Storm groaned in frustration. She'd never met a more exasperating man. How in the world did his wife ever deal with him?

"If you're finished with your coffee there are ch.o.r.es I must do outside. Thank you for cutting wood for me. You may use the wagon whenever you like. I must confess, though, I would never have taken you for a thoughtful man."

Setting the cup down, Grady uncoiled his lean length from the chair. "You have no idea what I'm capable of, Storm Kennedy." His voice was low and strident, sending chills down her spine. "But one day you'll find out."

He turned abruptly and strode out the door, leaving Storm standing with her mouth open, ready to fling back a tart retort but unable to form the words. All she could do was stare at his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and the smooth tautness of his b.u.t.tocks encased in tight twill pants.

Though Storm tried to keep her mind occupied with work, Grady's face kept appearing out of nowhere to haunt her. She couldn't deny that he was appealing. His features were handsomely sculpted. His skin was bronzed from the sun, and his black hair, though a bit too long for her liking, contrasted vividly with his striking blue eyes. And his mouth ... boldly chiseled lips, wide but gracefully arched, generously curved, indolent ... tempting. Goodness, just thinking about the man gave her gooseb.u.mps. But what really set her to trembling was his sultry gaze. She couldn't ever recall Buddy looking at her in quite the same way.

That evening Storm prepared herself a lonely meal, wondering if she should have invited Grady to share it with her. Or perhaps she should invite Nat Turner out one night to sup with her. Though she'd never admit it to Grady, the life she led was indeed a lonely one. The last time she was in town she'd heard there was to be a big dance next Sat.u.r.day night; perhaps she should go. She quickly discarded that notion, aware that widows didn't attend dances and such doings during their time of mourning.

The mourning period seemed interminable, she thought bleakly. She and Buddy had been so young, no thought was ever given to the possibility that one of them might die any time soon. She knew Buddy wouldn't want her to grieve a long time, that he'd want her to be happy and enjoy life. Yet no matter how lonely Storm was, she knew that her land was her salvation, that come what may she'd hang on to it and survive. If only that d.a.m.n Grady Stryker would stop badgering her.

Storm glanced out the window, surprised at how dark it had grown while she ate dinner and cleaned up. Not a star was visible in the inky sky, and the pale sliver of moon was obscured by thick clouds rolling in from the west. The low rumble of thunder echoed over the prairie and distant streaks of lightning lit the moonless sky. Storm hoped the approaching storm wasn't a severe one, for storms had always made her nervous. Chiding herself for being a sissy, she prepared for bed.

The fine lawn nightdress had just fallen in place over her head when the sound of advancing hors.e.m.e.n echoed through the darkness. She flew to the window and threw aside the curtain. It was too dark out to see a thing, but the thunder of hooves grew louder with each pa.s.sing minute. A shiver of apprehension pa.s.sed over Storm's body. Instinctively she knew that this was no friendly visit from neighbors. She had the light doused and the fully loaded shotgun in her hands when the shooting and yelling started.

Crouching beneath the window, Storm searched her mind for a valid reason behind this senseless attack. With bullets flying at the house at a furious speed, she tried to think of someone who would wish her ill and came up blank. She had no idea how many men were shooting at her, or why, but the rapid firing indicated that more than one man was in the raiding party. They were circling the cabin, shooting at random and shouting, when a bullet shattered the gla.s.s window pane Storm was so proud of. Cautiously raising her head, she balanced the shotgun on the window ledge and fired a few rounds at the dark shadows as they rode past. It was far better to retaliate than let the raiders think she was a helpless woman cowering in a corner, Storm thought as she squeezed off another round. She had plenty of ammunition and could protect her property as well as any man. She would feel much better though, if she knew what this was all about.

And what would happen to her if she failed to chase the men away?

Her answer came sooner than she had antic.i.p.ated. A sudden quiet put a new fear into her as she raised her head to peer through the shattered window. She knew a moment of wild jubilation when she thought she had successfully chased the men off. But a moment later the locked door gave way beneath a pair of booted feet, crashing open with a loud bang. A scream left Storm's throat as the two men who had barged through the door saw her crouching beneath the window and started in her direction. They were upon her before she had time to raise the gun and squeeze the trigger.

Grady paced the narrow confines of his cabin in long, restless strides. Something had disturbed him, and his instincts were, usually right on target. He had made the rounds of his yard twice but found nothing amiss. Glancing toward Storm's homestead, he saw nothing threatening there. He shook his head, disgusted at himself for being so d.a.m.n fanciful. But usually his senses were so keen, he did not dismiss his intuition without careful investigation. Tonight had been the exception. Though his intuition told him otherwise, he had found nothing to even remotely suggest danger.

