Gunslinger (18 page)

Chloe hoped Reverend Tully’s congregation was as forgiving as his wife had been, for the reverend was a good man. He had made a mistake and would carry it upon his conscience forever. That ought to be punishment enough. Besides, all humans were flesh and blood, with the same inclination to sin. Only God had the power to judge and condemn.

Chloe rose to leave. “Good luck, Reverend.”

“Good luck to you, Miss Sommers. Something tells me you’re going to need it. If you ever decide to marry for real, I’ll be happy to perform the ceremony.”

Chloe’s expression grew pensive. The only man she wanted to marry was Desperado, and though she refused to accept it, he might no longer be listed among the living. She wouldn’t believe he was dead until she saw his bones.

Chloe buttoned her coat to the neck as she left the parsonage. The weather had turned nasty and she didn’t linger in town any longer than it took to buy supplies and have them loaded in the buckboard. A light dusting of snow covered the ground by the time she rolled into the yard. Juanita came out of the house to help her unload the provisions.

“How is Rowdy?” Chloe asked as they carried groceries into the house.

“He’s doing very well,” Juanita said. Her dreamy smile told Chloe that Rowdy was special to Juanita.

“You seem mighty fond of that rascal,” Chloe said wryly.

Juanita blushed prettily. “He’s very nice. Nothing like—” Her words ended in a gurgle of surprise when Tate stomped into the kitchen.

“About time you came back,” Tate complained. “I’m hungry. What’s for supper?”

“Fried potatoes and ham,” Chloe said.

“I will fix supper, Senorita Chloe,” Juanita said, scooting out of Tate’s way.

“’Bout time you made yourself useful,” Tate grumbled. “Me and Chloe got business upstairs in the bedroom, don’t we, honey?”

Chloe blanched. “I don’t think—”

“Juanita looks mighty fetching today,” Tate drawled. “Remember what I said? I’m so hard-up right now it don’t make much difference which of you I take.” He rubbed his crotch suggestively.

“Leave Juanita alone,” Chloe hissed when she saw Juanita pale and back away. “Go back to the bunkhouse,” she told Juanita. “I’ll manage here.”

“But…you don’t know what he’s like,” Juanita cried on a note of panic.

“I’m married to him,” Chloe said to allay Juanita’s fears. “Of course I know what he’s like. I’ll be fine. Why don’t you put Rowdy in the wagon and take him to town.” She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out all the money she had on her. “Get a hotel room.”

Juanita gave Chloe a long, considering look before nodding her understanding and scooting out the door.

“That was wise,” Tate said. “But you shouldn’t have given her money. She’s capable of earning her keep. Whores know how to survive. Go upstairs and take off your clothes. It’s really you I wanted anyway.”

“I thought you were hungry.”

He reached out to touch her breast but she neatly evaded him. He scowled. “I’m starved. I want to see if you taste as good as I remember. We’re finally gonna have our wedding night. Pa said I was a fool to let you have your way. I ain’t afraid of you.”

In a surprisingly swift move he drew his gun with his uninjured left hand and pointed it at Chloe.

“I’ve been practicing with my left hand while my busted shoulder is healing,” he said when he noted Chloe’s astonishment. “I ain’t taking no chances this time. Leave those damn guns down here.”

Chloe had no choice but to unbuckle her gun belt and let it fall to the floor. “Don’t think disarming me changes anything,” Chloe warned. After imparting those chilling words, she left the room.

Chloe made a short detour to the study. Minutes later she had removed the “marriage license” from the safe and was ascending the stairs to her room. Now that she knew Reverend Tully couldn’t be hurt by Calvin Talbot, she’d decided to confront Tate with the bogus license tonight. She didn’t want him to think they were married a moment longer than necessary. She had looked for the rifle her stepfather had always kept on a wall bracket, but it wasn’t there. Tate must have gotten to it before her.

Damn him, she thought. But just because he had disarmed her didn’t mean she wasn’t dangerous.

Desperado spurred his mustang, fighting snow and wind in his eagerness to reach the ranch. Fear rode him. What had the Talbots done to Chloe to make her marry Tate? Or had she married Tate because she wanted to? The more he thought about Chloe and Tate together, the angrier he became. What kind of woman would hop into bed with another man scant days after being told that her fiancé was dead?

