"Why?"
"Chemical make up in the body or something, I suppose. I'm no physicist, but Becket and I must have what's necessary."
"You're so sure?"
"Yeah, or this place would be full of twentieth century Federal agents. They aren't stupid and if anything, thorough. They'd try to come through." She looked at him intently. "He'll stand trial here, too, Chris."
"He may die here."
She wasn't going to get into a debate with him now. "Next question."
His gaze caressed her face and he leaned close to whisper, "It's been driving me mad."
Even sweaty, he smelled good. "Hmm?"
"What in God's name are you wearing under that shirt?"
She grinned. "A bra. Brassiere. A garment to support a woman's breasts," she said, deadpan.
His fingertip trailed the edge of the tee shirt, hooking the fabric and she let him peek inside.
"Fascinating." His breath warmed her skin and Victoria throbbed for his touch.
"I'll show you, if you're a good boy."
His glance was sly and hot. "What constitutes good?"
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"If I have to explain, you aren't working hard enough." He grinned, urging her back against a tree. Thigh met thigh, chest met breast and molded, yielded. He swooped down to cover her mouth with his. He licked the outline of her mouth, scored her teeth, then pressed his intention with his tongue between her lips and his groin against the sweet divide between her muscled thighs. She gripped his waist and rocked against him.
"Oh good, very good," she gasped and met his kiss again, sinking slowly to the ground and taking him with her.
Dry leaves crackled beneath them as they met the ground, her long limbs curling around his, and Chris felt hot desire singing through her, making her shiver. Her lips toyed lusciously with his ear lobe and he closed his eyes to the tantalizing sensations, experiencing them as he never had before.
His broad hands molded familiarly over her hips and buttocks, teasing the curve of flesh revealed beneath the frayed edge of denim.
Her lips rasped across his collarbone, tasting the salt of his
flesh. -
Somewhere a bird chirped.
A breeze rustles leaves to swirl around them.
Victoria decided she could do this forever.
"I was scared, Chris."
He cocked a look at her, surprised.
"Telling you my secret." He frowned softly. "I thought you'd be, you know—disgusted or something?"
He shifted to his side, cupping the gentle curve of her jaw
in his hand. His thumb brushed her cheek.' 'I adore you, woman,
when are you going to realize that?" f
Something akin to pain flared in her dark gold eyes and she wet her lips nervously. "Maybe when you kiss me again?"
His smile was slow and rascally before his mouth covered hers, a slick roll of warm lips as he pushed her onto her back, his body cloaking her from the sunlight.
She felt the hardness of him cradled snugly against her and Victoria's body rocketed with a desperate heat so primitive and
hungry she would have stripped right then and had her way with him. It felt as if she'd waited a lifetime to be naked and loved by this man. But the irony of being a fertile woman wouldn't allow that and the restraint tore at her, his low moans when she found a satisfying spot on his body making her greedy to hear more.
And more.
She spread her thighs and wrestled him to his back, kissing a grinding path down his throat, over his hairless chest. His Adam's apple bobbed.
Straddling his thighs, she hovered, running her tongue around the flat coin of his nipple.
Air snagged in his throat. "I think we'd better head back."
"Yeah, right." She shimmied lower, her tongue dipping into the indentation in his stomach. "I'm off and running. Can't
you tell?"
"Tori," he groaned when her hand combed down over his arousal. He gripped the muscled thighs hugging his and she straightened.
Eyes locked and held.
And he wondered about that devilish smile aching to get
out.
Then he knew. Victoria plucked at the raw hide strings, loosening them.
"Tori?" His throat worked violently, his fingers pressing deep into her flesh. .
Without a trace of reservation, she slid her hand beneath the tanned hide, enveloping him. "Ohhh, Christopher," she said, long and breathless.
Instinctively, he arched into her gentle pressure.
' 'Tori, I thought—ah, Jesus.'' He trembled beneath her stroking and she caught his silent question.
"Shhh. There's a lot more to making love than just you moving inside me."
Chris thought he'd come apart with the image she offered.
"You taught me that." His need for her blazed in his dark
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eyes and Victoria wanted to ignite it, wanted to hear him moan, wanted him to writhe beneath her touch as she had for him,
She slid down his body, taking the doe skin breechcloth.
"Tori, no." He reached for her.
She brushed his hands away. "Yes." And she didn't give him any choice.
She lowered her head and Chris's eyes widened further, then snapped shut as her mouth touched him. He fell back, boneless, surrending himself. Sweat broke out on his brow, his beautiful muscles rippling with strained power. And moments later, his howl of rapture echoed through the valley, stirring the birds
Victoria smoothed the deep blue dress at her waist. It was hell getting into all this crap. A chemise, layers of petticoats that made her feel like a million, stockings with dainty little flower garters and small shoes that felt like slippers. Everything laid out was the epitome of femininity, lacy, threaded with ribbons.
