Savage In Silk Read online

  Before Lil could open her mouth to beg him not to leave her alone, the door crashed inward, the sound of splintering wood reverberating in the small room. A towering, near-naked Blackfoot warrior filled the doorway, his high, angular cheekbones striped with angry slashes of red and black paint. Before Tom could reach for his gun, the brave cast his tomahawk with deadly accuracy. It lodged at the base of Tom’s throat and the powerful force of the death blow propelled his thin body backward to land across Lil’s legs. An awful, gurgling sound escaped from his throat as the gaping wound spurted blood.

  Lil stared at the twitching body that had only moments before been pulsing with life. Her vision blurred and the room took on a crimson haze. The tall, muscular warrior stalked toward her until he stood above Tom’s body. Sneering his disregard for the man he’d so easily killed, he retrieved his weapon and moved toward Lil.

  She reached futilely for the sheet to cover her nudity, but the Indian’s dark, dirt-streaked hand cruelly closed over hers and seized the sheet to cast it back over Tom’s body. Lil cowered, still pinned beneath Tom’s legs, as the Indian’s hands snaked out to grab her hair and pull her head back, so that she was forced to face his cold, merciless black eyes. Mute, she trembled violently beneath the gaze that raked over her body. The man shoved his loincloth aside, to bare the weapon he would use against her. A terrified wail broke from her lips as the hard tumescent length waved animatedly in her direction, and as he pulled her closer, his cruel laughter mocked her useless efforts to struggle away.

  He forced her onto her back, cast Tom’s body aside and fell across her, his heavy weight crushing her to the bed. Writhing and sobbing, she tried to break free of the iron grip, and her fingers formed claws to scratch at his face. Effortlessly, he grabbed her wrists, stretching her arms taut above her head. She screamed as his free hand thrust between her thighs, encountering the sticky wetness there. He paused a moment, glanced at the sheet-covered body and then returned to her, his lips curled in a knowing sneer. Poised over her defenseless body like an eagle, he plunged his full length into her, ignoring her agonized cries. Twisting madly, Lil tried to escape the pain of the huge swollen organ relentlessly skewering her. It was no use. There was nothing she could do to ease the torture. As she mercifully slipped into a shadowy blackness, an eerie wolf-cry of triumph rang tauntingly through to her and echoed over and over again.

  Lil had no idea how long she was insensible, only that when she slowly became aware, he was still buried deep within her and beginning his movements anew. Strangely, the tearing pain had eased and was replaced by a building warmth. Mortified by her body’s responsive betrayal, she watched as he increased his tempo, noting the rippling beneath the tanned flesh as his sinews and muscles moved. She bit her lip, trying to suppress the answering passion that was overwhelming her body. Unable to control the impulse, she adjusted her hips to his rhythm and met the increased thrusts. Her hands, freed when she fainted, crept involuntarily around his neck and her nails dug into his hard, muscled back.

  Sensing her submission, the warrior fell forward, his mouth engulfing an inflamed nipple. Beneath his pounding, her body ensheathed him until, with an explosion of life-infused fluid, he lay heavily upon her again. Minutes that seemed to be hours passed until Lil returned to reality. Tears of shame and guilt coursed down her cheeks and she closed her eyes against the superior sneer on the young buck’s face. Suddenly, she smelled the sharp, metallic odor of a knife blade near her face and clenched her fists tight against the expected pain. There was a short tug at her hair, and she opened her eyes in disbelief to see him grin and hold aloft a section of her gold hair as a trophy. As the loud yelping of his fellow braves penetrated the room, he turned and bounded out in two graceful strides.

  Outside, the warriors were crowing their triumph. Lil could hear the sounds of their horses as the successful raiders rode off. Stumbling from the bed, she reached down to the floor for the dress she’d discarded earlier and caught sight of herself in the mirror. The tangle-haired girl in the reflection seemed a stranger, staring back at her with purple-smudged eyes. Unable to face herself for long, she averted her gaze as she pulled the dress over her head and stumbled from the room, desperate now to find her father. Even though she realized he and the others must be dead, she hurried along, hoping he had somehow survived the attack.

  Dear God, she prayed, as she pushed herself toward the front of the house, please let Pa be alive!

