Her Forbidden Gunslinger (2 page)

She was dancing with Anton Beaudin. The lustful gleam in the man’s eye was unmistakable and it immediately made Gray angry, though he was her groom and had every right to his thoughts. But the idea of Sophie giving herself to that cocky bastard made Gray want to smash his fist into the man’s face. His jaw tensed as he turned away from the window.

A vision of her in his own arms flashed through his mind, but he immediately checked the unwarranted thought. She was white and her uncle was rich. Both of those made her beyond the reach of a dirty, half-breed Comanche bastard. He’d given up any notion of courting a respectable, white woman long ago. And the fact that LaSalle was the meanest son of a bitch he’d ever come across, was further deterrent.

Besides those things, she deserved someone better than him. He’d never make her happy.

Gray shook his head and reminded himself he had a job to do. Sophie Buchanan was nothing but a distraction and she’d probably hate him when his task was finished. The sooner she got married the better.

But as soon as he had gotten his thoughts in order, her voice with its soft French intonations carried to him. It wasn’t a heavily accented voice like LaSalle’s. The inflection could only be heard in the occasional word, just often enough to make him listen for it. His gaze scanned the street, visibly as vigilant as he was supposed to be, but ravenously drinking up the sound of her voice.

“Monsieur Sinclair, please, if someone could just take me home.”

The hint of desperation in Sophie’s voice caught Gray’s attention. He turned his head slightly to see her standing just outside the closed terrace doors, pulling off her white gloves to fan herself with them. Sinclair stood before her, his back slightly blocking her, so that Gray had to move closer to hear the conversation.

“It’s almost midnight. Supper will be served soon. Don’t you think eating something will make you feel better?” Sinclair was saying.

“I just need to go home…please.”

There was a moment of silence and then. “I’ll need to okay it with your uncle.”

“Go to LaSalle. I’ll take her.” Gray heard himself offer. Sinclair was usually the one assigned to Sophie’s needs but, as the most trusted gunman, he had been ordered to attend a midnight meeting LaSalle had planned later that night with some important men in town for the ball.

Sinclair looked over at him, a glimmer of relief on his face, and gave a nod of thanks. “Don’t be long, she’ll be okay with Brand at the house. We’ll need to talk after the meeting. You know about the safe?”

Gray nodded and left to get the buggy, berating himself for volunteering. He was supposed to keep his distance. Cole could have been found at his post and dispatched to see her home.

But there was no reason it shouldn’t be Gray. No one knew how badly he wanted her. No one knew that he dreamed at night of taking her over his horse and fleeing with her across the plains like his grandfather might have done. No one knew how very little was stopping him from doing just that.

Chapter Two

Sophie felt a twinge of longing twist deep within her as she watched Gray approach. In the darkness his eyes held a feral glint that made him look more Comanche than white. Yes, Comanche. She knew that because months ago she had casually asked Sinclair about Gray and then done her best to find out everything she’d been told. She still didn’t really know much, except to wonder why he was so far north.

The absence of his usually present hat accentuated the untamed quality he exuded. His hair hung loose past his shoulders with a single thin braid beginning at his left temple. His overt wildness should have deterred her interest, but it had the opposite effect. She wanted
something.
To know him. To have some claim to him. It made no sense; she had no right to those feelings.

“Miss Buchanan.” His hypnotic eyes settled on her as he extended his hand to help her down the steps of the Nelsons’ house.

Sophie looked down to see his palm outstretched to her and felt her mouth go dry. That brief moment in the hall was the first time they’d touched at all. Now she was about to touch him skin to skin and felt wanton that she was anticipating it so much. Her fingertips tingled before they slipped across his rough palm and his fingers closed around them. His hand was warm and strong, completely engulfing hers. A current almost like electricity traveled the length of her arm. She looked back up to see if he felt the connection, too, but he was already looking toward the buggy, away from her, as he helped her down the steps. She felt a bizarre desire to prolong the contact, but in seconds she was seated in the waiting buggy and there was no reason to not let go. So she did. But she felt the loss deeply.

