Keegan's Lady (51 page)

Some of the color returned to her cheeks. "You promise?"

Ace grinned. "Have I ever lied to you?"

"I haven't caught you yet, anyway."

"Such faith." Ace stepped past her and headed for the kitchen where he dampened a towel to wash his face. He gazed down at the surprising amount of blood that came away on the linen. No wonder so many people in town 1 had stopped to stare at him as he sauntered along the boardwalk. As he laid the towel aside, he said, "You got anything to eat? I'm starving."

"Just that? You're starving? You've been in a fight. I want to know with whom."

Ace sighed. "I'm not sure I should tell you. It'll either make you glad or mad. I'm not sure which. I'd kind of like to stay on your good side."

She narrowed an eye. "It was Patrick. You promised me, Ace. You promised."

He caught her by the chin and looked deeply into her eyes. "And I don't make a habit of breaking my promises. The fight wasn't with your brother. I had a bone to pick with a certain individual. I picked it. It's finished. Let's leave it at that, all right? I'm sorry I walked in with blood on my face and got you all upset. I'm not hurt. So let's get on with our day and not worry about it."

"Who?" she persisted.

Ace chuckled. "Curiosity killed the cat, you know. Where is he, by the way?"

"He's in the study window sill having a nap."

Reaching around her, Ace snatched a square of corn-bread out of a pan sitting on the range's warming shelf. He shoved the morsel into his mouth. "Mmm." Glancing toward the yeast dough she'd set out to rise on the counter, he swallowed and asked, "How long before the rolls are done?"

"About an hour after you tell me who you got in a fight with."

Ace wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Cruise Dublin," he mumbled.

Her eyes went dark. "Cruise Dublin?"

"That's right." Ace felt heat inching up his neck. He'd always hated it when he heard men brag about their prowess in a fist fight. It was disgusting. A real man didn't fight and tell. He just took care of business and kept his mouth shut. "I stomped the fire out of him."

"You did?"

Ace squared his shoulders. "It wasn't all that big a thing."

Her expression said it was. A very big thing. Tears filled her eyes. "Tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"The details."

Ace saw that she had her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "I shoved a couple of his teeth down his throat." No brag, that. Just fact.

She squeezed her eyes closed. Tears trailed down her pale cheeks. Then her mouth lifted in a tremulous smile. When she looked at him again, Ace felt a few inches taller than he had a second before. "Did you break his nose?"

"Probably." Ace smiled, too. What the hell. A man was allowed to brag just once in his life. "When I got finished with him, he looked kind of like a dead pig on a platter. Minus the apple, of course. I didn't have one handy."

Her smile faltered. "Was it—I mean—well. . . ?"

"What?"

"When you beat him up, did you do it because of what he did to your stepfather? Or because—"

"I did it for you," Ace interrupted. "And I made damned sure he knew it before I started. If I'd wanted to kick the shit out of him because of what he did to my stepfather, I'd have done it months ago."

She closed her eyes again. "For me," she whispered. "And you told him before you hit him?"

Ace grinned. "You want me to go back and kick the shit out of him again?"

Her eyes popped open. "Would you?"

"If you twist my arm."

"Can I watch?"

Ace threw back his head and laughed. "That can be arranged."

"What I'd really like—" She broke off and touched her tongue to the comers of her mouth. "What I'd really, really like is for you to hold him while I hit him."

Ace shook his head and drew her into his arms. "I'm sorry. I should have taken you with me. It never occurred to me that you'd want to be there."

"I've dreamed of beating him up a hundred times."

"Let's go," he said in all sincerity. "But only if you use a stick. I don't want those pretty little hands of yours messed up."

She reached behind her to grasp his wrist. Drawing his hand up, she stared at his broken knuckles. "Oh, Ace . . ." Tears filled her eyes again. She swallowed convulsively. "I know it's awful of me. Really awful. But I'm so glad you did it!"

