Her Vigilante Passion

by Her Vigilante Passion (lit)

  She didn’t turn. For a fleeting instant, he hoped she wouldn’t. He thought about running, about hightailing it out of the saloon the same way he came in. Maybe if he left without another word she would think this a hallucination. He knew better, of course. Even if he could escape her sight, Adam sat at the piano in the corner of the open room. His brother saw him enter, watched as he made a beeline straight for Lara, and continued to play his song to the last note. Luke figured his brother didn’t wish to draw suspicion from anyone who might be in the back or walking by outside. The silence now fell over the saloon like a thick blanket, heavy with speculation and anticipation. Luke knew Adam wouldn’t say anything. His brother would bide his time, wait his turn till Luke finished with Lara.

  He thought he’d finished with her when he rode out of town. He’d been wrong. He tested his fate by walking through that door tonight. When his gut clenched at Lara’s next softly spoken words, he knew nothing beyond the surrender of a doomed man.

  “Tell me it’s really you, Luke.”

  The plea in her tone made his throat ache. He swallowed before he could answer. “Yes, Lara, it’s me.”

  She whirled around fast enough to stir the heated air between them. Her amazing features brightened with unmistakable elation and love. He saw in her eyes that every ounce of feeling he knew she once harbored for him remained. He realized only then that he’d feared it would be gone. The beaming smile that spread her lips and the glimmer of tears that sparkled like diamonds in her eyes put to rest any lingering concerns of that.

  “It is you. Oh, Luke, it is you.”

  Luke acted on reflex as she catapulted herself into his arms. He caught her, a hand on the back of her head, the other beneath her rump, and simply held her for a long time. She smelled of lavender and daisies, just as he remembered. The same scents that haunted his dreams and tormented his days. He closed his eyes, reveling in the moment, knowing he’d be forced to let her go again soon enough.

  “I always knew you’d come back.”

  He opened his eyes to find her mouth so close her breath fanned his lips. “Look at you.” He couldn’t stop looking at her, at the fine lines on her long forehead, the perfect arch of her sunny brows, the shining hazel of her eyes, the narrow bridge of her nose, the succulent bow of her wickedly tempting lips. “You’re even more beautiful than before.”

  A single tear trickled down her lovely cheek. He watched its descent, hating himself for making her cry even if the tears represented happiness. No doubt these weren’t the first tears she’d shed over him, and likely the others hadn’t been ones of joy.

  Luke opened his mouth to speak, though he didn’t know what he might say. Before he could figure it out, Lara closed the distance between their lips, boldly capturing his mouth in a kiss of pure hunger and heady desire. She shoved her hands into his hair, knocking his cowboy hat to the floor, and devoured him like a woman starved.

  She didn’t hold anything back. Despite what he knew of her, how he’d been drawn from the first by her spitfire tenacity and lust for life, her reaction left him too dumbfounded to stop her. He tasted every emotion he witnessed on her face in the kiss, the happiness, the relief, the love. He damned himself for not staying away. Two years didn’t bring justice to the things he did to this woman of his heart. They didn’t make up for the crime he committed. He’d banished himself from the town, the whole territory, and meant it for life. Anyone else would’ve never been permitted to return.

  Yet, here he stood, with Lara Franklin’s long legs locked around his waist, her shapely rear resting on his arm, her delicious tongue in his mouth, and her salty-sweet tears transferring to his face. No, two years served no justice at all. He should’ve been hanged for what he’d done, not allowed to all but pick up where he left off.

  “Luke.”

  Dimly, Luke registered Adam’s voice penetrating the cacophony of turmoil clogging his brain. It took another full heartbeat before Lara let him end the kiss. Even then, he found it necessary to angle his head to see around her to where Adam now stood at her back.

  This is how it’s supposed to be.

  The thought hit Luke with so much force and pain he damned near dropped her. She wouldn’t have fallen far in any case, sandwiched this way between his body and Adam’s. His gaze locked with Adam’s, and he saw that his brother's thoughts mirrored his. He’d left before they made it right with Lara, before they claimed her as theirs. He knew he should leave again the same way, but it seemed someone had nailed his boots to the floor and put a lithe and wanton woman in his arms. How in hell did a cowboy fight that?

