There All Along

by Lauren Dane

  She only knew she was fortunate not to be under a man’s thumb any longer. Her independence came at a cost. A price she’d pay a thousand times over to be in her own place, on her own terms. One she also realized wouldn’t last forever, but she planned to enjoy it as long as she could.

  “Loyal?”

  He looked up, awaiting her question. He wasn’t one of the silly men who’d fluttered around with flattery and charming smiles to talk her into sneaking a kiss, or far more. No, he didn’t waste words except when he told her the stories about the outside world.

  “Are women like this all through the Highway?”

  He folded the paper once and then another time, sitting it in his lap. “How do you mean?”

  “Overprotected, aye? Taught to only speak the sweetest of words?”

  He struggled with a smile and she narrowed her eyes his way.

  “There are garrisons where the women are not allowed to come out when we arrive. Where women cannot be unescorted by a male. Others where the women are equals, who have the same rights as the men. Silver Cliffs is a garrison on that side of the continuum, though not as open-minded as Shelter City.”

  “Hm.” She nodded. “I wish to visit those places.”

  “Have some hard words you need to use, then?”

  “Are you making fun?”

  He laughed, the sound rusty, but lovely and welcome. “I would never dream of such a thing.”

  He picked his paper back up. “Should you like to use the bad words or get up to things men do, feel free. I can even offer you assistance should you need it.”

  Boldness burst through her. “Yes? Say if I wanted you to put your lips on mine then? Would you do that?”

  His gaze snagged on hers. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Is that so? And why is that?”

  “Because you are fine and beautiful. You are feminine and graceful and I am not.”

  “If I had want of another woman I could find one and ask her for a kiss, Lawman.”

  He blushed for a moment, swallowing hard. “You know what I mean.”

  “No, I really don’t. Do you not have a wanting of me? A woman back home?”

  He licked his lips. “My wanting of you is not the issue. I’m not for you.”

  He went back to his paper and left her frowning.

  Confused and frustrated.

  But also, the fire in her belly lit. She saw it in his gaze. He wanted her and now curiosity and stubbornness worked together.

  She wanted Loyal Alsbaugh.

  3

  She decided to go ahead and take a bath once he’d retired to his room. It would be an early start for her come morning. She’d get up, wash her face, braid her hair and, after a quick breakfast, would spend the rest of her day rushed off her feet in the mercantile.

  The water was nice and hot as she disrobed before pinning her hair up. A few drops of oil in the water filled the room with scented steam, relaxing her.

  Well. Most of her.

  Just being around him sent butterflies into her belly and a bone-deep knowledge that if she should ever be so lucky to have him in her bed she’d never be the same. Loyal was the kind of man who would know what to do.

  She sighed as she stepped in, groaning a little at how good the water had felt. The wine and company had loosened her muscles and the water did the rest.

  Starting at her toes, she slid her hands and the cloth over her skin until she had to catch her breath at her mid thigh.

  Her legs parted as she thought of his hands. The way he’d felt when he’d helped her up on the platform out back once before. Strong. And yet he touched her like she was precious. Not fragile, despite his earlier tease; he seemed to respect that she was capable and intelligent. But special.

  Once, when she’d first been married to James, he’d rutted and passed out and she’d escaped the house, heading out for a long walk. And she’d seen Bethany Schaffer with Abel Temple. He’d pressed her up against the side of his house. Into a shadowed corner. If she hadn’t been where she was, coming down the street quietly, she doubted anyone else could have seen.

  But she had. She’d ducked behind a tree and watched with envy, knowing she’d never have that, not with James and his sour whiskey breath and his mean, careless fingers.

  But the fingers she brushed against her pussy weren’t his. Not anymore. Her fingers knew what she liked, what she wanted as they slid her labia apart, remembering how Bethany and Abel had looked together that night.

  And the memory changed, shifted into fantasy as Bethany’s eyes became Verity’s, those hands sweeping up and over Bethany’s breasts became Loyal’s.

  She soaped over her belly, one hand remaining at her pussy. She brushed the pad of her middle finger over her clit, breathing in deep as the wave of pleasure rippled outward.

  The other hand tested the weight of her breast, a slippery thumb flicked back and forth over her nipple. Her eyes drifted closed.

  His mouth would find her nipple, suck and draw until she rolled her hips, seeking more. He’d slide his hand down into her drawers, petting and then finding her hot and wet.

  A teasing touch of his fingertip against her clit, all while his mouth was still on her nipple.

  She’d whimper softly, urging him for more. Because she’d need more. And he’d give it to her with a snarl as he spread her legs apart with a knee. The teasing touch on her clit would turn into a gentle pinch of thumb and forefinger.

  His cock would brush against her, pressing in just right until she arched her back on a gasp as he thrust all the way, all while he concentrated on her clit.

  He’d whisper how much he wanted her, how sexy she was, how good she felt. His words a hot brush of breath against her nipple as he bit gently.

  He’d fuck her like she’d dreamed all these years. She’d be the woman whose man took her as she threw her legs around his waist, her head falling back as she bit her lip, coming hard as he continued to thrust until he found his own end moments later.

