Oh, how good it felt
. For he could reach the itch she so needed to scratch. He moved deeper. She felt the luxury of his heat building. There was pressure. Mary Rose tightened to push it away, but then his voice soothed her. She felt his mouth close, whispering in her ear.
“It will hurt for only a moment.”
Her eyes locked on his. She concentrated on the vivid blue. He thrust forward. A tear, a gasp, and the pressure disappeared. She paused and felt her body mold itself to him, as if she were made for no one else. He drew back and she cried out for his warmth. Reaching for his body, her arms encircled his waist and, when he entered once more, she pulled him home.
She arched as her body contracted around him. Wave upon wave of pleasure coursed through her. She couldn’t stop. Instead, she bit her lip to stifle her outcry of delight. He moved again, riding her surge of enchantment. Clinging to his body, her heart gave up and she took that perilous leap, crying out his name. Before her voice even stopped, he did the same. Her name never sounded so lovely as when it fell from his lips as he crushed her body to him.
Boneless, she felt him lay her down upon the sheets. Her lungs felt starved for oxygen. But her smile consumed her. Trace settled beside her, his hand beneath her head as he held her close. Wrapped in the glow of their lovemaking, neither found the strength to stir. When her energy returned, she rolled on her side to see him.
Sensing her stare, he turned and looked upon her.
“That was incredible,” she replied.
“More than that,” he whispered back. He reached for her hand and pressed her fingers to his lips.
Mary Rose smiled and nestled her head upon his shoulder. “How long did Sheriff Weston say he’d be gone?”
“Two hours.” Trace released her hand.
“Hm,” she murmured, tracing the skin around his nipple. “We’ve a little time left.”
She leaned against his chest and tasted the salt of his sweat with her tongue. “Perhaps we can find something to occupy our time while we wait?”
Trace glanced over at her. His mouth drew back in a wide smile. “I can think of a way.”
Her smile matched his as he drew her across his chest and they kissed.
****
Rand sat at the corner table in the hotel café to sip his coffee. He couldn’t imagine a finer woman for Trace. Mary Rose was the type who would keep a man stable, feet nailed to the floor, and grateful to come home. Trace needed that. Leaning back, Rand pulled his pocket watch from his vest pocket and flicked the cover open.
The softness of a familiar haunting tune filled the air around him. He gazed back at the portrait of a smiling dark-haired woman.
“I got an extra piece of pie, if you’re interested?”
Rand blinked and looked up to find Elaine’s smile. “I promised a friend I wouldn’t bother him for two hours. I could use some company.” He slipped the watch back into its place.
She winked. “I’ll get two plates.”
He watched her go.
Perhaps,
he thought to himself,
it is time.
Still contemplating the idea of calling on Elaine, he almost missed the hurried steps of the bank manager approaching his table.
“Sheriff Weston, can I speak to you a moment?”
Rand looked up. “What’s wrong, Howard, someone rob the bank?”
“Not exactly.”
Rand’s eyebrows careened toward his hairline. “Perhaps you’d best sit down and tell me what’s on your mind.”
“Yes.” Clark pulled the chair out and took a seat.
Looking over his head, Rand signaled to Elaine for a second cup of coffee before turning his attention to the nervous banker.
“Now, tell me what’s got you hot and bothered.”
“That Thornton girl,” Clark hissed.
Rand sat back in surpriseiHhH . Had the man not looked so serious, he might have chuckled. “She seems to have quite a few men in knots here lately.” He smiled to himself, thinking of the inside joke as he picked up his cup.
“I have heard rumor that the federal government might be seeking monetary restitution.”
Rand paused. “Rumor,” he snapped. “More likely nothing but gossip. The man from the fort hasn’t even gotten here yet.”
“So.” The banker’s face took on the look of satisfaction. “It’s true.”
“Merely a rumor,” Rand grunted.
“Rumor or not, this will weigh heavily on my bank. I can’t lend money to someone going out of business. You know how the government is.” He looked around like a frightened rabbit.
“Afternoon, gentlemen.” Elaine put the tray down on the table. “I brought you a cup of coffee, Mr. Clark. Can I interest you in a slice of lemon pie?”
