“Maybe so, but she’ll have to settle for me. You’d only slow me down.”
Summer wanted badly to argue, yet she knew Lance was right. She had no business accompanying him beyond the settled frontier. A white woman traveling through hostile Indian country would be subject to countless dangers. Even Lance might be unable to protect her. And the last thing she wanted was to impede his search for Amelia. Her own need to be with her sister, to comfort and help her, would have to wait.
Her shoulders hunched in frustration. “I just feel so helpless.”
Lance didn’t reply, not knowing what to say. Awkwardly he took a step closer, his hands hovering at his sides.
At his silence, Summer turned to gaze up at the faint stars overhead. “Amelia taught me about the constellations. She used to make up stories…about our mother. Do you see Cassiopeia there? Melly says Mama lives there…Mama’s up there in heaven, Summer.”
Her vision blurred at the memory, her throat filling with tears. “Oh, Lance…I can’t bear it…”
Summer turned blindly toward him, her voice catching on a sob. She heard him take a swift breath, felt his arms come around her, and then she was clinging to him helplessly. Gratefully she buried her face in his hard shoulder and wept, letting the sobs come.
Lance held her shaking body tightly, and yet he had never felt so useless. He hated to see her like this, hurting and helpless. He hated the guilt he felt, even knowing it was unreasonable. His own people were responsible for her grief; the Comanches had killed her mother, taken her sister captive. He hadn’t taken part in either atrocity, and yet he still felt somehow to blame. And it was his fault the other stage passengers were treating her like a leper.
Lance gritted his teeth, both in rage at the situation and frustration at the feel of Summer’s slender body shaking in his arms.
He shouldn’t be touching her like this. He was liable to lose control any minute, which he’d sworn he wouldn’t do. And yet he wanted, needed, to offer her comfort. She was his woman now, his wife. It was his duty to console her, to take care of her. He felt his heartbeat thunder in his ears as he tightened his hold.
It was several minutes before Summer’s tears let up, and longer still before her shudders subsided and she became aware of Lance’s embrace. She felt his body, hard and reassuring, offering her strength, felt his cheek, warm and gentle, against her hair. His voice was a low murmur, whispering to her in the same strange language he’d used on their wedding night, when he had demanded her innocence as the price of his cooperation. Hearing it brought back a rush of memory so powerful, it weakened her knees.
How could he affect her so intensely? How could he shatter all her defenses so easily? Like then, she w
as taking comfort from him again, trying to burrow inside him in an effort to feel safe. It amazed her how safe she felt in his arms. She’d never expected to react to Lance in such a way. She should hate him, should despise him for the difficult position he’d forced upon her. Instead, she hated herself, for her acquiescence, for her show of weakness.
Yet she was helpless to deny herself the solace he offered. When she felt his lips brush her cheek, Summer didn’t push away. When he nuzzled the corner of her mouth, she tilted her head back to give him better access. When his lips settled on hers in a gentle caress, she could only sigh, wanting to surrender.
His taste was warmly familiar, the scent of his heated skin so exquisitely tantalizing. Then suddenly Lance shuddered. His kiss deepened, turning hard and hungry and overwhelming.
Summer felt the swift, responsive rise of heat inside her, the raw, coiling tension—and for an instant she even welcomed it. For a dozen heartbeats, she yearned to be swept away from the fear and despair, carried away on a primal rage of desire.
And then Lance’s splayed hand tightened around her bottom, drawing her hips roughly against him, letting her feel the blatant bulge at his loins, reminding her where this was leading.... She felt the danger in his kiss, the seeking, the need, the wildness like an explosion. Felt the fierce hunger in his embrace…brutal, lustful…hot and primitive.
Summer froze suddenly, assaulted with guilt and confusion and fear. How could she allow herself to feel such pleasure when her sister wasn’t safe? How could she let her passion get so out of hand? Frightened as much by her lack of willpower as the intensity of her feelings, she tried to draw back.
“Lance…no, we can’t…we can’t do this…please!”
Almost frantic, she pushed at his chest, until he abruptly let her go. Summer took a stumbling step backward, holding up her hands to ward him off.
He was breathing hard, his eyes molten, his face a dark, taut mask of confusion and desire. “You’re my wife, Summer,” he said unevenly, the strain in his voice apparent. “We have every right to ‘do this.’”
“I know…but maybe we shouldn’t… not until this is all over…until Amelia is safe…The others…” Her voice trailed off lamely at the way Lance had stiffened, at the harsh look that had taken hold of his features.
“You don’t want your white friends to know you’re humping a scum breed, is that it?”
“No…that isn’t it…I mean…” Weakly Summer raised a trembling hand to her forehead. “You don’t understand. I just can’t…deal with this just now.”
His jaw went rigid; she could see the clenched muscles even in the dim light. “Oh, I understand, princess,” he retorted with lethal softness. “Better than you know. You want me to risk my life for you, but I’m supposed to keep my filthy Injun hands off you in the meantime.”
Summer closed her eyes and swayed. “Lance…I didn’t mean…”
His mouth curled. “Don’t worry, princess. I’m not going to rape you. You couldn’t pay me to touch you again.” Lance’s scornful gaze flickered over her. “You’d better get inside where your fancy white friends can protect you. It’s dangerous out here in the dark, what with a savage breed roaming around.”
With that he turned abruptly on his heel and walked away, leaving a bewildered, regretful Summer to stare after him in the darkness.
Chapter 6
Summer gazed uneasily out the stage window late the following morning, counting the miles until the end of their journey and trying to ignore Mr. Yarby’s leering glances.