by Vanessa Vale
Perhaps he had felt that someone was watching him, for he’d turned his head slightly and his eyes met mine. And held. And held. That heartbeat problem had returned and I’d licked my lips as they’d been all at once so very dry.
His gaze had held mine, then slid down my body, raking over every inch of me. My skin had heated as if the sun shone down on me. His gaze had shifted to the side and his eyes flared wide with something akin to panic. He’d run down the boardwalk, then leaped over a water trough. Long legs ate up the distance from where he had been standing to… me. I had no idea what he was doing, but he wasn’t stopping before me. In fact, he wasn’t stopping at all. Surprised, I’d had no opportunity to put my hands up in front of me before he scooped me up in his arms.
I remembered the hard feel of his body pressed against mine, the heat of him, even his scent. Perhaps it was apoplexy, because he was leading me down the sidewalk, eager to press his attentions. Attentions! Him? With me!
While I knew about these amorous conversations, had experienced a few firsthand with some slightly inebriated miners, none of their words had made me feel like this. None with a man who made my heart pound, my palms sweat, my body ache with need. I was at a loss on how to respond, which was a first. I’d always been able to offer a witty reply and fend for myself if my lack of interest caused the coal man to under-deliver on the winter order.
This man though, addled my brain, yet intrigued the basest feminine part of me. I had to respond. I couldn’t play coy, couldn’t play prim miss. I needed to know what he meant, for whatever he offered was something I wanted. Oh, yes, I wanted this man in a way I’d never found in another. Stiff men had presented themselves to me on occasion, often ending up across from me at our dining room table for a meal. In the past and when I still lived on the ranch, they’d suffered through Miss Esther and Miss Trudy’s subtle questioning and my sisters’—the three who were still unwed and remained home—less subtle interrogations. Only two had joined Dr. Bower and me for dinner. None, however, interested me, or made my nipples tighten. I licked my lips. “Pressing your attentions?”
He was a head taller than me, so he leaned down slightly so his words were for me alone. “Telling you that I find you more than attractive. Interesting. Unusual. Intriguing.”
My steps faltered at his admission. “Intriguing? Me?”
I was the least intriguing person I knew. I was… odd. Well, at least Mrs. Dimplemeyer had said so at church when she didn’t know I was seated in the pew directly behind her. My brother-in-law, Ethan James, had arranged for my apprenticeship in Butte with Dr. Bower, the copper mine’s head doctor. It was unusual for a woman to work with a doctor, but I’d been insistent and Ethan had been understanding. I could have worked with Ethan, but he and Daisy were newly wed and she didn’t need her sister about her house. Besides, I wanted out of town and Butte was only two days’ ride from home. It had been going well, until recently. Strangely, and fortunately, Dr. Bower had never considered me female, talking to me and teaching me how to treat patients as he would any man. That was until last month when he began to refuse my presence.
I’d felt shunned and neglected. To make matters worse, he’d hired an assistant, a small, miserable man named Dr. Meager, who looked something along the lines of a pond muskrat. I was relegated to household chores befitting a woman, which was boring me to tears. He already had a housekeeper, a stout woman named Mrs. Reading, who came to clean and cook twice a week. She acted as a very casual chaperone, although the doctor had no inclinations in my direction, nor I in his. While Dr. Bower had promised me the muskrat wasn’t the basis for his decision, he’d informed me that my status as a woman was too apparent to continue helping him at the mines.
Too apparent, I muttered to myself. Preposterous. I wasn’t lovely like the ladies from Belle’s, and they certainly knew how to use their attributes as a benefit. I wore modest dresses, my hair pulled back in a prim bun at my nape. My hair was curly and wild, so it took plenty of pins. It was also red. Very, very red. But, I wasn’t demure and quiet like the wallflowers at church. I shared my opinions and readily, too. With Mrs. Reading’s arthritic knees, I was helping her run his household more and more, plus the practical side of his work, the ladies’ auxiliary meetings. I couldn’t sit still if I tried and my mind sped ahead faster than my legs could carry me. I was, in one word, a bluestocking.
