Rain Shadow(41)

"Kiss me now," he groaned.

Gladly, she kissed him back, shaking with the passion he evoked. She'd  never felt so cherished. It was probably just a foolish fantasy because  of the way he made her feel and the way she felt about him. The emotion  she experienced compared to no other. What was this all-consuming need  she had for him, for his approval, his attention, his body? She loved  her child. She loved Two Feathers. But this was different.

He buried his face in her hair.

She wanted him. She needed him. Tears clogged the back of her throat. "I love you," she whispered into his ear.

Anton felt her tremors, felt her breath against his bad ear. Needing to  hear her pleasured sighs, he lent his other ear to her mouth and petted  her, gentling her spirit at the same time he satiated her body. She  writhed against him in a final, beautiful burst of pleasure, and he  shuddered into her, his own pleasure abating in lethargic waves.

He rolled beside her, tugged her alongside his length, and she cuddled  him naturally, trustingly. Rational thought returned slowly.  Reluctantly, Anton opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. "Rain  Shadow?"                       
       
           



       

"Yes." Her voice was a soft whisper against his chest.

They had no future, had made no promises. She had plans that didn't  include him. Soon she'd be the reigning princess of the Wild West Show,  international fame and glory a far cry from farm life in rural  Pennsylvania. He'd forgotten to be careful, forgotten he was a man who  had nothing to give-a man unworthy to accept what she gave. "I had no  right to do that."

She was silent for a moment. "I am your wife."

"Yes." Was that how a wife responded? Should a wife turn to surging heat  and hot-burning responses in his arms? Emily never had. She'd run her  hands across his body, heedless of his imperfections, and he'd soared to  heights never before explored. Had she known how her touch inflamed  him? Or had she cared?

His wife.

He closed his eyes...smelled her on his skin, felt her warm and alive  along his side. Nothing that good could happen to him. He had no place  getting his hopes raised. He had to remain realistic. She was grateful  for his protection. He'd wanted her since he'd first seen her.

Now he'd have her out of his system. Completely and totally, he assured  himself, and fell asleep with her head tucked under his chin, her  satin-soft leg entwined with his. That was what he wanted, wasn't it?

* * *

The glowing barn undulated, one moment graphically clear, the next  blurred by shimmering orange waves of heat and...tears. Anton watched  keenly. Heat warmed his face while a cool breeze flirted with his back.

The sound of a woman's voice prickled his scalp, sent shudders along his  spine and tore the breath from his lungs. The eerie singsong chant  coaxed him toward the jagged opening in the side of the barn.

His leaden feet moved awkwardly but steadily, carrying him closer to the  shimmering heat. Every self-preserving instinct screamed to stay back,  stay clear of the devouring flames. Still the lilting voice drew him  ever forward. At the opening in the splintered wood, he stared into the  barn, helpless to tear his eyes from the raven-haired woman silhouetted  before the shimmering yellow and orange inferno.

She called to him without saying a word.

"It's too hot," he said. She ignored his protest and beckoned him  forward. Amazingly, the opening widened to permit him passage. He  stepped through the portal. He'd never been in the fire before. It  wasn't as painful as he thought it would be. Maybe he was dead.

The woman's bare golden body glowed with perspiration. Claws and shells  hung from a thong at her neck, and she chanted, her graceful limbs  swaying in a hypnotic rhythm. She smiled at him, the smile of one as  wise and as old as the sun and the sky. Reaching out a long, slim arm,  she touched his shoulder. Searing pain tore through his flesh.

"Come," she spoke at last. She stepped backward, scant inches from the crackling inferno.

No. No. His mind raged in defense, but his tongue refused the words. His  traitorous feet drew him forward. Heat blasted his skin. Racking pain  pushed his mind toward the edge of sanity.

"Don't be afraid," she crooned, taking his hand and drawing it to her glowing flesh.

His hand shriveled. Blisters erupted on his face. His skin stretched and  peeled. Still he followed her, drawn into the core of the fire.  Destruction hissed blue jets of soul- scorching flame in every  direction.

"We're together now," she sang tonelessly. Smoke wreathed her head. Her  skin turned deathly white, her hair as orange as the glowing embers.  Glittering green eyes held him spellbound. Lying eyes. Eyes Anton  recognized with horror.

Emily!

She'd dragged him into hell.

Anton bolted upright. The coverlet lay twisted around one ankle,  trailing onto the floor. On the night table his pocket watch ticked in  the silence of the dark room.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

From beside him, small, strong hands rubbed his perspiring shoulder. "The dream again?"

Rain Shadow.

In the silent, dark room, the silken length of her thigh against his hip  and her comforting hand assured him of reality. Night was dark. The bed  was soft. Air felt good in his lungs. The earth still existed.  Everything was as it should be. Slowly, his heart returned to a normal  cadence, and he flopped back on the pillows.                       
       
           



       

Rain Shadow gathered the fallen covers and pulled them over than both,  tucking herself along his length. He angled his chin to fit her head in  the hollow of his neck and stroked her hair.

"You loved her very much, didn't you?"

The question caught him by surprise. His hand stilled. He stared into  the darkness overhead. Had he called out Emily's name while he dreamed?  "I thought I did."

"She was beautiful."

"How do you know?"

"I've seen your wedding portrait."

His fingers moved over her hair again. "I keep it for Nikolaus."

The wind whistled at the shuttered windows. "Do you think they're all right?"

He took her hand from his chest and kissed her fingers. "The boys are just fine. Go back to sleep. I'm sorry I woke you."

"I wasn't asleep." Her breath tickled the hair on his chest. He sensed  her slight smile. "I've never slept with a man before. I wanted to  remember all of it. Make it last, sort of."

Anton couldn't believe she felt that way about him, but everything about  her smacked of honesty and naiveté. He swallowed a hot-burning sadness  and regretted with all his heart that she wouldn't be the woman he made  the rest of his life with. She had other plans.

She'd wanted it all just as badly as he had-that had been half the  thrill-but he couldn't help believing she'd regret what they'd done  after she had time to think. He couldn't bear to see regret cloud her  eyes when she came to her senses. He'd allowed a few of his fences to  fall, but they could be mended again. And the safest way was to start  building them before she had a chance to knock down any more.

Anton closed his eyes and prayed for the strength.

* * *

Thin winter light cast a gray pall over the bed. Rain Shadow woke to the  creak of the bed ropes. The bed dipped, and she rolled her head. Anton  sat with his broad back to her, pulling on his denims. He stood and  pulled them up his thighs, his firm buttocks a vivid reminder of the  night before.

"Good morning," she said, sleepily.

He faced her, reaching for his shirt. His expression was almost one of embarrassment.

She frowned. "Anton, are you sorry?"

The shirt dangled from his fingertips. He shrugged noncommittally, but  his gaze traveled to her. "I thought I'd give you a chance to get up  alone."

She rose on her elbows, and the sheet slipped lower. "Should I be-embarrassed?"

His blue eyes widened at her frank question. "My wife-" he began.

Something in her chest shifted and ached at the mention of the woman  he'd loved, but shamelessly, Rain Shadow wanted to hear it. "What?"

"She didn't look at me without my shirt. And we always-" he ran a hand over the stubble on his cheek "-made love in the dark."

Silence stretched between them. Rain Shadow wondered at a relationship  where lovers were inhibited about their bodies. She realized her  upbringing had given her a different outlook, but was that the way a man  expected a woman to behave? "I guess I'm not like her."

He perched on the bed's edge. "Definitely not."

"The few times Miguel and I-" She broke off, searching for an  appropriate word, but didn't know one. "Well, it was in secret and over  quickly. I don't know how most men and women behave, but..."