"He had that coming, and worse. If there were any justice in this old world, he'd have hanged for it."

She pressed tremulous lips to his barked knuckles. "No one has ever fought for me before," she whispered. "Not ever."

"You're my wife now. If anyone ever hurts you again, it'll be over my dead body. And even then, if I go down, you'll still have the Paxton boys to kick ass for you. Joseph is one ornery little son of a gun when it comes to defending one of his own. You'll never have to feel afraid again, sweetheart. Or fight a battle without plenty of reinforcement to back you up. That's a promise."

She stepped onto the toes of his boots and looped her arms around his neck. "That makes me feel very safe. I haven't felt safe in a long time. It's a very good feeling."

It didn't escape Ace's notice that she finally felt safe in his arms. He guessed they both had reason to feel good. Mighty good.

"Tell me all the details," she whispered. "What did you say to Cruise right before you hit him?"

He chuckled. Sometimes, there was just no help for it. A man had to brag his ass off. He spent the next five minutes holding his wife in his arms while he related the entire incident to her, from beginning to end. The only thing he neglected to share was that he'd almost gotten his butt kicked. A man hesitated to tell that kind of thing to his lady, especially when he had every intention of making love to her as soon as he could possibly manage it.

***

After Ace had shaved and washed up, he hollered for Caitlin to join him in the bedroom. When she entered, he was waiting for her just inside the door, which he promptly closed and locked. She turned a startled gaze on him.

"Why'd you do that?" Her attention shifted to his bare shoulders. "What happened to your shirt?"

Ace rubbed his chest. "I took it off."

He moved slowly toward her, smiling slightly as she look a step back in retreat. "What?" she whispered.

"You know damned well what," he said huskily. Running an arm around her slender waist, he pulled her firmly against him. "You aren't scared, are you?"

She leaned her head back. "Surely you don't mean to—well, you know." She shot a worried look at the drawn curtains at the window. "It's the middle of the day! We can't do that in broad daylight."

"Why not? There's hardly anything to it."

With his free hand, Ace set himself to the task of unfastening the buttons of her dress. When his knuckles grazed the silken swells of her breasts, his shaft sprang taut. This time, he vowed, he wouldn't embarrass himself. No way. He was going to make love to the girl until she lay limp with exhaustion. She wouldn't leave this bedroom again, thinking there was "hardly anything to it." That was for damned sure.

"You didn't answer my question," he whispered against her hair. "Are you scared?"

"Not at all."

She did sound a little breathless.

"You sure?"

She shivered as he peeled the gown away from her shoulders. Creamy skin. Ace bent to nibble along the edge of the chemise strap at her shoulder, then down around the scooped neckline. The undergarment was cut low. With his teeth, he caught the ribbon that gathered it closed. Cloth began to puddle on the floor at her feet.

Dress. Petticoats. Bloomers. Ace's heart started to slam. He moved her around to stand against the wall. Dragged the chemise off over her head and gave it a toss. Oh, yes.

"Ace? It's not dark in here."

He'd noticed that. He bent on one knee to unfasten her shoes. Her silken thighs were inches from his nose. Flesh plumped up at the tops of her garters. White, sensitive-looking flesh that begged to be kissed. As he tugged her ribbed hose down her slender calves, he sat back on his heel to look at her.

Her face pink with embarrassment, she cupped a palm over the thatch of red curls at the apex of her thighs and angled an arm over her chest, her hand splayed to hide one breast. Ace slid his gaze slowly over her, allowing it to linger at certain points along the way. One nipple peeked out at him from under her elbow. It was as rosy as a strawberry. Strawberries had always been his favorite fruit.

He left her feet trapped in the tangle of hosiery and cloth. The better to catch her, just in case she decided to run. Pushing erect, he planted a hand against the wall on either side of her. He bent his head, touched his nose to hers. "Wanna make some baby snots with me?"

She giggled. "You're awful!"

