With a low groan, he bent and swept her into his arms, picking her up and carrying her toward the bed.
Her thoughts had scattered like snowflakes blown by the wind outside their shelter. But there were no questions, no hesitation in her heart. This was what she wanted. He was what she wanted.
The quilt was soft beneath her as he slid her dress off. Annie moaned at the touch of the cabin’s chilly air against her skin. He stretched out beside her, kissing her neck, her shoulder—and then his mouth covered her breast through the thin fabric of her camisole, drawing her into velvety, liquid heat. Bright sparks of sensation shot through her with an intensity that stole her breath. His fingers impatiently pushed the damp fabric aside, baring her to his kisses and she gasped. He teased one sensitive peak and then the other with his lips, his tongue. She arched beneath him, offering more of herself, all of herself. His hand slipped beneath the waist of her pantalettes.
Her cry of pleasure was lost beneath his groan as he stroked and explored her, finding her wetness. She abandoned herself to the heat racing through her, to the bold intimacy of his touch. His thumb pressed against the sensitive nub hidden within her curls, brushing over it with a touch that was feather-light and demanding by turns.
She was panting for breath when his mouth covered hers again in a ravishing kiss. His hunger for her stirred a fierce response low in her belly, a desire unlike any she had ever known. He tugged her pantalettes down over her hips, she unfastened the waistband of his trousers, and they kicked off the last of their clothes. He lowered himself over her, balancing his weight on his forearms, covering her with his lean, muscled body.
He pressed his hips against her and she gasped at the size and hardness of him. He slid one arm beneath her shoulders, parted her thighs with his other hand.
And then she felt the blunt tip of his arousal at her feminine core. Felt him entering her in a deep, slow thrust. Her eyes opened wide, her head tipping back. Their voices blended in a low sound of pleasure as he joined the two of them as one.
She felt sweet pressure and hot fullness, her body stretching to sheath his rigid length, her every muscle strung tight. Hundreds of sparks whirled together, gathering at the very center of her being. He shuddered, kissing her cheek, her shoulder.
“Lucas.” It was a breathless sigh, a whisper of welcome and astonishment and passionate need.
And then she was beyond speaking, beyond hearing. His mouth sealed hers in a deep, hot mating of lips and tongues and breath. All she could do was feel as he withdrew and thrust forward, deeper, filling her completely. She shut her eyes, giving herself to him, to the emotions in her heart, to the fiery waves of sensation that built as he moved inside her. She lifted her hips to meet his strokes, again and again, gripped his shoulders, his hair, grasped handfuls of the covers beneath her as he took her hard and fast.
The sparks of pleasure whirled tight, turning to flames that raced through her. Never had she felt like this, wild and reckless in a way she had never even imagined. His rhythm became more powerful. She wrapped her legs around his hips, holding him embedded deep inside her... just... there.
Suddenly the bright flames of sensation all flared together and a rush of ecstasy cascaded through her, shocking and fierce. Her cry of release filled the darkness, her body arching like a bow against his. She was soaring through the stars, bathed by white-hot fire. A hoarse shout tore from him an instant later and she felt him tense, felt the rush of liquid heat as he spilled himself inside her.
Then his muscles went slack, his weight pressing her down into the mattress, his body still joined to hers.
He was trembling. Actually trembling. Annie gave in to the impulse to wrap her arms around him and hold him. The sound of their harsh breathing made the only noise in the stillness, and the heat of their bodies seemed like the only warmth. After a long moment, he withdrew and settled beside her, his face buried in her hair.
And neither of them said a word.
~ ~ ~
Lucas opened his eyes in the darkness, blinking in the chilly air, realizing he had fallen asleep. He wasn’t sure how many hours had passed. No light penetrated the dugout, only a bitter wind that rattled the stovepipe and howled past the door.
The lantern had burned out, and so had the embers of the fire, the stove a few feet away no longer giving off the least bit of heat.
Annie lay curled up against him like a kitten. So soft, so delicate.
So trusting.
He opened his eyes wider. Though he couldn’t see her in the darkness, he could feel every sweet, tantalizing inch of her. From the tendrils of her hair tickling his jaw, to her breath on his bare chest... to one slim, naked leg resting against his. Her hands were folded in front of her and the curve of her shoulder was tucked beneath his arm. Even in sleep, he had drawn her close.
For a moment, he just lay there, breathing hard, fully awake now.
What the hell had he done?
Remorse and regret sliced through him like a double-edged blade. She had been vulnerable and in need of comfort and he had taken advantage of her. Taken her to bed. He couldn’t blame it on the effects of the bullet that had creased his skull. He might not have been at his physical best—but his mind hadn’t been muddled. He had known what he wanted. Needed.
And it seemed not even a bullet from a .44 had been enough to stop him.
Annie shifted restlessly, one of her hands brushing his ribs, one breast now pillowed against the muscles of his chest. He inhaled a breath between his gritted teeth, his whole body suddenly taut, sexual heat flooding his nerve endings. The speed and intensity of his reaction to her dragged a groan from his throat.
