Читать книгу Blackwolf's Redemption - Сандра Мартон, Sandra Marton - Страница 9

SIENNA gasped as the stranger’s arms closed around her.

“Don’t,” she said, or tried to say, but he was too quick, too strong, too determined. She tried to twist her face away but that didn’t work, either. All he had to do was slide one hand into her hair, cup the back of her head and bring his mouth down on hers.

There was no way to call this a kiss. It was a hard imprint of his flesh on hers, a ruthless demonstration of sheer masculine power.

He wanted to show her that she was helpless against him.

But she wasn’t.

Her work took her to places that were often desolate and dangerous. She’d studied martial arts, and her instructor’s advice—look for an opening or create one—had saved her on a dig in the jungles of Peru, as well as on the streets of Manhattan. It would save her now. All she had to do was force herself to relax. Her assailant would follow suit by easing his hold on her. Then she’d bring up her knee and jam it, hard, into his crotch.

Wrong. Nothing about him relaxed.

If anything, as soon as she stopped struggling, he drew her even closer.

Her palms spread helplessly over sun-heated skin stretched taut over hard-muscled flesh. He tilted her head back, giving him greater access to her mouth. Sienna whimpered and tried to bite him. It was another misjudgment. As soon as her lips parted, his tongue swept into her mouth.

And everything changed.

What had been cold calculation turned hot and wild. She felt the press of his erection against her belly; the taste of him on her lips became dark and exciting. She heard herself make a little sound, almost a purr. No, she thought desperately, but even as she thought it, she was leaning into him, rising to him…

With a suddenness that left her reeling, he caught her by the shoulders and put her from him. She knew her cheeks were flushed, but when she looked at him, his face was expressionless. That frightened her even more than the way he’d kissed her.. .and the way she’d reacted.

Except, she hadn’t. She hadn’t! She wasn’t the kind of woman turned on by displays of macho male power. She was a woman of the twenty-first century and behavior like this had gone out decades ago.

Still, for that one, heart-stopping instant…

Sienna forced the thought aside. She looked up at the stranger. Deliberately, slowly, she wiped the back of her hand over her lips and then against her jeans.

“Do that again,” she said in a low voice, “and I’ll kill you.”

“Give me a hard time again,” he said in mocking imitation of her, “I’ll leave you up here and the only life you’ll take will be your own.” His mouth twisted. “Do you get it now? This is reality. You’re not dreaming.”

“Is using force the way you generally make a point?”

Something flickered in his eyes. “Only when there’s no other choice. A man does what he has to do.”

“So does a woman.” Her chin came up. “You might keep that in mind.”

“Hang on to that attitude. It might just help save you.”

From him? From the climb down? Sienna wasn’t foolish enough to ask. This was not a man to push too far, at least not until she was safely back in civilization with Jack and the others. For now, doing what she had to do made sense, and what she had to do was get off this ledge.

“The belt,” he said, holding out his hand.

He’d already stripped his from the loops of his jeans. She hesitated, then undid hers and gave it to him.

He worked quickly, his big hands moving with surprising grace as he joined the two lengths of leather. When he finished, he tugged hard at both ends. The leather held, but so what? Belts weren’t made to support the weight of two people descending a mountain. His improvised rope wasn’t long enough or strong enough or—

Thunder rumbled from somewhere behind the mountain. She looked up. Dark clouds were moving in. The sky looked ominous. Nerves made her sweep the tip of her tongue over her lips…

And she tasted him.

Anger. Power. Determination. And the darker tastes of man and desire.

“Ready?”

She blinked. The man was wrapping one end of the joined belts around his wrist. It was a big wrist but it matched the rest of him. His height. His shoulders. His powerful arms, ridged abdomen, long legs…

“Keep looking at me like that,” he said in a low voice, “you’re asking for trouble.”

A flush rose in Sienna’s face. “What’s your name?”

He looked at her as if she were crazy. Maybe she was, but before she stepped into space, real or imagined, it seemed she should at least know who he was.

