CAROLINE AND THE RAIDER Read online

  Guthrie turned her to face him, his eyes dancing, and kissed her lightly on the mouth. “We didn’t lose, Miss Caroline,” he told her. “We’re just taking some time out to plan our next campaign.”

  Caroline put her hands to his chest to keep him at a distance because she could feel herself succumbing to his unquestionable charm. “While you’re doing that, General Lee, our food is scorching.”

  Guthrie didn’t even bother to glance back at the fire. “It’s not quite done,” he said, and his lips were so close to Caroline’s that her mouth started to tingle in anticipation. “In about the time it takes to make love to you, it’ll be perfect.”

  “You promised,” Caroline protested weakly. His hands were resting on either side of her narrow waist now, gently pulling her into the whirlpool of sensation his kiss would create.

  Unexpectedly, he set her away from him. “You’re right,” he said, in a decisive tone of voice. “If you want me to make love to you, you’ll have to do the asking.” And he went back to tending the roasting rabbit.

  Nothing could have made Caroline admit to the disappointment she felt. She went into the woods a little way, took off her trousers and shirt and quickly put on the dress. She passed Guthrie without speaking to rinse the garments out thoroughly in the creek. After that, she hung them over the lowest branch of a birch tree to dry.

  When the rabbit was fully cooked, Guthrie cut it deftly into manageable pieces and gave Tob a generous portion before serving Caroline her share.

  “I would never ask a man to make love to me,” she said, however belatedly, sitting sideways on Guthrie’s saddle with her plate balanced on her knees.

  The meat was juicy and delicious. After several minutes of silent eating Guthrie reached out and took Caroline’s hand in his, running his tongue slowly along the length of one of her fingers, then kissing her palm. “Of course you wouldn’t,” he agreed. It took Caroline a moment to remember what it was he was agreeing with.

  When she did, her cheeks flamed. “Well, I wouldn’t,” she insisted.

  He broke off a succulent piece of meat and teased her lips with it until they opened. Then he laid the morsel on her tongue and lightly traced her mouth with a fingertip. “Certainly not,” he replied.

  “Don’t patronize me, Guthrie Hayes,” Caroline said, incensed because heat was surging through her system and there were so many other parts of her that wanted his touch. “I’m perfectly serious!”

  Guthrie finished his meal and tossed the leftovers to Tob, offering no response. He took a handkerchief from Caroline’s valise and carried it to the stream.

  When he came back, he knelt beside her and gently washed her face and hands. It was a simple, ordinary act, and yet it left Caroline trembling. She watched in a state of delicious misery as Guthrie unrolled his blanket and spread it out on the ground beside the fire. After that, he kicked off his boots and then began unbuckling his belt.

  The sun had long since set, and a bright sliver of moon had risen, bathing the land in an eerie silver light. Guthrie unbuttoned his shirt and slipped out of it, then took off his trousers.

  Caroline stared at him, unable to look away. Although they’d been intimate on more than one occasion, she’d never really seen Guthrie without his clothes, and she was unbearably curious. Her eyes widened as his manhood rose to its full magnificence, and she wanted to touch him so badly that she had to knot her fingers together in her lap.

  He found the handkerchief and took it back to the stream. When he returned, he handed the cloth to Caroline without a word.

  She stared up at him for a long time, marveling at his power over her, and then, very gently, she washed him. When that was done, she simply held him, and his shaft strained warm and hard against her fingers.

  When she touched him with her tongue, he moaned, and that was all the encouragement Caroline needed. She took him full in her mouth and enjoyed him shamelessly, revelling in the sounds he made.

  Finally, though, Guthrie stopped her. Pulling her after him, he went to the blanket and stretched out on it, gloriously naked in the moonlight. Wanting more of him, Caroline knelt between his legs and bent her head to him, her thick, dark braid lying across his belly like an ebony rope.

  Outline’s back arched as his hands wandered from Caroline’s shoulders to the sides of her face, urging her on even as he pleaded aloud for her to stop. “Wildcat, you—don’t understand—I can’t—oooooh, Caroline—”

  She teased him mercilessly with her lips and tongue, somehow sensing when he was on the brink of an uncontrollable response and pulling back. “Ask me,” she said, remembering his challenge, his vow that she would ask for his lovemaking.

