The Lady and the Lawman (8 page)

He
looked to the right, only making matters worse by turning his face
into the gun. His gun. Now all he saw was the dark barrel pointed
squarely between his eyes.

“
What
the hell?” His mouth was just above hers, her breath mixing with
his. One hand still covered her exposed breast.

“
Don’t
move,” she demanded shakily.

He
had to downplay the situation. “Darlin', you don't need to put a
gun to my head to keep me right here.”

Her
lips pinched and anger flared in her eyes, replacing that beautiful
look of arousal on which he'd been working so diligently. Clearly,
his comment hadn't diffused the situation.

He
couldn’t believe what was happening. He was being held up by a
prostitute, with his own gun! Whatever her plan though, it had many
holes. He was lying on top of her. She obviously didn’t know having
over two hundred pounds of man lying on top of you was not a good way
to escape. She also hadn’t cocked the gun, so it wasn’t
dangerous—yet. But a woman with a loaded weapon in her right mind
was dangerous enough. A woman like Maggie might be downright lethal.
He decided to play along, for now.

“
I’ll
do what you say, but do you want me to leave my hand here?” He
tweaked her nipple ever so slightly, watching as her eyes blurred
briefly, then refocused.

She
blushed and the gun wavered a bit in her hand. Even holding him at
gunpoint, she was able to blush. Remarkable. “What is your odd
obsession with my breasts?” she asked. Her voice had a snap to it
he would have found appealing if the situation was a little
different.

“
Are
you serious?” Clearly she had no idea of her appeal. Or the effect
her ample bosom had on a man. On him.

She
fiddled with the gun and cocked it.

“
All
right, stay calm. You don’t need to shoot. Why don’t you just
tell me what you want?” he asked calmly, trying to ease his loaded
gun away from his face with words instead of muscle.

And
just like that, her bravado melted. Maggie started to cry, tears
slipping from the corners of her eyes and down her pale cheeks.

“
Let
me up.” She pressed her free hand against his chest and tried to
push him off of her, the gun now a limp prop.

He
wouldn’t budge. He easily took the gun from her without a fight and
placed it on the floor out of her reach, just in case. Taking a deep
breath of relief, he said, “Not until you tell me what’s going
on.”

He
kept his voice relaxed, considering the situation. If a man had
pointed a gun at him, he would have killed him by now. But, then, he
wouldn’t be in a bed lying on top of a man either.

She
started to cry in earnest, nose red, sobbing and trying to gulp in
air. He couldn’t stand a crying woman. There wasn’t anything
worse. It was up there with a bar room brawl and a town hanging.

Waiting
for her sobs to subside, he brushed a hand through her hair, trying
to comfort her. Her soft body had no more tension, her fight gone. It
was hard to resist touching her, to caress her face and run his
fingers through her silky hair. He noticed how long her dark lashes
were against her flushed cheeks. Realization sank in as he put all of
the puzzle pieces together. It was like being doused in a stream at
spring thaw. What whore, who had a man right where she wanted him,
started to cry inconsolably?

“
Croft
didn’t put you up to this, did he? You really are a virgin, aren’t
you?” Grant’s voice was harsh.

He
looked at the woman pressed beneath him in a new light. The evidence
was obvious now. The slap, the naïveté, the kisses. Erotic as they
were, it was clear how tentative and unsure they'd been. Untried.

She
closed her eyes, and he saw her try to catch her breath and contain
her tears. “No,” she sobbed, tears starting anew.

Now
he was perplexed. He exhaled slowly, trying to calm his raging need,
although a gun to his face had helped quite a bit. He had to focus on
her and whatever Croft had done to her. “All right. You're not a
virgin, but you're no whore.”

She
shook her head no, but hiccuped out, “Men will think so!”

The
tears started once more. Between her muffled sobs, he was able to
pick up the words soiled, escape, and something not very positive
about men in general.

“
Maggie,
I'm sorry.” He tilted her chin up, forced her to look him in the
eye. Croft had given her to some man before him. Soiled would
definitely be a word some would use to describe her if that were the
case. “I thought Croft used one of his women to get him out of a
bad card game.” Embarrassed with his randy behavior, he tucked her
breast as best he could back into her corset, providing her with some
modicum of modesty while she squirmed in obvious embarrassment. “I
wouldn't have done all...you know...that, if I’d known the truth.”

She
gave him a questioning look. Her face was blotchy red, her green eyes
glistening with unshed tears, her look unsure. And damn if that
didn't bother him. No woman should look at him that way. Fearful,
tentative, scared.

“
I
don't force myself on women.”

He
climbed off of her, hoping his words rang a little truer without his
weight pressing her into the mattress. The distance seemed to help.
She collected herself enough to stop the tears, wiping her eyes with
the red coverlet.

“
Really,
I'm not like Dalton and the others. I don't touch a woman unless she
wants me to.” Just like he'd ultimately touch her at some time in
the future, he wanted to add, but was afraid she'd cry all over
again. “Come on, sit up. I promise I won't do anything.”

She
must have sensed he told the truth, because she did just that, back
ramrod straight and folded her hands neatly in her lap. Like a lady.

