Angel Creek by Linda Howard
The peace of the morning enfolded her. She turned away from the chores that awaited her and walked silently toward the meadow, her senses drinking in the colors and fragrances of the new day.
The long meadow was filled with graceful spring grass, the morning dew covering it with diamond glitter. A profusion of wildflowers spread before her eyes as far as she could see, a riot of blues and pinks and purples dotted with cheerful yellows and the occasional cluster of crimson clover, the dark red clover heads nodding as if they had to entice the industrious bees who found their sweet scent irresistible. She wandered among them, the dew wetting her faded skirt to the knee, but she didn’t notice and wouldn’t have cared if she had. Some days were magic and were to be savored. The chores would always be there; this dawn was fleeting and would never be duplicated.
The sky overhead gradually changed from pearly pink to opalescent and finally to a great, shining golden bowl as the sun finally emerged and bathed the meadow in radiance. Birds sang almost deliriously, and the silver rush of water in the creek sounded like a thousand bells.
She walked down to the creek and watched the crystal water dance over the stones. Her blood sang through her veins, and her heart was full. This was her home, and it was paradise.
“Dee.”
She heard her name, though it hadn’t been loudly spoken, and turned to look at him. Lucas stood some twenty feet away, his glittering eyes narrowed with some unnamed emotion, his face hard and intent. He was perfectly still, his big, muscled body locked in place; he never took his gaze off her, and the force of his lust hit her like a massive wave. Her body reacted automatically to his presence, immediately growing warm and heavy, her skin abruptly becoming too sensitive for the touch of her clothing. Her breasts swelled and ached, and her loins tightened.
She looked like a primitive goddess, and Lucas could hardly catch his breath. She stood next to the creek, surrounded by wildflowers, and the exotic face turned toward him was as serene and dreamy as the dawn itself. He had never seen her like that before, all defenses down, simply a woman exalted by the dawn.
His whole body expanded until he felt as if his skin would burst, and he was dizzy with the rush of his blood. His sex throbbed violently, and he knew he had to be inside of her.
He never remembered crossing the ground between them, only that she didn’t move, and then she was within his grasp, her body firm and rich, her mouth inexplicably shy beneath the savagery of his. He carried her down, crushing her into the wildflowers, and shoved her skirt to her waist. The barrier of her drawers maddened him, and he stripped them away with rough hands, her pale thighs naked and vulnerable in the morning sun. He was so swollen with need that he cursed under his breath at the difficulty of unbuttoning his pants. Then he was free. He opened her soft folds with one hand, revealing the small opening, and with his other hand he guided himself to her. He looked down at the broad head of his sex poised against the delicate opening, and his testicles tightened painfully. He thrust into her, groaning aloud with the shattering relief of her tight, silky wet channel clasping his aching length and soothing him with both pleasure and the promise of more.
Dee accepted his heavy weight with slender arms wrapped around those powerful shoulders, accepted the fierce drive of his loins slamming into her, accepted his masculinity and lust and welcomed all of it. She felt almost unbearably stretched and possessed, but there was a bright glory to it, and she reveled in it. Her head rolled slowly back and forth in the dew-fresh grass as her entire body gave itself over to him.
She climaxed abruptly, the sensation exploding in her loins and making her legs tremble around him. Her cries lifted into the crystal air, and her back arched as he reared back on his knees with a guttural roar. His own climax swiftly followed, his head thrown back and his neck corded with the force of his convulsions. He gripped her slender hips and held her tightly locked onto him until the last spasms had eased, until he was emptied of his fever.
Afterward he was silent, and so was she, as he got to his feet and rebuttoned his pants. He bent and picked up her discarded drawers, then lifted her into his arms and carried her back to the cabin. She let her head rest on his shoulder, her eyes closed. There still didn’t seem to be anything to say.
Lucas was shaken by the power of the surge of lust that had overtaken him. He had taken her without preliminaries, without gentling her body into arousal, but he hadn’t been able to hold back. At that moment nothing had existed in the world but the two of them and his maddened need to have her. By rights, he thought, she should be trying to get to her shotgun rather than lying so still and quiet in his arms.
He sat down in one of the kitchen chairs and cradled her on his lap, his hands stroking her soothingly as if he could give her the consideration now that he hadn’t been capable of earlier. Dee sighed with gentle pleasure, her nose turned against him so she could inhale the clean, warm scent of his body.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, his voice rough-edged.
She stirred a little, then settled in his embrace once more. “No.” His intrusion into her body had been shocking, but there hadn’t been pain, only primitive joy.
She didn’t seem angry, either, but lay in his arms with the sensuous lassitude of a thoroughly loved woman. Of all the reactions he had expected, this voluptuous yielding hadn’t been one of them, and it was all the more beguiling because he was taken by surprise. This was one reaction he didn’t think he would ever tire of.
“I brought the sponges,” he said wryly, his mouth quirking with an ironic smile. He hadn’t even given a thought to them, and in any case he couldn’t have restrained himself.
She opened her eyes and gave him a heavy-lidded stare. “Did you think they would do a lot of good in your pocket?” she asked. Then she sat up with curiosity on her face. “What do they look like?”
