Taming Eliza Jane

by Shannon Stacey

  He’d been right about not trying to change her. He hadn’t interfered with her meetings, or with her working at the livery stable. He hadn’t paved her way in Gardiner, but let her find her own way. He not only loved her, but he had respected her, as well.

  And as she remembered how Sadie had thrown her own words back at her, Eliza Jane wondered if she was making the biggest mistake of her life.

  A memory rose unbidden in her mind of the first time Will made love to her. Tell me what it feels like, darlin’.

  It feels so…right.

  Everything about Will Martinson felt right. It was she herself who was wrong.

  Will could see the post office from his window, and even though he’d told himself he wouldn’t, he found himself drawn to it as the time for the stage drew near.

  She looked so sad—so alone—sitting on her trunk, and he wanted to go to her like he’d never wanted anything else in his life. But it wouldn’t do any good. She had made her choice, and he wouldn’t plead with her in the middle of the street no matter how much he wanted to.

  He’d stayed away from her since their last discussion in Adam’s office. Not only because he wanted her decision to be made of her own free will, but because he was weak.

  He may have thrown down the gauntlet, so to speak, but he was afraid if she pushed the subject, he’d let things go on just to keep from losing her. When he was close to her, he had more than a little trouble thinking straight.

  But when he was away from her, that was when the frustration set in. He was tired of scheming up reasons to be alone with her. Giving her a smile and a nod when he passed her on the street wasn’t enough for him. He wanted all of her, for better or worse. And so he’d stayed away from her.

  The rain picked up just as he heard the pounding of hooves and rattling of harness that signaled the stagecoach, and he pressed his hand to the glass as she stood and picked up her valise.

  Don’t go, darlin’.

  The stage rolled to a stop, blocking his view, but still Will stood and watched. He could see it rock as the passengers disembarked for a short break. The minutes ticked by endlessly, and then the stagecoach shifted again as the passengers climbed back aboard.

  Only this time the woman he loved would be among them, and when the driver cracked his whip and the horses started to move, he wanted to run out into the street and hold onto it, dragging his heels in the dirt to slow it down.

  But he just watched, silent and heartbroken as the stage gathered momentum and moved on down the street. He tried to look into the window—just one last glimpse of her—but the curtain was down. When the stagecoach was totally out of sight, he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the glass until he thought maybe he’d kept the tears at bay.

  When he opened them again and looked back at the post office, he saw her. She was still sitting on the trunk, a red scarf around her neck. Tears streamed down her face with the rain, and she was watching him.

  He’d known this woman too long to feel safe being hopeful, but he couldn’t help it. He damn near ripped the door off its hinges getting out of his office, and she was on her feet, too.

  Mud in the street sucked at his boots as he crossed the street, and she met him halfway. She was rain-soaked, crying and smelled like wet wool and cheap perfume, but when she threw herself into his arms, he didn’t care.

  He held her hard and long, and he wasn’t ever going to let her go. He had to clear his throat before he could speak. “Hellfire, woman. Are you trying to make me crazy?”

  She pulled back enough to look into his eyes. “I love you, Will.”

  He used his thumbs to brush her wet hair from her face and tipped her chin up. “I told you if you stay, you have to marry me.”

  “And I stayed.”

  “Are you sure, because I can’t go through this again.”

  “I am. Are you sure you won’t wake up some morning and not want me anymore?”

  “Oh, darlin’, is that what’s been going on in that head of yours?” He cupped her face in his hands. “How can you be sure you won’t wake up some morning and not want me?”

  “I’ll never stop wanting you, Will.”

  “I’ll always want you, too, Eliza Jane. I’m never going to let you go.”

  He kissed her thoroughly, standing there in the rain in the middle of the muddy street, and he didn’t stop until he heard Adam clearing his throat.

  “You people are disturbing the peace.” Sure enough, a crowd was gathering. “And I ain’t taking the Bible whacking for this, Doc. You wanna kiss your woman in the mud, you can dodge the brimstone your own self.”

