LaceysWay (9 page)

The plains spread out before them, seemingly flat and barren
save for an occasional stand of timber and patches of gray-green scrub brush.
The sky began to grow dark as clouds gathered, and within thirty minutes the
sun had been blotted from sight by thick black clouds. A stiff wind began to
blow, and Lacey shivered, wishing she had something warmer to wear than her
cotton shirt. Matt was no better off. In the rush to leave town after the
gunfight, they had neglected to buy warm clothing.

A few large drops of rain fell intermittently, and then the
heavens opened, unleashing a downpour that soon had Lacey and Matt soaked to
the skin.

Matt swore under his breath as his eyes searched the bleak
landscape for shelter. He squinted into the distance. Was he imagining things,
or was that a cabin up ahead? He reined his horse toward it, and felt a surge
of relief when he saw that it was indeed a building of some kind. As they drew
nearer, he saw that it was a shack, poorly built and in need of repair but good
enough to provide them with some degree of shelter from the raging storm.

He grimaced with pain as he dismounted. His left side was
still sore, but nothing he couldn’t live with. Hell, it could have been a lot
worse. Hitching his gelding to a rotted tree stump alongside the shack, he
reached up to help Lacey dismount.

“Get inside,” Matt shouted. “I’ll unsaddle the horses.”

With a nod, Lacey ran to the front door, turned the knob,
and gave it a shove. The door refused to open, and she gave it a hard push,
then practically fell on her face as the door flew open.

The inside of the shack was dismal, gloomy, and cold. There
was no furniture, only a rusted iron stove and a fireplace with a cracked
hearth. But at least it was dry.

She was standing in the middle of the floor, shivering, when
Matt came in carrying their saddles. He dropped their gear on the floor inside
the door, removed his hat, and shook the water from the brim.

“Not much, is it?” he mused, glancing around the shack’s
single room.

Lacey shrugged. It was better than riding in the rain.

“You’re cold,” Matt remarked. “Get out of those wet things
and wrap up in a blanket.” He looked around the room, hoping to find something
that would burn, but to no avail. Untying Lacey’s bedroll from behind the
cantle of her saddle, he tossed her a blanket. “Get bundled up before you
freeze to death.”

“Would you mind turning around, please?”

“Sure.” Matt turned toward the opposite wall, rubbing his
arms with his hands while Lacey hastily undressed and wrapped up in the
blanket. “My turn,” he said when he figured she was through, and began to strip
off his wet shirt.

Lacey stared out the shack’s only window. Lightning slashed
through the heavy black clouds, great jagged bolts of brilliant white light.
The rain was very loud on the wooden roof, but not loud enough to blot out the
sound of Matt undressing behind her. She had never seen a naked man before, and
she did not want to see one now, but she could not help remembering the days
she had tended Matt—the sight of his bare chest, the width of his shoulders,
the muscles rippling in his arms when he moved. She sent a silent prayer to
heaven, praying that the rain would not last long. Somehow she had felt less
vulnerable when they had been outside. The shack, drab as it was, hinted at
intimacy, and while she didn’t know much about men, she knew that Matt found
her desirable. If he decided to attack her, she would be at his mercy. He was
too big, too strong, for her to resist.

“Come and sit down,” Matt called, and Lacey slowly turned
around to see him sitting on his saddle blanket before the cold hearth. He
patted the floor beside him. “Come on, sit down. Might as well be comfortable.”

Lacey nodded uncertainly. The blanket Matt was sitting on
offered little padding, and as she sat down beside him, she could feel the cold
floor beneath her. But she was more aware of Matt at her side. Though they were
not quite touching, she could almost feel the heat of his body. If only they
were married. At least then she could curl up in his arms and get warm. Just
contemplating such a thing provided a few moments of warmth as she imagined
what it would be like to be Matt’s wife, to lay beside him in the night. An
embarrassed flush warmed her from head to foot at the mere idea. She hardly
knew the man. Certainly he was not the type of person she would want to marry.
He was a criminal, after all, a man accused of murder. But she was so cold…

Matt slid a sidelong glance at Lacey. She was shivering
uncontrollably, and he wondered if he dared put his arm around her. Bundling
would make them both warmer, but he wasn’t sure Lacey would approve.

A gust of chill wind shook the cabin walls, and Matt
shivered some himself as a draft of icy air swept in around them.

“Lacey, we’d both be warmer if we sat closer together,” Matt
suggested, trying to make his voice even and businesslike. “What do you say?”