So was my sister, Hyacinth, but I wasn’t shy. I was a little too bold for my own good—per Miss Esther. I was well read, but unlike Hyacinth, was well experienced in the seamier side of men’s rough language. I could cook a pot roast thanks to Miss Esther’s tutelage. I could even butcher a cow—I spent one cold winter day when I was fifteen learning the finer points of using a knife on a side of beef from Big Ed, the Lenox ranch foreman. He’d always indulged us—me and my seven sisters—in all of our unusual interests.
That skill turned into a job at the butcher shop, cutting meat. Yes, it was ludicrous, but one day I was chatting with Mr. Brainerd about my unusual skills and, during a lull in business, offered to help him cut up some chickens for one of the hotel restaurants. He’d been remarkably impressed and offered me a job, on the sly.
So if this handsome man—a man whose name I didn’t even know—found me, a bluestocking butcher’s apprentice, intriguing, I had to think perhaps he was the one with the apoplexy.
He remained silent as we entered the restaurant and were led to a table. After pulling out my chair, then settling across from me, he stared at me. I felt like I was back in the middle of the street, caught up in his piercing gaze. His eyes were dark, but in the light cast from the room’s chandeliers, they had a whiskey coloring. His hair, while not overlong, fell over his forehead. I itched to reach up and brush the lock back, but I knew it would just fall right back in its wayward place.
His skin was tanned as if he’d been in the sun, the muscular bulk of his body indicative of an active life. He was no banker.
“If you are going to press your attentions on me, shouldn’t you at least know my name?”
His dark brow quirked and I noticed a small scar that bisected it, a thin white stripe. “I know that you are Miss Lenox, but that isn’t important.”
“Oh? And why is that?” Irritated at his sudden disinterest, I picked up my napkin, unfolded it and placed it on my lap.
“Because soon you’ll be Mrs. Matthews.”
My gaze had been on my folded hands, but at his words, I whipped my head up and stared at him. He was so cocky, so full of himself. He was staking his claim, so sure that I was his, that he wanted to—
“You want to marry me?” I realized my voice had risen, so I glanced about, but no one was paying us any attention. The restaurant was busy and we were not the boisterous ones. Several tables were filled with miners who had received their pay and were busy feasting on a large, well-deserved meal after a long week.
“Yes.”
The growled demand behind his simple admission caused goosebumps to rise on my arms. The men who’d come to dinner at the ranch or with Dr. Bower had never been this forward, this… dominant. I liked it. I liked it very much.
“Why?” I glanced about, then leaned forward. He put his forearms on the table and leaned toward me as well so that there was only a foot that separated us. I could see that his whiskers would come in dark and that he had a shaving nick at the corner of his jaw. “I’ve heard men press their attentions without marrying, you know.”
His eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. I’d said something wrong.
“And you allow men to do that?” I heard the sharp censure in his tone. He was tightly coiled waiting for my answer, as if he would track down any man who’d treated me improperly and rip them limb from limb.
I stiffened my posture. “Certainly not.”
He relaxed then. “That is excellent to hear. I refuse to speak of such things with you until you are my wife. Then—” He paused and I licked my lips, eager to hear more. “Then, I promise I will tell you all the
things I will do to you.” He leaned forward, so close that I could see the flecks of gold in his eyes, feel his warm breath fan my cheek. “My name is Jack. I want you to know because I’m putting my ring on your finger and getting you in bed beneath me. When my cock is buried deep inside you, that’s the name you’re going to scream.”
My mouth fell open and my drawers got very damp.
CHAPTER THREE
JACK
I watched varied emotions flick across her face. Shock, arousal, awe, fear, surprise. I could read her easily—she would not be a very good poker player. Fortunately, this helped my cause. But it did surprise me when she stood abruptly, her chair scraping across the wood floor. I, too, stood, of course, and it took the time for her to flee the restaurant to know that I needed to follow. Perhaps I’d pushed her too far. Hell, no. She was going to be mine and the sooner she knew, the better. I had two days. Two fucking days to get that ring on her finger and my cock deep inside her. I had to know that while I was pretending to be one of the worst criminals in the territory, that I had something good in my life, something innocent and pure waiting for me. I wouldn’t be gone overlong, a week, perhaps ten days at the most, but she’d read the worst lies imaginable about me—my outlaw persona, Eli Pike, was to rob the train of a strongbox, even kill one of the engineers—and think the worst.
