Cowboys and Highlanders

by Scott, Tarah

  Once in the restaurant, Cassie asked, “Is there going to be services for Sandy?” She sucked noodles into her mouth.

  “That’s up to her brother. I didn’t tell the girls, but there’s a chance he’s going to put up a fight against the business.”

  “What can he do?”

  Marion shrugged and took a sip of wine. “I guess we’ll know soon enough.”

  “Know what?”

  Marion startled and stared as Train sat down next to her at the table. “Train.”

  “You look surprised to see me.”

  Marion’s heart raced. Train’s whole face smiled under his cowboy hat. She thought of sitting on her hands to keep from throwing them around his neck. Oh, she missed him. Not knowing what was going on inside his head nearly killed her.

  “How’ve you been?” He took off his hat and set it on the table.

  “Sandy passed,” she said, wondering what Train’s reaction would be. Whatever plans he had for them weren’t possible now. She had responsibilities. “This morning.”

  He ran his hands through his hair. “Does TJ know?”

  “I didn’t know how to get a message to him. And I wasn’t sure you wanted to hear from me.” She picked up her wine and finished it.

  “Maybe I should give the two of you some privacy.” Cassie pushed her plate away.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Marion picked up her silver clutch and sifted through the contents. Anything to keep her hands busy and her focus from Train.

  “You’re fine to stay,” Train said. “Marion and I have got all the time in the world to talk privately.”

  Marion’s eyes darted to his. “I’ve got responsibilities now. Whatever you might be thinking, forget it. All bets are off.”

  Train chuckled. “Don’t you want your prize?” He seemed very pleased with himself.

  Marion felt herself blush. Since when did she blush? “I could use some cheering up.”

  “Okay, that’s enough for me.” Cassie tossed her napkin on the table. “I know when I’m listening to a private conversation.”

  They didn’t try to stop her as she left the restaurant. “I can’t leave,” Marion finally said.

  Train slid his hand under hers, palm-to-palm. “Do you want to?”

  The silence seemed to take an eternity and she wasn’t sure how long it actually was before she whispered, “Yes.”

  “I’m on my way to Wyoming to pick up a couple of mares. I’ll be back in, say, ten days. Come home with me.”

  She watched his fingers entwine with hers. “What about the girls?”

  “I can’t take them all home.”

  She found it impossible not to return his smile. “Listen, sweetheart,” she said, mimicking the pet name he’d often used with her. “I saw the way you looked at Cassie’s breasts.”

  “They’re hard to miss.”

  “I don’t care if she stands naked in front of you--” She leaned in close. “It better be me your hands are on.”

  “Possessive, I like it.”

  “Damn right,” she said looking at their linked hands. “Sandy died and now the brothel belongs to me.”

  “I know you’re hurting. I also know there’s a chance her brother is going to cause problems for you.” He joggled his knee. “Come with me to Wyoming, otherwise I’m going to worry.”

  “Why do you insist on protecting me?” She jerked her fingers out of his hand.

  He growled. “Because I love you,” he said through clenched teeth. “A husband’s responsibility is to take care of his woman.” His eyes darkened with the strength of his conviction.

  Marion blinked as she tried to organize her jumbled thoughts. Her eyes came to study his face. Only naked truth reflected in his smoldering stare, and the thin determined line of his lips caused her breath to catch in her throat. Undoubtedly, if she refused his love, she would hurt him again. She would rather cut off her own arm than cause him another moment of grief. The harder she tried to ignore the truth, the more her heart persisted. Still she was surprised to hear her own voice whisper, “I’ll marry you, right now.”

  Train held Marion’s hand as they left the restaurant. They walked a few blocks to the justice of the peace.

  “Are you sure you don’t want a proper wedding?” he asked her in the foyer.

  “I wouldn’t feel comfortable.” She squeezed his hand. “I’ve never looked good in white anyway.” She took a deep, steadying breath. “Train,” she said. “Are you sure? Once you set your mind to something, you do it. Rational or not, you don’t consider the consequences. Take a good look at what you’re asking for.”