She was too cold to argue. A quick nod and Matt was pressed
against her, his arm around her shoulder. Lacey was instantly warmer, but it
had nothing to do with Matt’s body heat. Indeed, the sudden warmth came from
within herself as she realized that only two pitifully thin blankets separated
her bare flesh from his. It was a shockingly provocative thought, and she was
suddenly glad that the shack’s dim interior hid the crimson flush spreading
across her cheeks.

The minutes crept by, and Lacey’s eyelids began to grow
heavy. The steady patter of the rain on the roof, the gathering darkness, the
warmth that now engulfed her all combined to lull her gently to sleep.

Matt’s arm tightened around Lacey as her head lolled forward
and her body relaxed.
Poor kid
, he thought.
She’d been through a lot
in the last few days.
Gently he lowered her to the floor, careful to keep
the blanket wrapped snugly around her though he was sorely tempted to peek
through the folds and see if her body could possibly be as beautiful as he
imagined.

Drawing his own blanket tighter, he stretched out beside
Lacey, his body pressed close to hers, the saddle blanket covering them both.

Outside, the rain fell and the wind blew, but inside the
dismal little shack, all was peaceful and still.

Chapter Five

Lacey woke slowly, roused by the sound of the rain falling
on the roof, and by a movement next to her.

Opening her eyes, she was suddenly jolted wide awake by the
sight of Matt Drago lying close beside her. Sometime during the night they had
rolled out of their separate blankets and were now lying side by side beneath
their combined covers, as cozy as two people could be.

She stared at the black head nestled comfortably on her
shoulder, then let her gaze drift to the long brown arm curled around her
waist. For a moment, she remained completely still, hardly daring to breathe
for fear he might awaken and find them in such a compromising position.

As her initial shock at finding herself lying in Matt’s arms
passed, another reality struck home. Not only was Matt stark naked under the
covers, but so was she!

All Lacey’s senses sprang to life, and she was suddenly,
keenly, aware of the coarse hair on Matt’s legs, the day’s growth of beard on
his strong, square jaw, the smell of leather and sweat and maleness, the fact
that the length of her body was in direct contact with his from shoulder to
ankle.

What was she going to do now, she thought frantically. Would
he awaken if she moved? She would be mortified if he woke up. What if he
thought she had purposefully slept so close to him? What if he woke up and saw
her naked? Oh, she would die of shame.

Matt Drago didn’t move. He knew Lacey was awake, knew she
must be suffering miserably to find herself lying so close to him. She was such
an innocent, so shy and modest. Personally, he found lying beside her most
enjoyable, though he knew Lacey must be horrified. But, Lord, she felt good
lying there beside him, her skin smooth and warm against his own, her hair soft
and silky where it brushed his cheek. He felt the stirrings of desire begin to
make themselves known and he thought, wryly, that if Lacey didn’t roll out of
those blankets pretty damn quick, she would know without a doubt that he was
awake. Awake and thinking about something besides breakfast.

Drawing a deep breath, Lacey took hold of the top blanket
and quickly rolled away from Matt, taking the blanket with her. Jumping to her
feet, she wrapped the blanket around her, tucking the ends between her breasts
before sending a quick glance over her shoulder. She had expected to find Matt
grinning at her, but he appeared to be sleeping soundly. For a moment Lacey
stared at him, wondering if he was all right. On the trail the slightest
movement or sound had awakened him in an instant. With a slight shrug of her
shoulders, she began to pull on her clothes, shivering as she pulled on the
cold cotton jeans and shirt—hurrying because she did not want him to awake and
find her in a state of undress.

Matt watched Lacey through narrowed eyes. Her back was
smooth and unblemished, her legs long and shapely, her bottom nicely rounded.
It was all he could do to keep from reaching out and touching her, and he
cursed under his breath as he closed his eyes. She was even more beautiful than
he had imagined, he mused glumly, and he had imagined quite a bit.

He stretched and yawned hugely as Lacey reached for her
boots.

“Good morning,” Lacey said, somewhat breathlessly.

“Morning. Still raining, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Did you sleep well?” Matt asked.

Lacey slanted a probing look in his direction. Was there a
hint of laughter in his voice, or was she imagining things? “Yes, thank you.
Are you hungry? There’s some jerky left. And an apple.”

“Fine,” Matt said, though what he really wanted was a cup of
coffee. Sitting up, he stretched again.

Lacey quickly averted her eyes as the blanket fell down
around Matt’s hips, exposing his heavily muscled torso, long sinewy arms, and
broad shoulders. Rummaging through one of the packs, she tried not to remember
the thick mat of black hair that covered his chest, or the way it tapered to a
thin line before disappearing below the concealing folds of the blanket.

