WM02 - Texas Princess (38 page)

Vaguely, she felt him climax as lava ran through her veins. She jerked with the pleasure, once, twice, three times, and then he pul ed her to him and held her as she rocked with ecstasy unable to stop her body from trembling.

Drifting back down from the stars, he kissed her long and tenderly as his hands moved over her, branding every part of her forever.

She was his now, she thought, completely. She’d given al that was hers to him and taken al of him in return. Whatever he wanted of her was his for the taking and she knew he’d never deny her.

When he nal y broke the kiss, she cuddled against him and cried.

“Libby,” he whispered, moving her damp hair away from her face. “Are you al right?”

She nodded against his chest.

He tugged her face up so he could see her.

“I never thought it could be like that.” She shoved a tear away. “So completely consuming.”

He pul ed her close. “Neither did I.”

They were silent as their hearts calmed back to a normal beat, then he whispered,

“Watching you go wil be the hardest thing I’l ever do in my life.”

Libby felt his words ice across her heart, but she didn’t move. They’d made no promises. He’d said from the rst that he’d never marry or leave Whispering Mountain.

She’d told him a hundred times how she couldn’t wait to get back to Washington and her life. What they’d done had been out of need and wanting, not love. Neither had ever mentioned love, not once.

Libby’s heart cried silently. Then why did his words hurt so much?

chapter 30

Y

Tobin watched Libby dress and wished he knew

the right words to say. How does a man tel a woman that he’d rather make love to her than breathe? He’d told her she was beautiful. He’d said he wanted her, he needed her, but somehow his words were not enough for his Libby.

His Libby. Tobin laughed. She would be mad if she knew he even thought of her that way. Each day since she left her father’s house, she’d grown more independent. She’d made plans to set up her own house in the capital city. She’d even spent an hour one afternoon tel ing him al the things a lady could attend alone or with a group of friends.

Plays, concerts, even parties. Al of which Tobin knew nothing about.

He spent most of his time when near her doing what he’d done today. He thought of how it would be when he had her alone long enough to make love to her. Their time beneath the wil ow had been perfect. At rst, she’d reacted like he knew she would, hungry and passionate, but somewhere something had changed. What they’d done was far more than satisfying a need for each other.

What they’d done was a mating, not only of bodies, but of souls. He would remember every detail of their time together, from the rst sight of her until the moment his heart stopped beating when she nal y left. He knew that no matter how many lovers she took in Washington, it would be his name she cal ed when she reached her satisfaction. And every night, when he fel asleep, it would be her body he reached for, if only in his dreams.

“I’m ready,” she said as she folded the blanket and handed it to him as politely as if they’d been on a picnic.

Their eyes met and stared as if each were looking at the other for the rst time.

“Did you have something you wanted to tel me?”

He thought of a hundred things he needed to say to her, but they’d set the rules between them that rst night when they had shared a cup of coffee and her blanket.

Neither spoke of what was between them. Neither mentioned a future that couldn’t be.

“No,” he said, wishing he could break the rule.

He couldn’t help but think that her smile looked somehow sad. Maybe she didn’t want this time to end anymore than he did. Each time they touched, each day that passed made one less they’d have together. Or maybe she was afraid he’d mess everything up between them by wanting more.

They walked to the horse without touching, but their steps matched as if they’d walked hundreds of miles side by side. He helped her up, then moved his hand slowly down her hip and leg al owing the feel of her to seep into his senses one more time.

She didn’t respond. In fact, she looked away. Maybe she was embarrassed at his boldness now no shadows covered them? Their love seemed bordered by darkness and secrecy.

He wished they had days to talk so that he could understand this woman who changed so quickly, but it would be dark in an hour and he had to reach his grandfather’s hunting camp before then. Visitors were not greeted warmly once the sun set.

He told himself he’d talk to her tonight when the moon was ful and she lay in his arms.

Only he knew he probably

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wouldn’t. Tobin had spent his life not talking. He lived in a world where action, not feelings mattered.

He smiled. Maybe he’d show her tonight that he was wil ing to give it a try. He could change. He might even agree to meet her in Austin when she visited. If she were wil ing?