  His gaze never left her face. “I haven’t been able to think of anything else. You’re the one who said it first. We’re perfect for each other.” He kissed her temple.

  “For the record,” she said with a tone of defiance. “This has nothing to do with the bet. Win or lose, I had no intention of marrying you.”

  “Marion, our home is finished. I have no intention of leaving Copper City without you.”

  The justice ushered them into the parlor where he conducted the weddings. The walls were painted bright white. The dark stained wood floor wasn’t softened by a rug or carpeting. Six wood slat chairs sat in a row, three on each side of the plain, square table where the justice stood when performing a ceremony. Sterile and practical, clearly the justice wanted couples wide-awake and fully aware of where they were when he pronounced them man and wife.

  Train left his hat by the door and joined Marion before the table.

  “Where are your witnesses?” he grumbled while filling out the marriage license.

  “No witnesses,” Marion quickly said, sounding more as if she didn’t want anyone to know what they were about to do rather than stating an overlooked necessity.

  “You must have witnesses.” He did nothing to hide his annoyance. “Wait here, I’ll get my daughter.” He returned a few minutes later with a homely looking gal of about thirty. Thin and stringy, her hair limply fell to her shoulders accenting her thick neck and wide shoulders. “Do you have a ring?” His disposition was not improving.

  Train slipped a ring off his pinky. Marion wondered why she hadn’t noticed it when they were sitting in the restaurant holding hands.

  She trembled as he slid the delicate gold band with a small diamond onto her finger.

  “Sign here.” The justice put a paper in front of them. “Have a nice night.”

  He shooed his daughter out of the parlor and then stood by the door in an attempt to hasten their departure.

  Train looked at Marion once they were on the sidewalk in front of the justice of the peace. Marion slightly tilted her hand in different directions watching the small diamond in her ring twinkle. His stomach knotted when he put his hand on the small of her back to escort her back to the brothel.

  Once there she said, “What do I tell them?” referring to the girls working in the brothel.

  “Whatever you want.” Train stopped at the bottom of the stairs leading to the bedrooms. “I’ll wait for you in the kitchen.”

  “Don’t you want to come up?” She looked concerned. “I admit I’m a bit impatient. I’ve been trying to get you into bed since the first day we met. Now that I have a legal right to you, I want all of you.” She wrapped her arms around his waist. “Bet or not, I’m entitled to my prize.”

  “And you shall have it.” He pressed his lips to hers. His grip on her hips tightened as his intention became serious. “Not here,” he said, reluctantly pulling away. “Tonight we stay at the hotel.”

  Obviously, she remembered the luxurious accommodations because she quickly ascended the stairs leaving Train in the parlor. He wasted no time getting to the kitchen.

  He knew there had to be a bottle of something with which he could medicate his anxiety. At some point tonight, he was going to have Marion in his bed. He couldn’t help but wonder what standard she would compare him to. Although not a virgin, he had very little experience with women. Marion
was an experienced woman. How would he compare to the others she’d been with? He didn’t want to disappoint her.

  The first shot he slammed, and then poured himself another to sip. He took the tumbler into the office across the hall. The door stood open revealing papers lying across the desk and creating piles on the floor. Clearing a spot on the small sofa, he sat back and stretched out his legs.

  * * * * *

  “What are you doing?” Cassie asked, standing outside Marion’s open door.

  “Trying to find the perfect outfit to wear tonight.” Everything she owned looked like it belonged to a whore. “Why should I have anything else?” she said to herself, throwing another dress on the floor.

  “Marion, you’re pale and that’s hard to do with your complexion.” She came into the room and plopped down on the bed. “Can I assume you’re frustrated by your cowboy? I could take him off your hands.” She fingered one of the dresses on the bed. When Marion didn’t speak and stopped tossing clothing around, Cassie said, “What?” and splayed her hands wide while lifting her shoulders.