She hadn't seen anything yet. Ace touched the tip of his tongue to her pouted lips, ticking her sensitive flesh. "May I kiss you, Mrs. Keegan?"

"I don't think I want to—well, you know—in the middle of the day. I'd rather wait until dark so we can turn the lights out."

"Why? Are you hiding something from me?"

Her face turned a shade pinker. "I'm trying."

Ace pushed back, glanced down. His throat felt oddly tight. God, she was pretty. He could have spent an hour just looking. With one hand, he grasped her wrist and pried her fingers away from her breast. Her nipple hardened instantly at the touch of cool air. He tweaked it gently and smiled at the way she sucked in her belly and held her breath. Between his fingers, that hardened nubbin of flesh throbbed with her every heartbeat.

Ace settled his mouth over hers, drove his tongue deep, tasting, savoring, establishing a rhythm of thrust and withdrawal. Meanwhile, he toyed with her nipple, his body quickening when she moaned and opened her mouth wider to him. He kissed her until she hung between his chest and the wall, nearly too limp to stand. And then he moved downward, kissing her throat, her breasts. She gasped when he nipped each nipple with his teeth. Made fists in his hair. Clung to him.

"Oh . . . yes," she cried. "Oh, Ace, yes."

It was all the invitation he needed. Capturing the peaks of her breasts between his fingers, he rolled them, watching the expressions that flitted across her small face until he saw complete oblivion. Then he resumed his earlier position at her feet. She had both hands in his hair, which left the glistening thatch of red curls between her thighs unguarded. Vulnerable.

He pressed close, found the sensitive place he sought with the tip of his tongue. She shrieked and nearly jerked his hair out by the roots.

"Wha—? Oh, my God! Nooo!" Even as she protested, she arched her back to press her shoulders against the wall and angle her hips forward, surrendering herself to him. "Stop! Don't! You mustn't. Nooo!"

Tightening her fists, she drew him closer, nearly suffocating him with her sweetness. It was a hell of a way to go. He caught her between his teeth, increasing the pressure as he dragged his tongue over that throbbing protrusion of flesh.

"No! Oh, God!" With a low cry, she began to undulate her hips. As her body began to spasm, she said, "Yes. Oh, yes!"

The next instant, her knees buckled, and she started to slide down the wall to join her clothes in a puddle on the floor. He grasped her beneath the arms. Slid her back up to a standing position. Held her there with his chest while he unfastened his trousers and jerked her slender feet free of the tangle around her ankles.

She shrieked again when he brought her legs up around his hips and thrust the full length of his shaft up inside her. This time, Ace knew better than to stop and ask if he'd hurt her. No way. He withdrew slightly and buried himself to the hilt again.

"Oh, dear God!" She dug in hard at his shoulders with her fingernails. "This is—you can't—oh, my God!"

Pressing her fanny against the wall, Ace established a driving rhythm, jarring her until her cries became soft grunts. She arched at the waist, tossed back her head. He laved her breasts with his tongue as he pushed with his hips, taking her and himself closer and closer, higher and higher. When her body convulsed, he couldn't hold back any longer.

His release was so explosive it left him weak. He slid down the wall with her, landing hard on his knees. She hugged his neck, her head lolling on his shoulder.

"Christ!"

The girl was going to kill him, no two ways about it. He'd never experienced sex like this. Always before, he'd been able to engage in foreplay, give and take satisfaction (always twice, sometimes more), and then leave directly after. With Caitlin, sex was like being run over by a freight train.

She sighed. A sweet, drawn out sigh of sheer bliss. Ace glanced over the top of her curly head, searching for a spot to collapse. Rolling onto his back to take the brunt of their weight, he went down, still holding her clasped to his chest. She gave a final shudder and stretched out over him like a blanket that was too short to cover his feet. He smiled and ran his hand down the curve of her spine. He had only one clear thought before exhaustion claimed him. He kind of liked being run over by trains.