“Does it matter?”

She turned, shot a glance at the yawning distance between them and the canyon floor. Then she looked at him.

“Yes,” she said stubbornly. “It does.”

Just when she thought he wasn’t going to answer, he shrugged those big shoulders.

“It’s Jesse.”

Sienna stared at him. “Jesse?”

“Jesse Blackwolf.”

“But—but—”

“You wanted my name. You’ve got it. Now, let’s get moving before that storm hits.”

“But…” she said again, and he grabbed her wrist.

“No more talking. You got that?”

She got it, all right. Besides, what could she say? How could she possibly tell him that he could not, absolutely could not be who he said he was, that Jesse Blackwolf, if he’d turned up, was in his sixties? So she kept quiet as he wrapped a section of the belt around her wrist, secured it, then gave it a tug that seemed to meet with his satisfaction.

“Do everything I do,” he said. “Concentrate on—” He grabbed her by the shoulders, hoisted her to her toes. “Listen to me, if you want to survive. The rules are simple.”

“Rules?” she said, with a nervous laugh.

“Rules. Five of them. Do not look down. Do not look up. Keep your eyes on your hands and feet and on me. Pay attention to what I say. Obey what I say, without question. Understand?”

She didn’t have enough saliva in her mouth to answer. Instead, she nodded her head, but the truth was, the only thing she actually understood was that she’d never been so scared in her life.

He turned his back to her and took a step forward.

“Wait!”

He looked over his shoulder, face taut with impatience.

“What now?”

“How—I mean, what, exactly, am I supposed to do?”

“I just told you.”

“No. I mean—I mean, I’ve seen people climb rocks. Should I search for handholds? Dig my toes into the crevices? Stay in one place until I’ve found the next—”

“Are you deaf, woman? You do what I do. Nothing else. And stop trying to analyze everything. This is a mountain. The ground is forty feet down. There’s a score of places in between where we can break our necks.” His eyes narrowed. “You’re just going to have to trust me.”

Trust him? A man who couldn’t possibly exist, standing with her on a mountain she couldn’t possibly have climbed? A man who snapped orders like a general but looked like a savage and thought that the way to handle a woman who asked questions and proved she had a brain was to kiss her into submission?

“You have no other choice.”

It was as if he’d heard what she was thinking.

And he was right. What could she do but step off into space behind him? Maybe she was dreaming. Or hallucinating. Or whatever you did when you were unconscious. Maybe, indeed, but she was stuck up here, anyway, with no way down except this.

A whimper inched its way into her throat. She tried to stop it. Too late. Jesse Blackwolf, the man who called himself Jesse Blackwolf, had obviously heard it.

“Scared?”

What was the logic in lying? Still, she wasn’t going to sound pathetic about it.

“Damned right, I’m scared!”

He smiled. It didn’t last more than a second; it was the barely perceptible lift of one corner of his mouth, but it was a smile and it changed him from terrifying male to gorgeous man—and was she crazy, noticing such a thing at a moment like this?

“Good,” he said. “You’d have to be a fool not to be scared, and a fool’s the last person I’d want tied to me right now.” He reached out, one big hand cupping her chin. “Obey me. Be a good girl and I promise, I’ll get you down safely.”

Obey him. Be a good girl. Even now, with the coppery taste of fear on her tongue, Sienna almost laughed. Nobody had said anything remotely like that to her since she was twelve, but this didn’t seem the time or place to correct him on what her Women’s Studies prof called gender issues that still existed more than thirty years after the women’s lib movement.

“Is it a deal?”

She nodded. He leaned forward and brushed his mouth lightly over hers.

“For luck,” he said.

And then he turned his back to her and stepped off the ledge.

At least, that was the way it looked.

He hadn’t stepped off it, though. His head and shoulders appeared as if from nowhere, along with an extended hand.

“Let’s go,” he said briskly.

