Naughty Marietta

by Nan Ryan

  But then she saw the long, sharp knife blade inch closer to Cole’s heart.

  That did it.

  She looked frantically around and found a large rock. Picking it up she hurried to the two wrestling men, waited for a clear opportunity and brought the rock down squarely atop Lightnin’s head.

  He instantly collapsed atop the hard-breathing Cole, the deadly knife slipping from his open fingers. Cole shoved the unconscious man away and struggled to sit up. Marietta fell to her knees beside him, her face a study in concern.

  She put her arm around Cole’s bare shoulders while he sat there and fought to get his breath. His chest was heaving and sweat glistened on his bloodied, battered face. Grateful she had saved his life, Cole sagged tiredly against Marietta.

  “Cole, oh, Cole,” she said, and impulsively lifted the long tail of her white shirt up to wipe his face. “Are you all right? Are you badly hurt? Is there anything I can do?”

  Cole finally caught his breath. He looked at her and his rapidly swelling lips stretched into an impish grin.

  “Why, darlin’,” he said, “I didn’t know you cared.”

  Same old arrogant Heflin. Incensed, Marietta immediately released him, shot to her feet and said, “I don’t care, you fool!”

  She fumed as she watched Cole loosely tie the unconscious Lightnin’ to a tree, purposely leaving the rope slack so that once Lightnin’ came to, he could easily free himself.

  Marietta was still berating herself when she and Cole rode away from the plateau, leaving Lightnin’ behind, sans guns, sans bowie knife, sans horse.

  Angry with Cole, angrier with herself for helping him instead of Lightnin’, Marietta was nonetheless too tired to object when, a couple of hours later, Cole suggested they stop again and get some rest. She didn’t even protest when Cole stripped off his shirt and stretched out close beside her.

  But before she drifted off to sleep, she silently told herself that she was going to get away from him one way or the other.

  Cole awakened with a start from a horrible nightmare. He bolted up and put his hands over his ears, attempting to shut out the dreadful noise of the lingering dream.

  It didn’t work.

  The loud, scary sound was still ringing in his ears, setting his nerves on edge, causing his teeth to grind.

  Grimacing, he leaped up, looked all around, unsure what was happening, not knowing where the ghastly sound was coming from.

  Then, in the bright morning sunlight, he caught sight of Marietta. And he realized that he had not been having a terrible nightmare. The bad dream was all too real. The discordant sounds were coming from her. She was standing a few feet from him, singing loudly, arms outstretched, as if she were performing for a large audience.

  Marietta reached for a high note and Cole promptly got a headache. He scowled at her, wishing to high heaven she would shut up.

  She did not.

  Marietta had no idea that her singing was bothersome to him. She supposed that Cole enjoyed hearing her sing. Everyone else did. So she continued to practice the scales, happily oblivious to Cole’s distress.

  Making a face, Cole turned away, silently cursing her and her jarring singing voice. He walked directly to the cold spring that rushed through their camp. Crouching down on his heels, he scooped up a double handful of water and drank thirstily. Then he dipped again and splashed it on his bruised face and bare chest.

  Behind him the unpleasant serenade continued.

  Cole leaned down and fully ducked his head beneath the water, trying to escape the sound that was worse than chalk on a blackboard. Head and ears submerged, he could still hear her.

  Cole raised his head, ran his hands through his wet hair and over his face and chest. He closed his eyes, rubbed the moisture from his dark eyelashes.

  Behind him, Marietta continued to sing. Cole rolled his eyes heavenward and considered drowning himself. Jesus, it wasn’t enough that she griped and complained and argued and tried to seduce him, now she had decided to torture him with that earsplitting vocalizing.

  Marietta went on singing. Loudly. Enthusiastically. With heartfelt passion. She had given it a great deal of thought and had decided that, distasteful as it would be, the only way out of this terrible predicament she found herself in was to seduce Cole Heflin. Do whatever it took to make him want her so completely he could no longer resist.

  Cole’s continuing chilly demeanor had made her all the more determined to have him fall under her spell. She had failed with her impromptu bath behind the blanket, but she had not given up. She would figure out a way to get the best of him.

