Lacy’s body ached from her injuries and a complete day in the saddle. She couldn’t wait to find a bed.
As they rode through town, a few people stopped to stare at them, just as she had the day Quinn and Dakota rode into Beaver Run. Lacy held her duster closed with her good hand as the spring wind whipped around her. Beneath it she wore a white shirt Quinn had given her that morning. At least he’d stopped binding her hands.
She might be riding with the two lawmen, but no one needed to know the extent of her relationship with them, as prisoner or sexual plaything, something she still hadn’t come to understand herself.
They stopped in front of a hotel, the only three-story structure in the town.
Quinn dismounted, tying his horse to the rail. “Wait here.” He sauntered into the hotel, leaving her with Dakota, who moved his mount closer to hers but fixed his attention on the foot traffic coming and going from the saloon across the street. She noticed him lay one hand on the butt-end of the rifle strapped along his saddle, prepared for trouble.
A few minutes later, Quinn emerged through the hotel door. “Got us two connecting rooms on the second floor.”
He helped her down from her horse. Even with his help, pain shot through her shoulder and back with the effort. She hissed when her feet landed on the ground and she slumped against him for a moment.
“You need me to carry you in?” His quiet question rumbled against her ear.
Part of her wanted to beg to be cradled in his arms once more, but the other part, the strong woman who’d survived living in Devil’s camp, refused to give in. She shook her head and slowly straightened. He held her by the waist until she looked him in the eye. Then he gave her a firm nod and stepped back, one hand taking her uninjured arm.
He helped her step onto the wooden walkway then turned to Dakota. “We’ll get settled and see about some food and a bath.”
“I’ll stable the horses then visit the telegraph office,” Dakota said, taking their horses’ leads. He fixed her with a hard stare. “Leave the dressing on your shoulder and back alone until I get there.”
“I can clean it myself,” she protested, only to have him shake his head and narrow his dark eyes at her.
“It’s our job to look after you now. You can’t see your back and shoulder, I can.”
“Don’t argue with the healer, sweetheart,” Quinn whispered loud enough for them all to hear. “He once put something in my food that had me puking up my guts for days, all because of a girl.”
“A girl?”
The corner of Dakota’s lips lifted and heat lit his eyes. “You knew I wanted to take her to that dance when you asked her.”
“Learned my lesson. Never mess with a man who knows poisonous plants.” Quinn gave a snort of a laugh. Grasping her elbow, he steered her into the hotel.
These two men acted so differently from the ones she’d known in Devil’s camp. If someone had poisoned another one over a woman, he wouldn’t have hesitated to plug the other man full of lead. Who was she kidding? Poison never would’ve entered into the mix. Bullets answered everything among Devil’s men. She’d seen Santos kill two men for cheating at cards once. At least he’d said they were cheating.
Yet Quinn and Dakota laughed over the incident like it was a joke.
“This is it.” Quinn opened the door to the nicest room she’d seen since leaving New Orleans.
A quilt-covered, wrought iron bed filled the space beneath the windows, which had actual lace curtains hanging in front of them. The bed looked so inviting to her tired, aching body that she headed straight for it.
“Whoa, there.” Quinn grabbed her uninjured arm again to still her movement.
“Oh please, I just want to lie down.”
“In a little bit, darlin’.” He pulled her up against his chest, his hands cupping her face and smoothing her dark curls away. Intense blue eyes held her gaze captive long moments before he lowered his lips to claim hers.
Immediate heat and energy flowed through her veins. She parted her lips to allow him access and touched her tongue to his. His responding deep growl sent another shiver of desire coursing over her. She’d managed to make him lose some control. With only the touch of her tongue.
A knock sounded on the door. Quinn slowly eased away from her, guiding her to sit in one of the room’s two ladder-back chairs. “We’ll finish that later.”
With a finger to his lips, he palmed his Colt and stepped over to the door. “Who is it?”
