by Jodi Thomas
She nodded, telling herself he was lazy, just waiting for her to do the work. He’d been that way as a child, and no uniform had changed his habits. Pushing aside a nagging worry that he might not have spent all his time away in medical school, she resigned herself to sleeping among crates tonight.
She glanced around at the proper table service and wished McCord were not a table away. He was the only one she felt safe with. He was the only one she wanted to talk to. She smiled. In truth neither of them probably had enough skills to keep a conversation going throughout an entire meal.
It made little sense—the man had barely talked to her—but in a deep, primal way she needed to be near McCord.
The captain was formal and polite, but not interested in talking to a woman. Her brother never spoke to her, except to tell her to answer the questions. Lieutenant Dodson, on her left, was a few years older than she was, thin and pale among the other men tanned by the sun. He told her he was the paymaster. The man reminded her of a hawk, and had the habit of blurting out questions in random order. Her answers quickly shortened to simply yes or no, since she had the strong suspicion he wasn’t listening but trying to think of what to ask next.
By the time the meal was served, she’d formed a shell around herself. The men talked around her as if she were invisible. Her brother related his trip to the stagecoach station, including how the bodies looked on the floor and how many times each had been shot.
When one of the young officers suggested that such talk might not be proper in front of a lady, Dr. Woodward announced that his sister loved blood and gore. She’d been at half the battles during the Civil War and came home to work in a hospital for dying veterans when the war was over, as if she hadn’t had enough after over four years.
When dessert was brought in, Annalane excused herself, saying she knew the men would want to enjoy their cigars with coffee and she was still very tired. They all stood and bid her good night, but she had the feeling that only Ranger McCord’s gaze followed her out.
Sergeant Cunningham waited on the steps to see her to the infirmary. “The boys have been scrambling while you were at dinner, ma’am, trying to clean up at least one of the rooms for you. I’m not sure where your brother thought you’d be sleeping when he ordered your things sent to a half-finished building with boxes everywhere.”
Annalane thought of saying she doubted Devin cared, but she tried to smile as she said, “I’m sure it will be fine.”
When she entered the building, she was met by the three men who had gone with McCord to the station. One looked barely old enough to shave and the other two were like Cunningham—they’d fought for the South. They were all smiling at her.
As the men stepped aside, she glanced into the larger room that would become the hospital bay and she laughed. They’d put a tent in the middle of a room lined with boxes. One of the privates stepped forward. “We figured we didn’t have time to clean the place so we put up a new tent for you, ma’am, with supplies we found in some of these boxes.”
Another added, “You got a lock on the door to the room, so you’ll be safe, but you’ll have your own apartment once you’re in the building.” He lifted the flap. “We put some coals on the grate so you’ll be snug as a bug in here tonight.”
Annalane laughed and clapped her hands. “Thank you, gentlemen. I’ve never had something so grand.” They’d even put a little white tea set by the grate and a rug made from blankets on the floor.
They all smiled and would have watched her move in if Cunningham hadn’t shoved them along. “Lock the door behind us, ma’am. We’ll take turns tonight guarding outside, so all you have to do is yell if you need anything.”
Annalane thanked them each again, locked the door, and stepped inside her very own playhouse tent. She had the feeling a few of the items had been stolen from her brother’s room, but tonight she didn’t care. She was in heaven.
First, as she’d done for years traveling with the supply wagons and medical tents, she unpacked her few belongings and laid them out so they’d be in easy reach when she was called to work. Then she dressed in her white nightgown and warm robe that tied empire style. The hem might be frayed and the lace threadbare in a few places along the collar, but she always felt elegant in her robe.
She sat in front of a little mirror and brushed her hair, then braided it in a long braid. Smiling, she remembered how her mother used to tell her that she might never be a beauty, but she had pretty hair.
Her parents had both died two years ago when a flu hit the city hard that winter. Devin had been in his first year of medical school and couldn’t come home. She’d tried to keep working and deal with the debts. One by one she’d sold off everything they’d had, to pay bills and keep Devin in school. He resented having to join the army because there was no money to help set up his practice, but deep down Annalane had thought it would be good for him.
A knock sounded at the door just beyond the folds of her tent.
She checked her robe, slipped from her warm tent and opened the door.
McCord stepped inside, frowning. “Don’t unlock the door unless you know who is on the other side.”
“All right. Go out and knock. I’ll pretend I don’t know you.” He’d been nothing but cold to her all evening. If she didn’t know better she’d swear someone else had been in the shadows with her last night. Someone else had kissed her. Not this man who hadn’t looked at her once during dinner.
He ignored her suggestion and raised an eyebrow at the tent.
She was thankful for the distraction. “The boys put it up for me. Isn’t it great?”
He didn’t smile, but at least he stopped frowning. “Yeah, it is.”
“What did you need, Ranger McCord? It’s a little late for a social call and I do have a guard outside.”
McCord reached behind her and shoved the bolt. “I told that Clark kid, who’s guarding this place like it’s the national bank, to go eat some supper. I need to talk to you.”
“About what?” He’d had an hour to talk to her at dinner and never said a word.
