Jodi Thomas

by When a Texan Gambles

  Sarah closed her eyes, hoping he would vanish.

  When she opened them once more, he was still moving closer. She backed up a step and turned away.

  “Sarah? Look at me.”

  She shook her head. She didn’t want to look at him, even though a part of her found his strong body fascinating. There was nothing soft in the make of him. He seemed all muscle and bone. Like a magnificent animal standing proud and tall before her.

  “Sarah.” He lowered his voice. “Look at me.”

  “No.” She hiccupped. “You don’t have any clothes on.”

  “You’ve seen me undressed before. I don’t think it would be anything new to you. After all, besides the doctoring you must have helped with, you’ve been married twice now and you’re not a child bride.”

  She forced herself to meet his stare. “I never saw Mitchell, not naked, not once in the year we were married.” She wanted to scream that her first husband had nothing to do with how she felt when she looked at Sam, but she wasn’t sure she had enough words to make him understand.

  Sam let out a long sigh. “I had no idea you found nudity so repulsive. After all, you are not fully dressed yourself.” He reached for the thick wool man’s dressing gown in the open wardrobe and pulled it on. Then he retrieved a white robe with rosebuds embroidered across the collar for her. After wrapping it around her shoulders, he stepped back a few feet and folded his arms. “There, we’re both dressed. Will you answer a question for me now?”

  Sarah wiggled into the sleeves of her garment and let her towel fall to the floor. “All right.” She wanted to tell him he looked strange in the robe far too small for his frame, but she was afraid he might take it off again. “What would you like to talk about?” She faced him.

  He smiled. “Were you teasing me just now?”

  She lifted her head, but didn’t bother to lie. “Maybe. A little. Sometimes you act like you forget I’m a woman.”

  Closing the distance between them, he stood near. “I may forget a lot of things, Mrs. Garrett, but the fact that you are a woman is not one of them.”

  He didn’t reach for her, or bend to kiss her. He simply stood near. Very, very near.

  “I thought my name was Mrs. Gatlin?” she whispered, breathing in the fresh smell of him. Tiny droplets of water clung to the hair on his chest not covered by the robe.

  “What do you want of me?” he asked so quietly no one could have heard his words even if they had been in the room. “If I come too close, you push me away. If I stay away, you tease me to come closer.”

  Sarah looked up at him, feeling the warmth of his gaze on her face. “I don’t want anything.”

  “Answer me, Sarah. I don’t want to play a game.”

  She lifted her chin. He was right. But admitting what she wanted might be far more dangerous than playing any game. “I want you to hold me. Just hold me,” she corrected. She hated admitting her weakness to him. Everything about him was strong. Sarah couldn’t imagine him ever admitting to needing anyone.

  “All my life I’ve felt like I’ve been begging for someone to hold me.” She wanted no lie, no pretence between them. “No one ever has. I just thought that you might if you found me desirable.”

  Gently he moved one arm around her waist and the other against the back of her knees. He lifted her into his arms and cradled her there as if what he carried were priceless.

  “I’ll hold you, Sarah, if that’s what you want. But I can only hold you as a man holds a woman. Don’t ask me to do this as just your friend.”

  Sarah’s heart pounded in rapid fire against her chest. She nodded once. He had a right to set a few of the rules. He’d honored hers.

  “And when I’m finished”—his words brushed against her ear—“you’ll have no doubts about my finding you desirable.”

  He walked past the bed to an overstuffed chair placed near the fire. He brought her into the folds of the velvet chair as he sat down.

  For a long while, neither said a word. She leaned her head against his shoulder, and his strong arms wrapped around her.

  Finally he kissed the top of her head and asked, “Is this what you wanted, Sarah?”

  “Yes,” she answered. “Thank you.”

  She stretched slightly and brushed her mouth across his lips. “I’m sorry about the other night,” she whispered. “I know you weren’t attacking me.”

  He didn’t move as she continued to brush light kisses across his lips as she talked.

  “I was frightened and angry and a little hurt.”

