by Debra Cowan
When she looked up at him with those liquid blue eyes, how was he supposed to refuse her? Refuse himself? He cleared his throat. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
His body thought it was a fine idea.
She pulled back to look at him, sadness clouding her eyes now, not pain. “I’ve been assuming that if I stayed in Whirlwind, you and I would be together again. Together in truth. But you may not want that. You may not want me.”
Not want her? Bram couldn’t imagine it. His arms tightened around her as he huffed out a laugh. “I want you. Surely you can feel it.”
She flushed. “Is it that you still believe I’ll leave?”
He took a moment to answer. “You’ve told me your plans and they all include Whirlwind. I know you’re serious about staying.”
“And about you.”
She sounded so sure. Bram wanted to believe the way she did.
But the image of her sorrow-ravaged face when she’d shown him that damn letter wouldn’t leave him. Thanks to him, he knew there was a possibility she might get that job back. Which meant she would leave.
And she might not get the job, said a voice in his head.
She toyed with a button on his shirt. “I’m offering you all of myself, Bram. If that doesn’t prove I intend to stick around, I don’t know what will.”
“Deb—”
“Stay with me. Please.”
Her eyes were deep and hot with need. The same need that burned in him. All he’d done since their argument after his marriage proposal was push her away. He couldn’t do it any longer.
He framed her face in his palms, his thumbs grazing her cheekbones. “Are you sure? You need to be certain.”
“I am.” Her hands curled over his wrists.
The smoldering heat in her eyes set him off and he kissed her hard. Too hard. He tried to gentle his mouth, his hands.
He could’ve stood there kissing her all night, but a tiny bit of his brain still worked. “Not out here. Need to move.”
She reached behind her and opened the door to her hotel room. Bram backed her inside, closing it as he moved her toward the fluffy bed.
Tugging his shirt out of his jeans, she slid her hands to the bare skin of his back. He made a rough sound, yanking off the garment and dropping it to the floor.
With frank appreciation on her face, she skimmed her hands up his chest, flexing her fingers in the dark hair there.
He wanted to taste her, feel her naked flesh against his. Savage, rioting need raced through him and Bram struggled to calm it. This was her first time. He needed to slow down so he could make it good for her.
Watching her face, he slid the pins out of her hair. The thick raven silk fell around her shoulders.
“I want to see you,” he said hoarsely. “All of you.”
“I want to see you, too.”
He settled his mouth on hers, kissed her slowly and deeply. Anticipation pulsed inside him, raw with an edge he’d never felt. He toed off his boots, yanked off his socks and knelt in front of her. “Hold on to my shoulder.”
She did and he had her button-up shoes off in a flash. His gaze moved to her face as he bunched her skirts in one hand and began pushing them up.
“What are you doing?” she asked breathlessly.
“Stockings. Off.” The moon gave enough light that he could tell a flush darkened her cheeks as he uncovered her calves, then her knees. He lifted her skirts higher. “Hold this for me.”
Legs trembling, she held the bunched fabric. He moved his palms up the back of her legs, up her firm thighs then around to the front. He nudged up the loose hem of her drawers and unrolled her left stocking, dropping it beside him. Then he did the same to the other one.
She put one hand on his head, her breathing ragged. “Bram.”
“Right here, sweetheart.” In the muted light, he could barely make out a jagged scar on her right knee. He kissed her there. “What happened?”
“I gashed it on a rock when I was a girl.”
He wanted to see the rest of her in the light. Rising, he walked to the small table beside the bed and lit the lamp there. Smoky amber glow filled the room.
She shifted, her uncertain gaze going to the lamp.
“Don’t be nervous,” he said softly. “I just want to see you, okay?”
After a long moment, in which he was afraid she might say no or stop things altogether, she nodded. “Okay. I want to see, too.”
He hadn’t thought he could get any harder, but he did. When she began unfastening her bodice, he went to her.
“Let me.” His voice sounded as if he had gravel lodged in his throat.
The fabric parted as he worked his way down the buttons, revealing creamy flesh, the delicate low-cut neckline of her chemise. He helped her out of her dress, hung it across a straight-backed chair behind him.
His mouth went dry at the sight of her breasts swelling over the top of her chemise. She took off her petticoat, then unhooked her corset; he deposited those things on the chair, too. Finally she stood before him in only her chemise and drawers.
The nearly sheer fabric clung to her full breasts and skimmed her hips, her flat belly. The sight of her made his breath back up in his throat. The faint bite of kerosene smoke hung in the air, but it was the scent of soft warm woman that filled his lungs.
With a slightly unsteady hand he pulled the tie of her chemise and pushed the garment off her shoulders. It fell to her hips, then slid to the floor.
Bram dragged in a gulp of air at the sight of her full breasts. Her nipples were dusky and taut, her velvety skin brushed with amber lamplight.
His chest tightened as he reached out and cupped her. “Now, that’s pretty,” he murmured.
Her fingers slid beneath the waistband of his jeans and she lightly scored his belly with her nails, making his muscles clench.
“You’ve seen me before,” she said, blushing.
