This Calder Range (Calder Saga 1)

“Now you do.” Benteen turned to leave, angered yet aware she hadn’t known. He paused, fighting down his temper. “It’s all right, Lorna,” he said, to let her know he wasn’t putting any fault with her. “Just be more careful.”

He swung down from the wagon and tied the flap back in place. His gaze made a circle of the camp, but all the trailhands were on their side facing the other direction.

Walking back to the fire, Benteen scooped up the cup he’d dropped and carried it to the chuck wagon. Rusty was winding his alarm clock so he could rise before any of the others and have breakfast going by the time the first light touched the sky.

“Havin’ women along presents all sorts of difficulties that ain’t even thought of,” Rusty said without looking at Benteen.

“So I’m learning.”

The cook glanced sideways, a whiskery white growth beginning to show up on his face. “’Pears to me it might be smart to set them wagons back a bit at night.” His glance slid down to the bulge in Benteen’s pants. “I don’t have to ask if you’ll be sleepin’ with your bride. ‘Tween you and Stanton, them cowboys’ imagination is going to be workin’ overtime without hearin’ any thin’.”

Benteen didn’t disagree. “Wake me before the others,” was his only reply.

“I will—unless the wagon’s rockin’,” Rusty murmured.

Instead of going directly to the wagon, he walked out to the picket line and had a smoke. Before the cigarette was half gone, Benteen was crushing it under the heel of his boot. A couple hundred miles up the trail when his tobacco ran low, he’d be wanting that wasted cigarette, but it wasn’t what he wanted now.

The wagon was dark and silent when he reached it. He climbed in and peeled off his clothes down to his underwear. Feeling his way to the mattress, his hand encountered Lorna’s quilt-covered form near the edge.

“Move over.” His voice was low, but the wagon springs creaked under her shifting weight.

When he slid beneath the quilt, he discovered that Lorna was hugging the side of the wagon, taking pains not to touch any part of him. For several long minutes he lay on his back and stared at the ribbed canvas roof. Then he reached over and ran his hand along her arm.

“Lorna.” It was a request for her to roll over to him.

“No.” She was rigid under his touch. “They’ll hear us,” she whispered.

Benteen shifted to his side and applied pressure to force her shoulders onto the mattress. Her hands came up to push at him, her face faintly outlined in the darkness.

“They’ll be thinking we’re doing it whether they hear us or not,” he reasoned, and curled an arm across her stomach to pull her more closely against him.

“No, I don’t want to.” She turned her head away from him when he bent to kiss her, so he nuzzled her throat instead. The little vein in her neck was pulsing madly, assuring him that she was lying.

“We’re going to be on the trail nearly six months, Lorna. That’s six months’ worth of nights.” His hands were moving over her, discovering her rounded shape despite the loose-fitting nightgown. Her hands were still between them, but she wasn’t fighting him. “There’s no way I’m not going to make love to you between now and trail’s end. And I don’t care who listens to us.”

“I do,” she whispered.

“Then we’d better start learning how to make love quietly,” he countered. “After last night, do you want to go that long without it?”

“No.” It was a reluctantly moaned answer.

A second later, her lips were under his. He felt that long rush of heat go through him—sweet and wild. There was that same immense shock, that same feeling of a deep need finally satisfied. Lorna could fill his emptiness in a different kind of union that was just as complete.

The nightgown went all the way to her feet. He tugged at the material to work it up around her hips so his hands could get under it and make contact with her woman flesh. It was a rude discovery to find more clothes.

“Do you always wear so many clothes to bed?” Benteen grumbled, and tried to find how her drawers were fastened. “Will you take these things off?”

“Not so loud,” she whispered.

“Take them off.” He breathed the words into her mouth.

By the time she was through, the nightgown was around her waist and his hands felt the silken heat of her bare skin. He warmed himself with it, letting his roaming hands wander over her rounded buttocks and hips to the source of the heat.

“Your body is hot,” he murmured.

“So is yours.” Her lips were open against his cheek, the moistness of her mouth turned to him.

When he shifted onto her, a soft sound trembled from her throat. “We’re supposed to do this quietly, remember?” Benteen liked the expression of desire she hadn’t been able to contain, and eased himself into her.