“I’ve got that tub and hot water you asked for, Marshal,” came the answer from the other side of the door.
Cautiously, Quinn opened the door a crack then re-holstered his gun to allow a gangly teen to carry in the large bathing tub.
“Ma’am.” The boy nodded briefly in Lacy’s direction before settling the tub in front of the fire. He hurried back into the hall, returning with several buckets of water, which he proceeded to slosh into the tub. Finished, he brushed his hand on his dungarees and stared at the gun strapped to Quinn’s thigh and the huge knife hanging from his belt for a moment before swallowing hard and looking at Quinn as if he’d just grown two heads. “I’ll be back in a minute with some hot water, Marshal.”
“You’re taking a bath?” Lacy asked after the door closed.
“I don’t plan on crawling into a clean bed with trail dirt on me.” He unstrapped his holster from his firm thigh and lean hips, laying it on the bureau on the opposite side of the room. Then he sat on the other chair and pulled off his boots, letting each hit the floor with a thud. “So yes, I’m taking a bath.”
God, what she wouldn’t give to climb into that tub and soak all the weariness away. But she didn’t dare ask. Any time she’d wanted something special, something more than Devil thought she should have, he’d dashed her hopes with a well-placed slap.
Quinn pulled his shirt over his head and hung it on the back of his chair.
Lacy swallowed hard. She couldn’t help staring at his naked chest. Broad shoulders, solid muscles that flexed with each movement. Golden hairs covered his chest lightly and darkened as they narrowed to a thin line over the taut muscles of his abdomen before disappearing into the top of his pants.
Another rap sounded on the door before the boy entered again, this time carrying a large kettle with a towel wrapped around the handle, steam drifting up from the spout.
“My ma says you can just let her know when you want that food,” he said as he poured the water into the tub. “She’s got fried chicken and mashed potatoes today. Best this side of Denver.”
“You tell your mama I will and that I said thanks, son.” Quinn handed him a half-dollar before closing the door behind him and turning the key in the lock. He leaned back against the door and stared hard at her. “Take off your clothes.”
“Why?” Lacy grasped the front of his shirt she was wearing, as if his words could make the material open at his command.
“Because I said so.”
“I’d rather stay dressed while you bathe.”
A slow smile spread over his lips and he pushed himself away from the door. He crooked one finger at her. “Come here, Lacy.”
She stood, and her gaze drifted for a moment to where he’d left his holster. With only one captor, the gun would even her odds for escape. If she could get her hands on it, she could force him to let her go.
“Don’t even think about it.”
At the command in his voice her gaze jerked back to his.
“Why not? I’ve got nothing to lose. I’m as good as dead if I step one foot back in Devil’s valley.” She clamped her lips shut tight. Please God, don’t let him notice what she’d said.
“You’re not going to go for the gun because you don’t want to shoot me. One dead marshal on your conscience is enough.” He stepped forward.
She inched back.
“You also don’t know that Devil would kill you, especially with Dakota and me there to protect you.”
Another step forward.
&n
bsp; Another step back.
Two dancers in a macabre dance. Hunter and prey.
“You don’t want to force me to subdue you physically.”
“I don’t?”
He moved closer.
Her legs hit the edge of the bed. Nowhere to go. Trapped between it and his lean hard body.
“If you lunge for the gun, I’d have to grab you.” He slid one hand up her uninjured arm. “Then we might open your wounds Dakota took such good care of.”
“I’m not afraid of a little pain and blood.” She trembled at the touch of his hands running over the shirt to the naked skin of her collarbone. The sense of vulnerability mingled with the excitement of having such a strong man’s attention focused on her.
“You might not, but I don’t intend to feel the wrath of one very angry Irish-Indian.” His lips lifted in a half-smile as he slid his hand down to the buttons of the shirt. “Now, if you have no more objections, let’s get you out of these clothes and into the tub before the water cools.”
She blinked, disarmed as much by his words as his tenderness. “The bath is for me?”