  “We’re getting married!” Eliza Jane shouted to the entire town and a cheer rose up around them.

  Before his woman could be set upon by a flock of shrieking chickens, Will leaned close to whisper in her ear, “Maybe they’ll even write songs about the day the women’s libber vowed to love, honor and obey her man in front of God and Gardiner, Texas.”

  Epilogue

  “Push, Eliza Jane!”

  She groaned and pushed, putting her whole body into before she had to stop and pant some more. “This is all your fault, Will Martinson, so why don’t you push for a while?”

  “Now, darlin’, you know I have to stay at this end and pull.”

  Eliza Jane had no intention of forgiving Will for this anytime soon, and she’d been telling him just that for the past two hours. Sweat had plastered loose strands of hair to her face, and the ache in her body was growing too persistent to ignore. She was hot and tired, and didn’t want to do this anymore.

  “I quit,” she declared with a note of finality.

  “Darlin’, you can’t quit. Just a few more pushes and it’ll come out.”

  “You put it in there. You pull it out.”

  Will stood up straight and put his hands on his hips. “It was your idea to come with me, so it’s your fault I took the buggy.”

  Eliza Jane waved her hand at the mud caused by a sudden and fierce thunderstorm. The mud had the buggy stuck fast right up to the axles. “It wasn’t my idea to drive though that.”

  “If you had stayed home, I’d have been riding. I was just checking on the boy’s fever.”

  “We agreed going with you was a good way to meet more people and get them to like me, and the women almost always have questions for me they were too shy to ask you.”

  “Just push a little more.”

  “No.”

  Will took off his hat and slapped it against his thigh. “Woman, you are no end of trouble. Hellfire, just two weeks ago you promised God you’d obey me.”

  Eliza Jane smiled, even though the mud was now seeping over the tops of her boots. “No, I promised God I’d love and honor you. I had my fingers crossed for the obey part.”

  “Well, that explains the lightening.” Will put his hat back on and returned to considering the buggy. “We’ll never get it out in time to meet the stagecoach, and according to the telegram from Rebecca, she’s going to be on it today.”

  “Maybe I should have stayed in town,” she admitted reluctantly. “Adam’s going to do a poor job of telling that girl her aunt left her a whorehouse.”

  “We’ll have to ride the horse back to town and come back for the buggy with some mules later. It won’t be comfortable without the saddle, but I don’t aim to sleep in that buggy tonight.”

  A few minutes later they were heading for town, Eliza Jane seated in front of Will. He was right about it not being overly comfortable, so she leaned back against him, trying to shift herself a bit.

  “You keep squirming like that, darlin’, and you’re going to get me all riled up. Again.” Eliza Jane laughed and deliberately squirmed a little to the left. “Keep it up and, without the padding of a saddle, I’ll wind up crippled forever.”

  “That’s a shame. If we could go a little faster, we might have time to share a bath before the stagecoach arrives.”

  He nuzzled the back of her neck. “With that fruity b
ath oil that makes your skin all slick and soft?”

  Good Lord, she loved being this man’s wife. “I do have some of that left.”

  Will groaned and she felt his thigh flex as he gave the horse a little kick. “I reckon we could ride a little faster.”

  Eliza Jane laughed again as her husband wrapped one arm around her waist to keep her still. “Giddy up, Doc.”

  About the Author

  Shannon Stacey married her Prince Charming in 1993 and is the proud mother of a future Nobel Prize for Science-winning bookworm and an adrenaline junkie with a flair for drama. She lives in New England, where her two favorite activities are trying to stay warm and writing stories of happily ever after.

  You can contact Shannon or sign up for her newsletter through her website: www.shannonstacey.com

  Look for these titles by Shannon Stacey

  Now Available:

  Forever Again

  72 Hours

  On the Edge

  Talons: Kiss Me Deadly

  Coming Soon:

  Becoming Miss Becky

  Can a man who lives in the shadows and a woman who lives in the light find a place to belong together?