“About this.” He leaned closer, backing her against the door, and hesitated a few inches from her mouth. “I’m going to kiss you again, Anna. If you have objections, you’d better voice them now. All you have to say is stop. Just say the word and I back away.” The words were snapped like orders he’d rehearsed. “But if you don’t . . .”
She could feel her breathing quicken but she faced him squarely. This was probably his idea of having a conversation with a lady. The man had the social skills of a turtle. “Well, first of all, my name is Annalane, not Anna, and I’ll not tolerate being manhandled or talked to like I’m . . .”
He closed the distance between them and covered her mouth with his. She pushed on his chest and tried to turn her head away, but he held her with his body pressed hard against hers and his hand cupped around the back of her head. Evidently the conversation part of his visit was over.
This was no gentle kiss of hello, but a demanding, searching advance based on need and longing. He slid his hand to her jaw and urged her mouth open so he could taste and smother her complaint.
As she knew he would, he gentled when she kissed him back. He moaned low and twisted his fingers through her hair as he took her through the lessons he’d taught her the night before in the blackness.
Finally, when he moved his mouth to her throat, she breathed in deeply as he whispered, “That’s the way, Anna. I knew you’d feel this good, taste this good. I couldn’t have imagined last night when you were lying against me.”
He brushed the tips of his fingers along her chin. “I think I might have died if I’d had to sit across the room much longer without touching you.” He held her cheek as he kissed her again and again while he mumbled something about going slow.
The thought of saying stop never occurred to her. She wanted a man who was gentle and caring, maybe even hesitant as a lover, but she’d not tell McCord to stop. She felt her body mel
ting against his, needing his nearness, his touch, his kiss, as deeply as he seemed to need her.
Finally, he leaned away and studied her, drinking her in with his stormy gaze.
She knew he’d kiss her again if she tried to talk to him, so she lifted her arms to his shoulders and let her breasts rise and fall against his chest with each breath.
He raised his head and smiled at her as if he could read her mind. His hand circled round her braid and he tugged until she leaned her head back, offering him her throat.
He unbuttoned the first few buttons of her high-collared gown and began nibbling along her throat. He stopped where her heart pounded just below the surface of her skin and kissed just there. Then, as if in thanks for her offering, he returned to her mouth and kissed her lightly, playing with her tongue. He didn’t have to say he missed her—he was showing her. There’d been no need to tell her he had to touch her—she knew.
When she pulled him closer, she felt his low moan more than heard it. “I know, Anna,” he whispered against her ear. “I know.”
Slowly, the kiss grew deeper. Her whole body felt like it was on fire. He stepped back and tugged at the ribbons holding her robe. When she protested, he pushed her hands away. When she tried again to hold her robe closed, he placed both of her hands behind her with one strong grip and he opened the robe with his free hand.
She wiggled, trying to get free. He was going too fast, being too bold. She wanted a gentle lover, a slow lover, a hesitant . . . the feel of his hands tugging her robe free made her forget her list of wants.
She wouldn’t stop him and he smiled down at her, knowing what they were doing was new and frightening to her.
“Easy now, Anna. Just relax against me. I wish there was time to go slower,” he whispered as he kissed his way from her ear to her lips. “You know I’m not going to hurt you, don’t you?”
She nodded and moved her hands to his shoulders, barely aware of when he’d released her.
“I’m going to touch you, if you’ve no objection. This will be no light brush over your clothes, like before. When I’m finished there will be no doubt you’ve been handled a bit.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “And, darling, you’re going to love every minute.”
When she opened her mouth to question this, his kiss stopped the words and his hand moved over the cotton of her gown to grip her breast boldly while his strong arm circled her. She jerked and twisted, but he didn’t let go. Her breast filled his hand. His grip was strong, almost hurting her, but he didn’t turn loose or let her free.
When she pulled her mouth from his, he let her turn and gulp air. His fingers spread out, pressing her breast against her pounding heart. She saw fire in his eyes, but she felt no fear of him, only of herself and what he might awaken in her.
She tried to turn away, but he didn’t move. They both knew she could stop him with a word. She was fighting years of closing herself off from any tenderness, any loving touch, any passion. This cold, hard man seemed to understand her when no one else had even tried.
“Kiss me, Anna,” he whispered, almost angry. “Kiss me.”
She turned toward him, seeing the need in his eyes, and then the surprise as she raised her chin and moved her mouth to his. After a moment of hesitation, he took her offering fully.
When she finally calmed and stilled in his arms, he kissed a tear from her cheek and loosened his grip around her. “There now, that wasn’t so bad, was it, darlin’. You’re more afraid of something new than of me.”
It crossed her mind that he was mad. She was with a madman. Who bossed her around. Who saved her life. Who kissed her with a passion that would probably set them both on fire any minute. He thought he could kiss her and handle her just because he wanted to. He treated her like a treasure. Like a woman. Like a passion too deep for either of them to understand.
His hand gently brushed over the thin layer of material covering her shoulder.
When he leaned down to take a first taste of her throat, she pushed away and moved into her tent.
