The Savage

Impudently Summer wrinkled her nose at him, forcing a light reply. “Well, at least you admit now that you misjudged me.”

“I didn’t make it very easy for you.”

“That you didn’t.”

“I guess I’m not used to this husband business. It’ll take some time, I reckon.”

Summer smiled. “I’m not exactly accustomed to being a wife, either.”

“I have something for you,” he said quietly as he reached in his vest pocket. When she looked at him questioningly, he handed her a small leather pouch. “I never gave you a real wedding ring, so maybe this will do.”

Inside was a small seed pearl mounted on a thin band of silver. “It belonged to my mother.”

“Oh, Lance, it’s lovely.”

“It isn’t much—”

“Oh, but it is.” Slipping it on her left ring finger to find it a perfect fit, Summer held out her hand to admire the delicate filigree mounting. Strangely, his gift pleased her far more than any expensive jewelry could have done, for it meant Lance might finally be coming to trust her, at least a little, if he was willing to part with a ring that, while not worth much in monetary terms, had profound sentimental value to him. “I shall cherish it. I know how much your mother meant to you.”

“Yeah. She did,” he responded gruffly.

Reaching out, he took Summer’s hand, his fingers closing tightly around hers. She saw a softness in his hard face that she’d never seen before. She felt the callused skin of his palm, strong as leather, warm against her own, as he slowly drew her down to him for his kiss.

The careful brush of his mouth caught her off guard. Surprisingly, there was nothing lustful about his caress. Instead it was a mingling of quiet breath, a tentative exploration. She tasted uncertainty, a mute questioning, as if all his defenses were down and he were lying bare a vulnerable and lonely soul.

It made her feel oddly humble, having this wary, mistrustful man open himself to her.

When he pulled her down beside him, Summer went willingly. He tucked her against his body, her head on his shoulder, as if he simply wanted to share the closeness. As if he wanted to hold and be held. She knew that need. There had been countless times during the past five years when she’d longed for someone to turn to, to lean on and help lessen the pain, a compatriot in the struggle merely to get through each day.

And perhaps that was what Lance really needed from her, after all. He had claimed he wanted a wife who could help him become a respected member of the community, but perhaps what he wanted was more basic, more essential. What he wanted, what he needed, was acceptance of the most elemental kind: the simple human warmth he had never had except from his mother and his Comanche family.

They rode home reluctantly, not eager to spoil the intimacy of the day, and discovered an unexpected visitor awaiting them in the stable yard. Summer tensed when she spied the man standing beside her brother, dreading another encounter with Will Prewitt, but relaxed as soon as she realized the visitor was much taller and bulkier than Prewitt.

Harlan Fisk, their closest neighbor and owner of one of the largest cattle ranches in the area, had been a good friend of her father’s, as well as one of the countless malleable, softhearted males to spoil John Weston’s youngest daughter rotten. Summer had always liked him, and not just because he let her have her way.

Harlan greeted her now with a fond smile, although the glance that flickered over Lance was less welcoming as he dismounted and helped Summer down.

“There you are,” Reed said jovially. “I didn’t know where you’d gone, so I couldn’t say when you’d be back.”

“Lance was showing me the site for our new house he means to build,” Summer replied purposefully, determined to show their guest her solidarity with her husband.

Her brother raised an eyebrow, but didn’t follow up on the opening. “Lance, you know Harlan Fisk. Harlan rode over to welcome you to the neighborhood.”

Immediately the man stepped forward, his hand outstretched. “Hello, son.”

His face shuttered, Lance stared down at the proffered hand. “You want to welcome me?”

Summer drew a sharp breath at his hesitation, but Harlan had obviously been expecting it, for he didn’t seem to take offense. “Yes, that, and to say thank you for getting our Miss Amelia back. I want you to know how grateful I am—we all are. You took on a job that none of the rest of us had the gumption to face.”

Stubbornly he kept his hand out, and Lance seemed to sense a determination as strong as his own. Warily he extended his hand, which the other man shook firmly.

“Nice to have you as a new neighbor, Calder.”

Disbelief in his expression, Lance nodded carefully.

Reed cleared his throat. “Harlan and his wife plan to hold a barbecue next Saturday, and he brought our invitations personally.”

“Why, Harlan, how thoughtful!” Summer said brightly, thinking it was time she intervened. “A barbecue! What a splendid idea. I’m certain we would be delighted to attend.” Stepping forward, she stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek.