She slid down the settee to lie half under him, flushed and panting, utterly desirable. Lust jolted through his veins, from his lungs to his balls. His chest was hot and tight, and even his shirt’s fine linen rasped his suddenly sensitive skin.
He tipped one of her breasts out of its silk and steel cage. She gasped but kneaded his shoulders more deeply, her hands now moving to the same steady beat as her writhing hips—and the blood pulsing in his cock.
“Hurry,” she whispered. Her sorceress’s voice was husky and irresistible.
It only took a moment for his hand to find its way under her skirts. She was wet, so wet, and her cream hot as the fires of life. She tightened her legs around his finger.
“More.” Her eyes met his under their heavy lids. She ran her tongue over her lips before she could force the remaining words out. “Not just your fingers.”
“Here? Are you sure?”
Her eyes had drifted shut again, but she nodded vehemently and clumsily tried to pull him closer.
Responsive as she was, what the hell would she be like with more experience? Was there anything she wouldn’t do? Better finish this before his cock tried to find out. He’d already dreamed about fucking from behind.
He fumbled for a condom among the shotgun shells in the table drawer. He was only slightly more steady when he unbuttoned his fly and sheathed himself.
“Beautiful,” Charlotte murmured and fondled his hip.
His heart stopped. All his blood rushed to the base of his spine, desperate to join her in the most primal manner possible.
An instant later, he knelt between her legs. Some faint vestiges of intelligence were thankful that this settee was damn sturdy and disinclined to creak.
He teased her and fondled her through the slit in her drawers until her pussy was ripe and wet and eager for him. He whispered to her about what he’d do with her pearl when they had more time, about how he’d eat her like the sweetest candy, and savor her juices like the greatest wine.
The scent of her musk rose around him, hot and sweet to match her lavender.
She slid her small hand down his belly and gently pumped his cock. “Justin.”
That guttural growl . . .
Why the hell was he waiting?
He gathered her hips in his hands and lifted her onto his cock. By some miracle, probably lust, he entered easily. He tried to pause, to give her time to stretch. But the little sorceress grabbed his shoulders, arched her back, and drove herself straight down onto his cock. Her silky intimate hair tickled his thighs and her cotton drawers rustled across his trousers. Her little white teeth were a sharp crescent on her lower lip.
His heart leaped into his throat. His balls were tucked high and tight, somewhere halfway up his cock. If he moved, he’d blow into orgasm like a sixteen-year-old kid.
She took a deep breath—and lace rustled across her unfettered breasts. He tried to close his eyes.
She took another—and those unskilled, inside muscles of hers shifted around him into a new pattern. This time, he did close his eyes.
She took another, then rose up—and he prayed. He honestly didn’t think anybody, even a gentleman, could let her go. She came down on him again with a happy sigh.
This time, he caught her by the waist and heaved himself upward to join her in the most primal stroke possible. She slammed herself back down on him—and climaxed on a long, rapturous sob.
The sound triggered his own rapture. He exploded into ecstasy as if an artillery barrage had erupted throughout his body. Long pulses drummed every last bit of seed down his spine, out of his balls, and into her. Stars burst behind his eyes and he shuddered over and over again.
He was vaguely glad afterward that the cancan’s dancers and wild music had hidden any noise they’d made. Of course, if anybody commented, he’d live up to his reputation and show them how unhealthy it was to hurt her feelings.
He was also happy that Charlotte’s complete relaxation allowed her to sleep in his arms without any uncomfortable questions or small talk.
Unfortunately, it also allowed him time to think about what he’d lose when she left.
He couldn’t keep her here, since Johnson would be coming after her. The stubborn bastard would probably send her on to Simmons even if the brute had already left town.
He couldn’t court her for marriage, at least not yet. While she was trapped here in Wolf Laurel, he was the only man who would protect her. If she said yes to his proposal, he’d never be sure she hadn’t just been making the best of a bad situation. He didn’t want that uncertainty hanging over their heads in the future.
Marriage. Love. Yes.