  The Tribute

  © 2007 Beth Williamson

  Brett Malloy has always been considered a loner, a man apart from the Malloy clan. Quiet, reserved and intense, Brett hides from the world on his new ranch with only an ex-gunslinger and a runaway boy for company. When circumstances put him flat on his back, his childhood crush, Doctor Alexandra Brighton arrives to nurse him back to health.

  Alex has always loved Brett despite the fact that a more difficult man couldn’t be found on the face of the earth. A woman who firmly believes everyone should live life to the fullest, Alex takes Brett’s quiet surliness as a mission. She’s going to teach him what it means to live, and how to find love and passion in the most unexpected places.

  When rancher King Dawson claims Alex as his own, Brett has to choose between the darkness of his shadows and the light of Alex’s love.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for The Tribute:

  When Kincaid had brought Brett in, and she’d taken off his shirt, she didn’t pay attention to anything else. It was too important to focus on the wound and saving his life. Being alone with him now was quite different, especially after the kiss.

  “I want to recheck it before you leave, just to be sure you didn’t re-injure yourself.” She walked into the examining room with Brett on her heels.

  He sat on the examining table and Alex had difficulty swallowing when he removed his shirt. The expanse of flesh and muscle was a banquet of beauty. She drank it in like a starving woman. The boy’s body she had known evolved into an amazingly sexy man. Perfectly formed shoulders, lightly furred chest with whorls of brown hair tapering down toward his belly. She felt embarrassed to note that his bellybutton pressed inward instead of outward. Her finger itched to touch it.

  The white bandage on his right shoulder stood out in contrast to the beautiful skin that covered him. She concentrated on untying the bandage without hurting him, twitching when her hands brushed against the hair on his chest.

  What was wrong with her? She’d had hundreds and hundreds of patients, probably a thousand in the last ten years. Here she was acting like a complete idiot because it was Brett Malloy on her table. She didn’t ever remember having him as a patient before, several of the other Malloys for certain, but never him.

  Alex wasn’t sure if he noticed her perusal and even if he did, he was too polite to mention it, though he probably should have. A doctor shouldn’t be lusting after her patient. She recognized it for what it was—lust. Her past transgressions, or possibly mistakes, catching up with her.

  She finally fumbled around enough to get the bandage undone.

  “How does it look?” Brett asked.

  Alex examined the wound carefully, surprised and pleased at how good it looked. “It looks wonderful, with no sign of infection. You’re an amazing healer, Brett.”

  Her fingertips lightly skimmed his skin. He sucked in a breath. Alex’s skin tingled from the contact.

  “How long do I keep the bandage on?”

  Alex started, a bit chagrined that she’d been daydreaming as she touched his shoulder. “Keep the bandage on a few more days to keep the dirt out. I’ll give you more.”

  “You don’t have to do that. We’ve still got plenty at the ranch.”

  “I don’t want you to use up your supply. You need to have some on hand for anything else that happens.” Her mouth twitched, wanting to tease him just a bit. “After all, the roof might attack you again.”

  “I plan to look up next time.”

  As Alex wrapped the bandage around his shoulder, she couldn’t help but ask, “How is it that you came to be under the wood as it fell off the roof? Mr. Kincaid said he warned you but apparently you didn’t hear him.”

  “Ah.” Brett cleared his throat and fidgeted a bit with the shirt in his left hand. “I don’t remember. It all happened so fast.”

  Alex knew a fib when she heard one, but didn’t call him on it. He must have had his reasons. As she tied off the bandage, she asked, “Do you need some help putting your shirt on?”

  Normally saying that wouldn’t have been any kind of issue, but when one brown eyebrow arched at the question, Alex’s body heated.

  “I think I can handle it.”

  “Are you sure?” Alex almost didn’t recognize her voice, low, a little raspy, and dammit, needy.

