Johanna Lindsey - Savage Thunder

With self-disgust, he grasped her hands and yanked her up onto the windowsill, far enough into the room for her to be able to climb the rest of the way inside by herself. He then turned on his heel and headed for the door, determined to be out of that room before she was fully into it. But she obviously objected to being left dangling half in and half out.

"Colt!" she wailed.

He didn't stop. "If I touch you again, Duchess, you're going to damn well regret it."

"Just because you manage this with no effort at all doesn't mean. oh, never mind!"

Jocelyn lowered the top half of her body until her weight tumbled her forward into the room, ignomin-iously, she realized, as her legs crashed in behind her and flopped down on the floor. But she wasted not a second in correcting her graceless entry and shot to her feet. Nor did it calm her temper to see that he hadn't been watching. It was in fact the last straw to see him reaching for the door handle.

"You are the most surly, misbegotten. Good Lord!" she amended when the shambles of her room caught her attention. "What the devil happened here? Did they think I was hiding in one of the trunks?"

That stopped him. It was a safe enough subject, and she had a right to know. And he did have the distance of the entire room between them. Still, he didn't want to take the risk of looking at her now that she was no longer cloaked in shadows. The mess she was staring at drew his eyes as well, as if he hadn't already seen it.

"They weren't looking for you, Duchess."

"Of course they were. Longnose is the only one-"

"Not this time. Your Longnose hasn't caught up with us yet. I'll know it when he does."

She didn't doubt his certainty, not when she knew he had spent every day on the trail scouting wide circles around them. "Then who were they?"

"A couple of thieves, likely local boys. That guard at your door was probably the lure. Nine times out of ten, if a man sees a room that needs more security than lock and key, he's going to assume there's something worth stealing inside it."

Her eyes flew to him as she remembered the loud thud she had heard in the hall. "Robbie? Is — is he…

?"

She couldn't finish, afraid the reason that Colt wouldn't look at her was because the big Scot was dead.

But he disabused her of that notion, though he still didn't glance her way. He stooped to pick up a scrap of silk at his feet, staring at the thin blue ribbon in his hand as if it were the most amazing thing he had ever seen.

"Your man was hit from behind. He'll have a hell-uva headache to show for his carelessness in the morning, but that's about all. It's my guess one of them distracted him long enough for the other to take him out. It's a strategy that works well against a single man."

"And the two brigands?"

"You want the gory details?"

"Colt!"

She had blanched, though he didn't see it. It was her silence after that aggrieved cry that made him relent.

"They got the same as they gave, no more. But I cut up one of your petticoats to truss them with before dumping them out in the hall to keep your Robbie company. Didn't think you'd mind. They're not likely to stir before morning, but you'll need a replacement to guard your door anyway, so he can keep an eye on them as well until they can be turned over to the sheriff." There was a long pause before he added, "You should have had more protection."

She usually did, but tonight there had been special circumstances, because tonight she had planned on receiving a visitor she didn't want anyone to know about. She had agreed to allow Robbie to stand guard outside her door for the simple reason that Vanessa trusted him to keep whatever he saw to himself. But neither of them had thought to add to his number when the circumstances changed.

It was a severe jolt to remember that earlier plan now and realize that it had actually come to pass. Colt was here, in her room. They were alone. And it had come about without a summons, so there was nothing for him to suspect in the way of ulterior motives. Good Lord, she was even still dressed for the part, but there was no longer the guilt of a deliberate se-duction to prick her conscience and fill her with mis-givings. Whatever happened.

Before her heart could accelerate with that thought, Jocelyn realized nothing was going to happen, because Colt hadn't once looked at her since they had come into the softly lit room. And somehow she knew he wasn't going to either. She almost laughed. If she did something to make him look at her, that would be tantamount to deliberately trying to seduce him again. She had to face it. Tonight just simply wasn't fated to be the night.

