She screeched and howled, flailed out her arms, but to no avail. Once, she almost booted him in the crotch.
In retaliation, the wretch nipped at her right buttock with his teeth. Even through the fabric of the dress and slacks, she felt the sting. “Try that again and I’ll put a permanent bite mark around your tattoo.”
Gritting her teeth, she pressed her hot face against the wet flannel of his red shirt near the lower back. She could see that his miner’s pants were sopping, too, and his leather shoes squished with each step. Even his suspenders dripped. Good!
Once they got to the busy horse market, which was situated in the middle of a grove of oak trees at the bottom of K Street, Rafe turned with her still draped ignominiously over his shoulder.
Her continual screams to be put down were drowned out by the cacophony of braying mules, neighing horses, and a half dozen auctioneers selling their animals around the clearing. Helen craned her neck from her upside-down position behind Rafe’s back, but all she could see were the blue-and-white canvas tents of the auctioneers and an open-sided livery stable. The smell of fresh hay and manure permeated the air.
Rafe walked beyond the horse market and up a small rise with a screen of bushes, then dropped her. Before she had a chance to spring to her feet and claw his face, he followed her down to the ground, pinning her with his heavy body, soaking her with his wet clothes. His slicked-back hair drizzled onto her face, and her gown blotted up the extra water from his clothes.
She tried to push him off, but he threaded his fingers through hers, forcing both hands to the ground above her shoulders. Digging in her heels for leverage, with bent knees, she bucked against him, but only managed to shift his body so his hips were more firmly wedged against hers.
Closing her eyes briefly, she stopped struggling and took several deep, calming breaths. When she finally lifted her lashes, she expected to see him gloating, or grinning.
Instead, he stared down at her somberly, bracing himself on straightened arms, his hands still linked with hers. His lips were parted and he panted from their exertions. Blue eyes that had been angry only moments before swept her face with an expression Helen could only describe as wistful.
Her heart skipped a beat. Fighting for sanity in an insane situation, Helen complained, “You shouldn’t have carried me through the streets like that. It was humiliating.”
He nodded. “You’re right, but you shouldn’t have pushed me in the horse trough. That was humiliating.”
“You deserved it, you brute, for trying to buy condoms.”
“I’m a brute for wanting to protect you?” He tilted his head quizzically.
“That’s not the point. Mr. Huntington and all these goof-ball miners will think you and I… that… I mean…” Her face turned hot. In fact, she was feeling real hot, all over.
“Make love?” he finished for her. “Helen, we’re supposed to be married. I’m supposed to be a bandit. You’re supposed to be a whore. Of course, they think we make love.”
“Oh, you twist everything I say,” she snapped and tried to look away, but his compelling eyes held hers.
“You’re not making sense.”
No kidding! Suddenly, the air resonated with tension, and Helen was acutely aware of the sun, the singing birds, and Rafe. She felt sensuous and sensitized and sensational, lying under him. No wonder she wasn’t making sense. “You shouldn’t have tried to buy condoms because you’re not going to need condoms.”
“Why is that?” he asked huskily as he released her hands and cupped her face.
Her arms remained frozen to the ground in a posture of surrender. “Because… because…” Oh, Lord! His face was lowering to hers, his breath fanning her face. His mesmerizing eyes were half-shuttered and smoky with desire. Oh, my! “Because I found out you were using me. Because we’re not going to make love. Remember?”
“Honey, we’re making love right now.” He sighed against her lips.
“We are?” she choked out, and couldn’t believe she opened for him, helping him shape her lips to his gently coaxing kiss. She touched the tip of her tongue against his and boldly invaded his mouth, seeking his taste, his heat, his wet hunger.