Authors: Deborah Camp
Getting a better grip on him, Callum swung Bransetter about and stuffed his face down into a horse trough that was full of cold, gray water. Bits of straw, globules of mud, and strings of horse saliva floated on the top. He strained, keeping the man’s head under water as he struggled, writhed, and kicked like a mule. When he knew Bransetter was about to pass out, he let him up. Bransetter opened his mouth like a bass and sucked in a breath. Callum balled up his fist and rammed it into the man’s big belly. He doubled over and Callum let him drop to the ground, giving him a good, hard kick in the ribs. He figured he cracked a couple of them.
“Chicken shit,” Callum said, wiping the blood and spit off his face with a sweep of his coat sleeve. “You want to talk disrespectful to someone, try me. Spineless weasels like you would rather spout off at ladies.” He kicked Gus again, making him roll onto his back and stare up at him. Callum bent over to make solid eye contact. “You heard me. I’ll finish you if you ever speak that way again to her. And I won’t wear a mask or a hood when I do. I’ll kill you like I killed Yankees in the war. Face to face so that this –” He pointed to his scowling visage. “—will be the last thing you see before you get to hell.”
Straightening slowly, he stepped over the sprawled figure and left him bleeding and gasping like a skinned catfish on the riverbank.
###
The news of what Callum Latimer did to Gus Bransetter covered the county like a hail storm, stinging its way from person to person. People in town discovered what happened and the storm of gossip exploded. Within an hour, Shane Potter got wind of it and told Hollis when he bumped into him on the way back to the Latimer ranch. Hollis blasted home and told his sister all about it.
“He
did what?
” Banner asked, appalled and – well, a little elated. Callum had beaten up Gus Bransetter in defense of her honor! She didn’t rightly know how to feel about that. She should be upset, angry even. And she was! But she was also wishing she could throw her arms around his neck and kiss him hard. Mighty hard.
“That’s right. And Bransetter and his buddies are fit to be tied over it. They’re on the warpath for sure now.”
“Oh no.” She swallowed the lump of worry that clogged her throat. “I should go right now and speak to Callum about this.”
“Oh no, you don’t.” Hollis grabbed his hat off the table and stuck it back over his wispy blond hair. “You’re staying here because I don’t have time to escort you anywhere. I have to meet up with Ben and finish feeding the herd before sundown.” He pointed a warning finger at her. “You stay put. You’ve caused enough trouble for one day.”
“Trouble? Just how have I—” But she was talking to air because Hollis had already taken his leave. Staring after him, she mentally told him what he could do with his high-handed orders. She didn’t need him to escort her! She was a free woman and could take herself anywhere she wanted to go.
Pacing back and forth in the parlor, she imagined the confrontation between the greasy, oafish Gus and her handsome, honorable Callum. Her Callum? Oh, well. It was her imagination, so it could be her Callum, she reasoned. He would have stormed in and told Gus that he owed her an apology for what he’d said to her face and in front of others. Gus would have refused and Callum would have given him a taste of what he could do with his fists. Gus would have crumbled like an ant hill under a boot heel, pleaded for Callum not to hit him again, and then begged for forgiveness, swearing he’d never say a bad word against Banner Payne ever again.
Smiling, she clasped her hands and squeezed her eyes shut in a frisson of sweet revenge. Callum had come to her rescue. Again. She wanted to see him.
Had
to see him. She’d ride over and risk the burn of his displeasure at being out alone. Once she thanked him –
ahem, properly
– he wouldn’t stay mad at her, she decided with a saucy grin.
She’d taken two steps toward her bedroom with an aim to change clothes and tame her hair into something other than its current tangle of curls pinned at the top of her head when she heard hoof beats. Rushing to the window with a tingle of apprehension, she peeked through the curtains and released a sigh of relief followed by a squeak of pleasure when she saw the big palomino and its rider.
Callum!
He was stomping up the steps and onto the porch before she could reach the front door. He opened it without even knocking, glanced around, and then pinned her with green eyes that sparked with angry fire.