He should just ride off into the sunset and forget Chloe, Desperado thought angrily. She’d made her bed, let her lie in it. The only problem with that line of thinking was that Chloe’s bed included Tate Talbot. If Chloe preferred Tate to him, so be it, Desperado reflected. But he damn well was going to let her know exactly what he thought of her.

Darkness came quickly this time of year. It was already pitch black when Desperado met the buckboard on the road. The woman driving the team was wrapped from head to toe in a woolen shawl and seemed frightened when Desperado appeared in the road. Unable to drive around him, she drew rein and reached for the shotgun she’d placed beneath the seat.

“I mean you no harm,” Desperado said as he approached the buckboard. “Have you come from the Ralston spread? I recognize the horses.”

The young woman appeared frightened of him, and Desperado decided to go on his way without troubling her further. Suddenly a head popped up from the wagon bed. “Desperado, is that you? Is Randy with you?”

Though the voice was shaky and weak, Desperado knew immediately that it belonged to Rowdy. “It’s me, Rowdy. Randy and I crossed paths and I sent him off on an errand. What are you doing out on a night like this? Randy told me you’d been wounded.”

“Tate Talbot ordered us all off the ranch,” Rowdy explained. “He wanted to hire his own men. This is Juanita. She works for Miss Chloe.”

Desperado was shocked. “You mean to tell me Chloe let Tate fire the lot of you without a fight? That doesn’t sound like the Chloe I know.”

“They’re married now,” Rowdy said bitterly. “I just don’t understand why she did it.”

“Senor Tate is a very bad man,” Juanita injected. “I do not think Senorita Chloe likes him.”

Desperado gave a snort of laughter. “She married him, didn’t she?”

“Sí
, but—”

“You’d best be on your way,” Desperado said, glancing at the inky sky and thickening snowflakes. “Rowdy could catch pneumonia in his weakened state.”

“Oh,
si,”
Juanita said, sending Rowdy a worried glance as she picked up the reins and swatted them against the team’s hindquarters.

“Where are you going?” Rowdy called as the buckboard pitched forward.

“Polecat hunting,” he called back.

Chloe carefully locked the bedroom door and waited for Tate to make the first move. She didn’t have long to wait. She saw the knob jiggle, and when it wouldn’t turn, Tate began pounding on the door with the butt of his gun.

“Open up, Chloe!” Tate yelled.

No answer.

“Stand back, I’m gonna shoot the lock.”

Chloe moved aside just in time as Tate’s shot shattered the lock. Then he pushed the door open and strode into the room. He had removed everything except his longjohns.

“You ain’t naked,” he charged.

“You’ll never see me naked, Tate Talbot!”

His grin said otherwise as he pointed his gun at her and said, “Strip. Now.”

Desperado rode his horse into the barn, removed his saddle and gave him a quick rubdown. He glanced at the house and saw light spilling from an upstairs window. Chloe’s window. The bunkhouse appeared deserted, confirming Rowdy’s words that everyone had left.

Desperado tried the back door first, found it locked, and walked around to the front entrance, certain he’d find that door locked also. It was. He spit out a curse and stared thoughtfully at the door. Then he calmly raised his booted foot and kicked the door, gratified when he heard wood splintering as the bolt ripped through the doorjamb.

Chloe had removed her shirt and her trousers and stood before Tate now in her drawers and camisole. She glanced at the nightstand, where the false marriage license rested in a drawer. She wondered what would happen if she were to show it to Tate now. Then her practical side took over and she realized it would serve only to enrage him. In the mood Tate was in, and with his gun aimed at her, her only option was to get Tate into bed with her. And when lust made him incautious, she’d disarm him. She’d shoot him if she had to, though she’d prefer not to. Then she’d show him the fake marriage license and order him off her property. But she couldn’t do that until she had the upper hand.

“I told you to take everything off,” Tate repeated, waving the gun threateningly.

“I thought you might like to remove the final layer yourself,” Chloe said archly. She sidled toward the bed. “I’ll lie down and you can—”

Her words skidded to a halt when a loud crash shattered the night.