  “He’s my husband.” She held out her hand for Cassie to see the ring. Suddenly she wanted everyone to know she was married.

  “Marion!” Cassie grabbed Marion’s hand, nearly pulling her arm from the socket. “When?”

  “After you left the restaurant.”

  Cassie let her head fall back as she laughed. “Does he know how insatiable your appetite is? Of course he does. Must have been some night. Lord have mercy on him. Marion, a one-man woman? I don’t believe it.”

  “We haven’t done anything yet.” She smiled in spite of herself. Who knew? Train had played her perfectly. Instead of being mad about it, Marion was grateful for his resolve. Perhaps if they had been intimate before, she wouldn’t be married now. Married, she thought. Mrs. Marion Spencer, or would he want her to be called Mrs. Train, either way she was happy. “When I told you I was retiring, it wasn’t because I planned to marry. I didn’t know whether he’d come for me or not.” She sighed and sat back on her heels. “Thinking about someone else’s hands on me makes me want to be sick.”

  “I think I’m going to faint. She’s fallen in love.”

  Marion stood with a dress in her hands. “I wouldn’t go that far. He’s downstairs waiting.” She spread her hands to the room. “You girls can have it all. I don’t want any of this ever again. I’m a wife now and I don’t want to remind my husband that I was ever a whore.”

  Cassie clutched the dress in her hand to her bosom. “Take it slow, you don’t want to get bored after the first night.”

  “Slow is his specialty.” Marion thought about Train’s anatomy. His body with hard muscles, his rough hands, and his hot, thick cock. “I might not look like a whore after today, but it’s going to take quite a bit longer to stop me from thinking like one.”

  “Let’s go find your husband.” Cassie followed Marion out the door and down the stairs.

  “I’ll be back tomorrow.” They walked toward the kitchen. She stopped up short when she spotted Train sitting in the office. With his cowboy hat still on his head, he braced his elbows on his knees and rolled a glass tumbler between his palms. He glanced up at her when he heard Cassie giggle. “I’m ready.”

  Cassie looked over Marion’s shoulder. “Congratulations,” she said. “Oh,” she covered her mouth. “It’s not a secret, is it?”

  Train looked at Marion for confirmation.

  “Tell whomever you want,” she said, looking into Train’s eyes. “I’m lucky he wanted me enough to marry me.”

  He stood and took a step toward her. “Ready?”

  She nodded and they left the brothel.

  Chapter Nine

  Marion dropped her carpetbag by the front door. “This isn’t the same room,” she said as she surveyed the décor.

  “No, this is a single suite. We don’t need two bedrooms.” He immediately went to the fireplace and tossed in a few pieces of kindling. “Will you pour us drinks?” he asked with his back to her. The dimly lit room offered too much intimacy too soon. Building a fire only enhanced the romantic atmosphere along with heightening the anxiety he felt deep in his gut.

  Marion handed him the drink while she sat beside him. “Train, why won’t you look at me?” Putting her hand on his shoulder, she applied gentle pressure until he faced her. “I’ve been as patient as I can.” Her warm, moist mouth descended onto his. Threading her fingers through his sideburns, she turned his head and slipped her tongue into his mouth. “If I have to take your hand and put it on my breast, I will,” she teased while her lips still played against his. “I am not going to be a good girl any longer.” She slid her hand over his thigh and brushed the front of his trousers.

  “Patience, sweetheart, we have all night.” He picked up his drink and finished it in one swallow.

  “I swear I will make your wedding night miserable if you put a brick in your hat. Drunks are clumsy.” She narrowed her eyes and took his glass away.

  “I’ll try not to disappoint.” He winked trying not to reveal his genuine concern. “But when you expect too much, you’re usually disappointed.”

  Sitting on the edge of the sofa, Marion reached behind her head and unclasped the hook at the neckline of her dress. “I want to bathe.” She gave him her back. “Will you unbutton me?”

