by Linda Broday
Fury in the raised fist told her the man would not stop this time. She closed her eyes and waited for the coming pain.
The blows never had a chance to destroy delicate tissue.
Hannibal sprang with a feral growl, more vicious than anything Laurel had ever heard. The animal ripped into the uplifted arm, tossing his head from side to side.
“Zeke, damn you! Get this beast off.”
Laurel scrambled into a corner and huddled.
Vallens turned. “I warned you about the animal, Taft.”
“Call him off! Name your price.”
“Said I won’t be bought.”
“I’m pleading. Please.”
“Just gonna get Dog off. Nothing else.”
Wolf-dog avoided the boot, sidling in Laurel’s direction. She wanted to pound both men into everlasting hell. But she hugged her most unlikely protector, vowing to feed him the biggest piece of meat she could find. Sorrow ebbed back from the gray eyes.
But the danger wasn’t over. A mangled limb didn’t stop Taft. In considerable agony, he rose slowly, pulled out a Colt, and stood over her.
“I’ve had a gut full of you and this mangy wolf.”
The cold barrel touched her forehead. Laurel clenched her teeth. Ollie had better get ready for visitors.
“Cain’t let you do that, Will.”
Laurel’s eyes flew open. She held her breath. Vallens had pressed his Colt to Taft’s left ear, knocking the six-gun from his boss’s grip.
“Get outta my way, you chicken-hearted bastard.”
Vallens held fast. “I ain’t gonna let you ruin more innocent lives. Your flesh trade stops right here, right now.”
“Since when did you suddenly get religion?”
Vallens met Laurel’s gaze. “I’ve watched you, even tested you for signs of weakness. Why would someone work so hard when you could line your pockets with riches? It seemed farfetched. But I came to admire your courage.” Then he addressed Taft. “Then, I got word you killed my daughter to keep me in line. You shouldn’t have done that.”
“Spare me the hymns,” Taft spat.
“You’re for real, Laurel James. I do believe you’d fight to the death to protect everything you stand for.”
Had Ollie reached down to soften the heart of stone?
Though barely audible, her reply held grit. “Make no mistake. I would.”
“This ain’t over, Lil.” Taft measured the distance to the door where a man could disappear into the inky night.
“You’re wrong about that, you sorry slaver. Go ahead, I’d love for you to run.” From the open doorway, a man’s soft suggestion carried the deadly hiss of snake rattles. Laurel whirled to find Brodie blocking the entrance. He held a cocked rifle. “Vallens, put down the Colt or I’ll make you eat the damn thing.”
Laurel wondered if she only imagined the lean figure. Yet, the heat caressing her face appeared beyond the scope of an apparition’s power. Oh Lord, she hoped he hadn’t broken out.
“He’s on our—” She never got to finish.
“Drop it, you two-legged jackal.” The brittle order said Brodie had spied her bruises and he meant to make someone pay dearly. “Take a deep breath because it’ll be your last.”
“Please, it’s not what you think.” She scrambled to defuse his anger. Murder would for sure earn him the gallows.
“Maybe you don’t know that I’m William Taft and this woman rightfully belongs to me.” Taft found his tongue once Zeke Vallens didn’t threaten to fit him for earrings.
Flinty sparks shot from the gray-eyed rebel. “Reason enough to shoot you on the spot. Where I come from, Will Taft is Cajun for skunk piss. And you’re truly misinformed. No one owns Laurel.”
Adeline peeked curiously around Brodie’s bulk.
“I suppose you’d be Yates,” Taft sneered.
“Welcome to Judgment Day, you piece of filth.”
Soldiers swarmed through the back door before anyone could explain the situation, adding more confusion. Laurel threw herself in front of Brodie. Although she hadn’t a clue how to prevent it, she’d not let them take him again.
“Which one is the Confederate spy, Shenandoah?”
Laurel inhaled sharply. Shouldn’t they already know the jail escapee’s appearance?