Tate whirled on his heel, startled and more than a little angry at the untimely interruption. “What the hell—” He walked to the door; a blast of frigid air rushed through the open panel. “Someone’s broken into the house.” Gripping his pistol in his left hand and picking up the lamp with his right, he started for the stairs. He paused halfway down and held the lamp high, gasping when he looked into the face of death.

“Desperado.” His voice held a note of disbelief, and a healthy amount of fear. “You’re dead. Pa said he killed you.”

Desperado walked into the circle of light, a sneer curving his full lips. “As you can see, I’m far from dead.” His cool gaze slid insultingly over Tate, frowning when he noted Tate’s state of undress. “Did I interrupt something?”

“Damn right you did! My wife and I were—”

“Desperado! My God, you’re alive!”

Desperado glanced upward and saw Chloe standing on the top landing, staring at him with a mixture of joy and disbelief. She was in the same state of undress as Tate, wearing only camisole and drawers. It was obvious to Desperado that he had interrupted an intimate moment between husband and wife.

“I’m very much alive, Chloe,” Desperado rasped. “Does that disappoint you?”

Chloe frowned. “Disappoint me? Dear God! I’m thrilled. Ecstatic. I never once believed you were dead.”

“Tell that to someone who will believe you,” Desperado drawled sarcastically. “If you were so distressed over my death, why did you marry Tate almost immediately?”

“I’m not…We’re not—”

“Shut up, Chloe,” Tate warned.

“Do as he says, Chloe. I’ll deal with you later.”

“Deal with me? You don’t understand.”

“I understand only too well.” He returned his attention to Tate. “Are you aware that I own half this ranch, Talbot? As part owner I’m telling you to get the hell off my property. Tell your father no part of this spread is his or yours to sell.”

“You’re a wanted man,” Tate charged. “When Pa hears you’re still alive, he’ll get the marshal to run you down again. It’s not too late for a hanging.”

“You’re dead wrong, Talbot. There’s not going to be a hanging. There are too many witnesses who saw what really happened that day you challenged me. I’m not running this time. Tell Calvin that,” Desperado spat.

“Go away, Jones. Chloe married me and I’m entitled to live here with her. We’re newlyweds. We want to be alone.”

“No, I—” Chloe tried to explain but Desperado’s scathing glance told her he wasn’t, in the mood to listen right now. She clamped her lips together and fought to control her growing anger. How dare he assume she’d willingly married Tate!

“You’re the one who’s leaving, Talbot,” Desperado rasped in that mean-as-hell voice that usually got the result he wanted.

Tate set the lamp down on the stair and used his right hand to keep his left hand from shaking. “I’m the one holding the gun,” Tate reminded him.

Desperado’s mirthless laugh sent chills down Chloe’s spine.

In one flawless move, Desperado drew his weapon and shot the gun from Tate’s hand. It flew into the air and landed on the floor at Desperado’s feet. He kicked it aside while keeping his fathomless black eyes riveted on Tate, who was nursing his stinging hand.

“Are you still here?” Desperado drawled.

“You’re not gonna send me out in the cold and snow without my boots or clothes, are you?”

Desperado appeared to be thinking. “Let him get dressed, Desperado,” Chloe urged. “You don’t want his death on your conscience.”

Desperado gave her a contemptuous look but decided to follow her advice. “Get his duds,” he ordered.

Chloe scurried into the spare bedroom where Tate had been sleeping and gathered up his boots and clothing, adding his sheepskin coat to the bundle. Then she walked down the stairs and handed them to Tate. His movements were awkward, favoring his shattered collarbone as he pulled on his clothing.

“You ain’t gonna get away with this,” he snarled as he sidled around Desperado to reach the door. “Wait till Pa hears what you done.”

Chloe waited until he was outside, then she launched herself at Desperado, expecting him to welcome her with open arms. Instead, he caught her and held her at arm’s length. Puzzled, she stared at him. His face was rigid, his expression devoid of all emotion.

His contemptuous glance slid down her thinly clad body; then he hefted her over his shoulder and ascended the stairs.

