" Abigale,' Chris began and she waved her hand for silence.
"Abby," Victoria tried, but she received a deadly look that would put the best interrogator to shame.
"You can be wed by next Saturday, at the latest," she said. Victoria knew the woman was on a roll, listing all that had to be done. She glanced at Chris, but he wasn't paying attention to anything except the cleavage of her robe. She closed it to her throat and smiled.
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"And an announcement in tomorrow's paper," Abby finished with a firm nod. ' That will take care of the gossips, laird kens they'll have fun with this. I'll arrange for everything."
"Okay, sure," Victoria said, then bit into a slice of toast-Both Chris and Abigale looked at her in shock.
She shrugged. "I'd just as soon do it today."
"Today?" Chris said, then cleared the squeak out of his throat and repeated himself.
She arched a brow, her lips twitching. "Getting cold feet already, Tonto?"
He smiled hugely, full of masculine pride. "Nothing I have gets cold around you, woman." He tipped her head back and kissed her leisurely.
Abigale was still trying to swallow her astonishment. That was far too easy. Then she shook herself and stood.
"Dinna be letting the wee laddie see you like this until the wedding and you two willna have the chance to be—" She waved at the vicinity of the bed and what lay beneath the covers. "Cavorting until then. Is that clear?" She sent Chris a penetrating glare that looked distinctly like his mother's. "If you're mother knew I let this happen, she'd have me heart on a platter."
"You didn't let anything happen, Abigale," he said as sternly as he could with Victoria's hand creeping up his thigh. "And send a telegram, for Hunter and Sable, and my parents. Tell them if they can't make it, the wedding goes on without them."
Abigale threw up her hands, totally confused, yet pleased. She marched past Randel, who was delivering a second coffee cup, and the butler hardly looked at either of them, but Victoria could see the trace of a smile. He left as quickly as he came.
"Chris?" He was nibbling at her throat, pushing the robe aside. "What about Becket?" She scooted lower for better access.
"I really don't want to invite him, sweetheart." She smirked, reaching past him for another slice of toast. "Again, this is not funny." He heard her crunch, felt a sprinkle of crumbs against his
cheek and he sighed, giving up on his seduction and taking the tray. She snatched a slice of bacon before he set it on the floor.
She ate, waiting for his response.
"We need his journal. We also need the murder weapon."
"He isn't likely to have it on him. You think it's in his office or his bedroom?"
Chris nodded. "He hasn't left there since Vel's death, until you showed up in town." His expression and tone told her he didn't like that one bit. "He'll attend the picnic. We'll have to wait until then to search."
"I'll do it," she said and he shook his head slowly. "A bounty hunter has rights you don't."
"He'll notice you and I have reasonable cause."
Her brow rose.
"He was the last person to see Velvet alive," he ticked off his fingers, "she was in his office the night she vanished, and there are scuff marks on the windowsill and threshold, the carpet is cleaner in one area." He frowned thoughtfully. "Probably dirty by now, though."
"You aren't going to inform him, are you?" It was a stupid question. If they did, he'd head for the wall of time, and they both knew it.
"We have to make him believe the investigation is the last thing on our minds."
He slung his arm around her waist and pulled her closer, shifting over her and she spread for him, opening her robe and letting him fill her in one smooth stroke.
"I don't think we'll have a problem, do you?"
"Oh God, Tori," he gasped as she drew her hips back and surged against him. "I can't think of anything else."
"Good, then you won't mind if I flirt with him."
He stilled, instantly tense.
"He has a royal misguided case of the hots for me, Chris. What better way to get close?"
"You're mine, Tori, and by tonight, everyone in this town will know it. How is that going to look?''
She stroked his hair from his brow, her fingertips erasing
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the harsh lines of his face. "I won't have to say or do anything, Chris. He's already suspicious. And he doesn't go for single women. Married with children," she said, then smirked to herself. * 'it would be me and Lucky he'd focused on, regardless if he wanted to get me in bed."
