Читать книгу The Outlaw's Bride - Carolyn Davidson, Carolyn Davidson - Страница 9

CHAPTER FOUR

THEY SPOKE NO MORE of the offering he’d made to her, Debra only thinking of it, considering the idea of being the mate of a man such as Tyler. And at that, she hesitated, recognizing that she only knew him by that name, and not even certain if it were his first or last.

Tyler. She spoke it beneath her breath, and yet he heard her, for his head came up and he made her aware of his presence. He was near her on the porch, his arm resting on his knee as he sat leaning against the post near the steps. His gaze was dark, and she wondered what it held, for he gave little away, only looked on her as a man might look at a woman he considered to be available.

His eyes touched her but lightly, as if he would not show his desire for her, and yet it lingered there, a potent presence between them. For he’d spoken it aloud, only a day ago, when he’d asked her to consider marriage to him.

Her answer hovered on the tip of her tongue, and she held it quiet, for trust did not come easily to her. He’d done as he said, had given her no reason to doubt his word, had not made any approach to her person but for those few minutes behind the barn, when he’d held her close.

Still, she hesitated, for to accept the man as her mate would allow him access to her bed, and she didn’t know if she could accept that. If she could give him her body as he would expect her to. For men were not prone to patience, she knew. The men of her mother’s tribe had proved that with their pursuit of the women they wanted. She’d been apart from all of that, protected by the mixed blood that flowed in her veins.

But no such protection existed now. For this man knew what she was, knew the shame she bore from her mixed heritage and cared little for that stain on her worth. He seemed to look at her as a female who appealed to him, who caused his passions to rise in his body. A woman he would wed and call by his name.

Then she would be…Debra Tyler? Somehow she didn’t think that was his name. That knowledge spurred her to the query that sprang from her lips.

“What is your name? Truly your name,” she asked, looking at the man who sat with such a relaxed demeanor on her porch. His arm did not shift, his leg did not straighten at her words, and he sat as he was, only moving his head to better see her expression.

“You don’t like calling me Tyler?” His mouth twisted in a grin that made her smile in return.

“It’s a fine name. I just don’t think that’s all there is to it,” she answered, knowing that she was right in her assumption. Knowing that he teased her by his words.

“You may be right,” he said quietly. “On the day you marry me, I’ll tell you the rest of it. Will that be enough to merit an answer from you?”

“You’re a determined man, aren’t you?”

“And you are as equally determined, Nightsong. Shall I know your name also?”

“My father’s name was David. I didn’t know his last name until he died. My mother only called him David and I was too young to care about any other name but my own. I’ve been Debra Nightsong my whole life. I never took his name.”

“And what was it?”

“David Thornley. I found it on the deed to this place when my mother gave it to me. I suppose I could have taken his name then, but I didn’t. I’ve always been more Indian than white anyway, and there seemed no reason to change what I’m known by.”

“I like your name. It sings to me.”

She was silent, amazed at his words. That this strong man should be willing to speak his thoughts to her so plainly was more revealing than he could know. It sings to me. The beauty of the phrase determined her in that moment and she stood from her chair to face him boldly.

“I will marry you, Tyler. No matter your name, no matter your past, I will marry you and be your wife. I can’t make any promises to you, other than this. I’ll do my best to be a good wife to you. I’ll work hard to make this a thriving farm for both of us, and I’ll be faithful to you.”

He seemed stunned, his eyes wide, his look one of surprise, and then he smiled, and it was as if the sunlight had come to dwell in that expression of his joy.

“I’ll accept your word, Nightsong. I expect no more from you than what you are willing to give me. If you say you’ll be my wife, that you will work with me to make this place a success, I’ll believe you, and honor your faith in me.”

He raised his body from the step he’d claimed as his seat and rose to face her. His hand reached for hers and he held it firmly, lifting it to his lips. His mouth touched the backs of her fingers, then turned it within his grasp and kissed the palm—a soft, sweet caress that spoke silently of his need for her.

She allowed his touch, indeed welcomed it, for she’d thought of little else since the day he’d first kissed her. Now she wondered if he knew that his kiss was the first she’d shared with a man. And if he did, had he thought her worthy of his attention? Had she responded as he’d wanted?

