Heart of the Wild (12 page)

Her eyes flashed dramatically at him. Pain jumped into his heart, stabbing him; he loved the fire within her. It was part of what made him love her so much, back then. Her spirit. Grown, yes, she was grown, into a beautiful woman. By now, had they married they would have had a couple of children—but they hadn't. And the loss stared him blatantly in the face. So this is what he missed and craved so deeply—a family of his own— and her.

"This is none of his business. It's a little late. And what, of all things, has my mother got to do with my life?"

Amory felt uncomfortable with her questions. He needed her compliance.

He shrugged heavily, knowing he must give her some answer. "He seems to think she's been managing your life, and doing a poor job of it."

She gasped, and Amory remembered the sweet taste of her from last night. The problem was, he remembered much too much about that kiss. In fact, he remembered every detail, her taste, her feel, her. He wanted a repeat, and he wanted it now.

"Managing my life. My Mother! And so now he wants to manage it again. It figures. In some ways, they are so alike."

"I'm just repeating what he said."

"He actually thinks Mother picked Rick out for me? Dear God, I hadn't realized how he was thinking. Yes," she said slowly, her eyes averted to the floor, "I can see that now."

He drew closer. "So now you know. And it hasn't made the least difference."

Kasie's voice rose with her anger and frustration as he approached her. "Look, he's wrong. Dead wrong. My mother doesn't manage me! And Rick doesn't beat me."

Her foot tapped against the floor until he glanced at it.

"No one controls me! Not anymore! And not that she hasn't tried, Lord help me," she admitted lamely, "but my mistakes have been my own."

"Really," he drawled arrogantly, ". . .is Rick a mistake?"

"Maybe you should take your own advice and stay out of it."

"Was walking out on me a mistake?" He queried, his shoulders tensing for her answer. He needed this answer more than she would ever know.

She glanced up at him. "No!" The word was simple, but her expression said so much more than her words. She was lying, to herself, to him. "No, that wasn't a mistake. Probably the smartest thing I've ever done for both our sakes."

He bristled.

He should have let it slide, but somehow he just couldn't. "Both our sakes?"

"It wasn't all your fault, even I realize that. Father can be very controlling."

"Can he? You seem to think your father is the only man on earth with a mind of his own. You think for yourself, but don't think I'm capable of having one solitary thought. Did it never occur to you I might have wanted to marry you?"

"Why should it? You never said anything." She stared at him for a moment, and her expression weakened under his intense glare.

"Three little words. That's all it would have taken for me to believe it."

"Perhaps a man's actions should speak louder than his words," he thundered. He saw the rise and fall of her breast, the hurt and anguish of rehashing, within her. He wanted to hold her, tell her now how much he had loved her, but knew that it would be futile until she could trust him. Still, her unshed tears made him long to hold her, caress her, and reassure her.

She blinked and turned away. "That was a long time ago. Whatever mistakes were made no longer matter. I know my own mind! I've always known my own mind!"

"Then you knew what you were doing last night?"

"Last night?"

"You were flirting with me, admit it."

Her lips quivered. "Flirting? I most certainly was not. I was just stunned by your damned bear," she gasped with indignation.

"You've been flirting with me ever since you got here."

She glared up at him, her green eyes turning emerald. "Why, you swine!" She raised her hand to slap his face, and was captured by one big hand.

He held her hand for a moment, enjoying the way it melted into his, and stared down into her angry face. Oh, how he wanted her, here and now! His body tensed with needs, his loins already in waiting. "Now wait a minute. Let's face a few facts here. If you can respond to me, you've got to be some kind of frivolous lady. Especially since you were supposed to marry someone else, just yesterday, and you dumped me eight years ago. What man in his right mind could dare take you seriously?"

"Respond to you? But I never meant ..."

She looked like a crippled little animal, not knowing where to turn next. Sure, it had been eight years ago, things had changed, but the feeling between them hadn't, not if her kisses were any measure. He could see that clearly. He couldn't stop the laughter that ripped from his throat. "Yes, you did. And I can't help but feel a little sorry for this Rick character. Although, for all I know, you might deserve each other."

"You've no right—"

"I, of all people, have every right. I almost married you, too."

Kasie's cheeks were blotted with crimson; her emerald eyes sparkling with life. She was gorgeous when she was mad, he smiled inwardly. He wanted her, and he wanted to stop wanting her. He wanted her to put out the fire between them, squelch the hidden emotions, and make them both face the past with honesty. He wanted some kind of end to this torture.

"You've no right to talk now. You know nothing about me, or Rick. I've been kissed a few times. So what? Did it ever occur to you that I might be conniving a way out of here, rather than flirting with you? You stand there like the judge and jury. What right have you? Just because I was scared witless by a bear doesn't make me a flirt. Besides, you don't have all the facts."

She doubled her fists automatically and pummeled his chest.

Like a vise, his huge hands covered hers and held them suspended above her head as he peered down into her flushed face, rendering her helpless. Her eyes widened with anticipation.

He had her exactly where he wanted her. "Someone needs to talk to you like this, and since your father isn't here to do it, I'll have to be the one. Take some advice. If you really care about this Rick, stop flaunting yourself at every man that comes along. Namely me. That was not conniving, I've been kissed before, too."