Chris heaved a sigh, dropping his head to her shoulder. How he could even concentrate with the feel of her body pulsing around his erection, one he'd had since he'd woken with her lovely body draped around him, was beyond him. But he couldn't argue her point. She knew Becket better than he did.
"All right," he mumbled into the flesh of her throat, kissing her there, his hands slipping beneath the sheet to where then-bodies joined. "I agree. But—" He stroked her slick feminine flesh with painstaking slowness. "—you will remain armed and promise not to invite trouble until the picnic?''
She was quiet, her breathing quick.
"Tori?"
His finger brushed the bead of her sex and she gasped, "Yes, yes! We do this together—" His fingers moved heavily, languidly. "—your way, your laws, your time."
His grinned, full of his power over her. Eyes closed, her lower lip was caught between her teeth, her body undulating to his every touch. "Our way, Tori."
He left her body and drove back with a hard thrust. "Our time."
She smiled up at him, her gold eyes dark with desire and love. "Yeah, ours."
They were seen around town, dining out, always touching each other and twice, scandalously kissing in*public. During the day, Lucky was often with them, and most folks didn't recognized the orphaned child. Some commented that Lucky looked like Victoria, and she loved that, because Chris and she planned to adopt him. Lucky was thrilled at the prospect, calling her Momma as if to try the title on for size. Although each time she heard it was like a little arrow into her heart, she
would never begrudge him, nor understand the resilience of children—especially when he asked for brothers, and soon, please. The townspeople gossiped, mostly about her, but Victoria was too happy to let their useless comments bother her— until they defamed Chris. Then, the ladies of Silver Rose got a stinging taste of her twentieth century tongue.
"That was marvelous," jenna said, walking away from the red-faced group. ' 'Now what exactly does, 'bust his chops for a pack of left-wing, narrow-minded yuppies' mean, Victoria?''
Victoria spared her a glance, then let her anger go. "Ask me later."
"You'll tell about—" Her forehead wrinkled briefly. "—A three fifty-seven magnum and where it belongs, then too?"
Victoria had to laugh. "Sure, girlfriend. Now I have a date."
Jenna sighed. "You two are becoming so predictable," she murmured sourly.
"Look who's talking." She nodded to somewhere beyond and Jenna glanced around until she saw her husband, then flung a hasty good-bye as she raced, in a very unladylike fashion, across the street. Reid looked different, Victoria thought, watching him swing Jenna off the ground. Less intimidating in jeans and a dark shirt. But no matter what the ladies (which was debatable in Victoria's opinion) of this town thought of the female doctor, her husband made them sigh with envy. Reid was a looker. Of course, she thought as she headed to the jail, not as fine as her fiance. She paused on the threshold of his office, the realization striking her square in the chest.
Married, in a few days.
And when he saw her, he pulled his boots off the desk and stood, his eyes locking with hers. "You look scared."
She shook her head, depositing a ba
sket on Noble's desk, then crossing to Chris's and laying out their lunch. He caught her arm, stopping her and she met his gaze.
"I can't understand sometimes why I got so lucky to find
you.
"Ahh, darlin'—" He slid his hand to her waist, squeezing
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gently. "I'm the lucky one." His iips brushed lightly over hers, drinking in her sigh.
"Another debatable subject."
He frowned, confused.
"Never mind. Sit, eat." Chris had consumed half his lunch before coming up for air. * 'Christ, you can sure pack it away, Swift." Victoria sat on the edge of his desk, eating a sandwich. She offered him another. "You'd think you were active ... all night."
He scowled, catching her meaning. ' 'With watchdog Abigale around? I bearly get to kiss you good night."
It was frustrating and fun, and they both knew it.
He sank lower into his chair, propping his feet on the desk again, his gaze traveling over her loose hair, her new beige Stetson hanging against her back, the raw hide string caught at her throat, and then past her cream colored blouse to her skirt.