While we hadn’t even ordered yet, I pulled some coins from my pocket and tossed them on the table, then followed Miss Lenox from the restaurant. I glanced left and right, squinting in the bright sun that cut between the buildings. I saw her half a block down—I couldn’t miss the beacon of her gorgeous hair—and stalked after her. The closer and closer I got, I wanted to grab her about the waist—as I had when I rescued her from the stage—and carry her back to my hotel room. Instead, I took her arm, firmly but with a gentleness that belied my strong feelings, and steered her down the nearest alley.
She looked up at me in a way that I knew would have felled a lesser man. “Keep looking at me like that, Miss Lenox, and you’re going to get yourself kissed.”
Her mouth fell open and I could see her straight, white teeth. “Unhand me!”
I slowly shook my head as I pressed her against the clapboard wall of one of the businesses. We were in shadow so the air was cooler. The noise from the street was lessened, settled back and away from the street as we were. We were alone, yet in the very middle of the bustling town.
I released my hold, but when she made efforts to escape, I planted my hands on the wall on either side of her, pinning her in place. Her breathing was erratic and I could see the faint tick of her pulse at her neck.
“If my words upset you, I am sorry. That was not my intention.”
She quirked a brow and crossed her arms over her chest. “What was your intention?”
“To make you aware of my intentions.”
“Your intentions?”
She frowned, a small crease forming in her brow. I pressed my thumb to that spot and smoothed it out, but she swatted my hand away.
“It wasn’t your intention to make me upset about your intentions?” She rolled her eyes, then laughed, but she hadn’t found it humorous. “Why me? I’m just the woman who was almost killed by a stage. I’m plain, contrary—”
“Argumentative,” I added.
She pursed her lips at that, then added, “A bluestocking.”
“A vegetarian. I believe that is the name for someone who doesn’t eat meat. God only knows why,” I grumbled. Who didn’t eat meat?
She didn’t add more to her list of more… unique traits. I’d left off beautiful, which, by the way she sighed dejectedly, I realized I should have said first.
“What do you want from me?” she whispered, so I leaned in closer.
“I thought I’d made that clear. I am going to marry you. Then I am going to fuck that prim, prickly attitude right out of you.”
She blushed, but her eyes narrowed in fury. “I’m prickly now, too?”
I grinned. “That’s what I like about you the most, getting you all riled up.”
Her cheeks turned a darker shade of red and I enjoyed watching it creep down her neck. “No one’s ever talked to you like that before?” I bent my arms so I was even a little closer, crowding her a bit more.
She shook her head and I saw the circle of green in her eyes get smaller.
“What if I said I enjoyed watching your breasts move as you try to catch your breath?”
Her hand came up and struck my cheek, the sound of the slap loud in the alley. I felt the sting of it, but instead of making me angry, it made me hard.
“You like it rough, do you?” I asked.
“Mr. Matthews,” she began.
“What is it, precious? Scared?”
She laughed, but it was fake. Her bravado slipped then and I saw so much more than she wanted to share.
“That’s what this is, this attitude. You’re scared.” As if I’d just figured out a complex puzzle, it all became clear. She wasn’t as standoffish as she led people to believe. She just wasn’t letting anyone get close to her. Her reasons I didn’t know—yet—but I could see the real Miss Lenox now. Stroking my finger gently over her cheek, which was silky soft and warm, I soothed her. “You think I wanted to fall for someone today? You think my plans included a spitfire redhead?”
“Just let me go and this… spitfire can leave you alone,” she replied tartly. “You can go right back to your damned plans.”
“We’ll talk about your language later.” I slowly shook my head as I continued to stroke her skin. “I can’t go back, precious. You feel it. I know you do. Not every woman almost gets run over by a stage because she’s fallen for me.”