  His hesitance excited her far more than any advance he could have made. She moved her fingers through the course straight strands of his hair while her bottom lip brushed across his cheek. She loved the feel of this man, the taste of him, the smell of him.

  “I’m not afraid of you,” she whispered against his ear. “Just let me be a woman around you, Sam.”

  He closed his eyes and leaned his head back.

  Sarah took his silence as agreement. She spread her hand out at the base of his neck and pushed the robe open. “I don’t find you repulsive. Shocking maybe, but never repulsive. I guess because I doctored you, I feel like, in a small way, you belong to me.”

  When he didn’t answer, she let her fingers comb through the hair of his chest. She saw Mitchell a few times in his longhandles and once without a shirt, but he dressed in the darkness before dawn and expected his privacy at his bath. He considered bare flesh not only indecent, but unhealthy. She had never even wanted to know what he looked like without clothes, and he had shown no interest in seeing her.

  Sam was different. She’d seen his body and wondered what it would feel like to touch him. And with each touch her curiosity grew.

  She liked the way Sam’s muscles tightened as her palm spread across his chest. Mitchell had been someone who came along when she needed a home. He’d never cared enough about her to talk to her more then necessary, much less argue with her. He placed little value in her. Sarah would stake her life on the fact that if Mitchell had been standing in the rain the night the sheriff raffled her off, he wouldn’t have bothered to bid. He’d got her for free when Granny died, and that had been her worth to him.

  But Sam never treated her as though she were worthless. He might have been the one who paid the money, but in a small way he belonged to her. She’d patched him up, helped him escape more than once, and argued with him across half the state. He might claim to be the meanest man in Texas, but he protected her. She knew without a doubt that this scarred, powerful man would put himself between a bullet and her.

  Sam’s hand covered hers, putting an end to her exploring.

  She looked up into his dark eyes as he raised her hand and kissed her palm. Her fingers trembled when his lips moved to her wrist. She felt his kiss on her skin with each pounding of her pulse. The gentle action by the hard man surprised her.

  He opened his mouth and traced across her wrist with his tongue. His head was down. Dark hair covered his face, but she knew he enjoyed himself. When she shuddered, he pulled her closer against his chest and continued.

  “Sam,” she said out of breath.

  He looked at her without letting go of her hand. “Do you want me to stop?”

  “No,” she answered. “Please don’t.”

  “Close your eyes,” he whispered. “Let go of the fear, Sarah. I’m not going to hurt you. I swear. I only want to touch you.”

  The warmth from her bath and the heat from his body relaxed her into the softness of the chair.

  She floated as his hand moved along her thigh, creating a longing for more with each stroke. The dampness of his hair brushed against her throat as he kissed just below her ear. A delicious warmth spread through her as his hand skimmed across the soft robe.

  She felt as if he were treasuring the feel of her, worshipping the fact that she was so near, so soft in his embrace.

  Sarah dug her fingers into his hair as his hands moved up to her shoulders. He pulled her closer, pre
ssing her breasts against his chest as his fingers slid over her back. She wanted to purr like a cat and stretch to his touch. Each time she moved, even slightly, Sam stroked her once more, gently molding her body.

  The moments passed by with the ticking of an old clock on the mantel. Minute by minute, touch by touch, she grew accustomed to him until finally she did as he’d asked and floated into a peaceful paradise. There was danger in trusting him, compared to the starvation of loneliness if she did not.

  He pulled her close suddenly, as though he had to hold her tight. She rested against the pounding of his heart as his hands moved slowly down her back. She smiled and buried her face into his throat so that he could feel as well as hear her soft cries of pleasure.

  She didn’t stir when his kiss lowered to her throat. The clean smell of his hair filled her lungs as he crossed beneath her chin to continue his journey. Now the slightest pressure of his hand or nudge of his head moved her as though they were dancers knowing each other’s steps. She felt liquid in his arms, flowing in waves to the rhythm of his heartbeat.