  From the front porch, Lil could see five bodies sprawled brokenly in the dust. Twenty yards away, near the barn, she recognized her father. Running to the body, she dropped to her knees and lifting his head from the dust, cradled it tenderly on her lap. His face was peaceful, belying the ugly bullet hole in his chest. The sun beat down unmercifully and, already, buzzards drawn by the scent of freshly spilled blood waddled about the yard cautiously attempting to pluck at the victims. Lil collapsed over her father’s body and, for the second time in the long, bloody morning, felt blackness sweep over her to obscure the horror.

  * * *

  Beyond the bedroom window, the fury of a late summer storm raged unabated. The rain drummed against the panes, as though it wished to penetrate the glass and wash away the taint of violence that still pervaded the house almost a week after the Indian attack. Gray clouds swirled across the night sky, split by jagged slashes of lightning. Thunder volleyed and wailing winds shook the house until its timbers groaned beneath the onslaught.

  Lil Draper lay in Maddy’s bed, staring straight ahead with sullen, glazed eyes. Her mood mirrored the storm as she raged against the twist of fate that, in one bloody morning, had overturned her whole life. Now her mother had decided to return to St. Louis! She has no right to drag me with her, she thought furiously. I belong here! I won’t go, she insisted silently, all the while knowing she had no choice in the matter. Susannah Draper had made it perfectly clear who was in control. “I’m your legal guardian, you’ll go wherever I decide, young lady,” Ma had snapped in reply to her protest.

  Hatred for her mother lay in her belly like a coiled snake about to strike. The memory of Susannah’s return with Maddy, the afternoon of the attack, floated in a vision before her eyes. Lil had lain there into the afternoon, defending Pa’s body from the blood-crazed birds of prey. She’d been dazed and unaware how long she had kept the tormenting vigil. The sun had turned the area into a steamy oven, evaporating the spilled blood, and its salty, noxious odor hung in the air. Half-crazed with grief, she remembered holding a one-sided conversation with Pa.

  The sun was lowering into the west when the cavalry-escorted wagon with Ma and Maddy had rumbled into the yard. She vaguely remembered a young, tow-headed captain, his dusty cap in hand, expressing his sympathy and mentioning the army had received reports of possible Indian raids. The attack had been, he said, a reprisal for the “white man’s disease”—cholera—that was sweeping through the Indian villages. All she knew was that Pa was gone and nothing would ever be the same again.

  The soldiers had buried the ranch hands, and said nothing about the youth they found in her bedroom. Finally, when it was time to bury Pa, Maddy, weeping, had dragged Lil away from his body and into the house. Ma had stood there, untouched by emotion as she accepted the soldiers’ condolences. Unable to enter her own room, even when Tom’s body was removed, Lil had allowed Maddy to lead her down the hall to her room. The next few days had been a nightmare. While she slept under sedation, Lil had relived the attack, her dreams haunted by images of Pa’s body, the savage’s leering face and Tom’s accusing stare.

  A day ago, when she had finally returned to reality, Ma had come to explain her plans for their future, reassuring her the soldiers would stay as long as necessary. Her tearful protests that she didn’t want to leave the ranch seemed to have no effect on her mother. Now, when a hand suddenly touched her shoulder, she flinched reflexively before she saw Maddy’s familiar, comforting face.

  Maddy had entered silently, hoping to find her young charge rest
ing. Instead, Lil had been staring off with a fixed gaze and Maddy knew she must have been thinking about the Indian raid. She had grieved silently for the man she had loved, and she had done everything she could think of to ease his daughter’s misery and anguish. Her hand reached out to stroke the lovely hair, tensing as she touched the spot where that savage animal had cut it. If only she’d been there! Madre Dios, she would have died before she let him touch this little one. Lil was like her own child and she still considered her a baby. A tear squeezed from one eye as she remembered how Lil had sobbed the story to her. Every detail, including her involvement with Tom had come pouring out in a torrent of weeping. There had been nothing to do but hold the girl and rock her back and forth. It seemed such a small consolation to tell a fifteen-year-old who’d lost everything she loved that time would heal the ache.