  He groaned and stiffened beneath her as she tempted him, but he wouldn’t give in to her demand. Instead, he groped for her with his hands, undoing the buttons of her dress, pushing it down so that her breasts were freed.

  He caught them in his palms and held them as Caroline punished him with a teasing nip, and his thumbs moved over the nipples, taming them, preparing them to serve him. Now it was Caroline who moaned as fiery sensation throbbed in her breasts and spread like molten gold into every part of her body.

  Guthrie gripped her waist and thrust her forward, holding her above him and capturing a taut pink nipple in his mouth. Caroline found herself sitting astraddle of his manhood as she nourished him, but she still wasn’t willing to concede defeat.

  Releasing his hold on her waist, he pulled up her skirts, found the inner seam in her worn drawers, and split it wide with one tug of his hand.

  Caroline trembled as she felt him teasing her, felt her body prepare itself to receive him, but she still wouldn’t give in. While he suckled noisily, greedily on her breast, she reached back to caress him.

  He broke away from her nipple with a desolate groan. “Caroline, in the name of—”

  She bent to nibble at his lower lip, drawing it briefly into her mouth, then kissed him thoroughly, in the way he’d taught her to do.

  He was breathless when he finally broke away. “Caroline—”

  She began to move downward over his chest, letting him anticipate what she meant to do.

  At the last possible moment, Guthrie gasped out, “Make love to me.”

  Exaltation filled Caroline as she rose to center herself upon him and then take him slowly inside her. With a sudden motion of fierce strength, he turned her onto her back and plunged deep, his head thrust back like a stallion’s as Caroline ran her fingers over his bare chest, his back, his buttocks.

  Then he put his hand between them, spreading his fingers over her belly, dipping his thumb into the place where the rosebud was hidden and stroking it. Caroline gave an involuntary shout of response as her slender body arched like a bowstring under Guthrie’s, quivering as he clasped her bottom in one hand and held it high. There was no way of retreat now; she had to experience the pleasure fully, and it was so powerful, so devastatingly sweet, that Caroline cried out like a wild thing of the forest.

  At that, Guthrie shuddered, gave a guttural cry of his own, and delved deep. She felt his warmth spilling inside her and the unbearable beauty of that made her body climb toward another response, this one unexpected and even more urgent than the first.

  Guthrie clasped her wrists in his hands, held them high above her head, and bent to take suckle at her breast. This caused him to withdraw almost completely, and Caroline pleaded senselessly while he teased her with an inch, two inches, an inch again.

  Gasping, her body on fire, Caroline finally realized what he was demanding of her. “Guthrie,” she whispered, as he shaped her nipple with his tongue. “Make—make love to me.”

  In one powerful stroke, he gave her the friction that ignited the dynamite within her, and her head moved wildly from side to side as she gave herself up to a release of primitive proportions. When it was over, Caroline lay transported beneath Guthrie, her arms tight around his sturdy middle.

  A long time passed before either of them spoke.
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  Guthrie laid a warm hand over her naked abdomen in a territorial, claiming gesture. “I hope my baby is growing inside you right now,” he said.

  Caroline turned her head, stricken. She’d just realized she was in love with Guthrie Hayes, and that her situation was hopeless. “Don’t say that. You’re going to marry Adabelle. You belong to her.”

  He curved his hand under her chin and made her face him again. “Caroline—”

  A painful, hiccuping sob passed her throat. “I wish I’d never met you—I wish I’d never heard your name!”

  Guthrie pulled Caroline close and settled her against the warm strength of him, covering them both with the spare blanket from her bedroll. “Shhh,” he said, his lips soft against her temple. “I told you I’d marry you if you’re expecting.”

  “You don’t love me,” Caroline reminded him, filled with despair.

  She felt his smile against her skin and heard it in his voice. “Maybe not, Wildcat. Truth is, I don’t know exactly how I feel about you. But having you in my bed every night would sure as hell make up for a lot.”