But she wasn't about to wear the bustle. The tons of fabric made her waist look tiny, but her rear, huge. Style or not, she couldn't harness herself into a wire cage for the sake of fashion. Not that she ever followed it, anyway.
What she did like was feeling sexy, alluring. And that was new.
Now if she could only walk without tripping over the hem. What was it about a floor-length gown that made a girl feel elegant and positively graceful? Of course, the effect was spoiled when she picked up her backpack and headed out of the room. She flew down the stairs and crossed the foyer into Chris's study. He was standing near the fireplace, sipping coffee, his hair still damp from his bath and Victoria smiled when she remembered Abigale and the verbal lashing she'd given them both. His for being in the woods so long that it gave her a scare, and Victoria for walking about bare-assed, as Abigale put it. Bare legged was a crime of etiquette. Victoria knew that, of course, but she found she liked shock-
ing the kindly old woman about as much as she enjoyed seeing Christopher climax in her arms. God, I'm a tart, she thought. She'd never done that before with any man, never felt such an overpowering need to give him pleasure. But then, no man ever made her feel so comfortable with herself—nor wanted her just the way she was.
She cleared her throat and he turned, his features stretching tight. Slowly, he set his coffee cup on the mantle, almost missing the edge.
She felt his gaze caress her from slippers to plunging neckline and her skin flushed with quick heat.
"Incredible." Chris whispered in awe.
"For Christ sake, Chris. It's only a dress."
He crossed to her, taking the pack and dropping it where she stood, then ushering her back out the door. A mirror hung on the wall and he positioned her before it.
She gazed at the reflection that didn't look a thing like her. Not like the woman who hunted bounty, ate fast food and lived in her car.
"Oh my."
' 'Yes.'' He slid his arms around her waist, drawing her softly back against him and the sof
t crush of crinoline luring his imagination.
"She's beautiful," he said to her reflection and she reached up, cupping his jaw, watching as he touched his lips to her bared throat.
Briefly, she closed her eyes, unfamiliar feelings racing through her. And she admitted the woman in the mirror had changed. The dress made her feel sexy and elegant, but she looked ... as if she were born to wear it. And she tried to see what Chris saw.
It was a simple classic design of the period, yet made of rich watered silk. Her hair was twisted up on her crown, secured with pearl-tipped pins that Abigale had produced. Tiny curls framed her temples and nape and a pair of pearl-drop earrings dangled from her lobes. Chris caught one in his teeth, briefly,
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then kissed her throat. Her body sprang to life the instant she saw him but now his teasing was making her throb. "You're making me crazy." "You catch on fast."
His dark head nestled against the curve of her bare shoulder and throat, he dropped sweet intoxicating kisses along the line to the edge of the gown hugging her upper arm. "I love your shoulders, so smooth and flawless." "I thought you loved my legs." She laughed uneasily. He looked up, meeting her gaze in the silver glass. "I do." He grinned. "But now I'm the only one who'll enjoy seeing them."
"Ohh, possessive, aren't you?" came with the arch of her dark brow. "I never would have thought."
"You're my woman, Victoria. Make no mistake." There it was again, that forever tone. She didn't want to ignore it. She wanted to wrap it around her like a warm blanket.
"I can't wait to take it off you."
A little moan colored the space between them, and he knew she wanted him, too.
"You take my breath away, Tori," he whispered in the shell of her ear. "You always have."
One hand vanished from her waist to reappear before her
vision, a necklace dangling from his fingertips.
She frowned into the glass.' 'I don't want gifts, Christopher."
"Then don't keep it." Though he wanted her to, he wasn't
going to argue. She'd just remind him she was leaving, that
what they had, they time they could spend together was only
temporary. f
He refused to believe that.
He swept the necklace around her throat, securing the clasp and vanity pushed her closer to the glass. It was delicate, silver clasping a lovely blue stone. "It was my mother's."
"I can't." She reached for the clasp, facing him. He caught her hands, bringing them to his lips.
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"Humor me." His smile was sad. "For a little while."
She nodded, watching his tongue snake over her fingers before he pressed her palm to his lips.
"Chris," came on a breathless whisper and his eyes flared.
She gasped for needed breath, her hand resting possessively on his hip. Suddenly, she needed his kiss, needed to feel his strength. He saw it, and their arms swept around each other, locking tight as lips clashed and crushed away fears and worry to the onslaught of desire. Watered silk felt like liquid against his palms as he shaped her back, discovering the absence of corset and stays, then lowering to find no bustle. He loved it. She was absolute defiance in her manner, even though every man in this town was going to be panting after her.
"We'll have none of that."
They broke apart like startled adolescents.
Chris swiped his knuckle across his mouth and begged for air.
"And you, Miss Victoria," Abigale huffed, playing the mother hen. "Dinna our little chat mean anything to ye?"
"You mean about restraint?"
Abigale nodded, her hands on her ample hips.
Victoria glanced at Chris. "Nope." She shrugged. "Sorry."
Abigale resisted a smile. She was going to keep these two apart until they couldn't take it. Then she'd see them wed proper.
