Storm turned in Grady's arms until she could see the harsh outline of his face in the lamp's dull glow. The flickering light danced provocatively on his stark features, revealing all the misery and anguish he was suffering.

"I take it Summer Sky's death was unexpected."

Grady snorted bitterly. "Not only was it unexpected but an act of depraved cruelty by despicable men."

Storm held her breath, waiting for him to continue without being prodded. She truly believed that by opening up to her some of the hurt and bitterness he harbored in his heart would heal.

Grady's mind traveled backward in time, reliving again that terrifying day when his whole world fell apart. He had been barely twenty-two years old and Summer Sky a few months younger. Tim wasn't quite a year old, and Summer Sky was already swelling with his second child.

When he spoke again his voice was devoid of all emotion.

"I was with Father the day it happened, helping round up horses for the army, and Mother was visiting a sick neighbor. Summer Sky took the wagon to town to purchase material for baby clothes. She left Tim at home with Sweet Gra.s.s, Summer Sky's mother. Summer Sky's parents lived on the ranch, where Jumping Buffalo worked for Father. That's why Summer Sky and I were raised together. Laughing Brook was three years younger than we were. A boy, born later, died at birth; only the girls survived."

He paused, dragging in a ragged breath that seemed to sear his lungs. Storm didn't know if he would continue, but he cleared his throat and proceeded in a toneless voice, as if reciting something that had been indelibly etched upon his brain.

"Somewhere between the ranch and town, Summer Sky was attacked by three desperadoes. We learned what happened from Summer Sky before she died. She said that three thugs stopped the wagon and began tormenting her, calling her 'Indian squaw' and 'white man's wh.o.r.e.' They noticed her pregnancy and taunted her about carrying a white man's b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

"Oh, Grady, how terrible," Storm said, genuinely appalled.

"Summer Sky was the gentlest, most giving creature alive," Grady replied bitterly. "She wouldn't have hurt a living soul. Her entire life was devoted to making me happy and raising our children in a peaceful atmosphere."

"What happened then?" Storm prodded.

"One of the men lunged for her, pulling her down from the wagon. He held her while his friends began tearing off her clothes. She feared they would rape her and harm her unborn child. She reacted violently, fighting desperately for her life, but the men easily subdued her. They bore her to the ground and she screamed. Her screams must have frightened the horse hitched to the wagon, for she said it reared and began stomping the ground in a wild frenzy.

"The three men leaped out of the way, but Summer Sky did not react swiftly enough. She tried to protect her child, but the badly frightened animal stomped her viciously, injuring her gravely. The men fled when they saw how badly Summer Sky had been hurt. They might have saved her had they sought help for her immediately. Instead, they rode away and left her to abort her child in the dirt. Father and I found her hours later when we returned from the pasture. She lived long enough to tell me what happened before dying in my arms."

Storm was horrified. No wonder Grady was so bitter. "What happened to the men who caused Summer Sky's death?" Storm asked softly. "Did they go to jail for their vicious act?"

Suddenly Grady seemed to come out of his lethargy. His expression grew fierce, his voice heated as he spat out his answer. "They could never be found. Since Summer Sky was merely an Indian, little effort was made to bring them to justice. From that day on I despised that part of me that was white. I hated the men responsible for the death of an innocent woman and I blamed the law for failing to find Summer Sky's killers."

Storm's eyes grew misty, feeling compa.s.sion for the confused youth who had lost his wife and abandoned his family because of man's inhumanity to his fellow man. The men responsible for Summer Sky's death were cruel, vicious animals.

"So you left your parent's ranch," she whispered.

"They begged me not to go, pleaded with me to leave Tim in their care," Grady recalled, "but my hate even extended to them. If Father hadn't needed my help that day and if Mother hadn't allowed Summer Sky to go into town alone, my wife might still be alive today. I'm afraid I said things I didn't really mean before I left. My G.o.d, I'm appalled at how deeply I've hurt them," he agonized.

"I'm sure they've forgiven you."