“I’m coming,” Sienna said. And she would—in a decade or two. Right now, her feet seemed glued to the sacred stone.

“Remember what I said? Just do what I tell you to do.”

“Something you should know about me,” she said with forced lightness as she inched forward. “I never do what anyone tells me to do. Especially a man.”

“You want to burn bras, do it somewhere else.”

Okay. This time, frightened as she was, she did laugh at the old-fashioned phrase.

“Good. Relax. Take a deep breath. Another. And give me your hand.”

“In a minute.”

“Now,” he commanded. “Hear that thunder? The storm’s getting closer. Bad weather’s not a pleasant thing to experience on an exposed ledge.”

A convincing roar of thunder followed his words.

“Sienna! Give me your hand.”

Who could possibly argue with such authority?

Not me, Sienna thought, and she took Jesse’s hand and stepped off the cliff.

A gentle rain had started by the time they reached the canyon floor.

As for the climb down…She had no clear memory of it. Halfway down, scree coming loose under her feet, fingernails torn off by desperately digging into cracks that only a very generous person would call handholds, she’d finally taken Jesse’s best advice.

She’d stopped thinking.

It had been easier after that, but he’d still twice saved her from plummeting to earth.

Each misstep had left her hanging, one hand clutching the rocky face of the mountain while her feet dangled in midair. Each time, he’d clasped his fingers tightly around her wrist, his face contorting with determination as he steadied her until she found a foothold.

Now they were down. And this time, when the man who said he was Jesse Blackwolf said “good girl” as she tumbled into his waiting arms, she didn’t give a damn for gender issues.

She was simply happy to be alive.

“Th-thank you,” she said in a shaky whisper.

It was all she could manage, but it was enough.

Jesse nodded, held her in the circle of his arms and wondered if he ought to tell her she’d surprised him with her courage.

No. Not now. There was no point to it. Why compliment her for creating a situation in which she’d risked both their lives? Besides, they had to get out of here before the storm hit with full force. It was going to be a bad one; the signs were all there. The dark sky, the wind, the thunder and lightning…

This would be a storm that would turn the lazy creek that ran between the canyon and his ranch into a raging torrent.

So, any second now, he’d let go of the woman in his arms.

But not just yet.

She needed to share his body warmth. Her teeth were chattering; her skin was icy. She might be going into shock. Anything was possible in the aftermath of danger.

He’d seen men—trained warriors—face the worst kind of imminent death and survive, then all but collapse when the danger was over.

Sienna Cummings had just come through that type of situation.

He’d made it sound as if getting down the mountain required nothing but her compliance. He knew better. The descent had called for guts and determination. She’d shown both.

Of course, she’d gotten up the mountain in the first place and that was almost as difficult. How had she done it? That was still the $64,000 question.

Damned if he could come up with an answer.

Maybe somebody had helped her. Climbed with her. That guy she’d mentioned. Jim or John. Jack. Yeah. Jack. Had he gone up with her? And then, what, left her?

What kind of man would abandon a woman that way?

Endless questions. No answers. None he could answer right now, at any rate, not with the storm almost on them and Sienna still trembling in his arms.

He could feel the race of her heart. Feel the soft whisper of her breath against his skin. He gathered her even closer, leaned his chin on the top of her head. Her hair was soft; it smelled of rain and, very faintly, of lilacs.

“Easy,” he said. “We’re down. You’re okay.”

He wasn’t sure she’d heard him. Then she drew a shuddering breath.

“I didn’t think we’d make it.”

“Blackwolf Mountain and I have known each other a very long time.”

She gave a little laugh. “A good thing.”

Not really, he thought, but she had no need to know that.

“You all right now?”

“I’m fine.”

She wasn’t. She was still shaking, her face devoid of color. And she was a mess.

Her hair was a mass of curls. He’d already seen the bump on her head. She’d broken her fingernails. Her jeans were torn and so was her T-shirt. Sweat and now the steadily increasing rain had plastered them to her, outlining her body. It was delicate but as lush and feminine as a man could want.