"Having only one guard at my door was indirectly your fault, Colt." She smiled at the double meaning that he couldn't possibly guess at. But when she saw him stiffen upon hearing blame placed at his feet, she quickly clarified. "I said indirectly. The fact is I have felt so much safer since you've joined us that I have become remiss in certain precautionary measures. I also felt the men deserved a night off."

"What the hell good is that army that surrounds you if they don't see to your safety regardless of your wishes?"

Now she stiffened. "Your point is well taken. How stupid of me to depend on your rescuing abilities sim-ply because you have displayed them so well and so often!"

"Stupid is damned right!"

That was it! He couldn't even look at her when he shouted at her.

"Good night, Mr. Thunder."

Seething, she watched him reach for the door han-dle again and this time slam out of the room.

No sooner was Jocelyn alone than she yanked off her robe, wadded it up in her hands, and threw it down at her feet. She just about stomped on it as well. That miserable, detestable.

"And when the hell are you going to lock this damned. door?"

The "damned door" in question had been opened again for Colt to snarl that question at her. Jocelyn didn't answer it. She had sucked in her breath at his sudden reappearance and seemed to have lost the knowledge of how to breathe, let alone speak, the second her eyes collided with his.

Colt seemed to have the same problem, for he had barely gotten the last word out, nor were any more forthcoming. He stood with one hand gripping the door handle, the other pressed flat against the outside wall, merely leaning into the room, which was as far as he got when he saw her. And he didn't move from that position — at least his body didn't. His eyes were moving plenty, however, slowly, over every inch of her, from the flame-tinted hair, now in wild disarray, to the bare toes peeking out from the bottom of that incredible sheath of shimmering, clinging green satin, and what was in between — Christ Almighty. What the sight of her standing there like that did to him should have reduced him to ashes.

"I wondered about it… often. what you slept in."

Jocelyn wouldn't have known what to reply to that even if she could. She had only just started breathing again, and that with difficulty. Speech was still beyond her, as was movement. She was afraid to take a step for fear her knees would buckle. And that wasn't her only fear. His eyes, usually so opaque, were blazing now with such heat she felt scorched by them, thrilled beyond measure — but frightened too. She couldn't help it, not when she recalled that he had never once been gentle with her, and looked anything but gentle now.

Without taking his eyes from her, Colt stepped far enough into the room to close the door behind him.

Below the handle was the lock and he turned that too, still with his gaze riveted on her.

If she hadn't already known her time of waiting was over, that would have confirmed it. But she did know. He was going to have her. She couldn't deny him now even if she wanted to. And she didn't want to. She wanted him, despite the fear, despite knowing she would be getting raw passion rather than gentle lovemaking. Why that didn't change her mind and send her fleeing out the window again she wasn't sure. She just knew he had to be the first, that she couldn't imagine anyone else touching her the way she was going to let him touch her.

Her budding passion and nervous determination were not as pronounced as her fear, which was all Colt sensed in her stillness or saw in her wide-eyed stare. In a primitive way, it only inflamed him the more.

But in the back of his mind he was aware that she hadn't instigated this meeting, that if he was lynched for it afterward, he would have nothing to blame but his own weakness. He would be a real bastard to use the same tactics now that he had used previously to frighten her off. Having lost the battle, he had no need for them. But he had a need for fair-ness, especially when she couldn't stop him, not by herself, not without help. So despite his single-minded determination, he forced himself to give her one last opportunity to escape what he could no longer control himself.

"Scream now, Duchess, while you've got the chance. You won't get another."

Jocelyn wished he hadn't said that. It sounded too ominous by half, as if she wouldn't survive this en-counter, or had totally mistaken what was going to happen.

"W — why?"

Her voice acted like a magnet, drawing him across the room even as he answered with brutal clarity, "Because I'm going to lay you on that bed and fill you with my flesh."

God, she hoped so. The words alone sent her blood racing and her heart knocking against her ribs.

There was no question of screaming. Moaning maybe. She already felt the need to moan and had to consciously resist it, not wanting any sound to escape that he might mistake before he reached her.