“No, not right now.” The banker closed his mouth tight.
Rand exchanged a glance with Elaine. She caught his unspoken message and moved off. “Now listen here, Clark. We don’t know what the government is going to do until the army finishes its investigation.”
“Well, I have a right to protect my investors.”
“Sure you do.” Rand nodded. “But until I hear one way or the other, you got no cause to sound any alarm.”
“Humph,” Clark snorted as he rose from the chair. “You let me know as soon as you hear. I’m going to protect my bank.”
“You do that.” Rand sat back and watched the banker move quickly through the front doors.
“Mr. Clark seemed to be in an all-fired hurry,” Elaine remarked.
“Hm? Oh, yes, he did.”
“Trouble at the bank?” she asked, raising one finely arched brow.
“Perhaps.” Rand felt his forehead knot. “If we can’t recover that shipment of rifles, Mary Rose might be in for a bit of a trouble.”
“Just what she doesn’t need,” Elaine responded, with a shake of her head. “That man gets nervous if a dog looks the wrong way at the hitching post. I’d like to know who gave him any information.” Then she smiled. “At least that nice young marshal is giving her some time. You know, I think they’d be good for each other.”
He chuckled. “What is it they say about great minds?”
Chapter Fifteen
Sliding his arm from under her head, Trace watched Mary Rose nestle beside him, sleeping in the afterglow of their lovemaking. Her soft breath blew across his chest. Trace stroked the damp strands of hair on her forehead and tried to understand the emotions that rushed from his groin to his heart, then resounded to his brain. He hadn’t given his heart to any woman since that dark-haired angel of Satan had stolen it.
Mary Rose had come to him willingly and given him the ultimate gift. It was not in his nature to deflower virgins. Rising as quietly as possible so as not to disturb her, he walked toward the window and leaned against the wall. From his vantage point, no one could see him, yet he could savor the breeze against his heated skin.
“What am I to do with you?” he murmured. Looking over his right shoulder, he studied the copper-headed nymph in his sheets. Honor dictated he should have pulled out, left the bed, refused to take her. A deep breath filled his lungs. But he hadn’t. No, the feel of her, the cries of wanting, urging to finish—he took the coward’s way out.
Now he must do the right thing. He took a deep breath and inhaled their musk still lingering in the air. He had done as Father Tomas asked. He had followed his heart. Yet so many questions remained. Did he love her? Could he love anyone else?
Closing his eyes, the image of Amelia filled his mind. His first love. Her supple body wrapped in the sheets as he burst through the door. His brother scrambling out from under her, and the anger that followed. When he’d asked her why, she laughed. Even now, the humiliation of being cuckolded hurt.
His eyes opened, and he glanced at Mary Rose. Somehow, she’d found a way around the stone wall he’d erected and thought impenetrable. At this moment, he could not imagine waking up without her by his side. But could he say he loved her?
Pondering how to make it right, he leaned upon his forearm and studied the movement along the street. They would marry, of course. He would not shame her and let others whisper behind her back. He would take time off from his duties and see her set in place as his wife on the ranch he owned just south of Republic.
“You are thinking too hard.”
Trace turned. Mary Rose moved to him without bothering to conceal her luscious body. The soft bounce of her round, firm breasts released the lustful monster hiding in his soul. Gazing down at the curve of her hip, to the silken curls at the juncture of her thighs that hid his delight, he could feel his body grow hard without a single brush of her finger.
Her head tilted as she studied him, as if she grasped the knowledge of his carnal thoughts. He nearly blushed.
“Woman,” he growled and pulled her to him. Her hair tumbled against his shoulder and the brush of her lips against his chest made him shiver. His hands roamed down her back to cup her bottom. She pressed closer. Feeling the points of her breasts against his skin, he sighed. “My little minx, what shall I do with you?” he asked, his voice rumbling deep in his chest.
Her bright face glowed as she looked at him. He knew what she wanted. He knew what he wanted, but there were things that needed discussion. Leaning down, he kissed the tip of her nose. She threaded her hand into the hair at the back of his head, then tipped her chin up and caught his mouth. Her tongue swirled around his lips, and he forgot reason. They waltzed back toward the bed, where her legs hit the edge of the mattress, and their lips parted.