“Would you mind throwing me my pants?” Matt asked.

Lacey picked up his jeans as though they might bite her. Not
meeting his eyes, she tossed the pants in Matt’s general direction, then
quickly turned around, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment at the wayward
turn of her thoughts.

Chewing on her lower lip, she tried to concentrate on the
apple she was slicing. She could feel Matt’s eyes on her back. Knowing he was
watching her made her clumsy, and she gave a little cry of pain as the knife’s
sharp blade sliced into her finger.

“What is it?” Matt asked.

“Nothing. I cut myself.”

“Let me have a look,” Matt said, coming to stand beside her.

Lacey held out her hand, and felt her stomach churn at the
sight of the blood oozing from her finger.

“Hey, that’s a bad cut,” Matt exclaimed. Taking a bandana
from his hip pocket, he wrapped it around Lacey’s finger, then held the cloth
in place with his thumb and forefinger. “Are you all right?” he asked. “You
look a little pale.”

Lacey laughed self-consciously. “I…I could never stand the
sight of blood,” she confessed.

“You weren’t all pale and shaky when you patched me up,”
Matt remarked.

Lacey shrugged. “It doesn’t bother me so much when it’s not
my blood.”

“Oh.” He unwrapped the bandana and checked the cut. “The
bleeding’s stopped, but we’d better wash it out and disinfect it,” he decided.
“We wouldn’t want it to get infected.”

Lacey nodded. Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she
tried not to flinch as Matt doused her injured finger with water from the
canteen.

“This is going to sting like hell,” Matt said as he laid the
canteen aside and picked up the whiskey bottle.

Lacey nodded. Holding her breath, she stared at the cobwebs
hanging from a corner of the ceiling as Matt tilted the whiskey bottle over her
hand. In spite of her resolve to be brave, she gave a cry of pain as the
alcohol seeped into the wound, making her finger feel on fire.

Matt swore softly as he wrapped the injured digit in a bit
of cloth ripped from his shirt tail. The sight of blood, his own or someone
else’s, had never bothered him in the slightest. He had seen men blown to bits
during the war. He had helped one of the Army doctors amputate a man’s leg and
never turned a hair. He had buried men who had been hacked to pieces in a
bayonet charge, or been blown to bits by cannon fire and remained calm, but
seeing Lacey’s finger oozing with blood and hearing her small cry of pain
tugged at his heart in a most peculiar way.

Feeling suddenly lightheaded, Lacey swayed unsteadily on her
feet. Immediately Matt reached out and grabbed her, pulling her close to him.

“You okay?” he asked anxiously. “You’re not gonna faint on
me, are you?”

“I don’t think so.” Lacey gave a little sigh as Matt’s arm
slid around her waist, holding her tightly, protectively. It was nice to have
someone look after her. It felt so good to stand in Matt’s embrace, to feel the
security of his arm around her. Without thinking of what she was doing, she
closed her eyes and rested her cheek against his chest. It was such a
comforting chest, she thought dreamily, hard and strong and solid. She could
hear his heart beating, steady and sure beneath her ear, and that was
comforting, too.

Tenderly, Matt held Lacey to him.
Poor little thing
,
he thought affectionately, and began to stroke her hair. Bending, he kissed the
top of her head, his lips moving softly in the heavy, silken mass of her hair.
She felt good in his arms, as if she belonged there.

Wordlessly he drew her closer to him, his hands moving to
caress her back. It had been hell, living with her all these weeks, wanting
her, and yet not daring to touch her for fear of frightening her with the
intensity of his desire, or, worse yet, incurring her hatred. She was innocent
in the ways of men, and he yearned to be the one to teach her the joys and
pleasures that a man and woman could share. Nevertheless, he had been taught
from childhood that a gentleman did not force a lady. A gentleman took his base
desires elsewhere, for there were plenty of women who were more than willing to
satisfy a man’s lust for the right amount of money.

Matt frowned. He had seen his share of prostitutes during
the war, women willing to sell themselves for the price of a meal, camp
followers who had bartered their virtue for food or clothing or shelter. Women
of easy virtue were never hard to find. They were always there, lingering in
shadowy hotel doorways or in smoke-filled saloons, waiting. Always waiting,
always willing.

Matt gazed at the top of Lacey’s head. Was that all he felt
for her, just lust? He wanted to make love to her, that was true enough, but he
also wanted to care for her, to protect her from harm. Surely those emotions
were of a higher, more noble caliber than mere lust for her sweet flesh. Was it
possible he had fallen in love with her?

