke calmly. If he’d done so on the streets of Washington, people would have stared and frowned their disapproval. Here, no one seemed to notice.

“Wil your grandfather come back to camp to see you?” Libby saw women whisper as they pointed at Libby’s bare feet.

“No.” Tobin turned his horse. “He’l expect us to come to him.”

A girl of about twelve stepped forward and offered them each an apple. Tobin thanked her with a slight bow. When Libby said thank you, the girl laughed and ran away.

Liberty leaned closer to him and whispered though she doubted anyone could understand her words. “Do you know al these people?”

“No.” He laughed. “Only a few. Grandfather sends young braves to check on us now and then. And while he’s at his winter camp, we’re welcome to visit, but never for the night.” Tobin winked at her. “The old chief thinks we might steal his granddaughters the way our father stole his daughter. He sees us as white, and though we’re also of his blood, he looks over us more like he’s watching an experiment than a relative.”

Tobin swung up behind her. “Over the years I’ve gured out that Grandfather knows most of what goes on around these parts. He’d never help us ght, but he might send his braves to make sure the ght was fair.”

“You love him, don’t you?”

Tobin shook his head. “I respect him. He sent his daughter to the mission al those years ago because he knew the world was changing. There was a time, after my mother died, that he could have come onto Whispering Mountain and brought us here.

He was our only relative. We might have gone with him too, but while we were stil boys he let us stand as men.”

Tobin waved and turned his horse toward the hil s.

Libby asked questions l ing in the details of Tobin’s life. She couldn’t believe, when she’d rst met him, she’d thought his life must be boring, staying on a lonely ranch raising horses.

They even talked of the day he’d been shot when he was six. The bul et must have brushed past his heart. One hair closer and he would have been dead.

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Final y, he asked, “Does it bother you that I’m a—”

“A half-breed?” she nished his sentence.

“Yeah, a half-breed.”

Libby smiled and twisted so that he could see her eyes when she said, “I don’t like that word. It seems to me you should be a double-breed, because you are a little of both.”

A slow smile spread across his face as he leaned and kissed her. His lips were gentle as if he were promising something.

Libby twisted trying to get closer, wanting more.

Tobin laughed and led the horse up a hil several yards to where trees grew thicker.

“We’d better rest here for a while,” he murmured as he pul ed her off the saddle and into his arms. “The horse looks tired.”

Laughing, Libby wrapped her arms around his neck as he carried her beneath the shadow of a wil ow. He set her on her feet in the yel owed winter grass and walked back to the horse.

A moment later, he tossed her his bedrol . “Get undressed,” he ordered. “I’l stake the horse so he can graze.”

Liberty stood, holding the bedrol under one arm. She wanted nothing more than a chance to make love to Tobin, but she’d not disrobe on command.

After a few minutes, he glanced back and noticed her standing exactly where he’d left her.

At rst he looked confused; then he straightened and started toward her. “I said, get undressed. We don’t have much time.”

She folded her arms. “I don’t remember joining your army.”

He crossed to within two feet of her and tugged the blanket from beneath her arm. “I plan to make love to you, Libby,” he said as he spread the blanket over the dried grass. “And you want it too, so why the hesitation?”

“Maybe I want it,” she admitted. “Maybe not. Maybe I’ve grown bored with you.”

His hand rose slowly and slid beneath her jacket. Warm ngers brushed over her blouse feeling the ful ness of her breasts through the thin layer of cotton and silk. She couldn’t help but close her eyes and enjoy his touch.

“You want it too,” he voiced the fact. “You’ve been brushing against me and cuddling into me since we rode away from old Hoot this morning. You could never lie to me about how you feel.”

Refusing to acknowledge his comment, she took a deep breath as he removed her jacket. His hands caressed her so gently she ached for more. When she didn’t say anything, he began unbuttoning her blouse. “I want to see you. I love making love at night, but I need to see what I touch. I need to see you.”

She’d thought to hesitate, to play a game of being courted, but her body already longed for his so strongly she couldn’t think.

He opened her blouse, letting his hand cover her breast as he whispered, “Come to me, Libby, with no games or teasing. Come to me and I promise I’l give you what you want.”

He knelt and unbuttoned her skirt. When he captured one breast in his mouth, her knees buckled and she tumbled into his arms. She knew there would be no games, no promises to later break. There would only be him and her, and the endless attraction that had drawn them together from that rst night.

He spread her out on the blanket and studied her while he stripped off his clothes.

When he knelt over her, she could see the hunger in his eyes and knew it reected in her own.

When his gaze moved down her body, she opened her legs. He spread his hand over her most private place to make sure she was ready, then entered her. They stared into each other’s eyes as he pushed deeper and deeper. She could see passion and need building in the depths of his blue gaze. He was al owing her to see openly what she did to him ...how much he wanted her ...how dearly he needed her. The knowledge took her breath away more than any kiss or touch could have.

Final y, she moaned and leaned her head back as pleasure rocked her body. He lowered over her, covering her, warming her as he made love. The afternoon light, the birds, the wind in the trees, al drifted away as she came alive beneath his warm body.

Slowly, she realized he wasn’t taking his

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pleasure, but pleasing her. He stoked a re deep inside her that spread along her body making every part of her warm and vibrant.

She let him set the pace rising to meet him, but not pul ing him to her. As their dance continued, she rose higher in the ames that consumed her.

This time when the stars exploded and she rocked with pure joy, she cried out his name. He slowed his movements letting her circle in the re a moment longer. Then, as she knew he would, he held her as she drifted back to earth.

“Thank you,” she whispered as he wiped a tear from her cheek. “That was... that was unbelievable.”

He kissed her softly. “Oh, we’re not nished yet, my Libby. We’re not near nished.”

She felt like clay in his hands, unable to move on her own yet responding to his every touch. At rst he held her tightly to him, moving his hands down her back until his

ngers gripped her hips, then he gently shoved her back atop the blanket.

He moved down her body, kissing, holding, tasting her esh stil warm from his lovemaking. She stretched, letting him take his pleasure. She drifted with him enjoying the way he knew her body and the way he loved touching her. When his kiss returned to her mouth, she opened, letting him taste deeply while he slowly entered her.

About the time she smiled at the knowledge that she was pleasing him, a ame started once more in her bel y, burning wild over nerves already alive and raw with feeling. The blaze grew hot, driving her toward heaven once more when she hadn’t caught her breath from the last journey. He shoved so hard and fast into her that she pul ed her mouth from his kiss, gulping for air as a passion unlike she’d ever known consumed her.

This time he was taking his pleasure and she gave wil ingly.

When she dug her nails into his back, pul ing him to her, Tobin covered her mouth with his hand and pushed deep one last time.