Stripping to his breechclout, Grady prepared to curl up in the bedroll that served as his bed. The air was cold and crisp; outside a storm was brewing. He'd worn much less in colder weather than this and thought nothing of walking around the cabin barefoot and nearly naked. Dismissing his fears, he stretched out on the bedroll, his mind suddenly filled with arousing visions of Storm, her honey brown eyes flashing with defiance and her body soft and warm in his arms. He closed his eyes and imagined her spread beneath him, her body moist and welcoming as he slid full and deep inside her. He could feel her tighten around him and ...

Suddenly he bolted upright. All his erotic thoughts skidded to a halt as the explosive sound of gunfire drifted across the prairie. Who could be firing guns at this time of night? he wondered as his mind worked furiously to sort out the ominous night sounds. His body tensed with painful awareness as his acute hearing told him the shots were coming from the direction of Storm's homestead. His body reacted before his mind gave the order.

Disdaining his clothing, lying neatly folded beside the bed, Grady grabbed his rifle and knife and flew out the door. A blood-curdling war cry left his throat as he leaped atop Lightning's bare back and kneed him viciously in the ribs. He had ridden without a saddle so often in the past, it seemed second nature to him. Neither icy wind nor sharp needles of sleet driving into his bare flesh slowed him as he raced across the prairie toward Storm's cabin. His thick black brows were drawn together in a fierce scowl, his mouth clamped tight, his eyes glazed as he imagined all the potentially life-threatening situations threatening Storm in the middle of the night.

A tremendous clap of thunder unleashed the full fury of the impending storm, and Lightning reared in fright. But Grady's strong hands soon brought him under control. The blackness of the night was relieved only by the brilliant display of lightning as the dim outline of Storm's darkened cabin came into view. The shooting had ceased, but Grady knew a new fear when a piercing scream rose above the rumble of thunder.

Reining Lightning to a skidding halt before the cabin, Grady jumped to the ground, noting with growing alarm that the door was open and hanging askew from one hinge. He burst through the portal just as Storm let loose another scream.

"Hold still, ya little wildcat. Ya won't get hurt if ya relax and loosen up a little. All me and my buddy want is to have us a little fun with ya. You're a ripe little piece." He reached out to squeeze Storm's breast. "I ain't felt t.i.tties like that in a month of Sundays."

His voice was m.u.f.fled, and Storm realized that the lower half of his face was covered with a bandana to avoid recognition.

"Hurry up, man, I'm so hard I'm about to bust my britches."

"What's the hurry? We got all night. I aim to do this up right."

"b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" Storm bit out from between clenched teeth. Her nightdress was yanked up to her waist and she screamed again as rough fingers prodded ruthlessly between her legs. Though she knew it would do her no good, she opened her mouth and screamed again.

Then, suddenly, all h.e.l.l broke loose. A huge body came hurtling through the partially open door, and both Storm's tormentors went flying across the room. Squinting into the darkness, Storm tried to discover the ident.i.ty of her rescuer, but it wasn't until a brilliant flash of lightning illuminated the cabin that she recognized Grady. He was crouched on the b.a.l.l.s of his bare feet, his lips drawn back in a vicious snarl, his bronzed skin slick with rain. The bulging muscles of his thighs and biceps flexed as he leaped forward, knife poised tightly in hand.

"Sonuvab.i.t.c.h! Let's get the h.e.l.l outta here before the renegade kills us!"

Taking advantage of the darkness, both men streaked past Grady and out the door. Acting reflexively, Grady sent his knife flying through the air. An agonized shriek told him that his aim had been true. But unfortunately the man had only been wounded, and he and his partner were soon riding h.e.l.l for leather across the prairie. Grady started to follow, but Storm's soft plea stopped him in his tracks.

"Don't leave me, Grady. Please don't leave me."

Chapter Six.

A flash of lightning sent jagged fingers of light arcing into the room, sculpting Grady's coppery skin in bold angles and hollows. It transformed him from mortal man to pagan deity, remote, savage, splendid in his nakedness. Storm couldn't take her eyes off him. Her arrested expression must have conveyed a message to him for he reached her in a bounding stride and picked her up. Cradling her securely in his arms, he sat down on the bed, placing her on his lap.

"It's all right, Storm, the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds are gone. They can no longer hurt you."