His touch was nothing like Anton’s. Anton, with his cold, possessive hand almost constantly at her waist, failed to stir any feeling at all within her except maybe disgust. While Gray, without even trying, stirred far too many feelings. It was a dangerous attraction. She knew that,
had
known it from the first time she saw him, but it hadn’t stopped her from thinking about him. Maybe it was the wedding looming before her making her bolder, but she knew an undeniable feminine longing to discover if the attraction was mutual.

“We meet again today, Monsieur Gray.”

When he merely took up the reins and clicked a command for the horse to start, she glanced over at him.

“Thank you for taking me home. I’m already feeling much better.”

He gave a curt nod and they rode onward in silence.

Sophie sighed and bemoaned her lack of experience in such matters. If he did find her attractive he certainly hid it well. She’d thought that moment in the hall meant that maybe he did. But what had she expected? No man looked at her as anything other than LaSalle property. She never even danced with anyone except Jean or Anton and the occasional business associate approved by her uncle. Her only chaperones were the gunmen in Jean’s inner circle. Who would dare threaten her virtue?

“Do you want to marry him?”

The question was asked so softly, Sophie wondered if she had heard him correctly. A small fluttering of nerves began deep in her belly. She wanted to be honest, to rekindle that spark of closeness from the hallway, but she had learned to not trust easily. She hedged. “I do want children. I’ve always seen myself married.”

“But to Beaudin?”

She closed her eyes, intending to conjure an image of the hated man, but instead she saw Gray holding her in an embrace that only a husband should. “I don’t know.” But she did know. Gray would fill that role perfectly.

They turned onto Last Ditch Gulch and meandered slowly along the main street. Gray’s expression was in shadow but the occasional streetlamp allowed her to ascertain that he was thoughtful. They rode in silence, the only sounds the steady clip-clop of the horse and the occasional drunken laughter in the distance. The two-story shops loomed dark on either side of them. She watched him from her peripheral vision, taking in the gun holstered at his side and the leather thong that tied it to his thigh. The mark of his profession.

“I meant what I said earlier.” he said. “You deserve a man, not that snake.”

The words were almost angry and inexplicably made her smile. Maybe the chemistry she thought she’d imagined had been real. He was attracted to her. The knowledge gave her senses permission to acknowledge his closeness in a way they never had before. She could
feel
him at her side even though over a dozen inches separated them. That space between them became charged with his energy. It rippled along the length of her thigh and up her side.

“You seem very much a man, Monsieur Gray.” The thought escaped before she had a chance to hold it back.

She heard his quick, indrawn breath and closed her eyes. Sometimes her recklessness ran away with her.

“Some would say only half a man.” The words quietly filled the silence, reminding her of just one of the reasons she was supposed to keep away from him. He was a half-breed.

The words shocked her and her hand rested on his arm before she could stop herself. “I don’t think that, Gray. I’m sorry if I said anything…” She saw his half-smile then and wondered if he had been testing her. “Sometimes I say outrageous things when I’m nervous.”

The muscles of his forearm flexed under her palm. “Why are you nervous?” His gaze pinned her, making the fluttering in her belly begin in earnest.

Sophie hastily removed her hand back to her lap. “I-I don’t know.” The question held a dangerous undertone and she wasn’t entirely sure she should encourage it.

His gaze touched her face before turning back to the road. When he did, she let out a breath she hadn’t even been aware of holding. Maybe it was best to leave things unspoken.

They turned left and drove the remaining three blocks in silence before pulling to a stop in front of the imposing three-story brick and stone mansion. She tried not to notice the warmth of his hand this time as he helped her down.

He walked slightly behind her as they ascended the front steps. Brand met them on the porch and seemed puzzled but only offered a greeting as he opened the front door for them.

Sophie smiled but kept silent as she walked inside and then up the elegantly curved mahogany staircase. Gray followed. The muffled sound of his boots on the stairs let her know he shadowed her. But it was the prickling of the skin along her back that told her how close he was. Something delicious and wicked flickered to life within her and settled low, just below her stomach.