The questions flew through her mind, and his words put them all to rest as he drew her close to himself, his arms encircling her waist, his hands lying flat against her back. “You are untouched, little bird, a woman without the knowledge of a man, and I’ll treat you as such. I promise you that I’ll be a good husband to you, that you’ll not regret accepting me into your life…and, in time, into your bed.”

“In time?” She couldn’t believe that was her voice, speaking those simple words, repeating his vow to her. The sound seemed too soft, too gentle for the voice of Debra Nightsong, for she’d always been strong and her voice that of a woman of courage. Now she sounded as if she were an unknowing child, asking for explanation of his simple words.

He seemed to understand her need, for he smiled down at her, his hands making soothing movements against her back. “Perhaps not as much time as you want, Debra, but as much as I’m able to give you. I’ll be patient with you for I’m smart enough to recognize that you’re a stranger to the meaning of the marriage bed.”

“I know nothing but what my mother told me of men,” she said simply. “She might have given me instructions of my duty to a husband if she hadn’t died so young, but as it was I came here to the farm as a girl, not yet a woman, and probably not ready to hear such things.”

“Don’t girls of your tribe marry young?” he asked, wondering that no young man had craved her attention during her growing-up years.

“Many of them long before my age,” she said, nodding as if she remembered such things happening. “But my mother kept me away from the men who would have asked for me. She said I was too young to have a husband.”

“And she was right.” Tyler’s voice was strong, his words definite, as if he were thankful for the intelligence of her mother.

“I’m glad she protected me,” Debra said softly, remembering the woman who had cared for her during those years with her tribe. “She taught me to cook, and sew my clothing. My father had shown me how to skin and gut a rabbit. I suppose I could do the same with a deer, but I’ve never shot one. I didn’t know what I’d do with all that meat, and so I just use whatever I can barter with my neighbors for. And I sacrifice a chicken once in a while.”

“On the altar of your hunger?” he asked, his face sober, while his eyes laughed with pleasure at her words.

She smiled, pleased at his humor. “I guess you could say that. Although I’m not often hungry.”

His look was critical. “I’ve noticed. You’re entirely too slim. Almost thin, in fact.”

“Thank you,” she said, and frowned as she recognized that her tone was as chilled as a December morning. “I’ll try to add some weight to make you happy.”

Allowing a grin to curl his lips, he shook his head at her. “You don’t need to do anything but breathe to make me happy, sweetheart. I’ll take you just the way you are, and as often as possible.”

What he’d meant by that remark was a puzzle, she thought, allowing her mind to repeat his words silently.

“You look like I’ve said something to upset you, and I didn’t mean to. I was only being—”

She cut him off with a wave of her hand. “I’m not upset, though I’ll admit I don’t understand some of the things you say. I’m afraid I’m a simple soul, Tyler. You’ll have to speak plainly to get through to me.” Her hands pushed at his chest and she stepped away from him, from the hold he’d managed to maintain on her waist.

But even that small move didn’t keep him from her, for his face darkened, as if with anger, and yet he was not harsh as he reached for her again. Perhaps it was fear that spoke aloud, maybe only the innocence she hated, even as she acknowledged its presence.

“Don’t manhandle me, Tyler. I’ve never allowed any man to put his hands on me. And you’ll not be given that privilege, either. Until I marry you, you’ll let me be.”

“Wrong, Nightsong.” His eyes narrowed as he scanned her form, his gaze seeming to dwell on each small part of her, and she felt her breasts beneath her clothing, knew they swelled to fill the fabric of her chemise. His hands were warm against her waist, his long fingers resting just beneath the heaviness of her breasts. He had no right, no reason to treat her so. And she turned on him in anger.

“I’m not sure I’m ready to speak of marriage any longer. Allowing you into my bed doesn’t seem like such a good idea, and unless I miss my guess, you think I’m going to submit to whatever you have in mind for me.”

“All this because I like to touch you?” he asked, his smile lacking humor.

“Is that what you call it? I had to put up with your shenanigans the first few days you were here, Tyler. I’ve managed to get you out of my bed and onto the floor, and unless I change my mind in the near future, that’s where you’ll stay.”

“I don’t think so.”

As a statement of intent it could not be bettered, she decided and she turned from him, the need to hide her tears of major importance right now. And why the man had the ability to make her shed those hated salty drops was beyond her. She only knew that she somehow allowed him to make her feel helpless, like a woman without strength to make her own choices. Debra Nightsong was not a woman to be subdued so easily.