  She had spent the last few nights awake on a cot near the restlessly tossing Lil, praying again and again to the Virgin that she had not conceived a child. Susannah, that bitch with ice water for blood, had compounded Lil’s misery by planning to uproot her from a familiar home and take her to St. Louis. Maddy’s only comfort was that she would be allowed to accompany them and she would see that no more harm came to Mike’s little girl.

  By the morning of September 28th, the ranchhouse was cleaned and ready to be boarded up. The trunks were ready to be hoisted aboard the wagon for the trip to Myer’s Landing. It had been eight weeks since the attack, and still Lil moved about the house like a pale, ghostly image of her former self.

  Maddy bustled about with her last-minute chores, a worried expression lining her dark eyes. She grumbled constantly under her breath and her manner toward Susannah was one step removed from outright insolence.

  Lil never spoke to her mother anymore, unwilling even to look in her direction. For her part, Susannah was so jubilant at escaping her long, forced exile, that she ignored the icy, sullen attitudes of the other two and sang a tune as she worked.

  Entering the bedroom to bring Lil a cup of soothing tea, Maddy stopped at the door, horrified by the sight of the white-faced girl retching miserably into the china washbasin. The teacup smashed to the floor, shattering into fragments, and Maddy rushed forward to help her. Finally, when it was over, Maddy helped Lil to lie down, and dabbed at the perspiration beading the pale forehead. Maddy knew instantly what was wrong although she was loath to put it into words. Lil had missed her monthly time four weeks ago and now this—it could only be a baby!

  Tenderly sweeping the damp, golden tendrils from Lil’s forehead, Maddy prepared to tell her the truth. “You are with child, my sweet.” She waited for a hysterical outburst, prepared to soothe the girl, but there seemed to be no reaction. Blue eyes stared at her with innocent, almost childish trust as Lil turned the problem over to her, as she had done with other problems countless times in her youth. “I must tell your mama…Perhaps she will change her mind and let us stay here. She would not want her fine friends in St. Louis to know of such a thing, eh? Do you want me to tell her, little one?”

  Lil had been surprised by the news but nothing could really penetrate the hard shell she had erected around herself. From now on, she thought, she would worry only about her concerns in life. Her mother had ignored her pleas to stay in Montana and now she intended to use this information to blackmail her into allowing her and Maddy to stay. No…she would personally tell Ma about the child she was carrying. All the money in the world wouldn’t be enough to make her miss the pasty shock on Susannah’s face when she heard about the blessed event! Lil was overcome with a mad fit of giggling, her eyes bright with a fanatical, triumphant light.

  “I’ll tell Ma, myself,” she said. Climbing, from the bed, she was more alive and excited than she had been in two months as she sent Maddy off to request Susannah’s presence. “Don’t you dare say anything,” Lil warned solemnly. “I want to be the one to tell her!”

  Susannah Draper came, her oval face set in a puzzled frown. What was the reason for this mysterious summons from Lilith? Could it be…was it possible that she had come to her senses? Susannah’s heartbeat quickened with hope at the thought. Oh, she had such wonderful plans for the child! Once again an elegant house would ring with the sounds of spirited young people enjoying parties and cotillions. It would be such fun selecting new wardrobes and furnishing a fashionable home.

  She found her daughter neatly dressed and standing near the window. Lilith’s interest in her appearance was an excellent sign. Perhaps without Mike’s divisive influence she and Lil could begin a new, warmer relationship.

  Lil’s voice, before she turned from the window, would have warned Susannah had she not been too engrossed in her dream world to note the hint of slyness it held. “I think you’d best sit down, Ma. I have something I want you to know.” Susannah smiled with genuine warmth and sat on the end of the bed. Lil glanced in the mirror at the high color staining her cheeks before she turned to face the mother she detested. Bracing herself against the bedroom chest, she placed one hand significantly on her belly.

  “Maddy and I made a discovery this morning, Ma. It affects you directly.” She smiled, prolonging her mother’s bewilderment, and searched for the most spiteful way to phrase her surprise. “You still look young—even after my baby’s born, no one’ll take you for a grandmother!” She could have giggled when Susannah reacted exactly as she had predicted. First, her mother’s eyes widened in stunned shock and a dull red suffused her complexion, then she did indeed turn a pale, pasty white.