He smiled faintly. He wanted both. Hell of a time to figure that out about himself.
Charlotte needed to be courted like any properly brought-up young lady he’d introduce to his mother. Pulling that off would be harder than getting her out of town alive.
Ike Johnson kicked his safe’s door shut behind him. Damn it, why did Talbot have to be right about how much promoting the poker tournament would cost? He’d lost money on the damn thing, especially after pampering the highfaluting players who were the so-called
main attractions
.
The floor creaked. Ike stiffened, then quickly smoothed on a hospitable smile.
“Evening, Seward.” The damn town councilman weighed more than a two-horse hitch—and his mind moved faster than one. He ran the biggest bank in town and held Ike’s loan.
“Evening, Johnson.” He probably thought his flat Ohio accent sounded powerful. “Do you have the charter yet?”
“No, but I expect to have it before Simmons leaves.” Ike ground his teeth. His father always said not to yell when stating the obvious but sometimes that was fucking hard. “If he gave it to us before he makes a thorough inspection, the rest of the committee might suspect something, even though his is the only vote that counts.”
“True.” Seward picked up an inkwell from Ike’s desk and turned it around in his hand. “What will happen if he doesn’t receive the right bribe?”
Ike stiffened. “He’ll have it.”
“Are you certain?”
“Completely.” Ike spread his hands. He’d deliver the bitch if he had to burn down the Hair Trigger Palace to find her.
“If Wolf Laurel doesn’t become the county seat, it’s hard to see how you’ll make the payments on your loan.”
“There’s no due date on the loan.” Ike’s throat was suddenly very dry.
The Northerner’s narrow eyes stared at him like a wolf eyeing a scrawny deer. “No, the date is blank because the bank gets to fill it in.”
“You conniving bastard.”
“Not at all. You received an extremely advantageous deal.” He tossed the inkwell into the air.
Red filmed Ike’s vision but he beat it back. Seward had a partner here in town, plus another in Denver. Killing him would solve nothing.
“Who will you find to deliver the bribe to Simmons?” The banker replaced the inkwell on the table, clearly satisfied with the conversation. “Word on the street is that Nine-Fingers’ death has scared everybody else off. It’ll cost four times as much or more to stage another attack on Talbot.”
Shit. The only way he’d found anybody before was to use Nine-Fingers Isham. That piece of jailbait had owed him too much to even think about asking for money.
“You don’t know everything I’ve got up my sleeve,” Ike said gruffly. “The bribe will reach Simmons in time.”
He’d grab the girl by himself. Talbot would never shoot him.
Chapter 9
“Y
ou should stay inside,” Justin said again.
“I’m following you,” Charlotte repeated for at least the third time in the last ten minutes. “Who would possibly try to kidnap me on a sunny morning? All we’ll do is walk across the street to the telegraph office, check for news, and come back.”
“If anything happens—” He didn’t look happy. But who would dare attack them when Justin was carrying two Navy Colts at his belt, plus another at his back? Not to mention all those knives secreted in various intriguing places.
“I promise you, I’ll duck.” She gave him a hopeful smile, while Garland glared beside her. Unfortunately he hadn’t redeemed his reputation in Justin’s eyes after not preventing yesterday’s attack. So he couldn’t argue that he alone could protect her. She wouldn’t refer to that, but she wasn’t above ignoring him in favor of clinging to every possible minute with Justin.
“Very well.”
They stepped out of the Hair Trigger Palace’s front door and onto the boardwalk. Its roof had sheltered it from the worst snow and allowed Justin and Charlotte a brief pause to adjust their eyes to the morning’s brilliant sunshine.
The last snow had fallen after midnight and the winds had died shortly thereafter. Brilliant sunshine turned the crisp, cold air into knife blades. Glistening spears of ice dangled from every roof. Gangs of men, paid by the saloons, had attacked the snowdrifts at first light. The alleys and streets were now hard-packed, slippery paths.