  She thought back to the dozens of men who had cheered and applauded when she had graced the stage of the Tivoli Opera House. Her singing had inspired and enchanted them, had caused them to whistle and swoon and toss roses at her feet. Wouldn’t the same thing work on the Texan?

  It would.

  Marietta reached for another high note as Cole turned to face her. Seeing the pained expression on his face, she stopped singing. “You’re hurting, aren’t you?” she asked as she walked toward him.

  “You can say that again,” he replied truthfully, but she misunderstood.

  “Is it your split lip or your swollen jaw?”

  “Both,” he replied with a shrug.

  “Or could it be this,” she said and, catching him by surprise, reached out and laid a soft, warm hand on his naked chest where the flesh directly above his heart was bruised and discolored.

  At her gentle touch, Cole felt a quick rush of sexual excitement. He brushed her hand away and turned his back on her.

  “Sing some more, Marietta,” he said, knowing that would quickly dampen his desire. “I do so like to hear you sing.”

  “Really?” she asked, eyes shining.

  “You have no idea,” he said and picked up his chambray shirt.

  Marietta was thrilled. Her singing had had the desired effect. She would use it as her chief tool to tempt him. And once she had seduced him, had given herself to him, he would surely be in love with her. So much in love he would not force her to go to Galveston. He would take her wherever she wanted to go. And she wanted to go back to Central City and the opera!

  Marietta inwardly shuddered at the prospect of allowing Cole to actually make love to her. She didn’t really know what to expect. Wasn’t sure she would know what she was supposed to do when the time came. She hoped that he would know.

  She was worried. She wondered if it would be terribly unpleasant. So unpleasant that she couldn’t make herself go through with it.

  She had to.

  There was no other choice. If she was ever to be free of him, then she would have to let Cole make love to her. It would, she knew, be quite a sacrifice on her part.

  But it would be worth it.

  Seventeen

  Marietta went to work on Cole.

  Immediately and thoroughly.

  She turned on the full force of her feminine charms, determined to spin her web around him. She was sweet and charming as they rode knee to knee that afternoon, asking intelligent questions, listening with interest as he pointed out various landmarks.

  It was a beautiful late-June day. The sun was brilliant overhead, but at this altitude it was not boiling hot. Off to the west, sailing above the mountain peaks, great cumulus clouds were charged with lightning and thunder, threatening an afternoon shower.

  Marietta laughed gaily as the meadowlarks and canyon wrens sang as clear as angels. And she pulled up on her mare and stared in awe when Cole pointed to a huge golden bobcat lying on a ledge above, casually sunning himself. The big cat slowly turned his head and stared down on them, his yellow eyes aglow.

  “Will he hurt us?” Marietta whispered, reaching out and laying a hand on Cole’s forearm.

  “Only if he’s hungry.”

  “Is he?” she asked, her eyes widening with alarm.

  “No. It’s summertime. He’s fat and lazy.”

  The sleek cat finally stirred himself
, languidly rose on all fours, stretched and yawned. He lowered his massive head and gazed down on them again as if bored. Then abruptly, he turned and, with exceptionally fluid grace, vanished into the forest.

  Marietta and Cole smiled at each other and rode on.

  The clouds soon thickened. The sound of distant thunder rumbled down out of the mountains. The blue sky darkened, turned gray, then an ominous black.

  “We better find a place to wait out the coming thunderstorm,” Cole said.

  “Sounds like a good idea,” Marietta replied, pushing a juniper branch out of her way.

  Marietta’s heart began to beat faster. It was going to rain and rain hard. Perhaps all afternoon. And while it rained, she and Cole would be forced to share close quarters somewhere to wait out the storm. Perfect! She could think of an ideal way to pass the time.

  Marietta glanced at Cole from beneath lowered lashes. He was not looking at her. His eyes narrowed, he was scanning the timbered slopes, looking for a place to elude the storm. He didn’t locate suitable shelter quite soon enough.