  Train’s fingers fumbled with the buttons of her dress, finally managing to complete the task. He separated the fabric and ran his hand down the ladder of her spine. While still sitting beside her, he tasted the skin between her shoulder blades.

  Marion pulled her hair around to fall in front of her shoulder. Lowering her chin, she gave Train more skin to explore with his mouth. His hand reached around the front of her throat while his mouth moved across the top of her shoulder. The front of her dress fell forward to her waist, exposing her breasts to the cool air in the room. He glanced over her shoulder as her nipples pucker.

  “It was a hot bath you wanted.”

  “I hate you,” she said after he left her side.

  Train chuckled and Marion gulped her drink. If she felt as he did, the burn would only increase the heat already simmering in his balls and sizzling through him.

  Marion righted her dress and retrieved her carpetbag. Opening the door to the bedroom, she stood still and stared at the bed. Her life had been hard that the simple pleasure of a soft bed could make her eyes glassy with unshed tears.

  Filled with earthy tones of brown and tan, this room was similar to the one they’d shared before. The dresser was made of a rich mahogany as well as the four-post bed frame. A caramel and chocolate colored bearskin lay across the top of the bed.

  “Your bath is ready.” Train came up behind her and wrapped his arm around her midsection. He knew she wanted to drop her clothes and get on the bed, but he wouldn’t. He’d never treat her the way men treated her at the brothel.

  Train pushed the dress off her shoulders and turned her to face him. She stood still as if waiting for his touch. His heartbeat pounded in his head while his gaze wandered, detailing her contours. With the slightest tug, her dress fell to the floor and pooled around her feet. Wearing nothing underneath, she stood naked before him.

  “Feeling a bit ambitious?” He tentatively touched the swell of her breast. She swayed into him. “I’m pleased.” He bent and stroked one of the raised peaks with his tongue.

  She pulled his head to her mouth and attempted to take a step backward toward the bed.

  “Uh uh,” he said while he slid his tongue against hers. He kissed her deeply then pulled away. “Your bath is growing cold.”

  “To hell with the bath, and don’t talk to me any more about patience.” She smothered his protests with her mouth.

  Train lifted her into his arms and carried her to the large claw foot tub filled with steaming water. “What, no bubbles?” she complained, stepping into the water.

  “Soak for a minute. I’ll be right back.”

  Train stepped back into the par
lor and took a deep breath. The walls were closing in on him. Time for the honeymoon and he was starting to doubt he’d be able to perform.

  Marion sank into the water until she submerged to her neck. After Train left the room, she put her head under the water and wet her hair. It was obvious her body had a profound effect on his. She wanted to exploit the opportunity having Train watch her in the bath.

  Disappointed because he hadn’t made love to her, yet anticipation mounted. Wound so tight, she could feel her muscles starting to cramp. Yes, the bath felt good. Moreover, at some point tonight, so would Train.

  “Hello,” she called when she smelled tobacco smoke coming from the front room. “What about me?”

  He approached and leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb. While he’d been in the living room, he’d taken off his shirt. The sun-kissed, corded muscles of his stomach covered by a thin trail of crisp hair, created a tingle in Marion’s belly.

  “Did you need something?” His rich voice resonated with implications.

  “Yes, I need you to get into this tub with me, for a start.” Train let the cigarette dangle from his mouth as his trousers fell to the floor.

  She almost leapt from the tub when she saw him standing before her naked and fully aroused.

  “Make room,” he said and slid in behind her.

  Marion took the cigarette and inhaled. Now leaning her back against his chest, his arms wrapped around her middle, and his erection rigid against her, she was glad she stayed right where she was.

  She held the cigarette while he inhaled. “I’m amazed I could be so happy when I just lost my oldest and dearest friend.” She let her head rest against him while her fingers absently ran along his forearm.

  Train took the cigarette and tossed it into the commode. Shifting her, he held her jaw while touching his tongue to her upper lip. As her mouth opened, his hand lifted her breast, rubbing the tip with his thumb. Her body slid against his as she wrapped her fingers around his girth.