“
I'm
guessing from your lack of...um, experience that you haven't been
here very long.” Stupid, stupid statement. Man, he sounded like a
complete idiot.

She
blushed again at his words.

He
enjoyed watching her cheeks turn pink
at his mild comments. Hopefully, easy conversation would calm her
nerves and reduce his urge to grab her and kiss her. Everywhere.
Doubtful, but it was worth a try. “How did you end up in a hole
like this?”

The
color quickly drained from her cheeks. “I...I can't say.”

“
Why
not?” He knew the answer as soon as he asked the question. Furious,
he moved to the edge of the bed and sat down next to her. To hell
with keeping his distance! “What did Croft do to you? Who did he
give you to first? Were you forced? Has he hit you before like he did
downstairs?” he asked
as
he
cupped her chin and his gaze roamed her face and body looking for
marks.

She
didn’t look at him, but stared over his shoulder, remaining silent.
Still fearful.

“
Maggie,
look at me,” he commanded. He had to get to the bottom of this,
right now. He waited for her eyes to meet his. “I’m the sheriff
here, remember? I’m here to help you. Tell me what Croft did to
you,” he said gently, hiding his raging anger at the thought of
Croft touching her. Had he been the one to take her virginity? Just
the thought
had
him clench his jaw tight
.
He'd kill Croft for this.

Her
eyes welled anew with tears. One escaped and slid down her cheek. “He
bought me,” she whispered.

Did
he hear her correctly? He must be mistaken.

“
What
do you mean he
bought
you? He didn't rape you, did he?” Even asking the question had him
ready to kill the bastard. But when she shook her head, he repeated,
“He bought you?”

“
Yes,”
she replied, sniffling.

Unbelievable.
“Who did he buy you from?” He released her face, and his hands
became fists at his sides. How could a human being be bought? His
whole body tensed. Sure, he’d won her in a Poker game and in her
eyes, there probably wasn’t much difference. He’d thought she was
one of Croft’s women acting the virgin, not a real one. Or close
enough to it. Between himself, Dalton and a random cow hand
downstairs, he was the least of evils for her to face. He didn't hit,
wasn't a sexual deviant, and he bathed much more than once a week.

“
I
don't know who he was,” she said, and then continued on, as if a
levy finally broke on her emotions. “I was traveling on a stage
heading to California and it was held up by road bandits. They...they
killed the driver, tied me up, and one of the men took me. He said he
was going to sell me to someone and must have hit me on the head,
because the next thing I remember is waking up here.” She
unconsciously touched the base of her skull. “That man, Croft, said
I had to work here until I paid him back for buying me from the man.
He said he'd keep me safe.”

“
Safe?
The bastard hit you and was going to force you to sell your body for
your freedom. I don't consider that safe.” Grant stood up and paced
the room, ready to shoot someone. Hell, he knew exactly who that
someone was. Slavery, sexual slavery at that, was a serious offense.
Especially a woman who needed help! Instead, Croft planned on using
her as a whore. “Damn, when I got to the stage, luggage was strewn
across the ground. No one else was around, living at least, besides
the driver and, my guess is, one of the robbers.”

She
nodded. “You must have come after the man had already taken me
away.”

Finding
Arden’s killers was his top priority. He could add kidnapping to
the charges. Before now, he’d had no witness, no lead in the
investigation. Maggie was the only eyewitness to the robbery and
murder, and was the only person alive who could identify the
culprits. Which meant she was in danger. More danger than his baser
desires taking over.

She'd
been through so much, and if that weren’t enough, he’d nearly
forced himself her. But he
would
have her…eventually. It was clear to him that this woman was going
to be his, to call out his name in the throes of her climax. It would
take time to have her beg him like that, but in the meantime, he'd
keep her safe, keep her away from men like Croft. And Dalton. The
bastards.

If
Dalton had won, he wouldn't have cared about her feelings, her
almost-virginity, and with that, her pain. That only added more
weight to Grant’s already heavy conscience.

“
I
asked you downstairs if you needed help. Why didn’t you speak up?”
he asked, frustrated. This whole thing had gotten out of hand.

“
You
asked me if I knew what I was getting into. I did know.”

“
You
knew because Croft had given you to another man. That's how you lost
your virginity?” The very idea made him want to strangle Croft.

She
looked down at the ground, her shoulders slumped. “No. That
happened before I came here.”

Huh.
She'd given herself to someone, and from all appearances, the man
hadn't done a very good job. She was completely clueless as to the
ways of men and women. He scratched his head. “Then why didn’t
you just say, ‘I was kidnapped from a stage and Croft bought me.
Help?’”

“
Croft
had just hit me. I was afraid. How was I to know you’d really help
me?”

“
Because
I’m the sheriff?” he asked, exasperated.

“
You
gambled for me, just like the others,” she countered.

“
Touché.
Did Croft say how much he paid for you?”

“
He
told me one hundred dollars, but I have a feeling that may not be the
truth.”

“
I
doubt it, too. That’s more money than Croft would ever part with.”
Grant scowled.