“Have I frightened you again?” His words angered her and she felt her face burn with humiliation.

“You don’t frighten me. You never have. I fear no man, Tyler whoever you are.”

He grinned, the challenge of his frown, the dark anger he’d directed at her a thing of the past. “I think we’re having an argument, Nightsong. Our first, if I’m not mistaken. And I’d just as soon not be exchanging harsh words with you.”

“Then just be quiet and leave me alone.” She turned away, her hands peeling his from her body, and went into the house. The kitchen was dark but she knew her way well and walked across to the hallway and from there to her bedroom. In a house this small there was no trick to gaining the one room she could claim as her own and hope for privacy to be granted her.

The door closed with a solid sound behind her and she leaned against it, her mind spinning. She was so angry at him, and for the life of her she wasn’t sure why. He’d handled her as if it were his right, and that alone was enough to fire her temper. But his intentions were honorable, she’d stake her life on that fact. Yet, she could somehow not give her total acceptance to his proposal, for he asked more than she was willing or perhaps able to give him.

Behind her the door moved, and she recognized that he had lifted the latch, that he was putting his weight against it, moving her from her position. In mere seconds he would be trespassing in her domain—a domain he shared, she reminded herself. Yet, it was the only place she felt safe, and once he intruded, she would no longer have the privacy her heart craved.

“Step away from the door, Debra. I don’t want to hurt you when I push it open.”

She trembled at his words, knowing that he would not back down, that his determination exceeded her own in this matter. Her head bowed, she walked into the center of the bedroom, and behind her, heard the door swing open, knew the moment he entered the quiet of her bedroom.

“Why are you running from me?”

She turned to face him, knowing she was but a dim shadow in the darkness of her room. He was limned in the doorway, the kitchen lamp glowing behind him, and she was struck with the size of him, the width of his shoulders, the way his head brushed close to the lintel. “I haven’t run. Only tried to find a place by myself, where I can think my own thoughts without you…”

He walked closer to her, almost touching her clothing with his own, so near did he stand. The warmth exuding from his body touched her with fingers of fire and she withdrew, almost trying to shrink within the contours of her dress. “I’ve never tried to infringe on your privacy, Debra, only tried to speak with you, to make you understand my thoughts and ideas. I don’t know how to convince you that I’d be a good husband to you, that marriage for us would be a good choice.”

“You’re infringing on me now,” she said harshly, her voice lifting with the anger behind it. “Go away, Tyler, and leave me be. I don’t want you near me.”

He smiled, and she was almost convinced by the gentleness that expression conveyed. “I think your problem may be that you do want me near you, Nightsong. And you’re not sure what to do about it. I don’t think my touch is repulsive to you, for you tremble beneath my hands, and your mouth softens when I touch it with mine.”

He would touch her now. She knew it, in the depths of her body, where the gentle fires of her newborn passion burned. And when his hands were on her, when she yearned to crush herself against his greater strength, those fires might burn out of control, and she would no longer be able to refuse him.

As if her thoughts reached his mind, as if he knew exactly what she feared, his hands gripped her waist, drawing her closer to his form, and then slid behind her, capturing her in the warmth of those muscular limbs that held her with the tenderness of a mother with a child.

She wanted to melt against him, her body cried out for the heat that radiated from him, and her legs trembled with weakness that was not usual for Debra Nightsong. She’d always been strong, capable and certain of her needs. Now this man held her body next to his, and suddenly her needs were those he’d brought to life within her.

She craved his fingers beneath her breasts as they had been only long minutes ago on the porch, and at the same time, she hated the yearning she felt. For it could only make her weak to so cling to a man. She must be strong, as her mother had bid her. She must stand on her own two feet and make a life that would be safe and under her control.

Yet, the strength of the man before her drew her inexorably into his shadow, and she felt almost a part of him, her breasts crushed against his wide chest, her legs parting for the intrusion of his muscular thighs between them. He smoothed the fabric of her dress down the full length of her back and his hands cradled the firm rounding of her bottom, lifting her against himself, holding her high so that her face was on a level with his.

His words were soft, but firm, and she watched his lips, barely moving as he issued his will aloud. “Kiss me, Debra. Touch my lips with yours and taste the desire I hold in my heart for you.”

