Part 15 (2/2)
”Oh, Grady, I want to believe you.”
”If you can't believe me, then believe in the way I make you feel and trust your emotions. I'm going to love you again, sweet, and when your body is burning and you're panting with rapture, remember that few couples ever experience anything so profound. Then tell me whether or not you believe what I have just told you.”
His kisses fell like gentle summer rain on her face and throat, and she felt his hand slide over her abdomen, her skin s.h.i.+vering beneath his touch. When his fingers moved lower, seeking the center of her desire, Storm opened her legs and allowed him free access.
”Oh, G.o.d, this is what I want,” Grady gasped as his hands sought the moistness between her legs. Storm felt helpless, but instead of being shamed by it, a blossoming excitement built within her and her body grew taut as a stretched canvas. His lips silenced her soft cries and his tongue danced against hers in desperate need. Then suddenly he was on her, in her, thrusting, retreating, thrusting again.
The force of Grady's fervor rocked her to her very core, and Storm gasped as she was flung over the edge of pleasure's peak. Her body shuddered as she watched Grady strive toward his own climax. In the throes of pa.s.sion he looked more fierce and threatening than the renegade savage she had originally thought him to be. Yet she knew him to be more vulnerable at this moment than at any other time in his life. Suddenly he threw back his head and roared. His seed spilled against her womb as he held her fiercely, possessively. Unwilling to be privy to so intimate a moment, Storm closed her eyes.
”Open your eyes, sweetheart,” he whispered, stroking the silky strands of her blonde hair.
She did as she was told and found her eyes straying to the curving sweep of his lips. Flus.h.i.+ng, she recalled what those lips could do to her, how they could drive her wild with need. Her next thought was that his lips were the only soft part of him.
”Are you ready to answer my question now, lady?” His voice held a note she'd never heard before.
Storm thought a long time before recalling what he had asked. ”I believe your body wants me, and I believe you want to live without violence and the need for vengeance, but I don't believe you are ready yet to forget the past and look only to the future. Your old life is too deeply ingrained in you. But I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt and trust that our life together will be serene.”
”Serene? Ha!” Grady laughed. ”You don't have a serene bone in your body. I suspect we'll disagree often, and you'll win more times than you'll lose. With you I won't know one day to the next what to expect, until we go to bed. Then I will make you purr like a contented kitten.”
”Grady Stryker!” She punched him playfully.
”Go to sleep, sweet, before I exhaust you so thoroughly you'll not be able to rise from bed tomorrow.”
”Grady.”
”Ummmm.” His eyes were closed, his breathing even. Storm could tell he was on the edge of sleep.
”About Laughing Brook. Isn't it time she returned to the reservation?”
Silence.
”Dammit, Grady, answer me, I don't think ...”
His soft rumbling snore told her he hadn't heard a word she'd said. So much for demanding answers from a strong-willed man like Grady Stryker.
During the weeks that followed Storm found a happiness she had despaired of ever finding again after Buddy's death. Even Laughing Brook ceased to annoy her, and to her joy Tim began to accept her into his life. The child no longer ran to Laughing Brook for comfort or advice, and little by little his resentment of Storm began to wane. Storm knew that the time had arrived to send Laughing Brook back to the reservation, and Grady concurred wholeheartedly.
Grady had already tilled a large section of their land and planted wheat, a backbreaking job, but an immensely rewarding one. One day Storm received word that the cattle she'd ordered had arrived and were in the holding pen in Guthrie. She and Grady rode to town, and she spent nearly all the money left in her bank account to pay for the cattle. When Grady tried to pay for the animals with his money, Storm adamantly refused. Since it was something she had planned before they married, she felt she should be the one to pay. Grady didn't feel right about it, but decided to let her have her way. The cattle were driven home and turned loose on Storm's 160 acres.
While in town Grady arranged to have a well drilled on his land and water piped into the house so it could be pumped from the sink. Once it was completed Storm was thrilled that she no longer had to draw water from the river. When Storm asked if Grady could afford it, he merely laughed, telling her they weren't as dirt poor as she suspected.
But the best part of those weeks were the nights. Lying in Grady's arms was pure heaven-and sometimes the most tormenting h.e.l.l. No matter how hard Storm tried, she couldn't shut out the lingering guilt over the wanton way in which she responded to Grady's love-making. But she was astute enough not to let it interfere with her budding relations.h.i.+p with her husband and a.s.sumed that in time those feelings would disappear altogether.