With one finger under her chin, he lifted her face until their gazes met. “You get to go first.”
Cool air flowed over her chest as he opened the shirt one button at a time until she stood half exposed to him once more. With an appreciative male growl, he parted the material and cupped her breasts, lifting and kneading them.
“You have magnificent breasts, darlin’. Enough to fill my hands, but not too much for me to enjoy.”
She should hate him for treating her like a toy, but giving her pleasure seemed to be his favorite game. And oh God, it felt so good.
He slid his thumbs and forefingers down to her nipples, gently twisting and pulling them until soft whimpering moans escaped her.
“And so responsive to lovin’,” he said.
Too quickly he released them and pushed his shirt off her shoulders to land at her feet. Then he went to work on her skirt fasteners. Soon she stood naked in front of him, except for her wounds, which were covered by the strips of cloth Dakota had wrapped around them that morning.
A week ago she would’ve died of embarrassment to be so exposed to any man, let alone one she hardly knew. But after four days on the trail with Quinn and Dakota, she’d become accustomed to them wanting her clothes off and her body ready for them to explore at their leisure.
She didn’t want to think about how much she enjoyed it. To do so meant she was nothing more than the whore Devil said.
“Let’s get you clean.” Quinn grasped her by the elbow and steadied her as she climbed into the tub.
“Oh, mmmm.” Eyes closed, she couldn’t help but sigh in contentment as she lowered her aching body into the warm water. With a flip of her braid to the side, she sank down until the water reached her bandages. “This feels heavenly.”
“You might like these.”
She opened one eye to see him holding her bar of lavender soap and a small cloth for washing. She held out her hand for the items but he remained as still as a great oak.
His face had hardened with the look of lust she’d come to recognize in him, eyes fixed on her body. And damn if her body didn’t respond. Both nipples tightened even more, peaking out of the water into the cold air. Heat spread down to the pit of her stomach, then even lower to settle between her thighs.
With a groan he laid the items in her hand and stepped away. “Better get busy. Dakota will want to look at your wounds when he gets back.”
Biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling at his discomfort, Lacy took the soap and cloth and began washing. A thud sounded by the door. She turned to see Quinn remove the leather scabbard from his belt and set it next to the holster and gun. Then he sat with his back against the hall door, his arms crossed over his chest and his gaze fixed on her.
“You don’t think I’d try to escape all naked and wet, do you?” She lifted one leg and soaped it from heel to thigh.
“Just making sure no one interrupts your bath.” His voice sounded a bit strangled.
She lifted her other leg, soaping it and sliding the cloth over the length of it. “You think the owner’s son would barge in on us? He seemed more impressed with you and your gun than anything I might have to offer.”
This got her a grunt. Or rather a harsh clearing of his throat mixed with a grunt. He sounded like a grumpy bear. A randy grumpy bear.
Good. It served him right. The two scoundrels had teased and played with her to the point she’d obeyed any sexual command they gave her. It was her turn to tease them.
Closing her eyes, she sighed deeply as she bent her knees and parted her thighs. She lathered up the soap and rolled it over both breasts, then trailed it over her belly to the dark curls at the top of her mound, finally slipping it down over her pussy to stroke the tender folds.
Quinn sucked in air like a man diving into water. Knowing he watched her every move, that it affected him in such a primal way, that she controlled the sensuality of the moment, gave her a sense of power.
She slid the cloth up and down her nether lips, moaning with the pleasure of it. With her other hand, she slipped the bar of soap over her breasts, round and round, coating the globes with the lavender suds, arching her back then lifting her hips.
Her gaze met Quinn’s intense one. Never in her life had she teased herself for a man, but doing it for this one thrilled her as much as the stroking of her flesh.
“Yes, darlin’, do it.” Quinn’s deep whisper flowed over her like the warm soapy water.
Her finger found the nub of desire nestled in her folds. She circled it slowly, letting the tingle build. Heat spread throughout her.
