Page 25 of White Fire


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He brought her supple body against his, and covered her lips with his mouth and kissed her. The euphoria that filled White Fire’s being startled him. Never before had a woman affected him in such a way!

His steel arms enfolded her as their kiss deepened.

Flame had dreamed so many times of being with White Fire, his mouth ravaging hers with heated kisses, but never in her wildest dreams had it been this wonderful. The pleasure spreading through her body was like nothing she could have ever envisioned.

She was not prepared for the intensity that his kiss evoked. She was weakened by the passion overwhelming her in warm, ecstatic waves. And she could feel such hunger in the hard, seeking pressure of his lips.

His need matched the need that was spreading through her, blotting out everything in her consciousness. . . but him.

Although he found himself lost, heart and soul to Flame, White Fire was aware of the danger of their being together in such a way. He fought his needs, his desires, and stepped away from her.

Breathing hard, his heart beating erratically, he turned his back to her and grasped the rail of the balcony. He was almost blinded with passion as he tried to gaze down to the ground spread out below him.

But his vision quickly cleared. He realized that people were departing. The ball was over.

That meant that Flame’s father would expect her to stand at the door with him, to say her cordial farewells to the guests.

Just as White Fire turned to Flame, to warn her, to go down and be with her father, the double French doors burst open and Colonel Russell was standing there like the devil himself, his eyes filled with an angry contempt as he glared at White Fire.

“Leave my house at once,” the colonel said, his teeth clenched, his hands tight fists at his sides. He looked at Flame. “Reshelle, how could you do this? This man is a ’breed.”

“I know what he is, but that does not change my feelings for him,” Flame said, placing herself between White Fire and her father. “And, Father, why must you insist on dictating my life? Do you hunger this much for controlling people, even your own daughter?”

“That has nothing to do with this,” the colonel bellowed. “I will not have you seen in the company of this ’breed. Do you understand, Reshelle? I absolutely forbid it.”

“Oh, Father, please,” Flame said, sighing with frustration. But she did not want to create a scene, and place White Fire in danger. She locked her arm through her father’s. “But let us not discuss it further now. We have guests awaiting us, Father. Let us go and say our good-byes.”

As she led him through the study, leaving White Fire out on the balcony, he sighed heavily. He turned his back to the doors and nervously raked his fingers through his hair. He suddenly realized that the colonel was right to be concerned about his daughter. How could White Fire expect someone as young and beautiful as Flame to be serious enough about him, or enter into a relationship that could lead to marriage and to being an instant mother?

“I’ve got to forget her,” he whispered, though the very thought of never holding her again made a slow ache circle his heart.

His jaw tight, and hollow with loneliness, he left the study and took the back stairs past the servants’ quarters. Then he went outside and grabbed the reins of his horse.

Without even looking he knew that Flame was standing at the door with her father. He knew that she was watching him as he rode off. He could feel the heat of her gaze on his back.

He could still feel the heat in his loins that her kiss had caused.

He knew then, that no matter how hard he tried, there was no way that he could ever forget her now that he had held and kissed her.

Chapter 14

How can I live without thee, how forgo

Thy sweet converse, and love so dearly joined,

To live again in these wild woods, forlorn?

—John Milton

White Fire awakened from a dream that seemed to have continued the entire night—of himself and Flame together making hot. passionate love.

The dream was so real, he leaned up on an elbow and quickly looked over at the other side of the bed to see if Flame had really been there through the night with him. He laughed softly when he saw that, no, she wasn’t there, nor had she ever been.

He yawned and stretched his arms over his head, then sl

id from the bed and pulled on his fringed breeches.

Stretching again, he sauntered into the kitchen and poured fresh water in a basin from a wooden pitcher. Just as he leaned over and splashed water on his face, he heard a soft knock on his door.

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