"Don't make faces—it's a compromise." His gaze lingered on the split skirt of deer skin molding her hips and buttocks. "Shows too much of your figure."
It was cute, his possessiveness. And she had the perfect ammunition to defuse it. Leaning closer she said, "In my century, women wear skirts cut above the knee.'' She knew why. Gowns and even these things were hot as hell. "Or shorter."
He gave her his well-honed that's-indecent look, and she smiled. He didn't.
"Jenna talked you into this, didn't she?" The women had spent a considerable amount of time together, and though Chris hoped friends would make her feel more comfortable in his time, Jenna had a way of stirring trouble.
"I preferred jeans." Victoria wouldn't give up her friend, not even to Chris.
His gaze lifted to hers. "But?"
"I didn't want the local tongues slinging any more trash at you, because of me."
His expression sharpened. "Have they?"
"Yes." She held up a hand, warding off the spew of Chey-
enne curses she could never understand. "But I can take care of it. My tongue gets a good sharpening."
"Bet you left them confused and not knowing if they'd been insulted or not," he said on a grin, coming to his feet and leaning out to take a bite of her sandwich. She waved at his meal, unfinished.
"Yours tastes better."
She leaned close, a hair's breath from his mouth. "You taste
better." A dull red crept up his neck, and he glanced around. No one
was within earshot and she laughed lightly.
"God, I love shocking you." Her smile widened and she laid her hand on his chest, feeling his heart beat quicken. She
let it drift lower.
"Don't. I can't take it, Tori. I swear." He looked her up and down, his breath hissing out through his clenched teeth. ' 'You keep teasing me like that and our wedding night will be over too damn quick."
"That's okay." Her palm slid to fit over his hip and he caught it before she moved lower. "I've got a lifetime to frustrate you."
Chris searched her face her warm, gold eyes and he was unmanned by the emotions sinking through him like hot mulled wine. "I love you, Victoria Mason."
"I know," she whispered against his lips, cupping his jaw.
"I know." He kissed her heavily, then drew back, restraint in every line
of his face,
"Jenna and you have fun?" He grabbed his sandwich, biting into it before he bit into her smooth throat.
"Fun?" She rolled her eyes. "I watched her take a bullet out of Buddy. A frequent customer, I'm told." She started to eat the sandwich, then tossed it aside. Chris apparently had no problem eating. "Now—" she folded her arms. "Why didn't you tell me you owned all this land," her wave encompassed the town, "and were a lawyer," she said with mock disgust. "A Harvard grad, no less."
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"Jenna has a big mouth."
"Jenna thought I knew."
He groaned, slipping his arm around her waist and kissing his apology. "I'm sorry. I bought the land years ago, and it sat untouched until someone discovered silver. I sold off parts when anyone wanted it."
"And why did you walk away from your law career?
"I found I preferred stopping the trouble before it got to court. People stay alive that way."
She touched his jaw, wondering what in her life made her deserve such an incredible man. "I love you, Chris."
He felt unhinged whenever she said it and he tightened his hold on her, pressing her breasts firmly against his chest. And kissing her deeply.
"Jeez-zoo, Peabody was right. You two are the kissin'est pair."
They broke apart. "Hi Noble," she said still looking at Chris, then faced the mountainman. "Ah, Miss Abigale asked me to give you that." She nodded to the basket on his desk. He smiled brightly, then tried to hide it as he peeked inside the folds of linen.
"Dang that woman—!"
"What? Not what you expected?" She exchanged a glance with Chris, who appeared totally confused, "She said you'd understand."
"Oh, I do, all right." He lifted out a handful of chicken legs, fried chicken legs and dumped them on the linen. "She's mad at me."
Victoria saw no significance behind chicken and biscuits. "How would you know? You can't have seen her lately."
Noble's face flushed. "Shoot," he muttered, then snatched up a chuck of meat and bit into it. It melted in his mouth. If she were really, mad she'd have burned it or spiced it so hot he'd be running for the horse trough.