He could feel her belly and her thighs against his. Could feel her breasts pressed against his chest, the pebbled nipples seeming to burn against his naked flesh. The pebbling told him she was chilled. And braless. And that her breasts were gently uptilted as if in readiness for a man’s mouth.

He shut his eyes, willing the all-too-vivid image away, deliberately replacing it with an image of her face. That was safer.

She had a pretty face, but more than that, an intelligent one. Bottom line, she looked nothing like a thief or a flower child still caught up by the nonsense of the prior decade.

What she looked like was a woman a man would want in his bed. Not a man like him. His secrets were too dark; the shadows that engulfed him too ugly. But, yes, some man would want a woman like this.

He felt himself stir against her. He pulled back, hoping she hadn’t felt his erection. Goddamn it, he thought coldly. What in hell was this?

He had, absolutely, been without a woman far too long. There was no other reason Sienna Cummings would turn him on. Besides, the facts were simple. She had invaded his land, climbed his mountain.

All he wanted was to send her on her way.

“Okay,” he said gruffly, dropping his arms to his sides, “let’s get mov—”

A roar of thunder drowned him out. Lightning sizzled across the sky. White lightning. And as if someone had hit a switch, the dark clouds opened up, spewing torrential rain. Instantly, they were soaked from head to foot. His intruder gave a little shriek and raised her hands as if to shelter under them. The gesture was useless, but he couldn’t blame her. The temperature had dropped at least twenty degrees and the rain was ice cold and as sharp as needles.

Jesse grabbed her arm. She broke free, swung in a circle.

“What are you doing?” he yelled. It was the only way to make himself heard over the rain.

“Looking for my people.”

“I told you, your boyfriend abandoned you.”

“No. That’s impossible!”

“Listen, lady, you want to argue, argue with yourself. I’m going to head for shelter.”

She looked at him. He wanted to laugh. The last creature he’d ever seen this wet and woebegone had been a calf that had wandered into a stream.

“You coming with me or not?”

She gave a dejected nod. He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. The piercing sound carried over the roar of the rain and Cloud came thundering toward them. Sienna shrieked and jumped behind Jesse. That did it; the laughter he’d choked back a moment ago erupted in a snort.

“It’s a horse,” he said. “Not a mountain lion.”

“Don’t you have a truck?”

She was impossible. Jesse mounted the stallion, reached down and held his out his hand.

“You want transportation, this is it. You coming with me? Yes or no?”

She stared up at him. Then she clasped his hand and hoisted herself onto the animal’s back. A good thing, too. The last thing he’d have wanted to do was wrestle a wet, unwilling woman onto the saddleless back of an equally wet horse.

“Hold on.”

Sienna blinked. Hold on? To what? There was no saddle, there was nothing but man and horse.

“Put your arms around me. That’s it. Tighter, unless you want to make this ride hanging on to Cloud’s tail.”

He was right. Besides, a few minutes ago, his arms had been around her. Stupid to hesitate now, she thought, and wrapped her arms around his waist.

His skin was smooth and wet and warm. She felt the taut muscles of his belly contract under her fingers. It made her breath catch and she started to pull back, but at just that moment, he dug his heels into the animal’s flanks and the horse surged forward as if he were going to leap into the air and fly.

Sienna gave a muffled shriek and tightened her grip on Jesse until her breasts and belly were pressed tightly against his back.

“Good girl,” he shouted.

Sienna rolled her eyes. Another metaphorical sexist pat on the head, but what could she do about it? And, really, what did it matter?

If this was all happening, she’d be free of this man as soon as they reached, well, wherever they were heading. Bozeman, she hoped. Jack was probably there, waiting for her with the others, and surely he’d have some rational explanation for everything.

If this wasn’t happening, if she was dreaming, she’d wake up.

Those were the only two possibilities, and neither involved dealing with Jesse Blackwolf for more than just another little while.

Those were the only two possibilities.. .weren’t they?