Her tremulous voice conveyed her confusion. "What did they want with me?"

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out. They didn't harm you, did they?"

She shook her head in vigorous denial. "You arrived in time. How-how did you know?"

"I heard gunfire. I sensed danger long before that but could find no reason for it. I wish you had let me go after the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds."

Her arms tightened around his neck. "I couldn't bear to be alone after-after those men tried to-tried to ..."

"Don't think about it, sweetheart. I promise it won't happen again. Next time I'll listen to my instincts. I wouldn't be surprised if Turner was behind the attack."

Stunned, Storm insisted, "No, Nat wouldn't become involved in such nasty business."

She was still trembling, and Grady began stroking her back in slow, lazy circles, soothing her as he would a child who needed comforting. Grady didn't press the issue, but deep in his heart he knew Nat Turner was capable of much more than Storm gave him credit for.

Another streak of lightning blazed a path across the inky sky and a roar of thunder rattled the windows, bringing a new fear to Storm. She clutched at him frantically and buried her head against the solid warmth of his chest.

"What is it? Are you afraid the men will return?"

Once again her head moved back and forth in a negative motion as she offered a m.u.f.fled explanation. "I never did like storms. When I was a small child one of my playmates was struck down by lightning. I couldn't understand why she didn't get up. Through the years, my fear of storms has never abated."

Grady tried to concentrate on her words, but by now the raw pleasure of having Storm warm and willing in his arms eclipsed all else. The single garment she wore offered little hindrance as his stroking hands tested the suppleness of her flesh beneath the linen nightdress. He felt the softness of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s against his chest and knew instinctively that he could never leave the cabin without attaining a glimpse of Paradise. And if he was any judge of emotions, it was what Storm wanted too.

"Perhaps I should leave," Grady suggested. "I'm only human, Storm. I can take only so much. Are you willing to test my endurance?"

Grady's stroking hands were so soothing, it took considerable effort for Storm to sort through his words. And when she did, she didn't care that he was asking her to send him away before it was too late. Under no circ.u.mstances did she want to be alone. The comfort she found in Grady's arms was far too pleasurable to abandon. She looked up at him with an astonishingly level gaze, and Grady had to look away, knowing that he intended to make love to her this night yet unable to stop the tide of pa.s.sion that surged through his loins.

He wanted Storm Kennedy. Wanted her with an urgency that transcended all reason and thought.

"I don't know what you want from me, Grady." Her voice was shaky and unsure. "Can't you accept the fact that I don't want to be alone and let it go at that?"

"You're amazingly innocent for all your bravado, love," Grady said softly. "I understand your fear perfectly. You're the one who doesn't understand what I want from you. Look at me, Storm."

Reluctantly, she raised her head, staring into the incredible blue depths of his eyes.

"I want to make love to you, Storm Kennedy." There, he'd said it. She could order him out now before it was too late or ...

Grady's words were like a caress against her skin. They seeped inside her, bringing a languor that prevented coherent speech. His breath was warm against her cheek, his naked chest and legs hard and unyielding. She felt the ponderous weight and substance of his hunger, so alive and palpable she could almost taste it, and something new and profound opened up inside her. It was almost as if a mystery was about to be revealed to her.

"Don't leave me, Grady." The words tumbled from her lips before her mind released them.

"Oh, lady."

His arms closed around her like steel bands; his hands grew boldly insistent as they made short work of the b.u.t.tons at her throat. Then she felt his warm lips nuzzling her neck as he pushed her nightdress down her arms to her waist. She gasped as the cool night air puckered the crushed rose velvet tips of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Another flash of lightning turned darkness into daylight, and Grady raised his head to stare at her bared flesh, his blue eyes startlingly intense. He let his eyes feast on the firm, lush b.r.e.a.s.t.s with their impudent nipples until his heart was beating so fast he could scarcely breathe.

"Oh, lady," Grady repeated in a strangled voice. "Sweet, so sweet. I knew you'd look like this."

He tugged at the hem of her nightdress, eager to rid her of the last remaining obstacle between him and all that he desired, but Storm resisted.

"Oh, G.o.d, I don't know what I'm doing. This isn't right. I can't."

Grady groaned, all restraint fleeing in a surge of pa.s.sion so profound it made a mockery of his Indian training. "I suspect you've never been loved like I'm going to love you," he managed to say. "Don't stop me now. I think I've waited for this moment my whole life." He tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his lips. "Kiss me, Storm."

