Lonesome Rider and Wilde Imaginings by Heather Graham Page A

nearly roared.
    â€œShh!” she whispered as wild alarm filled her eyes.
    He gritted his teeth. “So you don’t mind sleeping with a half-breed, you just don’t want the world knowing about it?”
    She inhaled sharply between her teeth. Then, she tried to leap away. He dragged her back, the weight of his body pinning her to the bed when she struggled.
    â€œDamn you—” Blade said again. He could feel her lie still, rigidly still, her emerald eyes staring into his, her face so very beautiful, so very proud.
    â€œHow dare you!” she said angrily. “Don’t blame me for whatever chips you carry on your shoulders!”
    He started. He had never really known that he carried a chip on his shoulder. He’d spent his life being proud of being Sioux. But his father had been a fine man, too, a good man, a strong one, a fair one. And he’d lived in his white father’s world for a long time. He’d learned that there were many men and women who considered any Indian a savage, a different breed, untamed, uncivilized. And so he’d spent most of his life making damned sure that everything he did, he did the best it could be done.
    Once, his fastidiousness had made him invaluable to Quantrill, and when he walked away from Quantrill’s white man’s savagery, he had used his running, shooting and fighting abilities to fight with Mosby in the East, in the Shenandoah. He’d known all along that the Union generals were determined to hang Mosby’s men when they caught them, and so he had been determined never to get caught. It hadn’t mattered. If they’d known him from before, he’d have had a price on his head. He hadn’t planned on staying with Quantrill long, it was just that Quantrill had been the one after the Red Legs, the Kansas Jayhawkers.
    He had learned early a certain stoicism. That had helped him on the day. His Rebel troops had lain down their arms. Surrendered. Surrender had meant that it was time to go after those men again. The men who had stripped him of his life.
    Blade rolled his weight from her once again, stepping to the floor. Naked, he padded to the window in the silence of the night. Jessica went for her sheets, instinctively. He could see her movement from the corner of his eye.
    From somewhere near, a wolf howled. He saw Jessica shiver, yet he didn’t think it was from the strange cry of the wolf. How could she be such a damned strong-willed woman and yet seem so achingly vulnerable and beautiful, binding slender ribbons inexorably around his soul? She made him want her again. Made feelings beat within him once again, just looking at her there. He knew that if he touched her …
    â€œDamn you!” he said softly, to the night.
    â€œWhy!” she cried, a note of passion in her voice. “You can turn now and walk away. You won, I lost, remember? I always pay my debts. You’re free. You can leave whenever you want. I’ve paid—”
    He swung on her. “Paid? I think I said for the night. It’s only half over, the best that I can see!”
    Jessica fell silent, a blush staining her cheeks. Blade strode to the bed, newly aroused, and not giving a damn that she would see his hardness. She had nothing against half-breeds and she was willing to sell her soul to stay. She wanted to play the game no matter how rough it became.
    He wrenched the sheets from her and straddled her. She clenched her jaw, her eyes flashing, her hands coming up against his chest. But he caught them.
    â€œOne month,” he told her. “You wanted me, you’ve got me. One month. So you manage to do whatever it is you have to do out here in that amount of time.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œWhat is it that you’re so determined to do?” he demanded.
    Emerald eyes locked with his. “Land,” she said softly. Her lashes swept over her eyes, then her gaze met his once again. “I want to claim