“Sergeant.” Vallens pushed Taft forward. “He’s your man.”
Air slowly left her lungs. She went limp. “Yes, indeed. He’s Shenandoah. I’ll testify to that.” She leaned into the warmth of Brodie’s broad shoulders a moment to banish the chill before running to Hannah. “He’d have murdered us all. The man bound and gagged my poor sister. I’d appreciate a knife to cut her loose.”
“They lie.” Taft’s face mottled with anger. “You had the right man in your stockade all along, you bumbling idiots.”
“Private, shackle this man and throw him on a horse.”
“Lil, tell ’em who I am. Zeke, tell ’em.” Taft fought to break free of the soldiers’ grasps, losing in the end.
Taft’s desperate cries echoed until hoofbeats drowned out the man’s voice. She prayed he’d not convince them for many years. Or at least until Brodie had a head start.
Vallens moved toward the night. “Dog, we’d best get moving.”
“Hannibal, his name is Hannibal.” Laurel braced herself against shooting pain when she helped her sister stand. “I want you to remember that, Mr. Vallens.”
“A fool name. I expect I will remember though.”
Brodie swung the rifle dead center. “Thought you’d walk out scot-free, Vallens?”
“No.” Laurel planted herself in front of the rifle.
“I understand not wanting blood spilled on the kitchen floor, but he isn’t leaving. Move out of the way.”
“We figured him wrong, Brodie.” She crossed the space to touch Vallens’s arm. “Zeke saved my life. I won’t forget it.”
The man tipped the brim of his hat to her. “I’m leaving Hannibal here. He’s more yours than mine now.”
Laurel knelt and placed her arms around the dog’s neck. “Thank you, Mr. Vallens.” But when she looked up, the man had vanished into the star-studded darkness.
Curley ran up, holding a wet cloth to his head. “What on earth happened? One minute I’m headed for the saloon and the next a steam engine slams into me. Yates, what in saint’s name are you doing here? Don’t tell me you broke out.”
The pair of rebel grays that fastened on Laurel seemed to dare her to try escaping his clutches. She didn’t for one minute consider doing so.
If she could have her choice of any place on earth to be, she’d choose Ollie’s Café in Redemption.
The crooked grin that played across Brodie’s features stole her breath. “General Buell discovered he had the wrong man, thanks to Laurel.”
His heated stare caressed, promising nights of passion and untold delight in making up for lost seconds. Moisture pooled in the crevice between her breasts while tingles of anticipation swept her from head to toe.
“It’s about dadgum time,” Curley grumbled.
“Are you truly my sister, Laurel?” Hannah tugged her from one kind of dangerously deep water only to plunge into another.
The moment of reckoning had arrived. She chewed her lip.
“How would you feel? I’d understand if you hate me.”
Hannah hugged her. “Don’t be a goose. You can’t know how happy I am. And proud. I want to run home right now and tell Mama, Papa, and the rest I’ve found our Laurel.”
Brodie threw Laurel an I-told-you-so stare.
“I’ll just mosey on and leave you folks to talk away the night,” Curley said. “Maybe I’ll go tell Ollie what she missed. Things ain’t the same with her gone.”
Untangling Hannah from around her neck proved a daunting task, for her sister clung wo
rse than thistle. Laurel wouldn’t have traded it for anything. Well…except for lying bare as a newborn babe, with the man of her dreams crawling inside her.
Only that would have to come later.
“Hannah, Mr. Yates will take you home at daybreak. But promise not to tell a soul about me.”
“I can’t do that. They have a right to know.”
“See?” Brodie rubbed the small of her back. “I’m glad others agree.”
“I intend to do it, but I’ll choose the right time.”
“Whatever you say, darlin’. You’re so tired you can’t think clear.” Brodie scooped her in his arms. “I say a bed looks mighty welcome.”
Tomorrow Laurel would worry about impropriety. For now, she loved the beat of his heart next to her ear. She snuggled deeper into the breadth wrapped around her. “Adeline, will you make Hannah welcome? I’d appreciate it, dear.”