He maneuvered her and stretched out his leg so he could get his hand in his pocket, and he withdrew the small sponges. She looked at them lying in his callused palm, picked one up, and squeezed it between her fingers, then gave it back to him. “They’re just regular sponges,” she said, visibly disappointed. He grinned a little, knowing that she had been expecting something far more exotic and frankly wicked.
“I know. I expect it’s the vinegar that does the job.”
“Well, it’s too late now.”
“But it won’t be the next time.”
She gave him another of those green, heavy-lidded looks. “Unless you come at me again like the bull on one of the cows.”
“Since the next time isn’t very far in the future, I think I can promise that,” he said.
“I have to do the chores.”
“I’ll help.”
They were back in bed within the hour, their naked bodies twining with the steadily building tension. The small vinegar-soaked sponge sat in a dish next to the bed. When neither of them could wait a minute longer he showed her how to insert the sponge, his long fingers reaching deep inside her and almost carrying her to completion without him. They made love until they were both exhausted, and Lucas pulled the sheet up over them just before he dozed off, his arms wrapped protectively around her slender form. He was contented all the way to his bones.
When they woke up he wanted to make love to her again. He was startled when she tried to squirm away from him. “I don’t want to,” she said fretfully.
“Damn if you aren’t the most contrary woman I’ve ever seen,” he muttered. “Why don’t you want to?”
She shrugged, her mouth sulky. “I just don’t want you holding me down again right now.”
He ran his hand through his hair. God, why had he been surprised? The wonder was that she hadn’t done something about it before now, but of course she was too inexperienced to know.
“Then you get on top,” he said.
Interest sparked in those green eyes. He could see she was intrigued by the idea of controlling their lovemaking, and therefore controlling him. He wanted to laugh out loud but thought
“I don’t know how,” she said.
His hands were persuasive as they moved over her, enticing her closer. “I’ll show you,” he said. Just thinking about it had already made him hard and ready.
She loved it, too. By the time she settled astride him, sinking down to envelop his shaft, his hands were locked on the headboard above him as he strained to control himself. He was gasping, his eyes closed from the pleasure she had wrought. She had seduced him that time, her mouth tender on his mouth and chest, her breasts brushing against his stomach and loins as she swayed over him. He thought of other things he would teach her, but right now he had all he could handle. Of course she loved it; she was enthralled by having him at her mercy, if he could call it that. It was more like torment, delicious, searing torment.
Dee moved slowly, rhythmically, her eyes closing as her own hunger built. This was pure ecstasy, she thought, and she knew that she would never regret these moments no matter what happened. It wasn’t the physical pleasure that was so precious, but the link between them that was forged by that pleasure. She felt herself dissolving and cried out, unaware that he had reached his peak just ahead of her; then she fell forward onto his chest in exhaustion.
By the time he left late that afternoon she knew that for her, at least, the link between them would never be broken.
12
JUNE CAME IN HOT AND DRY. IT WAS PARTICULARLY frustrating because almost every afternoon thunder would echo from the mountains, and dark clouds would tantalize them with the possibility of rain; but the clouds would slide away, and if they ever released their moisture, it happened on the far side of the mountains, and Prosper got none of the runoff.
Each day dawned as hot and clear as the one preceeding it, and Lucas began to worry, even though the Double C still had good water. There was no telling how long a dry spell would last, and it wasn’t just the water holes that were drying up; the grass was getting dry and brittle, with no new growth to replace the grazed areas. The cattle were having to graze farther each day, then returning to the creeks and water holes for water. They were daily growing leaner, and each day they had to cover even more ground. He didn’t like it, but there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. Admitting that didn’t sweeten his temper.
After going without Dee for two weeks he rode over to Angel Creek one day, leaving a lot of work undone because another minute without her was one minute too long. He was restless and irritable, not just because of his sexual needs but because he couldn’t get her out of his mind. No woman had ever invaded his thoughts like that, getting in the way of his work, interfering with his sleep. His desire for her hadn’t cooled; he wanted her more than ever, his hunger all the more intense because it had to be hidden, even from his own men. If the men ever wondered where he went, they never asked. He suspected they all assumed he was seeing Olivia, and of course they would never make joking remarks about a lady the way they would if the woman was less than respectable. It enraged him that anyone would consider Dee less deserving of respect than Olivia, but he couldn’t say anything without making Dee a target, so he had to keep his mouth shut.
Dee was sitting on the front porch placidly rocking when he rode up, and she made no effort to get up to welcome him. She was probably mad at him, he thought with a sigh, but then he decided that she wasn’t. If Dee had been angry, she would have let him know it. It was more likely that she was just taking it easy in the shade.
He put the horse in the barn where it was cooler, and as he walked back to the house he noticed how green everything was, when everywhere else the grass was turning brown and the tree leaves were limp. Angel Creek was a lush oasis in comparison. He stopped and looked around. Her garden was thriving, and as far as he could see up the valley the meadow grasses were green and resilient. He could hear the quiet rush of the water in the creek, the sweet, cold, crystal-clear mountain water that fed this little valley and made it thrive.