“What were you thinking going to that church this morning?”
“Um, well,” she stammered, confused by his anger and question. “It’s Sunday.”
“You want to make more trouble?” he barked at her, taking a long stride toward her so that she could feel the heat coming off him, despite the fact that he’d just come in from the cold. “Don’t you figure that pastor has enough to do, opening a church for freed slaves to worship in, presiding at a white Yankee’s service while trying to keep his own neck out of a noose?”
“I . . . wasn’t.” She pressed her lips together to keep from spouting rubbish and gathered her scattered thoughts. How could he be more handsome when he was mad? It wasn’t fair. “I wanted to show my gratitude and I wanted to go to church. Della asked if I wanted to visit the Rev. Beauchamp’s chapel and I did. We’d been invited to attend.”
“Just because you’re invited, doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to go.” He gripped her shoulders, then bent his knees until he was eye to eye with her. “This is not a game or even a test of wills, Banner. These men are murdering people, setting fire to their homes and churches, dragging men behind their horses and then hanging them right in front of their families.” His fingers tightened when she started to shake her head in mute denial. “You can’t go thumbing your nose at them and think they won’t retaliate.”
“I won’t bow to them.” She lifted her chin, but felt it tremble.
“Neither will I, but you can’t be foolish either.” He pulled her into his arms and his chest rose and fell against her cheek. He smelled of winter and leather and wood smoke. “It’s bad enough that one of them would speak to you with disrespect, but when I think of any of them touching you . . . hurting you . . .” He pressed his face against the side of her neck and his lips moved against her skin in an open-mouthed kiss that sent a thrill shimmering through her.
Banner closed her eyes, soaking up every moment in his arms where she felt safe and desired and beautiful. “Hollis told me that you went after Gus Bransetter for what he said to me.”
“I did.” His lips caressed her skin with each word.
“Thank you, Callum.”
He smiled against the side of her neck before he lifted his head to let her see it on his lips. “Did you think I’d let that bastard defame you and not make him regret every word?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t think . . . I guess I didn’t expect anyone to do anything about it.”
A frown line appeared between his eyes. “You don’t think Hollis wouldn’t have done the very same thing I did?”
She wanted to voice confidence in her brother, but when it came to this . . . “I don’t know. It depends on if Hollis is having a good day or a bad one. On a good day, yes, he’d confront my attacker. On a bad day, I couldn’t say. Sometimes Hollis is so far into his head or out of it that he isn’t fully aware of what’s going on around him – until it’s too late.”
“Listen to me.” He waited for her gaze to sharpen on him. “You have to rein in your sassy mouth. Let me and the other men handle this.”
She flinched, his words feeling like a slap. “Like you men took care of the war?”
He stiffened. “I’m trying to not start another one, Banner.”
“What makes you think I sassed Gus Bransetter?”
“Just a hunch. You saying you didn’t?”
“I told him what I thought of him.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And why shouldn’t I? Would you expect me to hold my tongue when he all but said he was responsible for burning down the Rugged Cross Church?”
“He said that?”
“He almost bragged about it.” She ran her hands down his coat, then began unbuttoning it, deciding he was going to stay awhile. “That’s what is most frustrating. That they feel above the law. That
they
are the law of the land.”
“That will be their downfall. The real lawmen won’t stand for it.” He watched, arching an eyebrow, as she undid the last button on his coat, but didn’t object when she pushed the garment off his shoulders. She stepped around him and tugged the coat completely off him, then his hat.
“Want a cup of coffee?” she asked, hanging his coat and hat on a peg by the door and starting for the kitchen. He caught her by the wrist and whipped her around to him again. She released a half gasp, half squeak and found herself staring into eyes that were laden with desire.
“No. This is what I want.” He closed his fingers around her chin and tipped her head back before his lips covered hers, gently at first, and then with restless persistence. “Banner, Banner,” he murmured between kisses. “Do you know how much I want you?”