Chapter Seventeen

“Put me down!” Chloe screamed, pounding on Desperado’s back. “What do you think you’re doing?”

No answer was forthcoming.

“Why are you angry with me?”

He stormed into the bedroom and tossed her down on the bed. She bounced once, then settled onto the feather tick. It was so dark she could see nothing but yawning blackness. Then she heard his retreating footsteps. She scooted to the edge of the bed, swung her legs over the side and would have risen if Desperado hadn’t returned carrying the lamp. He set it on the nightstand and stood over her, his expression rigid with accusation.

“Did Tate please you in bed?” he ground out as he removed his jacket and unbuckled his gunbelt.

Oh God, of course Desperado would think the worst
. Chloe watched in trepidation as he tossed both his jacket and gunbelt across the room and began unbuttoning his shirt. She swallowed convulsively, aware that she had to defuse Desperado’s anger before he did something she couldn’t forgive.

“You don’t understand. Let me explain.”

“What’s to explain? I have perfect vision, I know what I saw. Wasn’t a half-breed good enough for you?”

His hands went to his waistband, fumbling with the buttons on the flap of his trousers.

“You’re crazy! What are you doing?”

“Crazy enough to believe you when you said you loved me. Now I’m going to let you make the comparison. When I’m finished, tell me who has the better technique, me or Tate. I’m interested to know what he has that I don’t.”

He sat on the bed and removed his boots; then he pulled off his trousers.

“What have you heard about Tate and me?”

“Enough.”

“Desperado, don’t do this to me. I was devastated when Calvin Talbot told me you were dead. I refused to believe him, but when you didn’t return, I feared the worst. Nevertheless, I never gave up on you.”

“You married Tate,” he charged.

“Who told you?”

“Does it matter?”

He rose to his full height and loomed over her, his face half hidden in the shadows. The breath slammed from Chloe’s chest as her gaze slid over his hard body. He was somewhat thinner than she remembered, but still magnificent. Her gaze lingered a moment on his massive erection and she blanched. She’d forgotten how quick his passion was to kindle. Then she noticed the puckered red wound on his chest and another on his thigh and cried out in dismay.

“You’re hurt!”

“The wounds are healing.”

“Did the posse do that?”

He nodded. “They left me for dead but I cheated them.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Not now.”

He reached for her and pulled her to the edge of the bed. Then he quickly and efficiently removed her camisole and drawers. His expression did not change as his gaze roamed freely over her naked form, but Chloe saw his eyes kindle with appreciation. Fire leaped into the dark centers, and she felt her own blood heat and thicken.

“Does Tate do this to you?” Desperado rasped as he dropped to his knees, spread her legs and touched her heat with the tip of his tongue.

“Tate never did anything to me,” Chloe claimed on a rising note of passion. She had no control over her body where Desperado was concerned.

Suddenly he pushed her backward on the bed, leaving her legs hanging over the sides. Then he placed her legs over his shoulders, lowered his head and explored her thoroughly with his tongue.

“Desperado! Please.”

Desperado gave her a heart-stopping smile, then positioned her in the center of the bed. She cried out when he found a new way to torment her.

“Does Tate know how sensitive your nipples are?”

“I told you…Ohhh…” Her denial ended in a strangled sigh when his mouth closed over the tip of one breast. Her nipples had become so sensitive lately, the merest touch of his tongue sent waves of ecstasy shuddering through her.

Lifting his head, he stared at her, clearly puzzled. “By your response, I’d say Tate ignored your breasts. Pity. You should have told him what you liked.”

“Damn you! If you don’t listen to me, you’re going to live to regret it.”

“I listened to you once,” he bit out. “You said you loved me. You lied.” He stared at her mouth. “Are your kisses as sweet as I remember?”

He kissed her then, and Chloe wandered helplessly in a sensual fog of surrender. His lips were soft against hers, not hard and censuring as she expected them to be. Though the kiss was not gentle, neither was it punishing. It held a combination of hunger for her and disappointment in her. She recognized the hurting inside him and knew she had to find a way to tell him the truth about herself and Tate before the wedge of distrust separated them beyond repair.