She’d never felt excitement like it before and it made her hesitate a moment at her bedroom door. Even though Sinclair had entered the room many times at the end of the evening to collect her jewelry, it seemed taboo for Gray to go inside. She felt she should tell him to wait in the hallway, but as soon as she had the thought, she knew she wouldn’t. She took a deep breath and opened the door to see Anne, her maid, jump up in surprise. Whether it was alarm from Sophie’s early arrival or consternation at the tall figure that followed her inside, she didn’t know.

“Thank you, Anne, but I can manage tonight. Go to bed.” Sophie heard the words coming from her mouth but had no idea why she was dismissing the only person who might help her keep a grip on the sanity she felt slipping away. Because she wanted to be alone with Gray, and that was something that should not happen.

The girl seemed hesitant but intimidated enough by Gray’s presence that she merely nodded and left. Sophie opened her mouth to apologize for her maid and explain she was new but realized he would know that. Jean only allowed her to keep a maid for about six months before finding some reason to dismiss her or move her to other duties. Yet another way of keeping Sophie isolated.

Gray didn’t seem to notice, though, as he walked into her room and stood looking around. The intensity of his gaze made her blush. It was silly, but it seemed so intimate to have this rugged man in her private sanctum. The only place that was hers.

When his gaze settled on the blue satin counterpane across the bed, she quickly moved to her dresser. His presence was making her heart pound too fast. She needed him to go. She placed her sapphire earbobs on the polished surface and reached for the clasp of her necklace, but her fingers trembled too badly to get it open.

“Let me help.” Gray’s voice moved over her like rough velvet, causing her intimate muscles to tighten curiously.

Sophie’s wide-eyed gaze met his in the mirror as he came up behind her. A full head and neck taller than her petite frame, his deep stare held hers briefly before he looked down to the clasp. Sophie barely had time to recover from the intensity of that look before his fingertips touched the sensitive flesh of her nape. The contact sent thrills of excitement through her and made her clench her teeth to keep from visibly reacting.

The clasp opened and the long, heavy strand of sapphires and diamonds tugged across her neck and shoulder in a slow caress as it came away in his hands. It landed softly on the dresser and then his hand was on her shoulder. Her shocked gaze came up to find his in the mirror but it wasn’t there. He was watching his hand move slowly down the smooth skin of her arm. She looked, too, and became immediately fascinated by the contrast of his bronzed hand against her pale skin. She watched its leisurely progress until it covered her own hand, leaving her flesh tingling in its wake.

Sophie wasn’t sure who initiated the movement, but suddenly she found her back pressed lightly against the solid strength of his chest. His other arm crossed over in front of her and she realized she was in the loose cage of his embrace, where she wanted to be. She watched his graceful fingers as they efficiently divested her of her bracelet and placed it with the necklace on the dresser.

His body tensed as if to move, and she realized how badly she wanted him to stay. Nothing could happen, but she didn’t want the moment to end.

“My hairpins, too. They’re made of diamonds.”

Her gaze flicked to his in the mirror and she saw something there, something hot and smoldering. She welcomed its implication. Gray inhaled deeply as his hands released her wrist and moved to her hair. Sophie closed her eyes and savored his touch as one by one the pins dropped to the dresser with a click. Her hair fell around her shoulders and he might have stroked it once. The movement was so butterfly soft she couldn’t be sure, but the sensation reverberated within her a hundred times over.

If only things were different.

The sixth and last pin dropped to the dresser and Sophie reluctantly forced herself back to earth. But when she turned to thank him for his help, Gray’s hands rested heavily on the dresser on either side of her and he didn’t step back. She looked up but her gaze never made it past his perfect bow lips. She wanted to kiss them. To just once feel them on hers.

In her room, shielded from the rest of the world by the breadth of his body, it seemed like one kiss was possible. And before she could stop herself, Sophie leaned up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. They were warm and after a moment’s hesitation, she felt them soften and part beneath hers. Then she tried something she had no idea she knew how to do; she touched that perfect bottom lip with the tip of her tongue.