His eyes suddenly met hers, jolting the socks off him. If only she were as innocent as she appeared. "Give him half of what you offered me last night, and you might make the marriage work."

She looked as though she were struggling to hold back the tears, choking on her words as they finally came out. "Flaunt myself? Why, you're a raving lunatic."

"Am I?" he asked, his voice softening; his eyes going over her with gentle thoroughness. His head began to lower, and his lips seemed to hover just above hers. "Want me," his mind screamed at her. "Hear my words, Little Dove." He spoke the magic of his heritage, romantic magic she hadn't heard before. Magic from his heart, his soul, pouring out to her.

He heard the air rushing from her lungs, saw the small bead of sweat pepper her upper lip, and he ignited the fire in those sea green eyes. He could almost taste the sweetness of her pink lips. Anticipating, he coached himself to wait a little longer. He wanted her willingly in his arms, just as she had willingly kissed him back last night.

"I know what you're doing," she pleaded. Her small breasts heaved like tiny pine needles against his chest through the cotton of her sweatshirt, and he closed the distance between them with a groan.

The heat between them sizzled like cold water on a hot skillet. The air crackled. Too many clothes, he grumbled inwardly, always too many damned clothes.

Then she pushed him away, her eyes never leaving his. "You want your revenge, don't you? You think I don't know? You think I'm still the naive little girl you once knew? Okay, you can have it."

His eyes gleamed with victory as they traveled her, but she held her head high. "You can have all of me."

A pain older than time shot through him.

Slowly her fingers slid the sweatshirt over her head.

At first he watched in quiet fascination until he realized what she was doing to him, and his eyes fastened hard on hers. He wouldn't look. He wouldn't give in to his baser needs this easily. She wanted him to look.

Without another word, she proceeded to peel the sweatshirt from her body, ever so slowly. Then she unfastened the bra, but still he refused himself the pleasure of feasting on her. He walked a tightrope. His entire body stretched to its limit. Her sweatshirt fell to the floor in a blur of a shadow. She stared mutinously at him.

He didn't move, didn't bat an eye, as he schooled himself not to think of her, half-naked before him. He willed himself to not move.

Next, her bra fell, and his loin tightened. He knew it was there on the floor. He knew all he had to do was lift his hands—to touch. All he had to do was drop his glance, but still, he held her gaze.

The room filled with electrical currents, like an unnoticed forest fire.

Holding her chin higher, she started to unsnap her jeans to slither out of them, but his words and expression halted her actions. Her face turned crimson, but still he did not take his eyes from hers.

"No more."

She had to know what she did to him, from the look on her face. Every muscle in his body seemed to tense, until he felt like a tightly coiled snake. He willed his arms not to hold her, his eyes not to look, his body not to go to her.

"You want me stripped of all dignities, bared to your soul. You wanted this; you can't deny it. Is this what I'm here for? Then take it!" She cried aloud, her head proud, and her body stiff.

His fisted hand reached to gently stoke her cheek, his knuckles softly caressing her. "No, Little Dove," he cupped her face in his big powerful hands, hands that shook from wanting her. And the raw determination within him held him steady. Something stronger than life held him at bay. "I won't take you like this. If the time comes for us to be together, we'll both know it."

His hands threaded through her hair, holding her head gently, his fingertips tensed.

She looked as though she were about to start a tirade of excuses for her own actions, when a knock came at the door.

Both their heads turned at the same time.

"Are you expecting someone?" She scrambled to pick up her clothes. Her hands shook, her voice squeaked. She couldn't find her bra, and began frantically searching for it. She hurriedly zipped her jeans, and grabbed her shirt, covering herself.

He frowned, and turned away from her, to compose himself. "Are you out of your mind?"

The last thing he needed or wanted right now was company.

Still, the important thing was to find the damned bra. They both searched, scrambling like scattering chickens during a rainstorm. Finally, he found it in the chair by the desk, and, proceeding without thinking, put it on her underneath the sweatshirt, his fingers barely grazing the tips of her breast as he rushed to get it on her. His indrawn breath was the only sign of disconcertion.

Their hands fumbled. The straps wouldn't go up without taking the shirt off. Why had she put the shirt on first? She had to be flustered. His eyes met hers, and he realized her confusion. Without further regard, he practically ripped the offending bra from her. His groin tightened painfully, his eyes were like fire, raging for some sort of release from the torture of actually wanting her.

He turned away from her abruptly, as he cursed and a million stars exploded within him.

Shame seemed a hollow reprieve. He ignored shame and faced her, once more, no guilt in his eyes as they traveled up and down her in a most provocative way. She was fully clothed now, and yet he stripped her bare with his own might. He had marked her as sure as the earth stood still.

His breath grew shallow, and then suddenly the bra was forgotten. As if everything suddenly became slow motion, his eyes on hers, he threw it under the bed.

She stood very still, their eyes meeting and holding, and, as if in some dream state, for only a moment he bent and kissed her tenderly, thoroughly, as though he really meant it. The earth stood still again, as the second knock came at the door.

He let go of her reluctantly, knowing that, in time, they might have resolved this love-hate situation.

"Probably the last time I get to do that, huh?"

She pinked. "Absolutely the last."