He ordered himself to release her, forced himself to let her go. Slowly, he withdrew his arm from around her and she shifted again, away from him, onto her back with a little sigh. He levered himself up on one elbow. Now he could go. Could leave the bed without waking her.
Or he could lower his head and kiss her, find her with his mouth in the darkness. Make it better this time, slow and gentle. Make it perfect for her. Start at the slender curve of her throat and kiss his way down every lush inch of her body...
Lucas shoved himself away and got out of bed, grabbed his trousers from the floor, pulled them on. The only thing to do was get out of here. Leave. Go outside into the frigid weather. Pray to God that the snow would be enough to freeze the fire and hunger from his blood.
But in some part of his brain, he knew that even a blizzard wouldn’t help, that all the ice and sleet the Rocky Mountains could throw at him wouldn’t help. From the start, nothing had been able to end this overpowering... attraction he had to Annie Sutton. He had tried distance, logic, seeking out another woman. But for the first time in his life, it wasn’t just any woman he wanted.
It was one woman.
This woman.
Annie.
He grabbed his shirt from where it had fallen, hunted for his boots. His gun belt made metallic noise as he buckled it on. For one moment—one heedless, selfish moment—he had forgotten everything else, forgotten the world beyond this small shelter. But he couldn’t allow himself to forget. Didn’t want to forget.
Didn’t want any of the unfamiliar emotions that had stolen through him when Annie responded to his kiss, whispered his name. Gave herself to him. Shattered in his arms.
All he was willing to feel for her was desire, raw and physical and simple. That was all he wanted between them.
But if there were nothing but lust between them, he wouldn’t feel like hell now.
He headed for the door, grabbing his coat as he yanked it open. Outside, he pulled it shut behind him and went still for a moment, wincing, one hand braced against the rough wood—and not just because of the sudden, shocking brightness of the afternoon sun, or the bite of the snow against his face, or the pain stabbing through his temples.
What the hell had he done?
He thought of his sisters, and James’s widow Olivia, and young Peter and Cordelia. H
ow would they feel, if they knew that Lucas had developed this powerful attraction to James’s mistress? That he had taken her to bed.
He pictured all of them staring at him, their eyes filled with shock and betrayal.
Lucas straightened and moved away from the dugout, walking blindly into the falling snow, his coat flapping behind him in the wind. Instead of satisfying his desire for Annie, making love to her only left him feeling worse than before.
Hadn’t he stood in Fairfax’s saloon in Eminence not two days ago, telling Morgan O’Donnell that any man who just helped himself to a girl’s favors and then tossed her aside wasn’t worth a bucket of warm spit?
So what did that make him worth this afternoon?
Lucas kept walking, not liking the answer. His mouth hardened into a scowl. He had never had much charm or tact around women—but he had sunk to a new low these past couple of weeks. Whenever he was with Annie, he acted like someone he didn’t even know: hotheaded, irrational, impulsive.
And he seemed to conveniently keep forgetting that she was his prisoner. That she was in his custody. That he was supposed to keep his hands to himself—and it didn’t matter what he felt.
It was his duty to take her back to Missouri and hand her over for trial.
Even if he believed she was telling the truth.
He almost wished he didn’t. For the simple reason that he didn’t want to believe that his brother had acted like a heartless bastard toward a woman carrying his child. Didn’t want to accept that James wasn’t the good, kind, generous man Lucas had always thought him to be.
There was also the question of what had happened to the gun. The constables had never found it. So if she hadn’t taken it when she ran, where was it?
And yet, the story she’d told him was the only one that made sense.
The facts were just too plain. She had told the truth about wanting the baby. And giving away the money. He’d seen with his own eyes that she wasn’t cold-blooded. Wasn’t capable of murder.
All the evidence added up: It had been an accident.
A tragic, goddamned accident had taken James’s life—and cost the life of the child Annie had been carrying, and left two children without a father. And torn Lucas in half.
But did he believe her because of the facts?
Or because he wanted to believe her?
He lowered his head and hunched his shoulders as he walked toward the pines. Maybe he would find some sign of the missing damned horse. Maybe, in the light of day and the cold air, everything would get clearer. Including his senses and his thinking.
Or maybe, he thought sourly, he’d slip on a patch of ice and fall off a cliff and not have to think at all anymore.
Chapter 14
Impossible. That was the only word. The man was impossible to understand.
The first night in the cabin, Annie had slept only fitfully, but after making love to Lucas yesterday afternoon, she had slept all through the night. Had felt so safe and sheltered beside him that she had enjoyed the first peaceful sleep she’d known in a long time.
But then she’d awakened early this morning—to find herself alone in the bed.
Because he was stretched out on the dirt floor beside the stove, asleep.
At some point, he had apparently gotten up and decided not to come back. He had taken the wolf pelt and a few of the other furs down from the walls, piled them on the floor, and propped up his saddlebags at one end as a pillow. And he was fully clothed.
When she first opened her eyes, Annie had tried to tell herself that maybe it was some gesture of gallantry.
But that hope hadn’t even lasted as long as it took her to pick up her dress and underclothes and put them on.