When Laughing Brook was told to prepare for her return trip to the reservation she begged to be allowed to remain, and even enlisted Tim to plead in her behalf. But Grady was adamant. He had promised Jumping Buffalo, Laughing Brook's father, that he would return his daughter when Tim no longer needed her, and he sensed that the time had arrived when Tim could dispense with Laughing Brook's company. Grady felt he had indulged his son long enough. Tim was old enough to realize that he must grow up. Storm was ecstatic when Grady told her Laughing Brook would be leaving in a few days. Then something happened that shattered Storm's newfound happiness.
One day Storm accompanied Grady to Guthrie to buy supplies. While driving through town she saw someone she had hoped never to see again. Nat Turner had returned to Guthrie. He was standing in front of the bank, talking to a man neither she nor Grady had ever seen before.
”Grady, look!” Storm said as they pa.s.sed the bank. ”Isn't that Nat Turner?”
”What the h.e.l.l!” Grady spat disgustedly. ”I thought I told him never to show his face in Guthrie again.”
”Do you know the man he's talking to?”
The man in question was big; big and ugly and nearly as broad as he was tall. His barrel chest and thick arms gave mute testimony to his ma.s.sive strength. He wore his guns in the style of gunfighters, shoved into a leather holster riding low on his hips and tied down at his thigh. Suddenly Turner spotted them and said something to the man beside him. Then they both turned and stared pointedly at Grady and Storm. The gunman's beady eyes narrowed until they were mere slits in his florid face. His considering gaze rested on Storm for a brief moment before continuing on to Grady, where they stopped abruptly and remained.
An unexpected shudder traveled down Storm's spine. ”Why is that man staring at you?”
Grady gave a careless shrug. He knew exactly what the man wanted, but deliberately kept that information from Storm. He'd seen that look too many times in the past not to recognize it. The man represented the kind of violence Grady had once relished but had been hoping to avoid since his marriage to Storm. They all had the same look about them; the c.o.c.ky att.i.tude, the guarded expression. Grady knew what to expect but tried to deny it. He had promised Storm he wouldn't seek violence and he intended to keep his promise.
Grady's body tensed, his eyes narrowed and watchful. Years of training and experience had taught him to trust no one, especially those men who came looking for a fight. He had hoped that in the months he'd settled in Oklahoma his reputation for mayhem would have slowly died. But unless he was mistaken, he was about to receive another challenge. This time the challenger wouldn't find him so eager to defend his reputation. That reputation just wasn't worth losing Storm.
The wagon turned the corner and Grady reined in before the seed store. The general store, where Storm intended to shop, was across the street.
”What do you suppose Nat Turner is doing back in town?” Storm asked worriedly as Grady swung her to the ground.
”It doesn't matter,” Grady said. ”He can do nothing to hurt you. He knows I'll kill him if he so much as touches you.”
”Did you recognize the man he was talking to?”
”I never saw him before,” Grady said guardedly. But he had seen men just like him in every town along the western frontier.
”He looked at you as if he knew you.”
Grady shrugged. ”Forget him, sweet. There are countless men like him in the territory. They'll never amount to anything. They drift from place to place making a living by whatever dishonest means they can.”
”I don't like the idea of him being with Turner.”
”Don't worry, Storm, I promise those men won't harm you. It's getting late. I suggest you get your shopping done.”
”It's not me I'm worried about,” Storm muttered as she crossed the street to the general store.
When Storm returned to the wagon a short time later Grady hadn't returned yet from the seed store, but Nat Turner and his cold-eyed friend were leaning against the wagon waiting for them.
”Well, Mrs. Stryker, how nice to see you again,” Turner said, tipping his hat cordially.
”The feeling is not mutual,” Storm said. She swished her skirt haughtily as she deliberately avoided both men.
”That's no way to act,” Turner said, affronted. ”We were good friends once.”
”That was before you tried to steal my homestead.”
”That's your opinion.” Turner grunted as all pretense of cordiality disappeared. ”My friend and I were just discussing your husband.”
”If you have questions, ask me, not my wife.” Grady's voice was deep and menacing, giving the gunman enough reason to whirl and reach for his gun. ”I wouldn't if I were you.” Grady had left the store only moments before and his temper nearly exploded when he saw Turner and the gunman talking to Storm.
The gunman's hand dropped to his side and Turner held open his coat, showing that he wasn't armed. ”Now, what was it you wanted to know?” Grady asked with icy disdain.
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