"Perhaps they have forgiven me my hasty words, but they will never be able to forget what I became after I left the ranch. After Summer Sky's death, her parents and sister no longer felt safe at Peaceful Valley, and I escorted them to the reservation in the Black Hills. I felt such a kinship with the People that I became one of them. I learned all there was to know about their ways, forgetting all the values I was taught by my mother and father. Eventually I became a fierce warrior, bent on destroying the White Eyes responsible for the death of my wife. As a final act of defiance, I rode with renegades who raided and stole food and guns. I even fought against the army in which my own father served.

"I'm sure it must have hurt my father deeply when he learned what I was doing. He's devoted his life to fighting discrimination, and so has Mother. It never occurred to me that what I was doing was as much an act of prejudice as what those drifters did to Summer Sky."

"I think you're too hard on yourself, Grady."

"No harder than I deserve. It wasn't until I realized my son was more important to me than vengeance that I tried to escape the violence that followed me wherever I went."

"Is that why you left the reservation?"

"I left because Wakantanka came to me in a vision and told me it was time to go," Grady explained. "Even then I refused to give up my violent ways and drifted for six months, searching for a place where I felt as if I belonged. I lived by the gun. I accepted all challenges and made a name for myself as a gunslinger. As you have good reason to know, men came looking for me, hoping to make a name for themselves by outshooting the Renegade, the name given to me by those who knew of my past."

"Do you know the men who caused Summer Sky's death?"

"I have never seen them, but Summer Sky gave me their descriptions before she died, and the sheriff found their names on wanted posters. I will never forget them."

"What if you run across them one day? Will you take the law into your own hands? You have a son to think about, Grady, and a wife."

For the first time since Buddy's death Storm saw things clearly. She was wrong to hold Grady responsible for Buddy's death. Poor Buddy just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. The truth of the matter was that Grady had been challenged, and if he hadn't reacted swiftly he would have been cut down in the street. The bullet that killed Buddy did not come from Grady's gun. Living with vengeance had changed Grady from a happy youth to a hardened renegade called Thunder and made him a bitter and remorseless man. The same thing could happen to her if she didn't forgive Grady for his part in Buddy's death.

"I truthfully don't know what I would do if that happened," Grady said slowly.

"I forgive you, Grady."

"What?"

"I shouldn't have held you responsible for Buddy's death. It was an accident-a tragic one, but an accident nevertheless."

"What about the other?" Grady asked solemnly.

"Other? What do you mean?"

"What about the guilt you feel when I make love to you? Do you still regret that it is me bringing you pleasure instead of your dead husband? Do you still feel shame that I can make you feel things that Buddy never did?"

Storm flushed, embarra.s.sed that he read her mind so effortlessly. "I can't help it. I knew Buddy all my life, just as you knew Summer Sky. It frightens me that you have touched my life so profoundly in such a short time. What kind of woman am I?"

"A pa.s.sionate woman, Storm Stryker, who never knew the joy of s.e.xual fulfillment until I gave it to you. It pleases me more than you'll ever know to think that you gave me much more than your virginity, which rightfully belonged to Buddy. I'd much rather have your fire, your pa.s.sion, your soul."

Storm went still. "You said you didn't want my soul," she said quietly. "You didn't even want my love."

"Do I have it?"

"Do I have yours?"

How like Storm to answer a question with a question, Grady thought, suppressing a grin.

"You have the only emotion I am capable of at the moment."

"What is that?"

"I care for you. I wouldn't have married you if I didn't. My body wants you, more than it's ever wanted another woman. You have my pa.s.sion, my care, my consideration. As for love, let's take one step at a time. Now it's your turn."

"I could love you so easily, Grady," Storm confessed, "but I'm afraid."

"What do you fear?"

"I fear the hatred that still exists in your heart, the violence that comes searching for you, and the l.u.s.t for vengeance that fills your life. I fear losing you as I lost Buddy-and I fear surrendering my soul and receiving nothing in return."

"Don't ever fear me," Grady said, raining gentle kisses on her lips. "I won't ever hurt you. Loving you with my body cleanses my soul of all its hatred. You're good for me, Storm. I need you. Tim needs you."

"Oh, Grady, I want to believe you."

"If you can't believe me, then believe in the way I make you feel and trust your emotions. I'm going to love you again, sweet, and when your body is burning and you're panting with rapture, remember that few couples ever experience anything so profound. Then tell me whether or not you believe what I have just told you."