  “It’s good to have you back, brother.” Adam sounded sincere enough. His expression backed up his words. Still, Luke couldn’t help but wonder at the truth in the statement. Surely he had staked his claim to Lara by now. He had the woman, their woman, all to himself.

  Which is how it was meant to be now, Luke reminded himself as he gradually lowered Lara to stand between them. He broke out in a cold sweat as her body slid down his. Her supple curves glided over his less pliant muscles in a way that made his cock scream in agony and left his head feeling drunker than it did after a bottle of whisky.

  Adam appeared to catch on real quick, the corners of his lips twitching in a grin he made a miserable attempt to hide. “I’ll cover the bar. Why don’t you and Miss Franklin take this reunion upstairs?”

  Luke blinked at his brother, but before he could respond, Lara turned between them. She cupped Adam’s cheek and brushed a kiss to his lips. “Thank you.”

  Adam nodded, returned her kiss, and then eased away, a world of knowledge and love in his eyes. His gaze shifted from her to Luke, and he nodded again, this time almost imperceptibly. They never needed words to communicate. They didn’t need them now. That motion indicated Adam’s agreement and understanding.

  How in hell did a cowboy fight that? Luke wondered again, but this time the answer came quick. The cowboy didn’t fight. He simply couldn’t. Not yet, at least.

  Luke reached to tip his hat at his brother before remembering Lara knocked it off when she jumped him. He could’ve sworn he heard Adam chuckle as Lara grabbed Luke’s hand and tugged him toward the stairs.

  * * * *

  Lara feared her heart might pound out of her chest. Her body shook from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes, inside and out. Nervousness, excitement, and an acute arousal burned like wildfire through her veins. She didn’t dare speak, didn’t dare think, as she led Luke up the stairs to the living quarters on the second floor. Her bedroom sat situated in the farthest corner of the hall across from a larger room her father integrated as a parlor. The building that housed the saloon once served as a brothel before its madam and her girls got run out of town by a band of outlaws intent on staking claim to them all. That happened shortly before John Franklin rode in with his lovely wife Lucille to set up stakes and turn the two-story building into a respectable business.

  Luke followed her willingly. She half expected him to fight, to at least admonish her for her brash approach downstairs and even more audacious actions now. She couldn’t help herself.

  Glory be to God, he came back.

  As much as she loved Adam, and she did love Adam with every ounce of her heart, he’d been right yesterday when he pegged her on loving Luke just as much.

  Practically giddy, her vision still blurry with tears of joy, she yanked Luke through the doorway of her bedroom. Only then did she release his hand. She twirled around, her skirt ballooning, her lips smiling so she likely looked a loon. Luke closed the door behind them, but then looked back at it as if he wished he’d left it open.

  Lara couldn’t take her eyes off him. He looked bigger, taller, broader than she remembered, and more handsome too. Where Adam possessed the charm and refined, though virile, good looks, Luke had always been the more rugged brother, dangerously spectacular and just a little scary.

  That light edge of fear shivered through her now as their gazes met. “I prayed yo
u would come back.”

  Every night for two torturously long years.

  A muscle in his jaw worked as he stared at her. His gaze dropped from hers, falling in a leisurely glide down her body. Even though the thin material of her dress, the intensity of want in the way he looked at her sent her teetering on the edges of madness. Her breath hitched as she all but felt his concentration on her breasts like a physical caress. No, she amended as her nipples leapt to rapid and throbbing attention, not a caress. Luke didn’t do gentle, he didn’t do slow. He would grope, consume, possess just as his focus on her body did now.

  Her belly quivered as his attention shifted down. Creamy arousal gathered along the folds of her sex when his awareness settled on the spot between her thighs. Hunger blazed in his bright blue eyes, turning them dark and predatory. She couldn’t stop the quiet mewl that escaped her throat.