  Chapter

  Guthrie awakened Caroline at first light. She rose, grumbling, and made her way to the stream, where she splashed cold water over her face. Birds were chirping in the birch trees that lined the banks, and the air was chilly.

  There was coffee, Caroline found, when she went back to the campfire, but breakfast consisted of beef jerky. She gave Guthrie an accusing look over the rim of her mug. “No rabbit? No fish?”

  Guthrie’s beard was growing in and his clothes were rumpled, and Caroline tried to resign herself to the fact that she’d given her heart to another rascal. “Sorry, Your Highness,” he answered, with a grand bow. “I didn’t have time to hunt.”

  Caroline looked around at the trees and the waterfall and the soft, fragrant grass where they’d lain together in the night. In those moments, she almost wished she and Guthrie could stay there forever, just the two of them, living like Adam and Eve in the garden. “Speaking of hunting, do you have any idea which way Mr. Flynn might have gone?”

  Guthrie was saddling Caroline’s horse. “None at all,” he replied, without turning to look at her. “Yesterday, I would have said he’d gone south, but now I think you might be right. Flynn’s just enough of a bastard—and a fool—to stay in Wyoming Territory and wait for a chance at the both of us.”

  Finished with her coffee, Caroline went to the stream and rinsed out her mug and Guthrie’s, then tucked them back into his gear. It made her nervous to think of Seaton lying in wait somewhere, ready to ambush them. And the idea of his touching her in an intimate fashion sent bile surging into the back of her throat.

  “Don’t look so scared, Wildcat,” Guthrie said, hoisting her up into her saddle. His eyes were intent and amused as he met her gaze. “I’m not going to let anybody hurt you.”

  Caroline looked away. It obviously hadn’t occurred to Guthrie that he might be the one to hurt her. All he’d have to do, really, was marry Adabelle Rogers and bring her to Bolton to live. Then Caroline would encounter his pretty wife in the mercantile and at church, and later she would teach his children in the town’s one-room schoolhouse. And every moment would be agony, because, for better or worse, Caroline was desperately in love with Guthrie.

  He swung up into his own saddle, after tossing a curious glance in her direction, and set off through the trees. Caroline followed, hoping her affection for Mr. Hayes would pass, like a case of the grippe, but all the while she knew it wouldn’t. What she felt for him was far deeper and more complex than the silly infatuation she’d borne for Seaton Flynn.

  The really terrible thing was that she suspected nothing Guthrie could do would be bad enough to make her stop loving him. Even if he turned out to be a murderer, every bit as cold and cruel as Seaton was, Caroline knew her feelings wouldn’t change. She might avoid Guthrie Hayes for the rest of her life, but her love for him would live in her heart until the day it stopped beating, and in her soul until the end of eternity.

  She bit her lip in an effort not to cry and rode stoically along behind. Of course, there was a very good chance that she was carrying Guthric’s child even now, and that would mean a whole different set of heartaches. Being married to Guthrie and knowing he loved and wanted someone else would be worse than having to say “Good morning, Mrs. Hayes” to Adabelle every single day for the rest of her life.

  In Caroline’s opinion, the future looked bleak indeed. If she was to have any hope of happiness, she would definitely have to leave Bolton behind forever. She would buy herself a simple gold wedding band and tell everyone she’d been widowed if there was a child. Yes. And she’d go straight to Chicago and visit the orphanages and adoption agencies until she found the one that had sent Lily and Emma and herself west on the orphan train. Maybe someone there had received a letter from one of her sisters or from the people who had adopted them.

  Caroline hoped Guthrie was right about Lily and Emma, hoped they wanted to find her as much as she wanted to find them. Her need to connect with her sisters had never been stronger.

  All morning, Caroline and Guthrie traveled in silence. Guthrie was watchful and alert, Caroline was introspective and distracted. When they stopped at noon to rest the horses and consume their quota of beef jerky—by now it seemed just so much salty shoe leather—Guthrie cupped his hand under Caroline’s chin and ran his thumb lightly over her lower lip.

  “You haven’t said a word in three hours,” he pointed out. “What’s the matter, Caroline?”