His kisses fell like gentle summer rain on her face and throat, and she felt his hand slide over her abdomen, her skin shivering beneath his touch. When his fingers moved lower, seeking the center of her desire, Storm opened her legs and allowed him free access.

"Oh, G.o.d, this is what I want," Grady gasped as his hands sought the moistness between her legs. Storm felt helpless, but instead of being shamed by it, a blossoming excitement built within her and her body grew taut as a stretched canvas. His lips silenced her soft cries and his tongue danced against hers in desperate need. Then suddenly he was on her, in her, thrusting, retreating, thrusting again.

The force of Grady's fervor rocked her to her very core, and Storm gasped as she was flung over the edge of pleasure's peak. Her body shuddered as she watched Grady strive toward his own climax. In the throes of pa.s.sion he looked more fierce and threatening than the renegade savage she had originally thought him to be. Yet she knew him to be more vulnerable at this moment than at any other time in his life. Suddenly he threw back his head and roared. His seed spilled against her womb as he held her fiercely, possessively. Unwilling to be privy to so intimate a moment, Storm closed her eyes.

"Open your eyes, sweetheart," he whispered, stroking the silky strands of her blonde hair.

She did as she was told and found her eyes straying to the curving sweep of his lips. Flushing, she recalled what those lips could do to her, how they could drive her wild with need. Her next thought was that his lips were the only soft part of him.

"Are you ready to answer my question now, lady?" His voice held a note she'd never heard before.

Storm thought a long time before recalling what he had asked. "I believe your body wants me, and I believe you want to live without violence and the need for vengeance, but I don't believe you are ready yet to forget the past and look only to the future. Your old life is too deeply ingrained in you. But I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt and trust that our life together will be serene."

"Serene? Ha!" Grady laughed. "You don't have a serene bone in your body. I suspect we'll disagree often, and you'll win more times than you'll lose. With you I won't know one day to the next what to expect, until we go to bed. Then I will make you purr like a contented kitten."

"Grady Stryker!" She punched him playfully.

"Go to sleep, sweet, before I exhaust you so thoroughly you'll not be able to rise from bed tomorrow."

"Grady."

"Ummmm." His eyes were closed, his breathing even. Storm could tell he was on the edge of sleep.

"About Laughing Brook. Isn't it time she returned to the reservation?"

Silence.

"Dammit, Grady, answer me, I don't think ..."

His soft rumbling snore told her he hadn't heard a word she'd said. So much for demanding answers from a strong-willed man like Grady Stryker.

During the weeks that followed Storm found a happiness she had despaired of ever finding again after Buddy's death. Even Laughing Brook ceased to annoy her, and to her joy Tim began to accept her into his life. The child no longer ran to Laughing Brook for comfort or advice, and little by little his resentment of Storm began to wane. Storm knew that the time had arrived to send Laughing Brook back to the reservation, and Grady concurred wholeheartedly.

Grady had already tilled a large section of their land and planted wheat, a backbreaking job, but an immensely rewarding one. One day Storm received word that the cattle she'd ordered had arrived and were in the holding pen in Guthrie. She and Grady rode to town, and she spent nearly all the money left in her bank account to pay for the cattle. When Grady tried to pay for the animals with his money, Storm adamantly refused. Since it was something she had planned before they married, she felt she should be the one to pay. Grady didn't feel right about it, but decided to let her have her way. The cattle were driven home and turned loose on Storm's 160 acres.

While in town Grady arranged to have a well drilled on his land and water piped into the house so it could be pumped from the sink. Once it was completed Storm was thrilled that she no longer had to draw water from the river. When Storm asked if Grady could afford it, he merely laughed, telling her they weren't as dirt poor as she suspected.

But the best part of those weeks were the nights. Lying in Grady's arms was pure heaven-and sometimes the most tormenting h.e.l.l. No matter how hard Storm tried, she couldn't shut out the lingering guilt over the wanton way in which she responded to Grady's love-making. But she was astute enough not to let it interfere with her budding relationship with her husband and a.s.sumed that in time those feelings would disappear altogether.