  There was a sudden rush of wind in the pines above and the rain began to fall. All at once the storm engulfed the mountains as the clouds closed in and the winds rose and strengthened. Bolts of lightning and claps of thunder arrived simultaneously.

  The heavy air cooled instantly.

  In the blink of an eye it had become a dark and chilly afternoon in the rugged foothills of the Rockies. Huge drops of rain fell in sheets, blinding the two of them and quickly saturating their clothes.

  “Up there,” Cole shouted as he pointed. “A canyon cave thirty yards ahead.”

  “I can’t see it,” Marietta called back, attempting to blink away the peppering rain.

  “Follow me,” Cole shouted as he kicked the black and led the way.

  In minutes they reached their destination, dismounted and, leading the horses inside with them, swiftly took shelter inside a dry stone cavern. While Cole tethered the nervous creatures to jutting spires of stone, Marietta explored. The cave appeared to be quite deep, winding back into the solid mountain of rock.

  Marietta ventured only a few yards, found a small, dry, cozy room and called out to Cole, her voice echoing in the cavern. He promptly joined her.

  “How’s this?” she asked, turning about in a circle, arms extended.

  “Fine,” he said, squinting in the semidarkness, ducking so as not to bump his head.

  They looked at each other then, noting that they were both drenched to the skin. But it was Marietta who mentioned it.

  “We’re absolutely soaked,” she said, plucking at the wet fabric of her shirt, pulling it away from her damp skin.

  “So we are,” Cole said and quickly turned away.

  Marietta took the few short steps toward him. She touched his shoulder and asked, “Don’t you think that we…ah…should get out of these wet clothes?”

  Cole swallowed hard. He faced her. “No. In this summertime heat our clothes will dry out in nothing flat.”

  “I suppose,” she said.

  Marietta looked around, chose a spot where the stone floor and the gently sloping wall were both totally smooth. She sat down, leaned back, looked up, smiled and invited Cole to join her.

  Cole declined. He took off his gun belt, laid it aside, then dropped onto the stone floor directly across from Marietta. He leaned back, raised one knee and rested a forearm atop it.

  And knew immediately that he had made a major mistake. If he had done as she had asked and sat down beside her, he wouldn’t be looking at her. As it was, he was staring straight at her.

  And what a sight she was.

  Her glorious red hair was appealingly damp and tangled, the long gleaming locks falling over her shoulders and curling around her shiny face. The shirt she wore was soaked and plastered to her body. Her full breasts were clearly contoured, the chilled nipples thrusting out in twin points of temptation, their pale-pink hue visible through the thin, wet fabric.

  Every bit as wet as her shirt, her trousers clung to her hips and flat stomach and long legs like a second skin. As he had done, she had raised one leg and stretched the other out before her. It was a totally innocent action, but the movement drew his attention to her groin. He suddenly recalled her saying that she wore nothing beneath the trousers.

  He believed her.

  All too clearly he could see the seam of the wet trousers seek and sink into the natural seam of her lush woman’s body. That well-defined, delicate crevice between her legs guarding the ultrasensitive feminine flesh he yearned to touch and taste.

  Cole was instantly choked with desire. He tried, but failed, to look away. He couldn’t take his eyes off Marietta. His low-lidded gaze stayed riveted on her. Never had she been more beautiful, more vulnerable, more desirable. Never had he wanted her more than at this minute. His mind told him no—good God no—but his body refused to listen. His sudden, fully formed erection was restrained only by the confines of his tight, wet trousers. Anxiously, he draped a concealing arm over his surging groin. He clamped his teeth together. He shuddered and fought the overwhelming primal urge to take her. To pull her to him and strip the wet clothes away. He had to think of something fast or he’d be lost.

  “Marietta,” he said, his voice strained, the pulse in his tanned throat pounding.

  “Yes?” she replied, barely able to breathe, certain the time had come, that he would beckon her to him and take her in his arms.

  “Will you…?”

  “Yes, oh, yes, I will, Cole,” she said breathlessly and started to rise.

  “No,” he replied, stopping her. “Stay where you are. And sing. Sing to me.”