"And Christopher—"
He put up a hand. "When is dinner?"
"About an hour," she said, frowning.
"Knock first." Chris grabbed Victoria's hand and drew her quickly into the study and closed the doors.
"She's looking out for your virtue."
"I don't have any."
"God, I'm glad," he said with feeling, then kicked at the pack.
She lifted it and handed it to him, gesturing toward the fireplace and the small settee. Her skirts rustled as she moved
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and Chris watched as she settled onto the sofa with casual grace.
"Aren't you going to open it?" she said when he kept staring at her.
He blinked, then looked down at the knap-sack. "How?" She unzipped it and he bent closer, examining everything in the workmanship of the cheap pack with great care. My inventor, she thought, and couid hardly wait to see his projects, Abigale said they were all in his bedroom, and he never let anyone touch them or see them until they worked.
He opened the pack like a child on Christmas. His hand trembled a bit as he drew out her tazer.
"Careful." She took it and pressed the button. The blue white crackle charged across the polars. "It subdues a perp. Sends a few thousand volts of electricity through their body." "That would kill them!"
"No, it just stuns them for a few hours." Her delicate brows wrinkled. "If you know about electricity, how come you don't have lights, currents, wires?"
' 'I haven't quite figured out how to harness it for any length." "You have?"
His tone was patient. "Electric batteries have been around since the 1700's." This was news to her. "I've seen it ring a bell and make light without heat." He touched the tazer button and made a face, setting it aside. "I've even heard of experiments on a carriage without horses." "Automobiles."
His gaze flashed up. "So they do it?"
"Yeah. It's become more dangerous, though, because there
are so many of them." /
He nodded and she knew he wouldn't understand the impact and sat back, propped her elbow on the edge of the settee and cupped her chin in her palm.
He poked and examined and she answered his questions and knew he wanted to take everything apart.
But when he pulled out a baggie, she snatched it from his hand.
His grin was crooked. He'd seen the sheen of fabric and lace and he leaned over and kissed her thickly on the mouth, then took back the prize.
"Secrets again?" He shook the pouch.
"Just try and open it."
It took him only seconds, mostly because he studied the plastic more than the contents, before pulling out the bundle and spreading it on his lap. He frowned, twisting and stretching
the fabric.
And Victoria's embarrassment, of which she couldn't understand the source, ebbed. She took one white lacy panty and held it up correctly. "Panties, a thong," she clarified, then stood and held it up against her hips.
"But there's nothing there, Victoria."
She loved the edge in his voice.
"That's the point."
"Ahh, to entice a man." His grin was wolfish.
"Very good, Marshal, next lesson." She bent to stuff the
panties back into the bag.
He settled back into the settee, his gaze flicking over her, halting briefly on the lovely swell of her breasts against the neckline of her gown and he remembered the wonderful contrast of skin in that particular area. Alabaster white against golden
tan. But how?
"Ahh, Tori?" She glanced up. "You don't actually wear
those, in the sun, without covering."
He looked flustered.
"I mean, you're tanned except—" his shoulders moved restlessly, "well, except there."
God it was cute. The gentleman warring with his curiosity. And a bit of jealousy. Though bikinis and why people wanted a tan would be another discussion, she said, "I laid out in Cole's back yard, Chris. In
private."
He was only mildly pacified.
"There was a privacy wall."
He nodded and she heard his breath escape in a soft rush. She patted his cheek, amused by his sour look. Moving around
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the furniture, she helped herself to the coffee service on his desk, letting him investigate as he pleased, answering questions as she strolled around the room. The decor was dark, maroon and hunter green and she noted the elaborate family crest in a frame, the sword, a Union saber, she assumed, on the wall, all in sharp contrast to the coup stick adorned with old dry feathers. There were other things that spoke of how little she knew of him. Like the pieces of jade from China, or the African blowgun on the mantle. "Tori?"
She turned and looked down at the thread mic head sets cradled gently in his hands. Her face stretched with a smile and she set the cup aside.
Flipping one on and tuning the freque, she said, "Take this and go to the other side of the room." He did and she moved to the opposite end. He watched as she put it on her head and adjusted the mic. He copied her. She motioned for him to turn his back.
"Hi, good lookin'."
' 'Jesus!'' He whipped around and she was yanking off the headset, rubbing her ear.
"You don't have to do anything more than whisper. I can hear you breathe."
They tried it again, and Chris marveled at the invention.
"You've used these?"
"I was wearing it the night he killed Cole."
It was a moment of thought before the impact of that ripped through him. "But you can hear everything, Tori. Did you?"
"I heard him die, Chris."
"Oh God, darlin' I'm sorry."
"It's okay."
He felt her tears, even if he couldn't see them.
And he sought to lighten her mood.
'Could I talk to you while you were in another room with these?'' The thought of it amazed him.
"Yes," she said carefully. "The distance isn't that good and the batteries are probably running low."
Battery power, he knew what that was.
"Why? What did you have in mind?"
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