“Consider it done.” Then Adeline leaned closer and winked. “I like him. He’s the right one for you.”
Upstairs, he started for her old room before Laurel realized. “I sleep in Ollie’s room now. She died in my arms the night I returned from the stockade two days ago.”
“So that’s what Curley meant by that strange remark.”
“Adeline has mine. The girl’s afraid of ghosts. I find it peaceful in here though with Ollie’s spirit around me.”
“She’d better hide her eyes because I intend to love you like you’ve never been.”
He eased her to the patchwork quilt and made quick work of stripping off his clothing. Then he slowly undressed her, planting kisses on each new patch of exposed skin.
“My stars, Brodie, at this rate daylight will come before we even get down to the best part.” She gasped when his tongue meandered down the crevice between her breasts to draw a wet heart on her stomach.
“Complaints so soon, darlin’?” He propped on an elbow and let a fingertip continue the journey. “We make quite a pair. You’re more battered than I am, I do believe. Are you certain you’re up to this after the hellish night you’ve had?”
The last few hours had fled. Laurel brushed back the rebellious hair from his forehead and stared into his eyes. She prayed they’d never have anything worse than a few scrapes to complain about. Although a breeze blew in from the swamps, ruffling the curtains, Brodie’s sultry breath feathering across her bared flesh kept her heated.
“I’m positive. I have this need…”
“Do tell.”
“We should start on those eight little ones before we grow too old,” Laurel said, nibbling on his ear.
Moments later a moan crept from her throat. He touched places no one had charted—dark, moist places that had never experienced the thrill of human contact. The gentle gunslinger’s tender lovemaking brought mist to her eyes. Redemption hadn’t come without sacrifice. It took forsaking preconceived ideas and letting ash return to ash. Their souls flourished. And still their love would take constant nurturing.
Light pressure located old scars on the solid body of her warrior. There were fresh ones also. Those created an ache inside Laurel so deep that not a parcel of daylight penetrated.
“Fine wine always tastes better when sipped, precious.”
“But…” Her rebuttal got lost. Scandalous pirates had that effect when they pilfered a woman’s jewels.
Dampness covering her inner thighs assured her he’d have no trouble sliding inside. She wanted him now.
A patient lady would grind her teeth and wait.
A desperate one wouldn’t.
Laurel pulled Brodie atop her. Male brown nipples surrounded by fine down begged for homage. Flicks of her tongue taught him to dally with her senses. A shiver rewarded her efforts, turning the nibs into hard protrusions.
“Ahh, pretty lady, you shouldn’t do that.”
Thirty-three
Dawn crept as silent as a thief into the room. Brodie pushed back raven strands that reminded him of rare, expensive silk from Laurel’s face and kissed each bruise. A tic jerked along his jaw. Thought of how close she’d come to dying chilled his bones. He’d littered her life with disappointment and setback and riddled her heart with cracks and holes. His chest constricted.
Brodie lifted her hand and turned it over, marveling at the strength there. He kissed her palm and each fingertip.
“Thank you, beautiful Lil.”
“For what?”
“Loving me. Letting me love you back. Forgiving me.”
“Ollie made me promise to not give up on you.”
“I’m sorry you had to deal with burying her alone.”
“We don’t have a choice in those matters. I’m a big girl.”
“I know the tragedy of burying family. Deep loss becomes a part of you. A body never truly stops missing them.”
“Even for a little boy forced to become a man too soon.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “Murph told you about Mother?”
“Are you mad? I wanted to discover what made you tick.”
“Surprised at him. Learn anything else?”
Laurel’s satiny curves molded to his large form. Her fingers tangled in fine chest hair. “You’re not some big, bad ogre. Compassion and respect comes out of hiding more than it suits you. I also see how you guard a fervent desire to belong.”
“Do tell.” Needles of discomfort pricked. He may as well have posted his secrets in The Jeffersonian.
