"It doesn't matter?"
"No." A chill racked her body, and she shook beneath him.
"Are you better than Annie Oakley?"
"Yes," she hissed.
"Then prove it."
She couldn't read his expression. "What do you care?"
She sensed the change in his body, sensed she'd gone too far, and she hated hurting him, hated angering him. I'm sorry. Without considering, she yanked her hand from his grasp, the other from beneath his chest, and framed his cold face. Raising her head, she kissed him, their icy noses bumping before he angled his head and returned her desperate kiss. With the frigid ground along her spine and the chill wind whipping their hair in a reckless tangle, she lost herself in the glorious heat of his seeking tongue.
Anton's breath became labored. His hand moved inside her coat and caressed her through her clothing. Rain Shadow almost groaned with frustration. How good he made her feel. How much she needed these feelings. But the bitter wind, their layers of clothing were intolerable.
She pulled her mouth from his, breathed against his chin. "Let's go inside. Please."
Anton helped her off the ground, picked up his rifle and stepped back. "I left the barn door open."
She nodded and ran to the cabin.
He watched her go, his heart sick. He'd never had these feelings for his wife. He had never looked at Sissy with thoughts of intimacy, hadn't been able to imagine touching her once they were married. It was wrong that the only woman who made him feel this way was the one who'd married him for protection and planned to leave once she felt safe. Rain Shadow made him think and feel too much when he wanted to feel nothing and think less.
He secured the wooden door and ran to the cabin. She waited in the rocker near the fire, her shiny hair an ebony mass of tangles. Anton hung his coat and warmed his hands over the flames she'd stoked, feeling her gaze on his back. He could smell her from here. Her. No perfume or talc masking a scent more exotic than anything bottled in France. As always his response screamed through his veins, accentuated his senses and hammered into his belly. Finally, he turned to her.
She swallowed.
He wanted to kneel before her and undress her...what did she wear underneath? The fantasy seared decadent images in his mind until his body grew taut.
She shivered.
"Cold?" At her nod, he knelt on the braided rug at her feet and reached for her boot. She extended her leg, and he pulled off her boot, then her woolen sock. She curled her toes into the rug while he bared the other foot. Holding her ankle, he massaged her cold toes and polished the sole of her foot with his thumb until warmth returned. He treated the other foot the same, finally spreading his palm from heel to toe, comparing the length of her foot to his hand. His fingers extended well over the end of her toes.
She smiled.
He took her hands, rubbed them vigorously between his and slanted his head toward her face. Firelight flickered over her features, lashes drooping over smoldering violet eyes. He read the desire in her eyes, her open lips, the traitorous breath that escaped her flared nostrils. He wanted her. Satisfaction impaired his judgment. He wasn't angry. His body throbbed with ungratified longing.
Her gaze shifted to the loft above.
He should have used that tiny hesitation to collect his wits and remember the danger in displaying the least vulnerability, but he discovered his heart wasn't as hard as he'd worked to make it. How could he resist her when she looked at him as if he was the only pool of water in the middle of a desert? "They're asleep," he assured her.
It was so like her to reach for him, to take what she wanted. No shrinking violet, Rain Shadow was ardent rather than romantic, one of the many unusual things that drew him to her, much as he resisted. She placed her fingers over his lips, and he kissed them. She ran her index finger across his lower lip, and he dropped his gaze to the pulse at her throat, beheld the rise and fall of her breasts beneath her shirt.
Her hands fell to his shoulders. Anton rose to his knees to kiss her. She met his lips and plucked a series of moist kisses across his mouth. He returned the caress, sliding his nose into the soft skin behind her ear, running his teeth along the column of her throat. He opened his mouth wide and sucked at her flesh.
The rocker creaked as she slid forward and found his shirt buttons. Her fingers worked them loose and slid inside.
She traced his collarbone, his shoulders, her cool fingertips sliding over his heated skin. Her touch made him feel like a man again, a prideful, ego-boosting sensation he hadn't experienced for a long, long time-if ever. She ran her palms across his chest, his muscles reflexively tensing. No one had ever touched him like this. In awe of the pleasure she took in him, in his flesh, his kiss, he forgot to breathe.
His hungry expression kindled Rain Shadow's appetite. She could barely think when she touched him, less when he touched her-she could only feel. And right now she felt as if a fire had ignited deep inside her and spread beneath her skin. He was a beautiful, golden man, and she needed him to soothe the flame his eyes, lips and hands fueled. She should have felt clumsy and inexperienced, but stroking her palms down his chest to his hard, flat belly, his reaction gave her a power that excited her beyond measure.
He inhaled so sharply, air whistled through his teeth. He clamped his fingers over her wrists and wrapped her arms around his waist, covering her mouth in an unrestrained melding of lips and tongues.
Rain Shadow dug her fingers into his back, eagerly returning his kiss, silently cursing the barrier of their clothing between them.
"Anton," she whispered against his lips.
He pulled back, holding her so he could look at her.
She threaded her fingers into his hair.
He loosened her grip and held her hands between them, regret in his eyes. "I can't do this just to prove something to myself."
She tried to focus on his words.
"It's not fair to you."
"Anton, I'm not sure what you're saying."
He released her, and immediately coldness and emptiness enveloped her. Sitting on the floor, he scrubbed a hand across his face, hung his head and bracketed his temples with thumb and fingers. She stared at him in confusion.
As if sorting his words carefully, he dropped his hand, wrist draped across his knee, and met her gaze. "I'm not a gentleman."
She would have laughed had her body not been weeping for his. She made a pretense of straightening her clothing. "You'll have to understand if that doesn't come as a revelation to me."
"Listen." He stood and paced the small room, coming to stand behind her chair. The clock on the mantel ticked away interminable minutes. Wind whistled at the crack beneath the door. "You scare me," he whispered.
Her heart tumbled drunkenly. She curled her toes into the rug. "Why?"
"You want everything just as much, just as hard and fast as I do."
She only knew she wanted him. No doubt she'd breached some unspoken rule of propriety. Perhaps wives didn't want everything as hard and fast as their husbands. Humiliation burned her cheeks. "How unladylike of me."
"No, Rain Shadow." He knelt beside her chair.
She forced herself to meet his earnest gaze.
"No," he whispered. "I was proving something to myself."
"That you could have me if you wanted?"
"No." He took her hand and rubbed his thumb across the back. "Please, don't think that."
"What am I supposed to think?" She watched his thumb stroke back and forth and wanted to draw it to her mouth, wanted to pull all of him against her, inside her.
He laid her hand in her lap. "Just think about what you really want. Think about it tomorrow when we're not together, and you can see more clearly."
When you're not near, and my judgment isn't influenced by my traitorous body, you mean. "All right."
"Go to bed, now."
She rose obediently, gathering her boots and socks. The clock chimed, punctuating her good-night.
"Good night, Rain Shadow. Sleep well."
Rain Shadow almost laughed. Any sleep at all would be a miracle.
* * *
"Do I hafta finish these numbers, Ma? You know I can do 'em." Slade twirled a tooth-scarred pencil between his fingers and served her his best martyred-little-boy expression.
Rain Shadow sliced a slab of bacon. "Your mind needs to be as healthy as your body."
"I know, Ma. But you know how sometimes your...seat hurts after you practice too much? Or your arms? That's how my head feels today."