He didn’t notice that Freddy had crawled out of the tent until he heard a chorus of muttered swearing rising from the bedrolls. When he stood, he saw her reeling toward him, tripping over bedrolls, a tired but radiant smile lighting her face.
She gripped his arms when she reached him, excitement trapping the low firelight in her eyes. “The fever’s broken! The fever’s broken! Les will make it now! She’s weak as a calf, but she’s going to be all right!” Throwing her arms around his waist, she pressed her forehead against his chest and wept.
The worst thing he could have done was wrap his arms around her, but he couldn’t help himself. Making soothing sounds deep in his throat, he held her, stroked her shaking shoulders, and let her cry out the last ten days of fear and worry and now relief.
When she finally raised her face, he discovered he’d made a mistake. The worst thing was not holding her. It was kissing her. He couldn’t help doing that either.
Chapter 15
Her response to his kiss was as shatteringly explosive as her response had been the night she’d lost her horse during the stampede. Dal’s mouth came down on hers, hard and possessive, and an earthquake rocked Freddy’s body, shaking loose a fiery urgency that bubbled through her bloodstream. Any fleeting thought of resistance melted in the heat between their hips, in the fervor of seeking lips and thrusting tongues.
She’d been mad to throw herself into his arms, crazy to pretend that touching him wouldn’t be like setting a match to paper. But somewhere beneath the relief of knowing that Les would live and recover had been the excitement of finding a justification to throw caution and sensibility to the winds and seek the thrill of his arms. She had flown to him as unerringly as a moth to the flame, and deep in her heart she knew where it would lead. At some point, without knowing exactly how or when it happened, she had made a decision that she recognized only now.
A low groan wrenched from his throat, and he whispered her name against her lips. His hands stroked her back, her hips, strayed toward her buttocks then slid away. Beneath the wildness unleashed by his kisses, Freddy retained enough presence of mind to realize he fought the frenzied arousal she felt in his body and in hers.
So many things had changed since they had walked away from each other the last time. It might have been her instead of Les who was gashed by a needle-tipped horn; she could die without ever knowing him. Now she understood that she might take nothing away from this drive except the memory of Dal Frisco. Most of all, she needed respite from the continual wondering and longing and desire that kissing him before had unleashed. What she felt went beyond wanting him; she needed him.
“Please,” she begged mindlessly, tearing her lips from his. Her hands pressed and tugged at his chest. Her hips teased against him. And she felt the heat pouring off of him in waves, felt the powerful iron urgency of his desire answering her own.
“Are you certain?” he whispered, his voice husky and strangled.
She was very sure. She hadn’t known it until his arms closed around her, and she felt his ragged breath stir her hair, but she knew it now. “Yes,” she breathed against his lips. “Yes, yes.”
Lifting her in his arms, Dal carried her away from the revealing glow of the fire, carried her past the sleeping drovers and far out on the range. He set her on her feet in the darkness, kissed her deeply, almost savagely, then strode away from her. “Wait here.”
Freddy had a moment to ask if she really wanted to do this. And the answer was yes. In the eyes of most who knew her, she was already ruined. She licked her lips and tasted him there. And the answer was yes. She thought of all the times she had said no. And this time the answer was yes.
Would she regret this one day? Would she look back and ask, why Dal Frisco? No other man had aroused her like he did. No other man had possessed her thoughts as he had. No other had challenged her as Dal did or asked as much of her. No man had made her as aware of her body or as aware of his. There were so many things she admired about him, had come to respect about him. Would she regret choosing him? No.
She heard his boots moving through the grass, then he was in front of her, spreading a blanket on the ground. When he came to her, he gazed into her eyes and placed his hot hands on her waist. “I can think of a dozen reasons why this shouldn’t happen,” he said in a hoarse low voice. “But you look at me like that, and I can’t stop wanting you so much that I ache with it.”