  A cruel sense of total power filled Lil as she continued to bait her mother, taunting her with a vision of social ruination. “I hardly think your old friends would accept you back with open arms if they knew my bastard was half-Indian.” Lil paused and smiled smugly, then continued in a curious tone. “I wonder whether it’ll be dark—like its sire?”

  Susannah put her hands over her ears, shutting out the cruel taunts. How could she have deluded herself into thinking Lilith would change? She was her father’s child through and through and every bit as stubborn and uncompromising as Mike had been. It was almost as though he mocked her from his grave, still trying to destroy her happiness. I won’t let you! Susannah screamed the silent thought. I’ll not brook your interference, Mike Draper! Taking a positive stand seemed to chase his ghost away, and she breathed easier as the haunting image faded.

  Lil had been watching her mother with a superior sneer. “Well, ma’am, have you reviewed your position? I have no desire to embarrass you further,” she said with false concern. “I suggest a compromise. You go on to St. Louis and Maddy and I will stay here. I’ll have the baby quietly; no one need ever know the brat existed. God knows what I’ll do with it!” Her laughter revealed a cold disregard for the child growing within her. “Perhaps I should leave it in a basket…out on the prairie for its father’s people to find.”

  Susannah had listened to the insensitive statements long enough. Filled with cold fury, her voice came in an irrefutable tone of command. “You’ll do no such thing, young lady! As nauseating as your attitude is, I’ll not have my plans changed. Until the child is born, you’ll stay with my uncle in Hannibal, Missouri. Uncle Ned will see that you’re well taken care of and wanting nothing. After you bear the child, I’ll decide what will be done with it. You’d better learn to accept your position with a little more grace, missy! Whether or not you protest, you will come to St. Louis afterward!”

  Susannah rose, a portion of her self-control returning as she fussed at an imaginary wrinkle in her gown. “Now, I’ll take my leave of you. I have no desire to stay and witness another tantrum.” Her skirt swished loudly against her petticoats as she walked to the door. Then she turned and her delicate, aristocratic face reflected a mocking amusement. “Who knows, darling…the baby might end up with Tom Fletcher’s light complexion and freckles!” Satisfied with Lil’s outraged gasp, she exited, leaving an echo of tinkling laughter to further annoy her.

  The bitch…the overbearing, calculating bitch, Lil
thought furiously. How dare she dictate to me! Her fingers tensed and untensed with an aching desire to close around her mother’s slender throat. Searching for something to throw, anything to relieve the knot of tension inside, she seized the votive candle on Maddy’s bureau and hurled it with all her might toward the window. It crashed through the bottom panes with a satisfying sound of broken glass and she threw herself on the bed, kicking at the covers and screaming uncontrollably with a murderous fury that shook her to the core of her being.

  Chapter 1

  Viewed from the outside, #5 Granville Lane was an imposing, rose brick mansion, situated in the most exclusive section of St. Louis in 1851. Everything about the structure, from its twin-towered corners to the shiny wrought-iron fence surrounding the property had been designed to reflect John Linden Randall’s wealth and social position. The owner of the successful Randall Transport Company, he had allowed his wife, Susannah, a free rein and she’d furnished the mansion with priceless antiques imported from Europe.

  A full complement of well-trained servants staffed the house: upstairs, parlor and scullery maids; liveried stablemen, cooks and, in charge of all, the very proper English butler, Smythe.

  The wide main entrance hall was Smythe’s exclusive domain. It was tiled in Venetian glass mosaic, the colors forming a Byzantine mural that sparkled beneath the huge crystal chandelier in the hall. Gleaming oak paneled the walls, polished daily by the maids. An elaborately carved balustrade supported the length of gold-inlaid banister that led the visitor’s eye along the plushly carpeted stairs to the upper story and more luxury. A velvet-papered gallery hung with valuable oil paintings and stretched from either side of the top of the stairs, to form a complete balcony circle overlooking the lower hall. The master bedroom suite was at the front of the house, and the only daughter of the Randalls occupied her own suite overlooking the lovely formal garden behind the house.