  His hand cradled her head and raised her lips to his mouth. His kiss teased her until she smiled. This was what she’d longed for and hadn’t known how to describe. Sarah felt cherished, loved, and desirable.

  His kiss deepened. His caress grew bolder across the thin fabric of her robe. The reminder to stop him from touching her intimately passed as no more than a fleeting thought amid the shower of sensations washing over her.

  She shifted, allowing his hand to move from her waist to cup her hip. His breath grew suddenly ragged against her throat as his fingers tightened over her flesh.

  “Is this what you wanted?” he asked.

  His mouth tickled along her skin and his warm breath spread down her throat. “Do you feel like a woman now?”

  “Yes,” she answered thinking that she’d spent a lifetime longing for such closeness. “Thank you.”

  She felt his laughter more than heard it. “You’re welcome,” he mumbled as he nibbled on her throat.

  He pressed her against him and held her so close she matched her breathing with his. She drifted to sleep feeling safe, cherished.

  Sam watched her in the firelight. Her robe gapped open and the light clearly defined her breasts. He studied the shadows dancing across her skin. Without a doubt she was the most beautiful creature God ever made. He moved his hand along the flesh at her waist and slowly upward to just below her breast. The soft mound pushed against his finger, daring him to journey further.

  She was his, he reminded himself. She was his in the eyes of man and God. He could touch her anywhere he pleased. He had every right, and right now he had more desire for her than he’d ever felt for a woman.

  But he wanted her willing in his arms. Not asleep. Never forced or tricked, or worse, out of duty. He wanted her wanting him. He wanted to build a need within her so great for him that she cried out his name in longing. He didn’t want to be only a husband or a man for Sarah. He wanted to be the only man Sarah would ever want.

  He lowered his hand and pulled the robe over her breasts. Then he leaned and kissed her gently. Her mouth opened to his request even in her sleep. Her lips were full and ripe from their earlier explorations. She sighed as he tasted her one last time before he carried her to her bed and covered her.

  At the doorway to the drawing room, he turned and watched her sleep for a while. She brought a peace to his life. A peace he’d never known.

  Hours later Sarah opened one eye. He was gone. The tub remained, the fire cold in the hearth.

  She grinned and cuddled deep into the covers, thinking she’d like to sleep the day away. But then, just as she drifted back into sleep, she smelled something.

  Coffee.

  Sarah rolled over and noticed that the table by the window had been covered with a white cloth. Huge dishes with shiny lids were stacked atop it.

  Bacon?

  She managed to crawl from the covers and tiptoe closer. Carefully she opened one lid. Biscuits.

  She opened another. Bacon and eggs.

  Another. Jams.

  “Sam!” she yelled as she opened more with baked fruit and tiny sweets like she’d never seen. “Sam!”

  “What?” he asked as he hurried around the door from the drawing room. “Is something the matter?”

  Sarah glanced at him tucking a crisp white shirt into dark pants. “Sam. You’ll never believe this. Someone has left all this food in our room.”

  His shoulders relaxed. “I know. I ordered breakfast hours ago but wanted to wait until you woke.”

  She pulled a chair to the tiny table. “I’m starving.”

  “So am I,” he answered, but when she glanced up he was looking at her and not the food.

  SIXTEEN

  SAM WALKED THE STREETS OF DALLAS, NOW EMPTY IN midnight’s silence. Unlike Fort Worth, where bars and drinking lasted until dawn, Dallas operated on an invisible timetable. If Fort Worth was a wild kid, Dallas was a matronly aunt. Though both lay along the Trinity River, Dallas was a trading-post settlement, with mostly only scares of Indian attacks, while Fort Worth was born as a fort with an Indian raid happening as recently as thirty years ago.

  A part of Sam wished he was in Fort Worth. The town had always suited him better. Until recently, Dallas provided more of a haven from danger than a place he went to look for trouble. He could change his clothes and move about among the businessmen and shopkeepers without worry of being recognized. He would have guessed that here also lay a safer place for Sarah. Only after tonight, he knew better.