“Rand will be returning soon,” he told her as she lay back upon the bed.
“Then we must be quick,” she sighed.
He bent down to kiss her. She pulled at his waist. Her thighs spread. His member glided into folds. Warm, moist, and so willing, she clutched him, pulling him deep. His hands grasped her legs and wrapped them around his waist, making his entry more pleasurable for them both, his lips brushing her cheek, the taste of her skin a delight.
He whispered in her ear, “When we marry, we will do this every night.” Instead of moving with him, he felt her go still, and he drew his head back to gaze into her face.
Her eyes widened. In the depth of those deep pools of blue, he read the confusion. What had he said? Her legs pulled away from him and she wiggled free. Trace’s ardor cooled.
“Marriage?” she gasped.
He heard the question, the disbelief in her voice. To his astonishment, she wrapped the sheet around her, hiding the sight of her body from his view. Had he been wrong about her?
He sat on the edge of the bed and watched as she rose to pick up her discarded clothing.
“What is wrong?”
She shook her head and dropped the sheet. With her back to him, Mary Rose pulled on her drawers, tied the ribbon, and slipped her camisole over her head. Trace could only stare.
“Mary Rose…” He began to walk around the bed toward her. “I said I am to marry you. Have you no answer?”
She drew her chemise over her head and dampened her lips. “I heard you,” she replied.
His heart skipped a beat. “And you’ve not answered.”
She shook her head.
He felt his heart plummet to his feet. “No?”
“No, I haven’t answered,” she whispered.
“Why?”
He watched her swallow before she replied, “Are you doing this because you feel it’s the right thing to do? Or is there another reason?”
“
Querida
,” he whispered. His hand slid around her neck and he pulled her to his chest. “I asked because I wanted to
and
because it is the right thing to do.” Placing a finger beneath her chin, he tilted her head up to look into her eyes. “What troubles you?”
The color in her cheeks faded, and Trace watched her chin tremble. “I need to know that you, when we—” She halted her thoughts and took a deep breath.
“It’s for the right reasons,” he said, and let his hands fall to his side. His joy in asking her was replaced with anger and hurt. “It is right. I will get Father Tomas, and we will seal our vows. You will see it is right,” he said with an emotional detachment.
“Right? Right for you or right for me?”
He turned and unleashed his anger on his clothes, yanking them onto his body. “We must do what is right before God. I realize you have not had time to think. Take this afternoon, and we will talk tonight. I will pick you up at five for dinner at the hotel.”
“An afternoon. How generous of you, Marshal. You want to marry me because I was a virgin.” She stood quietly in the room, her arms folded about her body.
“I will marry you because it is the right thing to do.” Trace knew he sounded sharp. He wished he could take the bitter edge from his words. He sighed and walked over to her. His hands on her arms, he moved his palms up and down, hoping to bring warmth back to her body. “I am doing this, my Irish Rose, not because I took your virtue, but because I wish it.”
She glanced up. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.
Softening, he smiled. “I told you the other day we would come together. Nothing can stop us, and nothing can keep us apart. You will be my wife.” He kissed her gently. “Now hurry, for Rand will be returning. I will wait for you downstairs.” Leaving her with a smile, he went down the stairs to unlock the front door.
****
The thrill, the glow of romance, faded in an instant. Mary Rose turned and picked up her blouse, drawing it across her arms. He was offering her marriage because of his blasted honor. She knew it, even though he didn’t admit it. She sat down heavily on the bed and ran her hands over the rumpled sheets.
She might have believed him if he’d said he loved her. The words “let me make love to you” didn’t have the same ring. She sighed and slid a slipper onto her foot. It had been so easy to give her heart. Why didn’t he? What had that woman done to so crush his heart that he could not say those simple words, I love you? Lying back across the bed, she closed her eyes and crushed his pillow to her chest.
She wanted to breathe in the scent of him. Could she marry without his words of commitment? Her breasts prickled against her blouse, and she knew the truth.
Yes, I could marry him, and every night I could lie with him, making love, holding on to whatever happiness I could find, and praying one day he would feel the same.