When he swung up in the saddle, he pul ed her close against his chest and, as she always did, she molded into him. A perfect t.

They rode in silence as he watched the signs his grandfather had taught him. No other settler would nd the hunting camp, but to Tobin the direction was clear.

As the sun touched the horizon he rode into the Apache’s winter camp. Only a few deer hides tanned by the res told Tobin it was early in the hunt. Several women moved about tending cooking pots and preparing strips of meat that would feed the tribe al winter. The women who traveled with the hunting party were usual y young, hard workers. Older women and those with children stayed at the main camp.

At this site al the men stepped out to watch him. This was not a place for visitors, even the chief’s blue-eyed grandson.

Tobin knew one of the boys in the lower camp had probably ridden up to let them know he was coming. When his grandfather walked out of one of the tepees, Tobin saw no surprise in the old man’s eyes.

“Is that him?” Libby whispered.

Tobin tried to see his grandfather through her eyes. The chief was tal and stil built straight and strong even though his hair was completely white. His face was weathered into a thousand wrinkles by the wind and sun, and his eyes were black and alert, always reminding Tobin of a wolf.

Tobin slipped from the horse and walked up to his grandfather without speaking or even looking at the men standing around. It would have been an insult to his grandfather if he spoke to one of the men before he greeted their chief.

The old man smiled and spoke in his native tongue. “I knew you would come, grandson. Our winter camp is the shortest way back to your land.”

Tobin answered him in kind not bothering to ask how his grandfather knew he was traveling. “You are wise. I thank you for the guards you sent to watch our bridge.

Thanks to them no one wil cross onto our land without warning.”

“No white man,” his grandfather corrected.

Tobin agreed. The Apache rarely visited, but they knew the back trail through the hil s.

He remembered once he asked his grandfather how the Apache knew his father’s secret path and the old man asked him how he thought Andrew McMurray rst learned the way.

When Grandfather lifted his head and looked at Liberty, Tobin knew introductions were in order.

“Libby,” he said calmly. “Wil you come meet my grandfather?” He hoped she wouldn’t refuse. It would have looked bad for him to help her down or carry her. She might think she needed shoes to walk, but those around her wouldn’t.

“Al right.” She slipped off the horse and fol owed his lead by walking past the men without looking at them until she raised her head to greet the chief.

As if she were at a formal ceremony, she bowed. “Wil you tel him I am honored to meet him?”

Tobin hesitated. He knew his grandfather had understood every word, but the old man stood staring at Libby and waiting. Tobin translated her words.

Grandfather answered in Apache. “Is this the woman you kidnapped away from her people? Couldn’t you nd one a little fatter to warm your tepee?”

Tobin frowned. He never knew if his grandfather was teasing or serious.

Grandfather smiled. “Tel her she is welcome here.”

Tobin translated.

Libby returned the chief’s smile. “Thank you.”

Grandfather then asked Tobin. “Why didn’t you take one who had mocassins? Are white women so hard to nd that are ful y dressed?”

Tobin grinned. “I’l try to think of that next time, but she’s not an easy woman to keep shoes on.”

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“Do you plan to keep her as your woman?” The chief’s eyes studied them both and Tobin knew he missed little.

“No,” Tobin answered, glad Libby couldn’t understand what they were saying. One blush from her, and Grandfather would change his direction in questioning.

“Why not? Is something wrong with her besides having no shoes and being too thin?

Is she damaged?” His black eyes looked from her feet to her head as if looking for broken bones.

“No,” Tobin answered. “She does not wish to marry.”

“Oh.” Grandfather nodded and looked back at her. “She chooses to walk alone. She’s crazy, I think.”

Tobin wasn’t sure what his grandfather meant, but he didn’t want to go into more detail.

“What did he say?” Libby asked when the old man turned to one of the women by his side.

“He says you’re a very ne woman.” Tobin didn’t miss the slight lift of his grandfather’s eyebrow at the lie, but the chief did not correct his grandson’s translation.