Saloons and shopkeepers had thrown open their establishments to welcome miners and townspeople. Pedestrians bustled along the boardwalk or picked their way cautiously across the street.
Simmons drank coffee and scratched his belly on the Silver King Hotel’s front porch, next door to the Palace. His hot eyes tracked her like a rabid dog.
Charlotte followed Justin into the open, grateful for the sawdust somebody had spread to provide better footing.
“Talbot!” Johnson yelled from the Crystal Saloon two doors away.
Justin turned slowly and Charlotte kept pace.
“Good morning, mayor,” Justin acknowledged, his response far more civil than the look on Johnson’s face.
“I need to speak to your companion. She owes me her entry fee for the poker tournament.”
“What? I never signed an agreement to play in that tournament.”
“Everybody knows that’s why you’re here in Wolf Laurel.”
People were disappearing into buildings like rats seeking their burrows.
“I won’t pay you a nickel.” Not for the privilege of nearly being kidnapped and raped.
His expression turned ugly and cold as a gallows. “Are you telling me you welsh on a debt?”
Shopkeepers now slammed shutters into place. A few men, including Simmons, moved onto the boardwalk steps leading onto the street where they could see better.
“Johnson, you know those are fighting words. Why are you trying to pick a duel with a woman?” Justin’s rich drawl held all the civilized memories of a long-dead world.
“Because she’s a cheat and a coward. Any man who protects her—”
“Johnson, we’ve been saddle-partners too long for me to listen to this nonsense.”
“Talbot, for Christ’s sake . . .”
“Miss Moreland and I are heading for the telegraph office, after which you’re welcome to join us for coffee. You have been, and will always be my friend—not my enemy. Good day.” Justin ostentatiously turned his back on the town’s mayor and started walking again.
Charlotte tagged unhappily along behind him. Fine words from Justin, but what if Johnson placed money ahead of friendship? Somebody would have to take action.
“Why, you son of a bitch—”
Charlotte jumped at Justin’s back and knocked him aside.
BAM!
The bullet blasted across her arm as if a fiery train had hit her and she fell down, skidding into a water trough.
BAM! BAM!
Oh, dear Lord, Johnson was still shooting.
BOOM!
Justin fired his Colt over her head.
A man screamed and somebody was running toward them.
Charlotte cautiously lifted her head. Her sleeve was scorched. Crimson started to blur its edges.
“Darling!” Justin dropped to his knees beside her. “Are you all right?”
“I think the bullet grazed my arm.”
He started to examine it. His dark eyes met hers for a moment. “You saved my life.”
“Of course.”
Justin shook his head and compressed his lips even tighter. He was very white.
“Where’s Johnson?” she asked.
“Dead. His last shot went wild and took out Simmons.”
“They can share the same grave,” she muttered.
Justin choked in unwilling laughter, then lifted her up. “Can you stand? We need to bandage this.”
“Yes, of course.” Her feet wobbled underneath her but everything was easier with his arm around her.
“Charlotte?” Another man forced his way through the ever increasing crowd.
The well-remembered voice made her head come up from Justin’s shoulder. They turned back from the Hair Trigger Palace to face the newcomer.
“Charlotte, my dear?” Her filthy, bedraggled father swung down off his exhausted horse and leaped onto the boardwalk. Behind him, two sage mountain men in fringed leathers and buffalo skins folded their hands on their saddle horns and grinned proudly. He couldn’t have arrived with more unusual attire and companions if Elijah’s chariot of fire had deposited him. He’d lowered himself to perform this hunt on his own, rather than send Pinkerton’s agents.
The shock was enough to deaden even her arm’s increasing anguish.
“Father,” Charlotte acknowledged cautiously. If he was about to demand she return to the same prison as before, overseen by her stepmother . . . “How did you get here?”
“My friends brought me to Wolf Laurel. I was afraid you’d slip through my fingers again so we rode through the night.” He’d lost weight and his clothing was made for mining country, not Boston.
“Through the storm—for me?” She couldn’t imagine how he’d traveled without his private railway car. “How did you find me?”