He followed, knowing that he’d be welcomed as he moved up behind her, circling her waist and pulling her back against him. He wasn’t imprisoning her now—she could have stepped away, but she leaned into him and sighed at the whirlwind of feelings circling through her body.
He kissed her ear and she heard his breathing, fast and heavy like her own. “Unbutton your gown.” He spread his hands out wide at her sides.
“No,” she whispered.
“Unbutton your gown.” His order was muffled as his mouth moved down her throat.
“Only a few,” she whispered back in compromise.
Her fingers fumbled, opening the buttons as he kissed his way to the hollow of her throat. There was something raw and hungry in his touch, as though he’d waited a lifetime to hold her.
She was beyond thought and full into pleasure. Slowly, hesitantly, she began unbuttoning more tiny buttons. He rewarded her with kisses along her neck and his fingers moving over her body.
When she reached the buttons between her breasts, he whispered again, “Now, pull the gown down off your shoulders.”
He watched her slow progress. First one shoulder, then the other. The robe dropped to the floor but the soft gown hung at the tips of her breasts.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.
She wondered if he was aware that he said the words aloud.
His hands moved to her shoulders and began to slowly slide down. He played with the material hiding her from him. He hadn’t pushed her in this, he hadn’t forced her. He’d simply asked and she’d done what he wanted. He could not possibly be as surprised as she was.
She closed her eyes, expecting him to shove the cotton down and stare at her, but he didn’t. He turned her slowly in his arms and drew her against him and held her for a while. She’d never felt so treasured.
Anna cried softly against his shoulder without knowing why. All her life she’d discouraged men with a turn of her head or a frown. She’d been in mourning, or too busy, or thought herself too old. But there was nothing hesitant in this man’s advance. Nothing shy.
She shook, aware of just how close he stood and how unbelievably natural it felt to press her body so close to his she could feel his heart pounding.
When his mouth found hers once more, he was giving, not taking. The kiss was long and pure. Her bruised lips took the pleasure of it like cool water.
Finally, he broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against hers. “We have to talk. I haven’t got much time even for this heaven.”
“I thought you didn’t like to talk.”
He grinned. “Believe me, there are a million things I’d rather do with you than talk, but this time it’s important that you follow orders.”
“Your orders?”
“Yes, my orders. That gambler back at the stage station, Frank Sanders, is part of a gang led by a man named Thorn. We’ve both seen Sanders and therefore can identify him. Which means Sanders, and maybe Thorn, will want us dead as soon as possible. I want you to promise to stay in the camp until I get back. Trust no one that Sergeant Cunningham doesn’t trust.”
He squeezed her shoulders. “Do I make myself clear?”
“I’m not in the habit of being bossed around, McCord.”
“Well, I’m not in the habit of caring about anyone.” He swore and added, “There is nothing I’d like more than to bed you right now and we both know I could, without you stopping me.”
“Would you have stopped if I’d said the word?”
“I would. I will.” He set his jaw as if testifying in court. “I said the words and I meant them. I had to let you know you had control. I know I came on a little fast and strong, but on my honor I would have stepped away if you’d ordered me to.”
“A little fast,” she mumbled, knowing her lips were bruised from his kisses and her throat probably black and blue from where he’d taken the time to nibble on her flesh.
He kissed her forehead. �
�I’ve a mission to finish and if I bed you tonight, I might end up leaving you alone with child. I’ll not do that, Anna.” While hugging her, he let his honest words flow over her. “I have a hunger for you, like I’ve never felt before. I don’t know if it’s that I want to believe you could belong to me, or if part of me already belongs to you. This doesn’t feel like something we can cure in one night.”
She was shocked by his caring. She had no doubt that he wanted her, but now she knew he cared. “You might get killed on this mission? Is that what you’re telling me?”
“The odds aren’t with me this time. I feel it so strong I’d already decided before I climbed on that stage that this would be my last ride as a Ranger.” He lowered his head and kissed her bare shoulder. “If I make it through the next few days, will you be waiting for me? I’m not asking for any promises, I’m just asking that when I knock on that door again you’ll throw the bolt and let me in.”
She stepped away, shaking. He hadn’t asked her to let him stay. This wasn’t a marriage proposal or even a promise of one, but it was as close as she’d ever come to one again. She had always been a proper lady. What he was asking was that she’d welcome him in. Not just to her house, or room, but to her bed.
She fought back a sob, longing for him to whisper “forever” between them, but knowing she’d not ask for so much. She might never have him stay. Without a single doubt she knew it would take all the strength she had to take only what this Ranger could offer and then watch him leave when their time was over.
“Anna,” he snapped. “Stop breathing so fast. You’re driving me crazy.”
She looked at him and then down at the gown almost falling off her breasts with each breath. Crossing her arms over her, she began to pull up her gown.
His hands shot out to grip her wrists.
She met his eyes, no longer cold, but stormy with anger and need.
“Don’t,” he said, gritting his teeth.
He hesitated as if refusing to explain why.
“Let go of me,” she said. “Stop.” She felt like she was bending him to the breaking point. She guessed there were very few things in his life he wanted or needed. Apparently she was one of them, but if he didn’t let go right here, right now, they would never be equals, and for her there could be no other way.