  • • •

  Loyal had been standing at the window, staring out over the town, smoking and trying very hard not to think about Verity’s suggestion that he kiss her.

  He’d wanted to. Had even thought of ways to do it to teach her a lesson. But that would have been dishonest. And unfair to use that when she’d been chafing at the ways she’d felt restricted as a woman.

  Especially when he wanted to kiss her so badly the hand holding the cigar shook a little.

  She rustled in the bathroom next door and he tried not to imagine her in there, disrobing. All that pale, pretty skin exposed.

  The scent of her soap, or whatever it was she was using, seeped under the door along with the steam.

  He undressed, usually sleeping naked if he were home or in a hotel. But because he was there in her guest room, he kept his drawers on, along with his undershirt.

  He was tired. Been on the road long enough that his muscles had ached for hours once he’d arrived. That had passed, but the exhaustion remained, blunted by the excellent dinner and company. He carefully stubbed the end of his cigar, saving the rest for the next day. He needed to sleep.

  And that’s when he heard the groan.

  He scrubbed a hand over his face at the sound.

  There was a splash here and there, enough he knew she was settling in the tub. The night was quiet enough that once he’d slid into bed, he could hear the sound of the water as she soaped herself up.

  He lay there. Imagining her, slick and wet.

  No. Fuck. No.

  He tried to think on other things and then he heard it, another moan, only this was not a feel good sitting in the bath groan. No, he’d heard the sound come from a woman’s lips as she’d been underneath him often enough to know. It was a moan of pleasure.

  Which meant she
was . . . The breath shot from his lungs. She had her hands on her pussy, on nipples he’d imagined way more than once or twice. She was just on the other side of the wall, making herself climax.

  He should have put a pillow over his head and gone to sleep.

  Instead, his hand found its way down to his cock, freeing it. Still hard from earlier, revived by the sound of her naked and touching herself just on the other side of a door.

  She’d be a pale beauty, her breasts buoyed in the water, her nipples—they’d be cinnamon pink, he wagered—would peek just above the water line.

  Knees up, perhaps?

  He fisted himself, imagining slamming the door open.

  “Seems to me, Verity, you need a cock deep inside you. No hand is going to make you feel the way I can.”

  She’d blush, caught with one hand delving between her thighs, the other frozen on her nipple.

  He squeezed his cock harder, finding a rhythm.

  He’d stalk over and pull her to stand as he sat on the side of her tub. He’d pull her down into his lap, right onto his cock. It’d be tight, that sweet cunt of hers. Most likely ripple around him as he seated himself fully.

  Oh the sound she’d make. He cupped his balls with his free hand, speeding the grip on his cock as he imagined pumping into her body. The way her lips would part so he could kiss her, the taste of her as his tongue lapped at her.

  “Later I’m going to lick your pussy just like this.”

  He had to bite his lip to keep back a groan at the thought of his face between her legs. He’d lay odds that old bastard she’d been tied to never ate her out. Never tasted her sweetness that way.

  He heard her gasp next door. Heard a soft moan as the water splashed. Knew she was coming. Wondering if she thought of him as she did. Knowing, even as he told himself it was bad, that she did.

  He arched, the hot, wet evidence of his climax hitting his hand as he worked to stay quiet, as he listened to her, thought about the way it would feel to come as he thrust so deep inside her body.

  • • •

  How old were you when you were married?” He asked her this as they walked side by side up the hill back from the picnic the garrison had just held for the lawmen and transit drivers.

  She looked at him askance, briefly. “I was fourteen.”

  He frowned.

  “My parents felt I was willful. Said I’d settle once I got married and had children. Thank the heavens James wasn’t able to put a baby in my belly,” she mumbled.

  He raised a brow at her impertinence, liking it.

  “Oh I know I’m supposed to want all that. And maybe I would have with another man. All getting married at fourteen did was make me hate my parents and end up dodging fists and tripping over sick and empty bottles for the next eight annum until he ended up dead at the end of a knife, bleeding out in an alley. No one missed him for three days.”

  “There were no good times then?” He shook his head. “Forgive my intrusiveness.”

  She waved it away. “Despite what I was raised to think and feel, I am not ashamed of what he was, or what he did to me. It was his sin, not mine. The blessing is that I have a way to remain independent now. My parents are dead. I did my duty and married. No one can force me into it again. No one can take my property. I’m a widow so that means they have to leave me alone for the time being. So I suppose that would qualify as a good time.”

  He’d never met anyone like her. Fiery and yet soft and sweet all at once. All that contradiction only made him yearn for her all the harder.

  “So you’re off tomorrow morning then?”

  “Yes. Two more stops to make and then we start over at Shelter City.”

  “When will you be back?”

  “Transports will be more frequent now that the weather is better. A moon or two most likely unless we pick up anything for Silver Cliffs in Charity Bay or Northern Tip.”

  “I wish I could come along.”

  He briefly let himself imagine her next to him as he drove. She’d most likely be a good companion on the long stretches of roadway. And then he remembered the fear, the heart-pounding danger the brigands posed him and his team several times every annum. The reason they all had to live behind walls.