“It gets better every time.” He bent to take her in his mouth.
She shifted restlessly, her fingers undoing his buttons.
He didn’t remember shucking off his jeans or getting rid of her drawers, but finally they were skin to skin. He laid her back on the bed and she touched his face, bringing him to her for a kiss.
She shifted against his erection, driving a hard-edged need through him. When she closed her hand around him, his muscles coiled as he struggled for control.
He gently moved her hand away. “In a minute, honey.”
“I’m hot,” she said on a ragged breath. “Do something.”
He smiled down at her. “You want me to just get it over with?”
“Yes. No!” She slid her arms around him, arching up against him. “You know what I mean.”
He dragged a hand up her thigh, then slipped a finger into her silky heat. He added another, his thumb circling the sensitive knot of nerves at her center. She gave a small cry, her muscles tightening around him.
He levered himself over her and widened her legs with his. She stared up at him, flushed and rosy. The look on her face—the love—went straight to his heart.
Knowing he was her first released some savage primitive urge in him and his arms quivered as he fought the need to bury himself in her completely.
After a moment, he smoothed back the sweat-dampened hair from her forehead. “It’s gonna hurt this first time.”
She nodded, tensing as he eased inside. Her hands coasted down his back to his flanks and when she pulled him closer, he thrust hard. She flinched slightly, making a sound deep in her throat.
He froze. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
Brushing kisses across her eyelids, her cheek, he held himself still until she relaxed around him. He slid his hands beneath her hips and began to move.
> “Oh!” She blinked up at him.
He smiled. “Still okay?”
“Oh, yes.” She drew a finger down the scar on his cheek, then curled a hand around his neck, bringing him to her for a kiss.
He watched her, forcing himself to go slowly. Her body shifted beneath his and he surged inside her. Hard. “Sorry.”
“Bram,” she whispered.
When she caught his rhythm, the lock on his control snapped and he fought to hold on until she broke apart.
He buried his face in her neck and followed. For long moments they lay there, then he rolled to the side so as not to crush her. Taking her with him, he held her close and kissed the top of her head.
The slender arm resting across his chest tightened on him as she asked drowsily, “Are you going to stay the rest of the night?”
“Yes.” He stroked the silky skin of her arm, her hip.
She pressed a kiss right over his heart and his throat tightened. He loved this woman. He’d never stopped.
“I’m not going anywhere, Bram,” she said into his chest. “Everything I want is in Whirlwind. We have something wonderful.”
He thought so, too. He just wasn’t sure it was enough.
Chapter Thirteen
Blood. Blood on the ground. Blood on her.
The slightly metallic smell filled her nostrils. Two shapes then three, hitting, punching.
She was outside. The sun was overhead, but it was dark where she was. Menacing.
Suddenly someone was in front of her, their features indiscernible in the shadows, hard hands grabbing her. It was a man, she saw now. His face was cold and his dark eyes gleamed with malice. Those hard hands came toward her, twisted her arm. A woman cried out and Deborah tried to go to her. The man turned where she could no longer see his face.
A sickening thud had her racing toward him, lunging. A meaty fist swung, then again. She grabbed his arm. Her head snapped back and hit something hard. She heard a crack. Pain exploded in her skull, her shoulder, and she tried to move, but her feet wouldn’t work.
The man loomed over her, his features distorted by rage, eyes flat and cold like a snake.
It was Cosgrove, fist raised to strike. A scream lodged in her throat.
“Whoa.” Strong arms slid around her. “Deborah, wake up.”
She fought, scrambling to get away, but was trapped by cloth wrapped around her hips, her legs. Struggling fiercely, she pushed against an immovable wall, pounded it. The arms around her tightened.
“Deborah?” The voice was low and soothing, whittling away at the horror. “Please wake up. Come on, sweetheart.”
Soft words, deep voice. A hand stroked her hair, soothing. Reassuring.
She was lifted and settled into a hard lap, against a wide hairy chest, hot male flesh. Bare flesh. One muscular arm was still curled around her waist; the other moved to her head, fingers sunk deep in her hair to cradle her skull.
Restraining her. No...sheltering her.
The suffocating sense of danger eased and she stilled. She slowly clawed her way out of the black terror clinging to her, sucking at her like pitch. She was surrounded by quiet strength. Steadiness.
Sobs tore out of her, her breath hitching.
She blinked open her eyes, trying to breathe and stop the panic. Orient herself. Moonlight streamed through the window, wove across the foot of the bed. A solid wall of man protected her.
“Deborah?” The concern in the voice penetrated.
It was Bram.
Panting, fighting to drag in air, Deborah huddled into him. “Wh-what happened?”
“You had a nightmare. A bad one.” He shifted her on his lap and tipped her chin up. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” Despite the warm temperature of the room, the dampness of her flesh and his, she shivered. “No.”
“You’re safe.” He brushed a kiss against her temple. “You’re here with me and there’s no one else. We’re still in Monaco. In the hotel.”
A fine trembling seized her body. Strong fingers threaded through her hair, soothing until the panic retreated. Shoving her tangled hair out of her face, she rested her head on his chest.