“I haven’t fallen for you,” she countered quickly. Too quickly. Her eyes lifted to mine briefly, then lowered to my mouth. I stifled a groan.
“You’re scared,” I repeated, my words softer. A loud bang came from the street, perhaps a barrel fell onto the boardwalk, and Miss Lenox looked down the alley. Taking her chin with my fingers, I turned her head back to me. She met my gaze for a moment, then flicked away.
She nodded once.
“Ah, such a good girl,” I crooned. “I’m scared, too.”
“You?” Surprise laced the one word. “What on earth can a big man like you be scared of? I’m sure you frighten bears away.”
I grinned. “I’m scared of you,” I admitted. This slip of a woman had a hold on me like no one before, and I was sure, no one after.
She frowned, doubting me, but perhaps believing the gentle tone of my words. “Me?”
I nodded. “I have two days in Butte, before I have to… to travel for work. Two days to court you proper and get my ring on your finger, but I think we both know that it’s inevitable.”
“What is?” I watched as she swallowed, licked her lips.
“Us.”
Tilting her head slightly, she asked, “You have two days?”
Two days where she thought I was a good man, not the thief and killer she would soon read about in the newspaper, most assuredly gossiped about all over town. She’d know, though, that what I felt about her was real before she heard all the lies. I had to make her mine before then, for she wouldn’t want anything to do with me after.
I could return to Washington and no one would know about my exploits, even after the colonel and the copper kings made the false story be as real as possible. If they wanted Benson, then they’d use me to get it. I had been fine with that, for Pinkertons did their job. But now everything had changed because of a woman who I hadn’t even known existed an hour before. I’d heard about love at first sight.
I couldn’t say if it was love that I felt for her, I just knew I couldn’t live without her. It was crazy. I was crazy. Maybe I was crazy because I was going to be an outlaw in just two days. Maybe I wasn’t even going to come out of this alive.
All I knew was that these two days were a gift, just like she was. I’d take it and hold onto it as best I could, only hoping th
at once Benson was behind bars and at the mercy of the copper kings that I’d still have her. I just had to trust that she was smart enough to see the difference between the real me and what was going to be spread about me in the newspapers. I wanted to tell her the truth about this plan, but I’d been sworn to secrecy. The rich bastards didn’t trust anyone.
The colonel had received enough pressure from the copper kings whose money had been stolen by Benson. They wanted vengeance, retribution. They wanted to make an example out of the outlaw, to let the world know they were more powerful than even the most dangerous of criminals. It was my job to join Benson in a bank robbery—his specialty—and have him caught red-handed. These wealthy men would pay me to bring in Benson alive. They didn’t want him dead, they wanted him alive, to stand trial, to be lambasted in the newspaper. No good example could be set of a dead man. For this, they would pay me not through the Pinkertons but in stocks and shares, if I took on all the danger myself. I’d go undercover, risk my neck for their credibility and profits. It was my secrecy in trade for the large financial payoff at the end.
With this redheaded vixen standing before me, was the chance of her hating me worth the payoff? Once Benson was behind bars where the copper kings wanted him, I could quit my job, care for her, protect her, love her the way a man should. I wouldn’t have to roam the countryside following outlaws. I wouldn’t have to work any longer. Ten days in trade for the rest of my life with her. No more outlaws, no more danger. Only her. Was it worth it? To have her all to myself, no telegrams, no powerful rich bastards deciding my fate? Hell, yes.
“Two days. But you’re already mine. I’ll come back for you. No matter where I go, what I do, you’re mine. Aren’t you?”
I leaned in even further, the tips of our noses bumping. Our breaths mingled, the floral scent of her heady and potent. I wanted to sink my fingers in her silky hair, sink my cock into her virgin pussy. I wanted to make sure she never forgot who she belonged to. I wanted her to make me whole again, to make me remember that I, too, belonged to someone. When I left to join Benson, I’d leave behind a part of me with her, a good part. A part that Benson couldn’t touch.