She was still murmuring no and shaking her head when she raised her lips to his mouth. A thousand thoughts flew across her mind, but all she could think to say was, "You're wicked, Grady Stryker."

"I try to be," he replied, only seconds before his mouth covered hers hungrily. The thrust of his tongue into her mouth sent shock waves through her body, and Storm felt herself floundering in a strange world where only feelings existed. Grady had kissed her before, but this time his kisses promised more, much more. More than she wanted to know. He kissed her thoroughly, ravenously, claiming the length of her tongue with bold ferocity.

When his lips finally left her trembling mouth the torment did not cease. It merely intensified as they slid down the slim column of her throat to capture the tightly curled tip of her breast. He spent long, torturous minutes nipping first one then the other tender bud with strong white teeth, then laving them with the rough warmth of his tongue to take the pleasure/pain away. Did all men enjoy doing such things? Storm wondered dazedly. Buddy had never attempted so brazen an act.

Pausing, Grady gazed into Storm's pa.s.sion-glazed eyes and smiled at the arrested expression on her face. "Did you like that, sweet? It's only the beginning."

The beginning of what? Storm wondered distractedly. Curiosity overrode caution. Her reply was to sink her fingers into his long hair and pull him back to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. This time he kissed tantalizing circles around the firm mounds before drawing each nipple in turn into his mouth and suckling.

"Oh." She arched against him, pressing herself more fully into the warmth of his mouth. His suckling and nuzzling continued until suddenly Storm realized that another dimension to her torment had been added. His hand had found its way beneath the hem of her nightdress!

Grady was lost in a world of sensual pleasure, thrilled by Storm's innocent response to his loving. Her flesh was the color of cream and felt as soft and velvety as a baby's. He wanted to taste and touch every inch of her succulent flesh, wanted to thrust his hardness into her softness again and again, until she cried out in rapture. He wanted her to feel more pleasure with him than she had with her husband. He wanted his name on her lips when she reached her peak, not the name of a dead man.

Storm moaned as Grady's hand stroked along the inside of her thigh, sliding upward, finally coming to rest on the nest of blonde curls between her legs. She felt his fingers tense as they quested upward and found the moistness she had never been aware of before. He toyed for a moment in that downy softness before gently spiraling inward with one finger. Each sensation was new and unique, and Storm grasped Grady's shoulders to keep herself from falling into a dark abyss of sensual awareness such as she had never experienced before. Then he touched that place around which her pa.s.sion stemmed, and Storm nearly flew off his lap.

"Grady, oh G.o.d!"

"Relax, sweetheart. Take it slow and easy. Scream, cry, do whatever you want, I won't leave you."

Carefully he inserted another finger inside her, thrusting gently as his thumb rotated the tiny nub of flesh at the entrance, intensifying her pleasure a thousandfold. Vivid flashes of lightning-or did the light come from within her?-set her body aflame as his fingers stirred her flesh to raw, aching response. Storm knew that what Grady was doing to her was sinful, that the reason Buddy never made her feel like this was because it was too shameful to enjoy something so carnally satisfying. Only a devil would know just how and where to touch her to make her cry out and writhe and act like a wanton.

"Please, I don't ..." The words ended in a groan and shriek as the sweet ecstasy of climax took her by surprise. Thunder shook the earth, lightning charged her body from the inside out and she felt herself spinning-spinning ... She rode the crest of sensation, hovering between sanity and madness for long, pleasure-filled minutes.

"What's happening to me?" Her cry reached out to touch Grady's heart in a way it had never been touched before.

"Have you never attained climax before?" Grady asked, stunned. He could tell by the glazed look in her eyes that she didn't know what he was talking about. Then the look faded, replaced by an incredulous expression of disbelief as she lost her hold on reality.

When she returned to awareness moments later-or was it hours-Storm was lying on the bed, naked as the day she was born, and Grady was standing over her, grinning down at her with the aggressive leer of a savage aware of his power. He had lit a lantern, and soft light filled the room with dancing shadows. With growing apprehension she watched him release the string holding his breechclout in place. Her eyes followed it as it dropped to the floor.

"Look at me." Her eyes widened hugely as they slid upward to his groin. For the first time in her life Storm saw a fully aroused male organ. It protruded like a rigid shaft-strong, bold, sure, from a thick nest of coa.r.s.e ebony at the juncture of his thighs. He displayed no modesty as she stared at him, only pride in his body and the knowledge that he could give her pleasure.

"Storm." Embarra.s.sed by her burning perusal, her eyes returned to his face. "Touch me."