  She wondered what would happen if she told Guthrie she’d fallen in love with him, but she didn’t have the courage to find out. To be rejected, and maybe pitied in the bargain, would be more than she could bear. “I was just brooding about my sisters,” she said, and that was at least a partial truth. “I think I’ll go back to Chicago after we’ve found Mr. Flynn and try to find out where they ended up.”

  “Was anybody on the train keeping records?” Guthrie reached out and smoothed a tendril of dark hair back from her cheek.

  Caroline shook her head sadly. “I don’t think so. The only person who showed any interest in us was this mean old conductor, and he only wanted to make sure we didn’t disturb the other passengers.” She paused and sighed. “I was determined to remember where Lily and Emma got off the train and go back looking for them as soon as I could, but I was chosen first.”

  Sympathy flickered in Guthrie’s green eyes, and his smile was gentle. “What do you think they would be like now?” he asked, and Caroline was grateful for the opportunity to talk about her sisters some more. It made her feel closer to them.

  Wearing her jeans and flannel shirt, which were stiff from last night’s washing and very wrinkled, Caroline sat down in the deep grass and plucked a brilliant yellow dandelion from its stem. Guthrie joined her.

  “Lily—she was the smallest of the three of us—had large brown eyes and very pale blond hair. I imagine she’s still quite fair. When she was little, she was stubborn and a bit willful, so I suppose she’s a woman of distinct opinions.”

  Guthrie grinned. “Stubborn and willful?” he teased. “Your sister? Impossible.”

  Caroline threw the dandelion at him and reached for another. “Emma was the middle child, and her eyes are a very dark blue. Her hair was the color of a new penny when I saw her last, and she always had the best singing voice of us all. She’s probably very beautiful, with a formidable temper and the tendency to do impulsive things.”

  “Sounds like a blood relative of yours,” Guthrie agreed, and that mischievous light was still cavorting in his eyes.

  “Of course,” Caroline reflected, avoiding Guthrie’s gaze, “they could both be dead. The West isn’t always kind to women.”

  “It isn’t always kind to men, either,” Guthrie pointed out reasonably. “But I’d bet my horse and two weeks’ take from my mine that Lily and Emma are alive and well. The people you just described to me are survivors, Caroline. Like you.”
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  Caroline sighed. “There’s so much I want to ask them,” she said.

  Guthrie rose to his feet and pulled Caroline after him. “You’ll get your chance, Wildcat—provided we find Flynn and keep you out of prison, I mean.”

  The reminder bruised Caroline’s tenderest hopes. “Will you take me back and turn me over to Marshal Stone if we don’t find Mr. Flynn?” she asked solemnly, searching Guthrie’s face.

  He met her gaze squarely. “No,” he answered. “But I’d just as soon settle this right now, so you don’t have to change your name and hide out from the law for the rest of your life. We’re going to find Flynn, Caroline, and when we do, things will be normal again.”

  Normal? Caroline’s world would never be the same. Just knowing Guthrie Hayes had turned it upside down. She let him lift her up into the saddle just because she liked having him touch her, though she would have denied that if questioned.

  “Tell me about Annie,” she dared to say, as they rode on up the mountainside. Now, the path was wide enough that they didn’t have to ride single file.

  Guthrie sighed and readjusted his hat. “I guess I owe you that much,” he said, “after all that’s happened between us. Annie was my wife—she waited for me when I went to war, and when I came home, I married her and we went to Kansas to homestead.

  “We didn’t have a damn thing besides that piece of land, a couple of horses and a cow, and a sod hut, but we were happy. By winter, Annie was carrying our child.

  “We were running low on provisions, so I put on snowshoes and went out to hunt. When I got back that night, the fire was out and the lamp wasn’t lit. I found Annie lying on our bed—” He paused and swallowed. “She’d been raped, and then strangled.”

  Caroline’s eyes stung with tears. “Oh, Guthrie, I’m sorry.”

  “The man who did it,” he went on, “was a sergeant I’d tangled with during the war, while I was in prison. He left the Union insignia from his cap on the pillow to let me know he was the one.”