A Promise of Thunder by Connie Mason

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 titties like that in a month of Sundays.”
    His voice was muffled, 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.”
    “Bastard!” Storm bit out from between clenched teeth. Her nightdress was yankedup 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 hell 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 identity 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 balls 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.
    “Sonuvabitch! Let’s get the hell 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 hell 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 bastards 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 bastards.”
    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