No, she thought uneasily, they weren’t.

What if that green lightning had struck her? What if she was in a coma? What if she were lying comatose in a hospital bed, having wildly exotic dreams or whatever you called the stuff that filled your head while your brain was on medical hiatus?

It made sense that she might dream of a place she’d spent months and months studying. And, okay, it even made sense that she might dream of being rescued by a dark and dangerous man. Her life centered around her studies, but she was still a woman. And she was a scholar of ancient civilizations.

She’d never been the type for romantic fantasies, but if she were…

If she were, this man would fit the bill.

A coma made absolute sense.

And, actually, it was the far better choice, because otherwise, she was back to square one. How had she ended up on that ledge? Where was Jack? What was she doing, racing through a flooding canyon with a man who looked like an Indian warrior?

Sienna jammed her eyes closed. A coma, for sure. Any minute now, she’d wake up, see that she was in a hospital room…

“Hang on tight,” Jesse said.

Her eyes snapped open. What looked like the ocean was dead ahead, a rushing torrent of water that they surely could not ford. But the stallion plunged into the swollen stream without hesitation.

Could you drown in a stream you’d created in your mind?

God, she was going crazy!

Water coursed over her feet, her calves, her thighs. The horse couldn’t keep his footing, not in this, but he did, he did as Jesse urged him on.

“Good boy,” he said, and Sienna laughed and laughed and she knew, she knew there was a note of hysteria in her voice, but she couldn’t help it. All she could do was clutch the man who was not real despite what he’d said, press her cheek to his strong, hard, not-real-either back, and wait for the moment this would end.

An eternity later, the horse slowed to a walk.

“We’re here,” Jesse said.

Sienna sat up straight. They’d stopped moving, but the world was a blur of heavily falling rain. Good. She wasn’t ready to see past it. Not just yet.

“Where?”

He threw a long leg over the stallion’s head and dismounted. His big hands closed around her waist; he lifted her from the horse to the ground and she sent up a silent, tiny prayer of hope.

Maybe she was coming out of the coma. Maybe she’d see the comforting white walls of a hospital room.

Or maybe not. Maybe she was still trapped in a place that didn’t exist, and when she opened her eyes, she’d see, what? A log cabin? A tepee? A corral full of piebald ponies?

She took a deep breath. And forced herself to look. At the torrent of rain falling from a leaden sky…

And at all the rest.

There was no hospital room. No tepee. No log cabin. Well, not unless you called a sprawling, magnificent structure of cypress and glass, acres of glass, a cabin. There was also a corral. A huge barn. And a side yard.

Not a dream. Not a dream. Not a dream.

And not a coma. It couldn’t be. She didn’t know enough about cars and trucks to have populated the side yard with a bright red car so long and low she knew it had to be foreign, a black pickup truck and what she figured was a battered Jeep.

Each vehicle bore a license plate. Each read “Montana.” And each read—each read…

Sienna’s heart leaped into her throat. She swung toward Jesse.

“The date,” she whispered. “What’s the date?”

He stared at her. Maybe he hadn’t understood her. She knew her voice sounded choked. She cleared her throat, not certain she could form the words again. But she didn’t have to.

His eyes narrowed. “What now?” he said coldly. “Is this another part of the game?”

“No game. Just tell me, please. What’s the date?”

“June 22, as you well know.”

“Not June 21? The solstice…”

“It fell on the twenty-second this year. That only happens—”

She could almost feel the blood draining from her head.

“It only happens every four hundred years. I know that.”

“So?”

“So…” She licked her lips. There was only one last question to ask, but she was afraid to ask it. “So the last time it happened the year was—the year was 1975.”

Jesse put his fists on his hips. Legs apart, eyes locked to hers, he looked less savage but twice as dangerous.

“Was 1975? Give me a break, okay? This is 1975.”

“Now?” Sienna said calmly. “Right now, it’s—”

Her eyes rolled up into her head and she crumpled to the ground.