  “It’s dangerous out there. I’d never want that life for you. Here you’re safe. You can walk out in the sunshine. Have citrus punch and eat cakes. No one is trying to harm you.”

  “It’s the same. Year after year. There’s a whole world out there and I’m not living in it. You’re out there and I’m not. I like having you around.”

  She blushed and he may have done so as well. As much as a man like him could.

  “We’ll be back before you know it. I’ll be smoking in your spare room and eating all your eggs.”

  She shrugged. “Sure.”

  “It’s your last night here. I won’t be offended if you wish to join your friends down at the bar.”

  He snorted. “If I wished to have a drink with them, I could most days.” He was of the opinion that it was best not to get drunk with the townsfolk of the garrisons they were responsible for protecting. They were supposed to be seen a certain way. Part of that was to hold themselves apart. It was hard to do that if you sat ass to ass on bar stools. Townies didn’t need to see a lawman drink to excess. Though to be fair to his team, he doubted that would happen. They knew their jobs.

  Moreover, he’d far rather have Verity all to himself his last evening in Silver Cliffs. He’d had to watch all day long as she helped with the preparation for the large cookout they’d had. Watched as men took her in with greedy eyes. And why not? There was something so very vibrant about her that others couldn’t begin to match.

  One of these days he’d come back through those big garrison gates and she’d be courted, or maybe even married to someone. And while it was an honor to lodge a lawman, he wasn’t sure how he’d feel about sitting at her dinner table with another man at the head. A man who touched her in all the places Loyal dreamed of.

  “All right then. You did promise to teach me a new card game. The last time you were here, remember? I have ale and some of the sweets left over from the luncheon today.”

  “Aye, that sounds like a very fine evening. I’m sure the men in town would thank me for teaching you how to be a card sharp.”

  She laughed, delighted. “That would be lovely indeed. I could build up a savings on the side to travel if I could do that.”

  “Travel?”

  “I’m saving to visit Shelter City. I’m a ways off from a buy in for the waitlist. But I figure if I have another two good annum I can do it.” She pulled a deck of cards from a drawer in her buffet cabinet and held them aloft.

  “I’ll get the ale.” He headed into her kitchen. A woman like her in the capital would attract a lot of attention. A man would have to be blind to miss her.

  “I’ll be back in a moment. I’m going to change.”

  She stood in front of her closet, peering inside, frustrated. She knew he was interested in her in a romantic way. He watched her at times, the way men did women they fancied. He paused when she talked about travel or when she’d related the story about John William trying to argue her into letting him court her the season before.

  But he kept his distance no matter.

  It made her want to stomp her foot and toss a fit, is what it did. Though she was far too old for such silliness. And too smart. She knew that too.

  Verity had to figure out how to shake him up, how to get him to abandon his silly insistence on not kissing her. Or bedding her. Or anything fun like that.

  She pulled on a soft, long-sleeved blouse and some trousers. She unpinned and unplaited her hair, deciding to leave it loose around her shoulders before heading back out to her living room where he’d poured them both a goblet of ale and built a fire.

  “Thank you f
or taking care of the fire. Clear skies mean cold nights this time of the season. A fair exchange I suppose, especially when the woodstove heats the house so nicely.”

  He stared at her long and hard without speaking and self-consciousness swept through her. “Is all well?”

  He cleared his throat. “Yes, yes, I apologize for staring. Your hair . . . you . . . I don’t know that I’ve seen it loose like that before.”

  She blushed, reaching up to touch it. “Does it look funny?”

  He shook his head. “No. It’s beautiful. Like sunset. Not a color you see often up and down the highway.”

  Warmth spread through her at the compliment. “Thank you. I have so much of it and it’s so curly I keep it up or pinned back usually. My mother’s hair was this color. My sister’s is dark like my father’s was. I guess . . . I guess you knew that as you’ve seen her around.”

  He pulled her chair out and she sat.

  “I quite prefer yours.” He studiously avoided her gaze as he spoke, pulling the cards from the leather case.

  She sipped her ale, trying not to be nervous. Not nervous, actually, sort of . . . giddy. Yes, giddy. He’d taken notice of her in that way of his. But it was hard for him to shake off this time. She smiled at him when he looked up.

  “That smile should make me nervous.”

  “Ah, but does it, mighty lawman? Do I make you nervous?”

  He laughed then, hearty, a sound she rarely heard from him. “Any smart man would be advised to remain nervous around a beautiful woman who smiles like she’s got a secret. It’s what they call evolutionary learning, aye? Now, on to cards. We can’t neglect your card sharp training.”

  They played cards for several hours as she coaxed stories from him about his travels. He rarely liked to speak about himself but she did something to him. Loosened him up before he even realized it. It was . . . nice to let his guard down around her. To feel safe within the walls of her cozy home and simply be Loyal.

  She cleaned up, preparing everything for the next morning as she usually did, and for a moment he allowed himself to imagine this with her. This with her as his woman. Frivolous, and a waste of time, he tried to argue with himself, but he did it anyway.