When Laughing Brook was told to prepare for her return trip to the reservation she begged to be allowed to remain, and even enlisted Tim to plead in her behalf. But Grady was adamant. He had promised Jumping Buffalo, Laughing Brook's father, that he would return his daughter when Tim no longer needed her, and he sensed that the time had arrived when Tim could dispense with Laughing Brook's company. Grady felt he had indulged his son long enough. Tim was old enough to realize that he must grow up. Storm was ecstatic when Grady told her Laughing Brook would be leaving in a few days. Then something happened that shattered Storm's newfound happiness.

One day Storm accompanied Grady to Guthrie to buy supplies. While driving through town she saw someone she had hoped never to see again. Nat Turner had returned to Guthrie. He was standing in front of the bank, talking to a man neither she nor Grady had ever seen before.

"Grady, look!" Storm said as they pa.s.sed the bank. "Isn't that Nat Turner?"

"What the h.e.l.l!" Grady spat disgustedly. "I thought I told him never to show his face in Guthrie again."

"Do you know the man he's talking to?"

The man in question was big; big and ugly and nearly as broad as he was tall. His barrel chest and thick arms gave mute testimony to his ma.s.sive strength. He wore his guns in the style of gunfighters, shoved into a leather holster riding low on his hips and tied down at his thigh. Suddenly Turner spotted them and said something to the man beside him. Then they both turned and stared pointedly at Grady and Storm. The gunman's beady eyes narrowed until they were mere slits in his florid face. His considering gaze rested on Storm for a brief moment before continuing on to Grady, where they stopped abruptly and remained.

An unexpected shudder traveled down Storm's spine. "Why is that man staring at you?"

Grady gave a careless shrug. He knew exactly what the man wanted, but deliberately kept that information from Storm. He'd seen that look too many times in the past not to recognize it. The man represented the kind of violence Grady had once relished but had been hoping to avoid since his marriage to Storm. They all had the same look about them; the c.o.c.ky att.i.tude, the guarded expression. Grady knew what to expect but tried to deny it. He had promised Storm he wouldn't seek violence and he intended to keep his promise.

Grady's body tensed, his eyes narrowed and watchful. Years of training and experience had taught him to trust no one, especially those men who came looking for a fight. He had hoped that in the months he'd settled in Oklahoma his reputation for mayhem would have slowly died. But unless he was mistaken, he was about to receive another challenge. This time the challenger wouldn't find him so eager to defend his reputation. That reputation just wasn't worth losing Storm.

The wagon turned the corner and Grady reined in before the seed store. The general store, where Storm intended to shop, was across the street.

"What do you suppose Nat Turner is doing back in town?" Storm asked worriedly as Grady swung her to the ground.

"It doesn't matter," Grady said. "He can do nothing to hurt you. He knows I'll kill him if he so much as touches you."

"Did you recognize the man he was talking to?"

"I never saw him before," Grady said guardedly. But he had seen men just like him in every town along the western frontier.

"He looked at you as if he knew you."

Grady shrugged. "Forget him, sweet. There are countless men like him in the territory. They'll never amount to anything. They drift from place to place making a living by whatever dishonest means they can."

"I don't like the idea of him being with Turner."

"Don't worry, Storm, I promise those men won't harm you. It's getting late. I suggest you get your shopping done."

"It's not me I'm worried about," Storm muttered as she crossed the street to the general store.

When Storm returned to the wagon a short time later Grady hadn't returned yet from the seed store, but Nat Turner and his cold-eyed friend were leaning against the wagon waiting for them.

"Well, Mrs. Stryker, how nice to see you again," Turner said, tipping his hat cordially.

"The feeling is not mutual," Storm said. She swished her skirt haughtily as she deliberately avoided both men.

"That's no way to act," Turner said, affronted. "We were good friends once."

"That was before you tried to steal my homestead."

"That's your opinion." Turner grunted as all pretense of cordiality disappeared. "My friend and I were just discussing your husband."

"If you have questions, ask me, not my wife." Grady's voice was deep and menacing, giving the gunman enough reason to whirl and reach for his gun. "I wouldn't if I were you." Grady had left the store only moments before and his temper nearly exploded when he saw Turner and the gunman talking to Storm.

The gunman's hand dropped to his side and Turner held open his coat, showing that he wasn't armed. "Now, what was it you wanted to know?" Grady asked with icy disdain.