His words made her dizzy with hope. She opened to him, her lips, her heart, her very soul, and in that startling moment she realized that she was in love with him. Had been for some time now. The budding love blossomed as his kisses deepened. She caressed his back, thrilling to the feel of corded muscle under his shirt. When his hand moved from her chin down over her throat and cupped her breast, she moaned as her nipples hardened and throbbed.
With an answering moan, he wrapped his arms around her waist and hips, lifted her off her feet, and carried her into her bedroom. He sat down on her bed and pulled her into his lap. Pushing his fingers gently through her hair, he released pins and watched her tresses loosen and tumble over the back of his hands.
“So beautiful . . . you’re so beautiful.” He brought her lips to his again and his tongue flirted with hers, making her smile. “Every time I’m alone with you, I want to do this. Kiss you, touch you, explore every inch of you. I want you, Banner. Good God, I want you.”
His mouth commanded hers to open wider and his tongue stroked in and out, causing a spiraling sensation in her midsection that tunneled to the delta between her thighs. She arched into him, flattening her breasts against his chest. He fell back onto the bed, bringing her with him, on top of him. Her fingers twisted in his hair as she kissed him with abandon.
It was freeing and heady, not holding back, just giving herself to him and not worrying that her emotions were on display and that she might be judged for it. Even when she felt his big hand sweep down her waist, over her hip, and along her thigh, she didn’t try to stop him. Or when his fingers curled around the back of her knee and he hitched her leg up so that her midsection made intimate contact with the hard imprint of his manhood.
She felt hot color pool in her cheeks, but she didn’t pull back. Instead, she spread the collar of his shirt wider and kissed the base of his throat where his pulse thrummed wildly. His skin was warm and she imagined she could taste the character of him – bold, fiery, distinctive. He groaned and pulled her mouth away with a tug on her hair. She gazed into his passion-lit eyes.
“I could take you right here if you’d let me.”
Everything in her stilled for a sizzling second. She could voice no words – of encouragement or otherwise. Desire whirled through her, numbing her brain while electrifying her other senses.
“Do you want me to, Banner?”
She looked at him, her mouth suddenly dry, her heart lodging in her throat. Did she? Should she? Would he think less of her? “I don’t know.”
His smile was tinged with regret. He smoothed his hands over her hair and gave a small shake of his head. “I won’t then.”
A sliver of disappointment coasted through her.
He leaned forward to nuzzle her neck and run the tip of his tongue along the curve of it. “Even though every part of me wants you. You’ve even taken over my dreams. Have I told you that?” He rolled so that they lay on their sides facing each other.
“No,” she managed to whisper while she tried to concentrate on what he was saying instead of what he was doing.
“I’ve had nothing but nightmares since the war, but now I dream of you. I dream of kissing you, undressing you, touching you . . . all of you. I wake up achy and miserable, but I’m not complaining. I like those dreams. They make me feel whole again.”
“If you really want me . . .” she murmured, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder as she closed her eyes. She tensed for a moment when she felt his fingers slide under the hem of her dress and then his warm palm caressed her from ankle to knee. She turned her head, muffling her cry of pleasure and surprise against his shirt collar.
“Damn, you’re soft all over,” he said, kissing her forehead, her ear, the corner of her mouth. “It’s not easy for me to be around you lately. The feelings I have for you . . . they’re powerful and the hold I have on them is slipping.”
“You aren’t the only one with strong feelings,” she confessed. “You’re quite tempting.”
He inched back his head and his eyes sparkled in the dim light of the bedroom. “Am I now?”
“Yes.” She smiled and ran her fingertip down the line of buttons on his shirt. She wanted to feel his bare chest, but she knew if she did, she would be unable to stop herself – or him – from partaking in more pleasure. She’d only just realized that she loved him and she wasn’t fully prepared to surrender every part of herself to him. Slowly, and definitely reluctantly, she wrapped her fingers around his wrist and moved his hand out from under her skirt where it had found its way past her knee and onto her thigh.