Chris folded his arms over his chest and tossed Noble's own words back in his lap. "You know, for a man who's had three wives, you don't know beans about women."
"Dang, I guess not." He looked at his boss. "I need the afternoon off, Chris."
The marshal nodded, trying not to laugh. Noble looked so out of sorts and confused just then. Bet he doesn't know what he did, either, he thought as his deputy marshal jammed his hat on his head and left, but not before filling his pockets with Abigale's chicken.
It wasn't just a church picnic, a social, whatever the hell that was. It was a no-holds-barred fair, with livestock auctions, cakes and pie sales, hardware and crafts on display, and even a target range to test out the newest Smith and Wesson. Sides of beef were spitted and turned by eager children and the smell was heavenly. Cowboys galore walked with their bow-legged strides and girls, dressed to the nines, were out to impress one into asking them to dance. The dancing is where Victoria was stretching it, trying desperately not to step on Chris's toes. He winced a few times and she apologized, but she was way way out of her element in this.
And it annoyed the hell out of her that he found it all extremely amusing.
"It's just that you're so damn good at everything else you do, I guess I imagined a dance would be easy."
"Tell that to your toes."
"They'll survive," he said, spinning her effortlessly across the wood dance floor. He felt her stiffen in his arms and turned her again to see the cause, yet he knew.
Becket stood on the outskirts of the spectators. Liquor wasn't served at the fair until the evening, and then only beer, but he seemed to be waiting for night and profit. Elegantly dressed in midnight blue, he was the only man wearing a full coat and tie. He didn't fit in, didn't even try, Chris thought. He seemed to enjoy hovering on the edge of life.
Possessively, Chris held her closer, knowing he didn't need to stake his claim, but doing it just the same.
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Victoria eyed him, aware of the direction of his gaze. "You could kill with that look, Chris."
"His smugness makes me wish I could."
"Come on, chill out," she rubbed her
hand up and down his back. "The auction's going to start and you have horses to sell." He mumbled something unintelligible. "I've never seen an auction, Chris." He looked at her, a little stunned. "Nor a fair, nor got up close and personal with a cow," He smiled softly. "Just chickens?"
"And if you think cows stink wait until you smell chicken sh—"
"Victoria!"
She laughed and onlookers stared, watching them move through the crowd together, sampling pastries, trying on hats, Chris insisting she be measured for a decent pair of boots, Custom made boots, she thought, realizing the fortune they'd cost her in her time, and fiendishly enjoying the murmurs of outrage when he bought her a pistol and holster from the gunsmith.
"I know the rules," she said, then tucked it in their basket where Noble and Abigale sat, Noble trying desperately to make up with Abigale and tripping all over himself in the process. Abigale was lapping it up, the sly smile she sent Victoria speaking volumes.
Lucky raced up, his cheeks covered in white cream and she wiped his face, kissed it, then took his hand.
They reached the livestock pens just as one of Chris's horses was led in. The auctioneer began, and for the life of her, Victoria couldn't see who was bidding, yet the price kept rising. "The army usual buys most of my stock, but these are—" "Beautiful. God, they look like Caesar!" There were three, each a shade lighter toward brown, one was only black until the handler brought him into the light, then the reddish tint of his coat shone.
"They're his boys."
She cast him a side glance. "And you look like a proud grampa,"
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He chuckled, his forearms braced on the rail, watching her admire the horses, pointing out features to Lucky who was perched on the rail between them. Chris leaned around the boy and whispered, "Do you want him?"
She snapped a look at him, then shook her head. "No, you could get good money for him, Chris."
Chris waved the handler over.
"Chris, no," she whispered, pinching his forearm.
He caught her hand and spoke to the handler. The young man glanced at Victoria, grinned, then led the horse into the paddock. She rounded on Chris and he caught her shoulders, effectively silencing her.
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