The opportunity came when Desperado released her mouth and returned to her breasts. “Your breasts are larger than I recall,” he said as he took a dark red bud into his mouth and suckled her.

Finding her mouth free, Chloe wound her fingers in his dark hair and lifted his head so she could look into his eyes. His frown told her she had interrupted his feast far too soon, but she refused to be intimidated by his dark scowl.

“You listen to me, Desperado Jones,” she said in a voice that captured his attention. “I am not now nor was I ever married to Tate Talbot. Oh, there was a ceremony, all right, but it wasn’t legal. Tate thinks we’re married, but he never touched me. I wouldn’t let him.”

“You expect me to believe that?” he asked incredulously. “I know what I interrupted tonight.”

“You don’t know a damn thing. I didn’t have my guns on me when Tate broke into my room, but I planned to disarm him and tell him we aren’t really married. I’ve kept him away from me ever since our bogus ceremony. I would have found a way to discourage him tonight, too.”

Desperado stared at her, his expression one of wary hope. “What makes you think the ceremony wasn’t legal?”

Chloe pulled the blanket up to her chin. The fire in the stove needed rekindling and it was growing cold in the room.

“I was unwilling, and Reverend Tully knew it. He performed the ceremony because somehow Calvin obtained damaging information that could have ended his marriage as well as his career.

“But Reverend Tully was smarter than the Talbots thought,” she continued. “The marriage license that he prepared and all parties signed wasn’t a marriage license at all. It was an application to join the First Baptist Church of Trouble Creek. I was the only one who thought to read the document before I signed. I waited to confront Tate with the bogus license because Calvin threatened to harm my hired hands. He’s responsible for Rowdy being shot. It was meant as a warning.”

“That story is pretty farfetched even for you, Chloe,” Desperado charged. “How did you keep Tate from consummating the marriage? He’s always been hot for you.”

“I threatened him,” Chloe said. “Old Doc Hockmeyer did a poor job of treating Tate, and his shattered collarbone isn’t healing properly. He was never a threat to me, Desperado. I can handle him with one hand tied behind my back.”

“You were both in your underwear,” Desperado accused.

Exasperation sharpened her voice. “He caught me unaware and disarmed me. Then he ordered me upstairs to bed. I played along with him until I could find the right moment to disarm him: Then I was going to inform him we weren’t really married. I no longer had to worry about the ranch hands being hurt because Tate chased them off the land.

“I spoke with Reverend Tully earlier today and he told me he had taken steps to defuse Calvin’s threats, so there was nothing preventing me from confronting Tate with the truth about our sham marriage.”

“If all this is true, I owe you an apology,” Desperado offered.

Chloe propped herself against the headboard and reached into the nightstand drawer. “Read this,” she said, handing Desperado a document that looked suspiciously like a marriage license.

Desperado held it to the light and perused the document. Chloe watched him closely. When she saw the dimple flash in his right cheek she knew he finally understood. Then he read it again, more slowly this time, and the corners of his mouth kicked up into a smile. Then a rumble started in his chest and he tipped back his head and roared with laughter.

“Remind me to thank Reverend Tully,” he said, dashing mirthful tears from his eyes. Suddenly he sobered. “God, sweetheart, I was so frightened for you, but there was nothing I could do about it. I was more dead than alive when I was fished from the river. Prairie Moon nursed me back to health.”

“Prairie Moon?”

“My foster mother. The tribe had camped on the riverbank to rest before continuing their trek to their winter hunting grounds in the south. I hadn’t seen Prairie Moon or Black Bear in years, but they hadn’t forgotten me.”

She reached out to touch the healing wound that marred his chest. “Someday I hope to be able to thank Prairie Moon for saving your life.”

“I’m sorry,” Desperado rasped as he leaned over to kiss her ear.

“For what?”

“For almost doing something I’d regret the rest of my life. When I make love to you it will be because we both want it.”

“I want what you want, Desperado,” Chloe whispered against his lips.

“Oh God, sweetheart, I nearly lost my mind when I learned you had married Tate. I should have known there were circumstances I wasn’t aware of. I was so damn jealous I allowed my temper to rule me. You do forgive me, don’t you?”