The valley wasn’t big enough to support all of his cattle, but if he owned it, then it would be a safeguard against drought. Enough cattle could survive there to keep him from being wiped out. Indeed, keeping some cattle there would even help those heads left on the Double C, because they would get what grass and water there was to be had.
Dee was still rocking when he stepped up on the porch and sat down beside her. Her eyes were closed, but her foot maintained the slow, steady movement of the chair.
“I’ll give you five thousand dollars for Angel Creek,” he said.
Those inscrutable green eyes opened and regarded him for a moment before her thick black lashes swept down again. “It isn’t for sale.”
“Damn it,” he said irritably. “That’s twice what it’s worth.”
“Must not be,” she reasoned. “Since you offered five thousand, then it’s worth five thousand.”
“Seven thousand.”
“It isn’t for sale.”
“Would you be sensible about this?”
“I am being sensible,” she insisted. “This is my home. I don’t want to sell it.”
“Ten thousand.”
“Stop it.”
“What are you going to do when you’re too old to work the land? This is hard work, and you won’t be able to keep doing it. You’re young and strong now, but what about ten years from now?”
“I’ll let you know in ten years,” she retorted.
“Name any kind of business you’d like to have, and I’ll set you up in it. You’re not going to get that kind of offer from anyone else.”
She stopped rocking and opened her eyes. Lucas watched her intently, his pulse speeding up now that he had finally aggravated her out of her cool demeanor. It was like deliberately prodding a tigress to attack, but he was tired of that blank refusal even to discuss selling Angel Creek. He might not win, but she’d at least listen to him.
“That’s not as interesting as the offer Kyle Bellamy made,” she said with soft mockery.
He felt a spurt of anger. He could just imagine what Bellamy’s offer had been. When he’d first met Dee he hadn’t liked it that Bellamy was also interested in buying the land, but now he disliked even more the thought that the man had wanted Dee.
“I can just imagine the offer he made,” he said sarcastically.
“I doubt it.” She gave him a smile so sweet he was instantly wary. “He asked me to marry him.”
This time Lucas didn’t feel a spurt of anger, he felt a huge rush of it, so hot that his entire body seemed to expand and burn. His pupils constricted to tiny black points. “Not if I can help it,” he said in a voice so flat and toneless she wasn’t certain he’d said anything at all.
“It was my decision, not yours. I turned him down, of course.”
“When was he here?” Murder was still in his eyes.
She shrugged. “Before you ever came back to town.”
Some of the anger faded as he realized that it wasn’t a recent event. But if Bellamy ever came back to Angel Creek, it had better be to say good-bye.
“I don’t want him here again,” he said flatly, just in case she was in any doubt.
“I didn’t invite him in the first place.” She added thoughtfully, “I didn’t invite you, either. Isn’t it strange? The poor men who could have used a homestead just wanted me for sex; you and Bellamy have plenty of land, but you want more. I’d have to say that Bellamy wants it more than you do, since he offered marriage.”
Lucas tensed, every instinct alert. “Is that what it would take?” he asked, carefully feeling his way. He felt as if he were treading through quicksand, where one misstep would be a disaster. He realized that he was holding his breath, waiting for her answer.
Dee didn’t look at him, but out across her land. “Getting married would be even worse than selling out,” she said. “I’d lose both my land an
Sharp disappointment thudded in his chest. Until he felt the force of it he hadn’t realized how much he had wanted her to say yes, that she would be interested in a marriage proposal from him. Shock froze him in his chair. He had known since the first time he’d made love to her that she had ruined his plans to marry Olivia, that he couldn’t marry Olivia while he still wanted Dee so fiercely. He couldn’t imagine Dee consenting to be the mistress of a married man, nor would it be fair to Olivia. And Dee had made her opinion of marriage plain the first time they’d met. Until now he hadn’t really thought of marriage to her because she didn’t fit in with his plans; he had been prepared to marry her as a necessity if she should become pregnant, but the subject had never come up between them, and it had just been speculation on his part that she would marry him even then. Now he had brought it out into the open, and her refusal had hit him squarely between the eyes. He wanted Dee as his wife, and not because she would fit into his plans. If anything, she would make things harder.
But with her he could laugh and fight and not have to worry about hurting her feelings if he snapped at her. Dee would give back as good as she got. And in bed she was wild and natural, giving him complete freedom of her body without embarrassment and exploring him in the same manner. He would find some way to make her fit into the mold he wanted.
He’d marry her in a minute if she’d have him, but Dee didn’t want to marry anyone. Marriage would make her feel caged, and she couldn’t tolerate that.
“Then take the money,” he said, not looking at her because he was afraid she would read too much in his eyes. “It’s enough to invest, so you’ll always have enough to live on. That way you’d still be independent, and you wouldn’t have to work yourself to death on the land. Hell, you could even buy more land, if that was what you wanted.”
“But it wouldn’t be Angel Creek,” she said softly. “I love it here. I fell in love with it the first day I saw it.” And it had given her a reason to live. In exchange for its healing bounty she was its caretaker, its guardian. Sometimes she felt a superstitious fear that she was like a plant that would die if uprooted from the soil of this small valley.