“That’s it. Show me how you like to be pleasured.”
The tension started at the nub. She stroked it. Letting it spiral out and tighter at the same time. Hot. Tight.
“Ohh…unh…” she moaned as the need for release grew.
“Yes! Come for me.” Quinn’s voice, thick with lust, urged her to stroke and rub faster.
Suddenly her body tensed, tremors of passion coursing from head to toe, the core of each shock coming from the nub. “Ooohh God….” The spasms shook her hard, leaving her limp and panting in the water.
Before she could catch her breath, Quinn’s hands slid under her arms and lifted her out to stand beside the tub. He wrapped his arms around her, pressing her to his body.
The hairs on his naked chest tickled her nipples in the cool air. His cock pressed against her soft belly.
When had he gotten undressed?
Then he claimed her lips with his. She parted beneath his invasion, surrendering to the taste and feel of him. Her mind lost in his kiss.
Hot.
Searing.
Claiming.
“God, woman, what you do to me,” he muttered as he released his hold on her.
Her legs wobbled but he held her up with one arm, the other dragging a towel over her body. The scratchy material stimulated her already-sensitive skin everywhere he rubbed. Then he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed.
“What…”
He dipped his head and kissed her again. Hard. Her question died with the intensity of his lips on hers.
Before the kiss could turn into more, he deposited her in the bed and went back to the tub. Suddenly feeling very shy—which was ridiculous considering how many times she’d been naked or nearly naked in front of Dakota and him—she scrambled under the quilt and sheets, then watched him step into the tub.
Standing there in all his naked glory, he washed the trail grime off his magnificent body—every muscle sculpted like the statues she’d seen as a child in New Orleans. He moved with rolling grace as he slid the soap and water over his strong shoulders and arms, down over his stomach, tracing the narrow line of hair to where his cock jutted out in its erect glory.
Entranced, she watched him soap and stroke it from base to tip, back and forth, then glanced up to see him watc
hing her watch him.
He planned to fuck her when he joined her in the bed. No doubt in her mind about that.
“I’ve never done this before,” she said, breaking the connection by lowering her eyes to the quilt and studying the pattern of the intricately stitched pieces of calico materials.
“Never watched a man wash?”
“No. Never slept with a man like normal people…in a bed.” That sounded silly even to her, but it was true. Despite losing her virginity to that bastard Santos, she’d been in the hay in a barn stall at the gang’s camp.
“Don’t worry, darlin’. It’ll be good. Trust me.”
And for some reason, she did.
Finished soaping the grime off, he scooped up water and rinsed his body. Gathering the towel he’d used on her earlier, he rubbed it over his body as he walked to the bed.
The sun had finally set. The fire cast a warm glow about the room and formed shadows along the long planes of Quinn’s body. He pulled back the covers and stared down at her. A more modest woman would’ve tried to cover her nakedness, wouldn’t she?
He slid his fingers over the gold chains encasing her throat, the only thing adorning her body besides the cloth dressings around her shoulders, back and left arm.
“You’re beautiful,” he said as he slid in beside her, his warm body grazing hers. “And I’m going to sample every inch of you. From your lips.” He kissed her softly. “To your nipples.” He pinched each just enough to elicit a moan from her. “To your pussy.” He slid his hand between her thighs and stroked her nether lips and wet slit, igniting her need for more.
Chapter Seven
Sitting among the shadows in the corner of the saloon, Dakota sipped the swill that passed for whiskey this far out in the territory. Before he’d become a marshal and traveled to cities like Denver and Chicago, saloon whiskey had been his favorite drink. After tasting expensive imported scotch, he preferred it to the liquid currently in his glass.
The saloon sat directly across the street from the hotel. Looking out the grimy window from his seat, he could view anyone approaching the hotel’s entrance, keeping trouble away from Quinn and Lacy.
The Surrender of Lacy Morgan Page 10