“A Denver gunsmith told me you’d come to Wolf Laurel.” The Moreland patriarch cast a suspicious eye at Justin. “He warned me to hurry because he wasn’t sure you’d stick around long.”
“He loves you,” whispered Justin in her ear.
“I came alone, since I’m now a divorced man.”
She gaped at her father. The head of the Moreland family divorced? That scandal would match or possibly outweigh anything she’d done. “I’m not sure I believe you.”
“I bought that woman off with ten thousand dollars and Putnam’s old Beacon Hill townhouse, one of the few to survive the fire.”
“The one with the gaudy ballroom and the huge dining room?”
“The same.” A smile almost touched his lips.
“You didn’t give her enough money to heat that enormous pile for more than a few years, once she buys clothes for her girls. They’ll be paupers.” Charlotte had never hoped to see such a perfect revenge on those harridans.
“Yes, I understand they sailed for Europe to hunt in fresh waters. But I care not. I’ve come to beg my darling daughter’s forgiveness.” Her father’s eyes pleaded with hers. “I should have asked for your explanation, rather than believing shapeless lies and losing my temper.”
“Oh, Papa!” Tears spilled down her cheeks. They’d always promised to be honest with each other and that lapse had hurt her the most. She reached out to him with her good arm and he kissed her cheek.
“Who is this fellow?” he asked sternly a moment later.
“The man who saved my life,” Charlotte answered.
“Her suitor, with your blessing,” Justin said simultaneously.
She stared at him. She’d never thought Justin would leave the West.
Then she began to smile. Perhaps she could have a future with him after all.
Boston, Christmas Sunday, 1875
Decked out in garlands of pine boughs and roses, the Moreland carriage turned the final corner to the family mansion on Beacon Hill. Inside, Charlotte held hands with her new husband.
The Boston church bells filled the sky with cascades of brilliant joy, as glittering bright as the skies. A stream of carriages like golden bonbons turned into the street behind them.
The crowd broke out in cheers, hailing a pageant brighter than anything in a concert saloon or variety house.
Scents of coffee and chocolate drifted from inside, as the Moreland servants carried hot drinks to the policemen guarding the street corners. Tempting aromas of hot cider and hot chestnuts wafted past, from the food provided to the crowds.
Liveried servants in burgundy and gold flung open the mansion’s great double doors. Inside, Charlotte could glimpse garlands wrapped around the grand staircase and gilded angels dancing below the chandeliers. Red and gold ribbons transformed all the furniture into gigantic ornaments. Servants bustled between the kitchen and the drawing room, carrying even more edible delights for the banquet to come.
Their sleigh drew up before the great mansion and her father stepped out. He scanned the throng for a moment and an unaccustomed smile touched his harsh, patrician face. He bowed and waved to his fellow citizens, then stepped onto the crimson carpet leading into his home.
Justin handed Charlotte down from the carriage. She was swathed in furs and velvet against the cold, and sapphires glowed at her throat.
She leaned against him for a moment, to catch every bit of intimacy before they faced the throng inside. The crowd’s cheers redoubled and Justin’s smile lit his eyes.
It came more often now, on this side of the Mississippi.
She reluctantly waved at the people nearby but didn’t take her eyes off her beloved husband.
“Are you truly happy here?” she asked, low enough that the grooms couldn’t hear.
“Completely.” His smile deepened. “I have everything my mother wanted for me, and more. Plus, the most glorious future imaginable in your arms.”
His hand rested briefly on her waist where his child grew.
She blushed, then her grin blazed to match his. They hadn’t mentioned that detail to her father yet.
“Come, my darling Ace, let’s greet our guests.”
She shivered happily at his use of their private nickname.
“The sooner we introduce my cousin, Earl Chillington, to everyone, the sooner we can depart on our honeymoon.”
“I adore you, Mr. Talbot.” She tucked her hand into his elbow, fully in accord with his grasp of the necessities. Life would be an eternal delight with him at her side.