“Those qualities most endear you. After Ollie died I discovered we don’t ever truly know a person, and perhaps that’s the way it’s intended. But there’s something that intrigues me.”
“I can’t imagine any tidbit that escaped your notice.”
She raised and leaned over him, her lush breasts leaving imprints above his heart. He inhaled sharply. His memory bag dangled from her hand. “When I asked about this earlier you told me it was nothing of much value. Please, may I look?”
Brodie had never revealed his private stash to anyone. Each sentimental treasure revealed something of him—things he’d clutched fiercely when the world slept.
Still, he had to begin trusting. That meant letting the woman he loved into the dark pain. He swallowed hard.
“Be my guest.”
She removed Aunt Lucy’s letter. Then came the gold band that glistened in the early morn. Her questioning gaze caught his. “My mother’s,” he murmured.
Laurel placed it tenderly on the letter as though sensing his agony. Murphy’s lock of hair joined the ring. Brodie held his breath. The last item held the most significance. Her reaction to it would determine their future. “Oh, my love.” A rush of tears darkened her violet gaze. She cradled the scrap to her heart. “Lace from my skirt. You kept the memento. Putting it in such good company must mean—”
“I love you. I always have.”
“You hid it well.”
The split lip, compliments of Taft’s fist, trembled. He pressed his mouth very lightly to the wound, moved along the jaw line to a dainty earlobe, before placing feathery kisses on her eyelids. She’d suffered too much over the years, something he’d have to live with. If he could. Memories hurt.
“That’s because you were set to marry the wrong man.”
She groaned. “What a horrible mistake. I didn’t love Murphy, though I thought it would be the answer.”
“You’ve reason to change your mind?”
He loved the wrinkle in her brow when wheels of thought turned inside her head.
“I realized after the soldiers took you that no one can bring redemption to another. I’m proud of who I am. I don’t need to marry anyone to prove I’m good and decent.”
“And generous and beautiful to a fault.” Brodie shifted onto his side. “You pounded a few things into this lamebrain. The stockade took my blinders off. You’re right. The past has nothing to do with the
future except shape us into the people we are.” He squared his jaw. “I was a jackass. I’m sorry. Other than a reputation as a broken-down gunslinger, I’m no prize.”
“I never asked for anything more, Brodie.”
“You know it eats at a man to be unable to provide.”
Laurel turned away. Her husky voice held a quiver. “You think I’m merely an obligation?”
“Darlin’, you mean life, death, and the hereafter to me.” He inhaled her fragrance and plunged. “That’s why I humbly request your hand in marriage.”
Laurel swung back. “Of all the dumb ways to ask.”
“I haven’t had much practice. Is that a yes or a no?”
Anger and confusion darkened her features. He hadn’t a clue whether the roulette wheel would stop on red or black. Hell, he couldn’t even tell where the chips had fallen. He just pitched them out. Perhaps it was too late for winning his hand.
“I can’t. I truly can’t.”
Ice water in place of blood didn’t flow too easily, Brodie discovered. “I’ve messed up real bad. I just hoped—”
“Hold on, rebel, I’m not finished. I can’t vow to love and cherish until we settle some things. First, how do you feel about swapping a Colt for an apron? I warn you, it’s a big switch.”
He chuckled and kissed the sweet, honeyed mouth. His fingertip traced the curve of a bruised cheek.
“I feel like the luckiest man alive. Gunplay and fast draws don’t compare to the excitement of being with you.” He nibbled an enticing shoulder.
“I’m afraid.”
“Makes two of us, darlin’. We’ll face our fear together.”
“What assurance do I have you’ll not up and leave on me?”
“The word of a Johnny Reb. Does that mean anything?”
“What about the ugly whispers? Can you face those?”
“They best not let me hear ’em.” He itched to give the gossips a dose of the Brodie Remedy.
“Gossip is hard to silence. They may run us out of town.”