Lacey stirred in Matt’s arms. Lifting her head, she gave him
a shy smile. “Thank you,” she murmured. “I feel better now.”

She was so beautiful, Matt thought. So darn beautiful. Her
hair was like a dull flame, her eyes were wide and innocent. Cupping her chin
in the palm of his hand, he lowered his head and kissed her gently. He was not
prepared for the heat that shot clear through him as his lips touched hers;
heat that turned his body to flame and then settled in his loins, urging him to
take that which he had been yearning for since the moment he opened his eyes
and saw her hovering over him. He kissed her again, his mouth hungry.

And Lacey kissed him back. Feeling suddenly shameless, she
pressed herself against Matt, wanting him to kiss her, wanting to feel the
hard, masculine length of his body next to hers, his arms tight around her. He
was the only sure thing in a world of strangers, the only source of comfort and
security. Her only source of strength. She yielded her mouth to his, her lips
parting as she surrendered to the heady warmth that surged through her limbs,
making her knees weak, turning her blood to fire.

Matt’s tongue gently probed the recesses of her mouth,
savoring the secret sweetness within, igniting a never before known feeling of
excitement in the very core of her being, a feeling of such wonder and delight
that she shivered with the sheer pleasure of it. Her heart was beating a wild,
primal rhythm as her arms twined around his neck, drawing him closer, wanting
to absorb his essence into herself.

Matt groaned low in his throat as Lacey’s lips parted
beneath his. His whole body felt alive, tingling with sensation and desire. His
kiss deepened as he sought to draw her closer still. Heat washed through him,
driving him to the brink of madness. Her breasts were flattened against his
chest, soft and warm, exciting him still further. His hands slid down her back,
cupping her buttocks, molding her hips to his, letting her feel the visible
evidence of his desire.

“Lacey.” Her name was a groan on his lips. The blood pounded
in his brain, roaring in his ears like the crash of distant thunder as the fire
of his desire spread through him. Dimly, the faint voice of reason warned him
that if he didn’t release her soon, he never would.

He started to pull away, but Lacey refused to let him go.
Her arms tightened around his neck as she kissed him ardently, passionately.
She was trembling with an emotion she did not understand, but it was incredibly
sweet, drugging her senses, mesmerizing her with pleasure, and she knew only
that she did not want it to end. Not now, not ever.

Warning bells rang loud and clear in Matt Drago’s mind. It
was time to stop. She was just a kid, he reminded himself, new to passion,
intoxicated with pleasure. She didn’t know what she was doing to him, what he
wanted to do to her.

With an effort, he pried her arms from around his neck.
“Lacey…” His voice was low and edged with the pain of wanting her.

“Please, Matt,” she murmured breathlessly.

“Lacey, you don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“Show me,” she begged, and pressed her lips to his again,
certain she would die if he didn’t kiss her again.

It was a temptation no man could resist. Knowing it was
wrong, Matt lowered Lacey onto his blanket. His tongue plundered the sweetness
of her mouth as his hands gently massaged her belly and thighs.

Lacey moaned with delight as a sudden rush of warmth filled
her. All her senses were attuned to Matt. Her lips tasted his, her hands
touched his flesh, her nostrils were filled with his scent, and her ears heard
only the harsh rasp of his breathing as his mouth moved over her face, raining
kisses on her eyes and nose and mouth. Closing her eyes, she surrendered to the
magic of his hands, the rapture of his kisses. Waves of sensation washed
through her, making her forget everything but the touch of his hands and mouth
on her all too willing flesh.

She was hardly aware that he was undressing her until she
felt the cool air whisper over her bare skin. She gasped with surprise as she
felt his tongue slide over her breast, teasing and tormenting. She tried to
stop him, but when the first shock passed, she urged him on, driven by a hunger
that was new and frightening in its intensity, certain she would shatter into a
million pieces if he did not satisfy the alien need raging through her. Her
hands moved restlessly over his broad back and shoulders, delving under his
shirt to stroke the hard-muscled flesh beneath. His skin was moist and warm and
exhilarating, his eyes bright with desire as her fingers curled in the thick
pelt on his chest, following it down, down, until it disappeared inside his
jeans.

Matt uttered a hoarse cry as her hand stopped at his waist.
Somehow, without quite letting her go, he managed to shrug out of his jeans and
shirt, and now they were lying side by side, bodies and mouths fused together.