“Are you all right?” he whispered.
She nodded.
He let out a deep breath. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“Me, too.”
He gave her a soft kiss. “Want me to light the lamp?”
“Yes, thank you,” she said hoarsely.
He reached over and though it was awkward in his position, he kept one arm around her while he struck a match against the wall and lit the burner.
Quaking, she struggled to level out her breathing. “Did I disturb anyone?”
“No. You didn’t scream, sweetheart. Just kicked and punched.”
Her gaze moved over his face, halted on his neck and the red, raw mark there. She gasped, her touch gentle. “I scratched you. I’m so sorry.”
“I’m fine. You aren’t.” He took her wrist, placed a kiss in the center of her palm. He brought his other arm around her, angling her toward him. “Do you know what you dreamed about?”
Throat burning, she closed her hands on Bram’s steel-hard shoulders. “I remember,” she said hoarsely. “I remember everything.”
Using one finger, he nudged a stray wisp of hair away from her mouth. “It must be bad.”
“He killed his mother, Bram. Cosgrove killed his mother. That woman in the picture—” She broke off, bile rising in her throat as the memories unfolded one after the other like an accordion fan.
He rubbed her back. “The woman in the picture Sheriff Hayden showed us is Cosgrove’s mother?”
“Yes. Her name is Elda.” Tears flowed down her cheeks. The more she scraped at them, the faster they fell. “She was in on the robbery with him.”
“Are you sure he killed her?”
She shuddered, her gaze meeting Bram’s. “I saw him.”
He cursed under his breath, holding her closer. She shivered against him, chilled to the bone despite the summer heat. His steady strength calmed her enough to continue.
The memory happened in slow motion. “I tried to stop him,” she said haltingly. “That’s why he hit me.”
Bram went rigid against her, tension coiling in his body. The bruises on her face, her body, had been inflicted by that bastard. Fury blazed through him in a white-hot flash. Bram could barely get the words out. “He hit you?”
“Yes.” Her voice shook.
“Can you tell me all of it, honey? Or is it too much?”
“I want to get it all out.” She shuddered against him. “Cosgrove kept me in that hotel room with his mother. He stayed down the hall.”
A vicious darkness Bram had never felt before rose in him. Trying to keep his touch gentle, he rubbed her back.
“I tried to find out anything I could from them.”
“They’d robbed banks before?”
“A train. In Missouri. And they scammed a rancher out of the profit from his cattle sale.”
“How did you learn all of this?”
“I stayed quiet, hoping they would decide I was no threat so I could attempt an escape. It didn’t work.”
So, she had tried to get away from the murdering cattle thief.
“I didn’t know he had robbed Monaco’s bank until his mother hurried me to the alley behind The White Hotel. Two horses were saddled and waiting.”
“How did the woman keep you from running?”
“She held a gun on me.”
A hush came over Bram’s body. “Did she hit you? Hurt you?”
“No.” Deborah massaged her temple. “We hadn’t been there that long when a commotion broke out. People were screaming. There were gunshots, the sound of
people running. Cosgrove came rushing into the alley, yelling for us to mount up and ride.”
Bram did his best to focus all his attention on her voice. But she was naked in his lap. There was no way she couldn’t affect him, but he ruthlessly willed down the desire. That wasn’t what she needed right now.
“He crammed all the money in his saddlebags. His mother grabbed a flour sack full of it and suggested they each take half and split up then meet later. Cosgrove refused.”
Deborah closed her eyes, her next words slow as if she didn’t want to miss any details. “He said he was sick of following her plans and that the last time he’d gone along with her suggestion, he hadn’t seen a dime of the money.
“She slapped him and he just...erupted. I don’t know another word for it. He hit her. He kept hitting her. I didn’t even think, just grabbed his arm. He threw me off, shoved me into the hotel wall and slammed my head into the brick—” She broke off, chin quivering.
Bram’s entire body shut down for a heartbeat. Then a molten, seething rage filled him. He thought his jaw might snap in two. The bastard could have killed her.
With an unsteady hand, he stroked her shoulder, her hair, trying to keep his touch gentle.
“When I came to, he and his mother were gone. Now I know where they were.”
“He was hiding his mother’s body under the hotel.”
“Yes. There was blood on me and on the ground. I was terrified,” she whispered, that damn pain flaring in her eyes again. “Something told me to run, to get away as quickly as I could, so I took Cosgrove’s horse and rode out. He saw me. He yelled after me. Even though I didn’t remember who he was or what had happened, I knew I couldn’t go back.”
“From there, you headed home.”
“Yes.” The wet tracks of her tears were silver in the moonlight. “Although I didn’t realize that was where I was going. I just wanted to get away.”
“Then you took shelter in my cabin.”
“And you found me.” She cupped his cheek, the realization of how close she’d come to maybe never seeing him again a sharp pain in her chest.
What if she hadn’t gotten away from Cosgrove? What if she hadn’t come upon the Ross cabin? “I’m so glad it was you who found me.”