Her mouth dropped open in astonishment. "Touch you?"

He knelt on the bed, the size and strength of him frightening, yet oddly stirring. She couldn't be absolutely certain, for she had never seen Buddy nude, but she was almost positive her husband hadn't been as generously endowed. Her tongue flicked out to moisten her lips in a gesture that sent Grady's senses reeling.

His eyes focused on the way her tongue probed provocatively at the corners of her mouth and licked across the soft pads of her lush lips. Every nerve and sinew came alive with the pleasure that he knew would soon be his.

"Touch me," he repeated. "Don't be afraid. I'm not much different from any other man."

Not different? Storm thought mentally. She wanted to disagree, to tell him he was unique, that no other man could compare with him. His strong, angular face, proud bearing, and dark coppery skin proclaimed him as different from other men as night from day.

When she resisted his plea, he reached out and grasped her hand, placing it on his distended member. Her eyes grew enormous, but curiosity overrode reluctance as her nerveless fingers stroked up and down his shaft and over its velvety tip. He groaned and lurched against her hand. When she looked up at him his eyes were closed and his face strained, as if caught in the throes of agony. Then his hand closed around hers, wrapping it more tightly around his hardness, thrusting into the soft warmth of her palm.

"Enough!" he gasped, flinging her hand away and dropping onto the bed beside her. "Now, sweet lady, we shall see if Thunder can tame the Storm."

Rising to his knees and elbows, he lay full length atop her, wedging himself snugly between her thighs. Then he was kissing her, everywhere his lips could reach, teasing, nipping, tantalizing her with the hot moistness of his mouth. His hands moved restlessly over her flesh, stroking, caressing, seeking-bold-arousing, making her feel things she had never felt before. When one hand inserted itself between their bodies and probed between her legs, Storm jerked in violent response.

"Don't, please! I don't understand what you're doing to me."

"I'm making you happy, lady," Grady replied as he flexed his hips and placed his swollen shaft into position at the cleft of her womanhood. His hands sank beneath her to cup her b.u.t.tocks, holding her tightly as he flexed again, parting, penetrating, sliding into the liquid heat of her. Deep, deeper ... When he was fully embedded in her, Storm sucked in a ragged breath as she felt herself stretching to accommodate him. Nothing in her limited experience had prepared her for the shock of total possession by a man as magnificent as Grady Stryker. Never had she felt such fullness or pleasure with Buddy, she thought wonderingly.

"Oh, lady, I've never felt anything so good," Grady groaned against her lips.

He stroked her slowly, knowledgeably, both inside and out, with his hands and lips and shaft. She tilted her hips against him, unconsciously seeking more, and he dutifully obliged. Suddenly the slow rise and fall of his b.u.t.tocks grew wildly frantic as he strained toward climax, and Storm's senses erupted into wild, swirling pleasure. Thrusting, withdrawing, thrusting, she surrendered fully to his breathtaking ferocity, meeting his thrusts in staccato bursts of brilliant response that left Grady breathless with wonder.

Thunder's fury has tamed the Storm, he thought triumphantly. Nothing nature created could compare to the fierce, wild pleasure he found in Storm Kennedy's arms.

Storm soared, lifted on the wings of Grady's pa.s.sion. The dazzling promise of climax dangled before her eyes like a ripe plum and she reached for it, giving herself up to the heat of Grady's loving. The second climax of her life, when it came moments later, exploded inside her in wave after wave of lush, sensual rapture, and she cried out in unrestrained awe. Through a gathering mist she felt his body's forces straining, focusing on release. His muscles tensed, his body surged and withdrew, his thrusts grew furious and uncontrolled.

The white-hot splendor that washed over Grady was like nothing he'd ever experienced before. His body was racked by spasms, his face a mask of agony and ecstasy as his seed spurted into the receptive heat of her womb.

When at last his breathing slowed to dull thunder, Grady slid from Storm's tight sheath and lay beside her. Fitting her into the curve of his body, he continued to stroke and caress her. He felt strong and invincible, stronger than he ever felt in his life, strong enough to want her again ... now.

"Storm." His voice was soft. "Are you all right?"

Her m.u.f.fled reply was a bit shaky. "Yes."

"Is it true, what you said earlier? About never having reached a climax with your husband, I mean."

Storm buried her face in the pillow, too embarra.s.sed to allow him to see her confusion. She never even knew women could feel pleasure in the marriage bed. Or wanted to.

"I-why must we speak of such things?"

"Because I want to know. Tell me, sweetheart."