  He jolted at the sound, quickly lifting his gaze to meet with hers again. He shoved a hand through his tousled dark hair. The movement screamed of frustration. “You prayed for me to come back? I don’t know what the hell for.” He stalked past her to the window and parted the curtains with the tip of one long finger.

  Lara stared at his back, marveling at the play of muscles apparent through his shirt with each ragged breath he took. He'd never been one to be quick to anger. The ferocity in him now took her aback. She supposed it shouldn’t have for she knew its source.

  Two years exiled and he hasn’t come to terms with a darn thing.

  “I’m much obliged to you for setting me up with a room,” he said more quietly, though his tone remained tight. “I won’t trouble you long.”

  Lara gaped at him. Setting him up in a room? Wouldn’t trouble her for long? The irritating man knew darned well this room belonged to her. “Luke Stonewell, don’t be stupid.”

  He shot her a look over his broad shoulder, one brow raised. Though a hint of amusement sparkled in his expression, none sounded in his voice. “Name calling isn’t very ladylike, Miss Franklin.”

  Lara scowled. “Like I care about being a lady at this point. You know darned good and well why I brought you up here, and it certainly had nothing to do with giving you my bed to take a load off, at least not in the ways of sleep, at least not for an hour or so anyways.” She stopped when her irritation caused her to ramble. “You’ve got a perfectly good ranch to stay at and a room that’s the same as when you left. If all you want to do is sleep, you best be headed that way now. It’ll be late and your ma and pa will be down for the night by the time you get there.”

  Luke shook his head. “Still saying exactly what’s in that pretty little head of yours, aren’t you?”

  Lara planted her balled fists on her hips. “And you expected that to change?”

  That got a low chuckle out of him. He turned fully from the window. “No, can’t say as I did. Truth be told, I figured you and Adam would be hitched by now, holed up in his room at the ranch.”

  Lara couldn’t hold his gaze. “He hasn’t asked me,” she admitted in a voice low enough to make her cringe. Embarrassment heated her cheeks, and her temper sparked higher. Damn the man for putting her in this place! She’d waited for what felt like her whole life to be Lara Stonewell. Okay, so she never knew for certain which brother she wanted most to marry. How could a woman be expected to choose between two of God’s finest creations, Luke and Adam Stonewell?

  As the oldest of the brothers, she came to the decision Luke would eventually stake his claim. Then that horrible night ripped him from her life and she’d been left with only Adam’s arms to catch her. For two years, she waited for Adam to propose. The man oozed romance from every pore. He mapped out his entire life and followed it to the letter. She even knew herself to be one of those frigging letters. He took her virginity, professed his undying love, but never once even hinted at the prospect of marriage.

  “And you called me stupid,” Luke muttered. “What do you mean, he hasn’t asked you? He’s bedded you, hasn’t he?”

  Lara raised her gaze. The urge to chastise him for asking something so personal sprang to the tip of her tongue. She bit it back. He had every right to ask such a question, and he deserved an answer. “Nearly every single day,” she said and marveled at the jealousy that sparked in Luke’s eyes.

  Could that be why Adam never asked her to marry him? Had he merely been waiting for Luke to return and take her? Was that why Luke came back?

  She didn’t dare ask the mountain of questions forming in her mind and burning her tongue.

  “That no good, stupid, coward sonuvabitch.” Luke sounded livid. He stalked to the door, his intent on marching straight out and down the stairs to confront his brother apparent in the heaviness of his steps.

  Lara shot a hand out, catching his bicep in as tight a grip as she could muster around all that toned muscle. She couldn’t hold him back if he wanted out bad enough. Not with brute strength alone. But with words, maybe she could make him stay. “Don’t, Luke. Stay with me.” She couldn’t hide the plea in her tone and didn’t even try. “Make love to me.”

  The obvious torment raging in his innards tightened his muscles beneath her hand. He stood rigid, stone still like a statue, one hand frozen on the door. When she sensed a break in his intended departure, she dared to release her hold on his bicep, only to graze her palm down the corded muscles of his elbow and forearm.