She could barely breathe, her heart pounding in her chest like the drums in her mother’s village. His lips lured her, softening before her eyes, parting as if he strove to catch a breath, glistening from his tongue’s movement across them, and she was drawn into his spell.

Her mouth opened a bit, and she offered him the caress he had demanded, for she would not allow him to think she only did as he asked out of fear. Her lips were soft against his, her mouth a vessel to be filled by the length of his tongue, and though the caressing movement against her teeth and her own tongue was still new and strange to her, she felt warmed by his taking of her in this way.

He tilted his head a bit, the better to gain his goal, his mouth opening over hers, his tongue suckling hers in a gentle motion that sent shards of sensation to the depths of her belly. He tasted of the coffee he’d drunk for supper, of the peppermint candy he kept in his pocket. A mixture of sweetness, of masculine strength, of all the things she loved about him.

And that, she realized as his tongue traced the ridges of her mouth, was the sole reason she would accede to his demands. For she loved not only his taste, his touch and the look of him, but the man himself, the man who had entered her life so harshly, with no warning, and taken over the running of her farm as if it were his due. And perhaps it was, for she knew she had given him reason to take his place here as a helpmate, as a husband.

In all but name and physical possession, she was his already, his wife, his woman.

He left her mouth then, touching her cheek and the fragile skin of her throat with the warmth of his lips, whispering against her ear with words that wrote upon her heart, words that claimed her as his own, that promised her his troth, his love and support in all she did, all that she hoped for.

“I’ll take care of you, Nightsong. You’ll never want for anything—food, clothing or love. If you’ll share your home with me, I’ll protect you and keep it safe for you and our children. And before many days have passed, I’ll find a way to clear my name of the charges against me.”

“Our children?” Her mind had been focused on those words and she pushed against his chest. He allowed it, allowed the tilting of her head as she looked up at him and, in the dim light of her room, saw his smile, knew the strength of the man who held her. Whose arms kept her above the floor, tight to his body, yet did not threaten her with the arousal she felt through the layers of clothing that separated them.

His words were firm. “The children we will form between us.” He wanted her body, as a man wants a woman, but he would not force her to his will, would not demand she perform as his wife. Not now, not until she spoke the words that would determine her future with him. A future it seemed he had already considered and planned in detail.

“Marry me, Nightsong.” It was a demand, the strength of his voice resounding in her ears as she heard his insistence vibrate in each syllable. “I need you, Debra. I need your nearness to me, your woman’s warmth in the night, and your strength in the day. I need to know that you will be mine for all the days of our lives, that we will share the joys of marriage, and perhaps the sorrows that will come to us. I can’t promise you that it will be a smooth road that we take, but I can promise that I’ll be with you every step of the way. I’ll never betray you or make you sorry that you’ve become mine.”

Her arms lifted to encircle his neck and she leaned forward to rest her head against his shoulder, needing the knowledge that he held her firmly, that he would not loose her from his touch, that his promises were true and she would be safe with him.

“I’ll marry you, Tyler. It will turn you into an outcast, as I am, but if that is your desire, then I’ll not tell you no.”

“I need no one but you, Debra. I need no one’s acceptance but yours.”

“Then we’ll go into town and find out the way it should be done,” she said quietly, her words muffled against his shirt.

“Will you marry me in front of a man of the cloth? Or will that not be according to your beliefs?”

“I’m half-white, Tyler. My mother and father were married that way, but they had to go miles to find a preacher man who would do it for them. The church in town was not willing to accept them.”

“And are the same people there now?” he asked. “Is the preacher there the same man now, as then?”

“I don’t think so. He’s a young man, with a young family. The other preacher was gone when I came back to the farm. My mother had not had good things to say about him, but I think she would have liked this man. He’s young, kind and has warm eyes.”

“Then we’ll ask him to perform the ceremony for us. And if he refuses, we’ll find someone else. Even the judge for this district will do, but I’d feel better if we were married in a church.”

“We’ll do whatever is right in your eyes,” she said, willing to allow him his way in this.

His arms tightened around her, holding her against him more firmly and she felt her woman’s flesh soften and gather heat from his body. Inhaling sharply, she moved against him, needing to be free of him, of the temptation of his body against hers. He loosed his grip on her bottom and she slid down the length of his torso, until her feet touched the bedroom floor.