  Suddenly the urge to feel him, to feel alive, overwhelmed her. At that moment, all she wanted to do was feel something good, no matter if it was right or wrong. Alex decided it was time to start living for herself and her needs. She followed the urge to simply feel. Later she’d talk to herself about falling for the same man twice in a lifetime and whether or not it was a good idea. With a deep breath, she threw caution to the wind and jumped in with both feet.

  Alex took his face in her hands and lowered her mouth to his. Soft kisses, her lips gently moved against his. Once. Twice. He felt rigid against her, unyielding.

  Alex had other ideas. Her tongue swiped his lips, tickling until he opened his mouth. The hot, delicious feeling of kissing him deeply swept through her, raising goose bumps and nipples harder than diamonds.

  “Alex,” he gasped out between kisses. “What are you doing?”

  “Shut up, Malloy.” She kissed her way across his jaw to his neck. A moan rose up in her throat as she sucked the salty skin, the arousal building inside her like steam. It needed an escape, a release. It had been so long since she’d had one.

  “Make love to me, Brett.” It wasn’t a question. Before he could protest, she unbuttoned her shirt and took it off, followed quickly by her skirt and chemise. As she stood in her stockings, his eyes drank her in, feasting on her flesh. Alex felt her cheeks redden, but she didn’t dare cover herself. This is what she wanted, come hell or high water.

  She took his left hand and placed it on her breast. The feeling of the callused palm against her nipple made her gasp. Soon he cupped both her breasts, kneading and tweaking while she continued to kiss him breathless.

  “Here?” The one word he was able to get out sounded like a cross between a bark and a groan.

  He lowered his mouth to her breast and Alex forgot the question. It didn’t matter that the front door wasn’t locked. The examining room door was closed and to hell with anyone who interrupted them. She was beyond caring. All she wanted was right there in her arms.

  Alex Rossi leads a double life, and it may cost Grace Nolan her son.

  72 Hours

  © 2006 Shannon Stacey

  Available Now from Samhain Publishing

  The Devlin Group: A privately-owned rogue agency unhindered by red tape and jurisdiction.

  Grace Nolan walked away from the Devlin Group carrying Alex Rossi's child in her womb and his bullet in her shoulder. But a ghost from the past has kidnapped her son, Danny. The ransom—Alex Rossi. To get h
er son back, Grace will have to step back into the life she'd left behind and reveal her secret to Alex.

  With vengeance for his mother's murder nearly at hand and a deadly substance on the loose, the last thing Alex Rossi needs is to find himself at the business end of Grace's gun. Now the clock is ticking as they race to save a child and stop a madman bent on destruction.

  But Alex has a secret of his own, and it may be the ultimate betrayal.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for 72 Hours:

  Something’s burning. The thought hit Grace Nolan a mere second before the alarm shrieked.

  “Hold on!” She ripped off her headset, then pounded down the stairs. Dammit, this couldn’t happen again. She’d worked so hard to make sure it wouldn’t.

  The room was quickly filling with smoke, and Grace grabbed a potholder. She yanked open the oven door and took out the smoking cookie sheet. With a curse, she dropped it into the sink and turned on the tap.

  The pan popped and warped as the chocolate chip briquettes slid into a black, soggy mess in the sink.

  “Crap!” she yelled at the smoke detector, flapping a towel under it to clear the smoke.

  She could disable any security system known to man, and sell the CIA its damn own secrets, for chrissake. Why the hell couldn’t she bake a decent batch of cookies? A boy should come home from a long day in second grade to something warm and homemade with love.

  When the alarm had chirped its last chirp, Grace rummaged through the cabinet for the Chewy Chips Ahoy. After tossing a few on a plate, she shoved the package back behind the bran flakes and glanced at her watch. Just enough time to wrap things up with Carmen before she poured Danny’s milk.

  “Forget to set the timer again?” Carmen Olivera asked after Grace retrieved the headset.