  With great caution not to spook him, she moved in at his back. He stood nearly a full foot taller. She rose on her tiptoes to reach his shoulder blades. She rested her cheek there, encircling his narrow waist and pressing her front against him. “Stay with me, Luke.” She boldly dipped a hand down to cover his cock, already hard and straining against the material of his Levi’s. “I’ve waited so long to be with you.”

  “Christ almighty, Lara.” He breathed through clenched teeth. His head fell forward to rest on the wall by the door.

  Lara took it as a good sign when he didn’t attempt to move away or stop her. She pulled his shirt from the confines of his pants and lifted it up. She couldn’t get it high enough to pull it over his head, so she settled for holding it at his shoulders, leaning in to plant tiny kisses along his back. She delighted when her tongue along his spine made him shiver.

  “Help me.” She tugged at his shirt by way of explanation and then left it to him to see it removed, favoring to have both hands free to explore the ropes of muscle and tanned flesh of his back. An angry scar just beneath his right shoulder blade gave her pause. It appeared fairly new, the skin tender and a stark white contrast to the darker flesh around it. She’d seen a few gunshot wounds in her day. Recognizing this as something different gave her a modicum of relief. A knife or possibly even an arrow seemed more likely. Either still could’ve dealt the hand of death. She said a quick prayer of thanks that she hadn’t lost someone else she loved.

  Her perusal of his back led her to his waist where her hands met with the band of his pants. She knew better than to mess with a man’s gun belt so she trailed her fingers along the edge of it, giving Luke a clear indication of what she wanted and hoping he wouldn’t take too long to get the hint. When she got tired of waiting, she cleared her throat. “Are you going to get rid of it, or do you want me to?”

  Chapter Three

  Luke possessed half a mind to use it on her. Not the gun, of course, but surely the belt, right across her lovely backside. The mental image of her smooth bare flesh spectacularly reddened by a good arousing spanking made his cock harder than a rock. He expelled a low curse as he caught her wrist and whirled on her.

  “Don’t you know it ain’t fitting for a girl to make the first moves on a man?” His teeth hurt from clenching them so hard when he’d really rather sink them into the tantalizing mounds of her breasts.

  A bolt of electric temper shot through her luminous eyes. “You made the first move a long time ago, Luke Stonewell. You just didn’t stick around to prove yourself man enough to follow up.”

  The jab stabbed like a knife to the
gut. Her eyes widened, the realization that she pushed too hard keen in her gaze. He released her wrist and knew he should push her away right then. Instead, he scooped her into his arms and trotted her to the bed, depositing her on the edge with no measure of care. If she wanted sensitivity, she could find that with Adam. With Luke, she’d get a whole lot more.

  “I’ll do it.” He leveled a pointed gaze on her as he removed his gun belt. It hit the floor by his booted foot. The small thud it made sounded like a death nail in his coffin. “And, by the time I’m through, you’ll know exactly what kind of man you’ve challenged, sweetheart.”

  Lara got to her knees on the bed, the position putting him eye-level with her breasts as he sat down next to her and wrenched off his boots. “Luke, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.” Her tone held more apology than fear. His threat didn’t faze her in the least. The fact that she might have hurt him did.

  Luke snaked an arm around her trim waist and drew her close, the fight leaving him as quickly as it came. Her fingers slipped into his hair. That simple touch felt so good he couldn’t stop his head from falling to rest on her chest. He breathed deep, making himself drunk on her sweetly feminine scent.

  You don’t deserve this, don’t deserve her.

  He knew that to be true, and knew with even more certainty, he should be hanged for even coming within ten feet of her, let alone close enough to hold, to smell, to take.

  Just once.

  He needed to have her just once before he rode off again. He could find no justification in the permission he gave himself right then to steal one precious moment beyond a man’s desires and a bone deep love he felt for her damned near his entire life. Face still buried in her bosom, he reached for the collar of her gown. It fastened down the back, a string of buttons that began at her nape and ended at her waist.

  Neither time nor patience presented themselves on his side. Luke gripped the thin material of her dress and yanked. Buttons popped, flying through the air to hit the wall with a faint sound of chilling finality. She gasped in surprise, and for the first time, he sensed a shiver of trepidation move through her.