“I forgive you. I’m just glad you’re alive. I need you, Desperado, don’t ever leave me.”

“Never, sweetheart, not as long as I have a breath left in my body.

“Don’t move, I’ll be right back,” he said as he rose from the bed and pulled on his trousers.

“Where are you going?”

“To see if I can close the front door. I was so anxious to get you upstairs I left it hanging open on its hinges. I can hear the wind whistling through the house from up here.”

“Don’t be long.”

Desperado took up the lamp and descended the stairs. A rush of cold air hit him and he shivered. He had indeed left the door gaping open, and a fine dusting of snow covered the foyer. He set the lamp down and pushed the door shut. The wood had shattered and the lock no longer worked, so he did the next best thing until it could be properly repaired tomorrow. He brought a chair from the kitchen and propped it beneath the knob.

Then, recalling the shattered lock on the bedroom door, he dragged a chair up the stairs and into the bedroom, positioning it beneath the knob. There was only one more thing left to be done before he could return to the warm bed and Chloe. He selected pieces of kindling from the wood box beside the stove and fed them into the dying fire.

“The room should be warm in a few minutes,” he said as he peeled off his trousers and slid beneath the quilt. He turned to Chloe and drew her into his arms.

“I feared I’d never have you in my arms like this again,” he rasped against her lips. “When I fell into the river and was carried away by the current, I was convinced the devil was about to claim me. In addition to my wounds, which I knew were life-threatening, I was very close to drowning. I have no idea how I ended up in Black Bear’s village. Perhaps the devil didn’t want me and he spit me back.”

Chloe shuddered. “Don’t talk like that. You survived for a reason. I needed you. Never more than I do right now. Kiss me, Desperado. Love me again, I’ve missed you so.”

Desperado’s answer was lost in a groaning sigh as his arms tightened around her. He kissed her with all the pent-up love and longing in his heart. A heart Chloe had brought to life with her abiding faith in him. He couldn’t get enough of her sweet lips as he kissed her again and again, drawing her tongue into his mouth, then plunging inside hers to taste her more fully.

After an eon of kissing and tasting, it was no longer enough to satisfy him. His dark eyes glinted with purpose as he pressed a path of kisses to her breasts, where he paused to flick her hard nipples with wet strokes of his tongue, relishing her soft moans of encouragement. But that still wasn’t enough to satisfy Desperado as he trailed his mouth down her body, stopping briefly to worship her navel before continuing to the moist nest between her legs.

He inhaled her heady fragrance, sweet and tangy and so arousing, his rigid staff gave an involuntary jerk. Ignoring his raging need, he spread her with his fingers and lapped delicately at her tender, pink flesh.

He raised his head and whispered, “I love the way you weep for me.”

“Only for you,” Chloe gasped as he returned to his succulent feast.

Chloe felt the beginning of her climax deep within her core. It spread to every part of her body and exploded violently where he plied his mouth and tongue with remarkable diligence. She convulsed once, twice, then cried out, the pleasure so intense she feared she would die of it. She came back to herself when she felt Desperado slide up her body, spread her thighs and thrust deep within her center.

“I’m home, sweetheart,” he groaned against her mouth as he buried himself deeply within her tight passage.

“Welcome back,” Chloe gasped. Her arms went around him, holding him snugly as he began the slow, arousing rhythm of love.

“Are you with me?” he rasped.

“All the way,” Chloe replied. And she was, though she was more than a little astounded that she could respond to his loving after the volatile climax he had wrested from her only moments before.

Chloe had never felt him so hard, or seen him so intensely focused. Despite the coolness of the room, he had thrown off the quilt and beads of sweat dotted his forehead. His face was starkly outlined in the light cast by the lamp. Then all thought ceased as he grasped her hips and pierced her so deeply she felt as if he’d touched her soul.

“I…can’t…wait,” he bit out through clenched teeth. “Come…with me, love. I’m going to…ahhh…”

“I’m with you!” Chloe cried as she arched up against him and dug her fingers into his back. Pleasure burst through her at the same moment that Desperado cried out her name and spent himself.

“Did you draw blood?” Desperado asked a short time later as he lifted himself off of her and flopped down beside her.