  The young Ranger had been right about Reed heading south. But it had been Dallas, not Fort Worth, the outlaw rode toward. Sam planned to be waiting for Reed when he arrived. He had no time to wonder if Reed was gunning for him. Sam needed this problem solved so he could get on with the business of finding Zeb Whitaker before the old buffalo hunter found Sarah.

  Sam stopped by a streetlight and lit a thin cigar as he thought of the woman who waited for him a few blocks away. He couldn’t decide if marrying her had been the dumbest thing he’d ever done, or the smartest. He’d been a walking dead man for years, and somehow she’d shaken him awake. Now he seemed to have his full load of worries. But then again, there were a few benefits he hadn’t planned on.

  He smiled to himself. She’d surprised him this morning with her request. It took all his concentration to touch her and hold her without taking her to bed. Years of holding back all emotion taught him well, but he wasn’t sure how long he could play her simple game of touching, nothing more. She wanted him near. She wanted him to see her as a woman. She wanted to be held. But she didn’t want him in her bed.

  He took a long draw on the cigar and released the smoke. Not yet, he thought with a grin. He’d never courted a woman, but he thought he’d give courting his wife a try.

  Sam would hold to his word. He’d wait until she said she was ready. She’d be the one to come to him and beg for a marriage in more than name only. Then he’d love her as he’d never loved a woman and leave her someplace safe. She’d have her home and enough money to live, and he’d have a memory that would last him the rest of his life.

  Sarah didn’t know it yet, but she would give him the one thing he thought he’d never have. Men like him didn’t have a chance at anything more than a quick roll in the hay with a woman who charged by the hour. Sarah would give him a glimpse of what life could have been like with a wife. And that glimpse would be enough. It would have to be.

  Sam pushed away from the post and moved toward the back alley. He had work to do.

  An hour later he stood in a place where his boots stuck to the floor and the smell of filth burned his nostrils. He’d already tried three saloons, and this one looked no more promising than the others. He stood at the comer of a bar nursing a beer, watching those around him. Several men were well into a mean drunk and growing louder. A chubby barmaid, well past thirty, had rubbed against him several times, silently offering more than drinks
as she passed. Her blouse lowered with each encounter and the lingering possibility that she would be going home alone obviously bothered her more than anyone else in the bar.

  “Ready for another one, mister?” Her ample hip bumped his leg.

  She smelled of old potatoes, Sam thought, and found himself longing for the scent of honeysuckle near.

  “No, thanks.” He didn’t meet her eyes. He’d learned a long time ago folks seldom remember details about people they don’t face directly. “I’m fine. Just waiting for someone.”

  “Name’s Norma, mister.” She winked. “Buy me a drink and I can be your someone.”

  “I’ll buy you that drink if you need one, but I’m leaving alone.” Sam didn’t want to give the woman any hope of making future sales. He’d seen women of the night turn crazy mad in a blink when they thought they’d been lead to believe they’d found a man for the night.

  She poured herself a drink from the bottle in front of Sam. “Suit yourself. You don’t know what you’re missing.”

  He eyed her carefully and thought that he knew exactly what he was missing. A filthy bed, a woman who’d been handled so much she started sighing before the buttons of her blouse were undone, and a hollowness afterward that made him ache inside. He’d rather starve than dine at the likes of her table again.

  “Wanna tell me your friend’s name?” She leaned on the bar and crossed her arms just below her breasts. “I might know him. I know most of the men who come in here on a regular basis. I’ve been here for more than ten years.”

  “His name’s Reed,” Sam answered, thinking he would have guessed she’d survived in this smoky air for more like twenty years. Her wrinkles were from hard times, not the sun. “A thin fellow with gray salted into his black hair. He’s missing the trigger finger on his right hand.”

  Her eyes widened before she shook her head. “Ain’t never heard of a man fitting that description. Lots of men come in here missing body parts since the war. Fingers. Arms. Legs. I’m probably not going to notice a finger gone.”