Now, as she washed up at the basin in the corner, she began to feel more and more uneasy. Looking at her reflection in the fragment of mirror hung over the washbasin, she noticed her lips, swollen from his kisses, and her hair, tangled by his fingers. The delicate flesh between her thighs still felt sensitive from where he had joined their bodies together so powerfully.
What they had shared yesterday had been quick and hungry and... scorching, but at the time, she hadn’t regretted a moment of it, had given herself to him freely, with her heart.
But there had been only whispers of pleasure and sighs of passion between them, no words.
As she braided her hair, she frowned, telling herself she was asking the impossible. Lucas wasn’t the sort of man who ever revealed his feelings with words.
His tender embrace and what had followed had shown her how he felt. She thought—assumed—that he understood her now, that he believed the painful truth about her past that she had revealed yesterday. That he cared.
On the other hand, he hadn’t said so. Hadn’t said any of that.
All at once, her heart fluttered with uncertainty. She knew better than to assume what any man was feeling. Or rather, she should know better.
As she turned away from the mirror, she remained standing in the corner, watching him while he slept. Tendrils of regret began to twine through her. For weeks, she had been trying to convince Lucas she wasn’t a tramp—and now what had she done? Shared a torrid, passionate tryst with him. With no words of love or even caring between them.
Behaving like a wanton was probably not the best way to show that she wasn’t a wanton.
Annie looked at the dirt floor. She had told him everything yesterday, spilled out every painful fact about her life, but did he believe her—or did he still think the worst of her?
Could she really expect him to believe her, when the only proof she had to offer was her word? Lucas was a lawman. He made decisions based on facts and evidence.
Even if he did believe that James’s death had been an accident, she wasn’t sure he could ever forgive her. She was still the woman who had taken his brother’s life. It was her fault.
Every time Lucas looked at her, he must think that. And he always would.
She heard him stir. With a little gasp, she straightened, feeling breathless and flushed, as if she’d been running.
He sat up, raking his fingers through his disheveled hair.
“Why are you on the floor?” she blurted.
He blinked at her drowsily, looked startled to find her standing there. “I, uh...” He stood up, running a hand over his beard-stubbled face. “Went to look for the horse yesterday. Couldn’t find it.”
He looked away as he continued. “When I got back, you were still asleep, and there was a lot that needed to be done. I went through my saddlebags and divided our supplies into daily rations. Chopped more firewood. Then did some hunting. Came back last night with a brace of grouse and a rabbit.” He jerked a thumb toward the table.
For a man of few words, he was talking a lot.
And he still hadn’t answered her question.
“I see,” she said, clasping her hands in front of her, studying her interlaced fingers. “And why did you sleep on the floor?”
He fell silent for a moment.
And it wasn’t the cool, remote silence she’d gotten used to back in Eminence. This was more like a tense brooding.
“I thought it would be best if...” Again he paused.
She wished he would just tell her something simple, like he hadn’t wanted to disturb her sleep.
Or say the words she longed for.
I understand now. I believe you.
I forgive you.
I care about you.
“What happened yesterday was a mistake.”
Annie’s head came up and all the breath seemed to leave her lungs. His words pierced her heart, no less painful for being what she had expected.
He turned away, his back stiff, his voice unyielding. “It was a mistake,” he repeated, as if he wanted to make it absolutely clear. “It was a... moment of weakness. And it can’t happen again. It won’t happen again.”
He walked away from her as if there were no more to be said.
Annie just stood there, unable to
move, trying to blink away the burning feeling in her eyes.
She had thought Lucas cared about her, that he felt something for her—but she’d been wrong. What they had shared hadn’t meant anything to him.
She didn’t mean anything to him.
He was so upset with himself for giving in to a moment of weakness that he had left their bed. Didn’t even want to come near her again. Could hardly even look at her.
“Antoinette,” he said, his voice harsh, “I’m a federal marshal. You’re my—”
“Prisoner,” she choked out.
Annie, she wanted to say. Yesterday you called me Annie.
Her tears threatened to spill over. God help her, why hadn’t she learned? Men only thought about themselves.
She had wanted Lucas’s caring, his tenderness.
He had wanted sex. Any warm female body would have satisfied his needs. She had merely been conveniently close at hand.
And because Marshal Lucas McKenna viewed the whole world in terms of good and evil, saints and sinners, he had seen nothing wrong with taking what he wanted—because in his mind, she was permanently branded a sinner.
She stalked over to the stove and grabbed the empty water pail.
“Antoinette—”
“No, you’re right. It was a mistake.” Her voice wavered dangerously. She had to get out of here, didn’t want to cry in front of him. “And we’ll both make sure it never happens again.”
She walked to the door and went out, pulling it shut behind her, her vision blinded by tears. A muffled sob escaped her as she slumped back against the rough wood, dropping the bucket in the snow. She covered her eyes with both hands.
She was the biggest fool who had ever lived. A few kisses, one embrace, a caress on her cheek, and she had stupidly heard tender words that he’d never spoken, and assumed he was feeling emotions that he’d never felt.
Dreams. Stupid, foolish dreams. When would she learn?
And she might, right now, be carrying his child.
Annie took a deep, steadying breath, trying to assure herself that she couldn’t be pregnant. It had only been one time.
After Sundown Page 23