Tobin took a few minutes to introduce Libby to al the men he knew. For the most part, the braves weren’t very interested in meeting her. Libby would probably be hurt if she knew just how plain and washed out most Apache thought white women were.

He wasn’t surprised when a girl a few years younger than Libby invited her to sit with the women for the evening meal.

Libby didn’t look too sure about going, but Tobin promised her it would be al right.

“The women sit close to the cooking res,” he encouraged. “You’l be warmer. It gets real y cold this high up after dark.”

Though he joined the men, Tobin sat so that he could see Libby. As they ate and talked he found himself feeling a great deal of pride for her. Libby might not be able to speak a word, but she managed to help with the meal and show her appreciation for everything passed for her to eat. He also guessed she had no idea what she was eating and he decided that was probably best.

The women touched her clothes and one even rebraided her hair. By the end of the meal he heard her laughter blend with the other women’s and knew that somehow she’d won them over.

His grandfather talked of the hunting and how the white man was slowly changing the land. As the night aged, he talked of Tobin’s mother. She’d been his oldest daughter and he’d loved her dearly. He said that when she married Andrew McMurray he rode for three days and three nights without sleep to kil this man who claimed his daughter.

But when he saw them together, he saw the way Andrew looked at her and the way she looked at him. And he knew it was too late. If he had kil ed Andrew, he would have snuffed out the light in his daughter’s eyes.

Tobin had heard the story many times but he never tired of it. Somehow it took away a little of the pain of his mother’s dying young. It helped to know that she was loved.

When he stood to go col ect Libby, a wrinkled hand stopped him.

“We must go,” Tobin said, knowing his grandfather never asked any of the McMurrays to stay the night. “We’l camp farther down the hil tonight and be riding toward the ranch by dawn.”

“No Shoes stays with the women tonight.” There was no room for argument in his grandfather’s tone.

“I’l go tel her. Thank you for the offer.” Tobin didn’t want to stay. He wanted to sleep with Libby alone beneath the stars. But he also didn’t want to offend his grandfather.

“I wil tel her.” Grandfather grinned to himself. “It is time she knows I understand her.”

As he walked off toward the women, he whispered just loud enough for Tobin to hear,

“Can’t trust translators.”

With that he left Tobin with the men and walked to the campre of the women.

Tobin could do nothing but watch as the chief took Libby by the hand.

She stood.

He couldn’t hear what his grandfather said, but Libby

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nodded, glanced in Tobin’s direction, then turned and left with the women.

Tobin had never spent a more miserable night. He’d been offered a bed in the tent, but he chose to sleep outside, wanting to keep an eye on where Libby had gone. For about an hour after the men settled down, he heard the women talking and once he thought he heard Libby’s laugh.

It was almost dawn by the time he dozed off. He awoke to nd everyone in camp moving around him as if he were a snoring rock that had fal en in their way overnight.

He looked around and caught no sight of Libby, so he stumbled off to a nearby stream to clean up.

Stripping off his shirt, he dunked his head in the cold water, then splashed water on his chest. The shock woke him but didn’t improve his mood.

Scrubbing at his beard and wishing he had a razor, he turned and saw three women staring at him, giggling. One was Libby.

“What are they saying, Tobin?” she demanded.

He groaned but decided not to lie. “They’re saying it’s no wonder you won’t have me, I’m hairy as a bear.”

Libby laughed and nodded her agreement to both women.

They al three bumped heads in another round of giggling. One of the women reached out and almost touched him, then jumped back laughing.

“Glad you’re having fun,” he snapped.

“Oh, great fun. I slept on a warm, soft bed and I’ve already learned a dozen words. And look.” She lifted the hem of her split riding skirt.

“Moccasins,” he shouted. “Don’t tel me the princess of Washington, D.C., is wearing moccasins.”

She pouted. “They’re very comfortable and warm al the way to my knees.”

“Let me see,” he teased.

She lowered her skirt. “I don’t think that would be proper. I’l have to ask your grandfather rst. He said he’d watch over me as if he were my father since mine is not around. We’ve already had a long talk this morning.”