  “Sing?”

  “Yes, sing. I want to hear you sing,” he ground out. “And hurry.”

  Marietta made a face. She shook her head in puzzlement. Surely he was teasing.

  “You’re certain that’s what you really want from me, Cole?” she asked playfully.

  “Positive,” he managed to say. “Sing, woman. Now.”

  Flattered, supposing this could be part of their prelude to lovemaking, Marietta licked her lips, opened her mouth and started singing. In seconds, Cole released a long breath of relief. He felt his tense body relax, felt his stirring erection ease and go down.

  When the sudden summer storm finally ended, Cole had a nagging headache. But he hadn’t laid a hand on Marietta. He was proud of himself. He had spent a chilly, rainy afternoon in a cave with Marietta a few short feet away in wet, revealing clothes and nothing had happened. He knew that he would be safe from now on. He had found the armor to protect himself against her. She had supplied it.

  Bless her.

  Eighteen

  Three days had gone by since the rainy afternoon in the cave. Nothing had happened then. Nothing had happened since. Marietta had tried everything she could think of to make Cole Heflin want her. She brushed up against him any chance she got, hoping the physical contact would have the desired effect.

  She had, on more than one occasion, managed to get close enough to press a soft breast against his arm or shoulder. If he even noticed, he had never let on.

  Marietta was bewildered. Completely at a loss. She had used just about every weapon in her arsenal to make him knuckle under. Without success. She was unable to understand Cole’s continued coldness. And she had begun to wonder if she had lost her allure. It could well be. She had no mirror out here. Perhaps she looked ugly and unattractive. Maybe the sight of her repulsed him.

  She knew one thing, Heflin didn’t look all that handsome anymore himself. He hadn’t shaved since before his fight with Lightnin’ and the growth of his heavy black beard made him look mean and scary.

  At the same time, his aggravating, cocksure manner and commanding masculinity had an effect on her, made her shiver inside. She couldn’t seem to make him shiver. Nor could she make him angry. She couldn’t make him respond to her in any way. Apparently Cole Heflin was incapable of feeling anything. He was made of cold ha
rd steel, not flesh and blood.

  Heat shimmered in palpable waves, blurring the horizon. It was early afternoon. Finally they had turned due east. They were dropping steadily down out of the craggy, juniper-dotted foothills and closer to a long green valley. Across the valley rose another narrow ridge of jutting timbered hills.

  “Will we have to traverse that low-lying range?” Marietta asked, pointing.

  “Yes, but it won’t take long. By tomorrow evening we should be on the other side.”

  “Mmm,” she murmured. “How far are we from the next town?”

  “Ten miles or so. We’ll be just south of Colorado Springs once we cross that pass between the two highest promontories.”

  Marietta nodded, said no more. She had—though it was terribly insulting to her pride—realized that she could not captivate Heflin. He had made it clear that he was not attracted to her, had no desire to even kiss her, much less make love to her. Since that was the case, the only thing to do was to escape as soon as possible. Get away from him once and for all.

  And this was her chance. She was an experienced rider. She could easily make it across the wide valley, then up and over those jagged eastern ridges and down into Colorado Springs.

  He wouldn’t be able to catch her. Not if she took him totally by surprise, caught him napping. That’s what she would do. Wait for just the right moment, then make a mad dash for freedom. Leave the arrogant bastard in her dust.

  Another hour went by.

  They weren’t far now from the level ground of the valley. Marietta wasted no more time. She glanced at Cole. He was slouched in the saddle, looking straight ahead, not at her. She abruptly dug her heels into the startled mare’s flanks and the mount lunged forward.

  Marietta leaned low over the mare’s neck and slapped the reins from side to side. Pebbles loosened and scattered beneath the animal’s striking hooves as horse and rider raced down the incline.

  Marietta never looked back. But she soon heard the thunder of hooves and knew that Cole was rapidly closing in. In minutes the powerful black had overtaken the galloping mare and a clearly irate Cole drew alongside, grabbed the mare’s reins and yanked the animal to a dirt-flinging halt.