by Lily Graison
If Sarah knew anything about proper society it was that ladies did not stay in hotel rooms alone. She smiled again, baring her teeth before saying, “Yes. He’s seeing to other things at the moment.”
The man looked as if he doubted her but handed her a key nonetheless. She asked for clean linens and water to be sent to the room before leaving the hotel and heading straight for the nearest dress shop. She counted the remaining money she had, setting back enough for the stagecoach and sighed at what remained. She would have to forgo her usual finery and settle for a simple dress to replace the dirty, torn, one she now wore.
Greeting the woman inside the store upon entering, Sarah told her what she needed and hoped she wouldn’t come out looking like a beggar.
* * * *
The whiskey in his glass tasted like horse piss but Colt downed it and ordered another, turning to look across the room. As saloons went, this one was pretty standard. The chairs were filled with cowpokes and ranchers cheating at cards and vying for the attention of the soiled doves flitting around the room. The air was stale with the stench of unwashed bodies and alcohol and the desire to wash the trail dust from his skin and clothes was strong. He could get a hot bath, accompanied by a soft feminine body for a price, and rid himself of thoughts of Sarah.
Thinking of her had him looking out over the swinging doors to the street. He hadn’t been able to think of much else since she sashayed away from him, taking his money with her. He’d given her enough to buy what she needed but from the moment he saw her, he knew she was a woman used to the finest things in life. Dresses made from the softest fabrics caressed her body and he doubted she had enough left over from her telegraph, hotel room and stagecoach ticket purchases to afford much more than simple gingham in an unflattering design. Not that he cared but if he were honest with himself, he’d know her current predicament was his entire fault. He’d brought the gang to town, placing her in Virgil’s path. Taking her when he’d tried to outrun them was for her own good but now she was far from home with no one to protect her but him. And what had he done? Let her walk away without a word.
He swallowed the remaining whiskey in his glass and started for the door only to be stopped by a pair of soft hands on his hips. He turned, his gaze landing on a tiny blonde with enough face paint on to cover half the women in the building.
She smiled up at him and fluttered her lashes. “You’re not leaving now, are you?”
Colt opened his mouth to reply but was joined by another woman, a brunette, her arms wrapping around his waist before he could say a word.
She grinned at the blonde before looking up at him. “You just got here, handsome. Come buy us a drink and we’ll see if we can’t get that frown on your face to disappear for good.”
* * * *
Sarah was clean, tucked into a real bed, at last, and almost asleep when she heard a noise outside her door. Someone banged on it moments later and her heart nearly jumped out of her chest. She sat up, pulled the sheets to her chin and listened. There wasn’t a sound for long minutes but a soft scratching noise drew her attention moments later.
Rising, she wrapped the sheet around her and tiptoed to the door, laying her ear against the wood. The banging started again, nearly deafening her, before her name joined the noise.
“Sarah!”
She rolled her eyes. She’d know that voice anywhere. Reaching for the latch, she unhooked it and pulled the door open. Colt toppled into the room, landing on her feet, stinking of whiskey and cheap perfume. “What on earth do you think you’re doing?”
“Falling at your feets, sweetheart.” He grinned and peered up at her. “Did you miss me?”
“Why would I?”
His mischievous grin was followed by his hand rising and grabbing the hem of her chemise, pulling it away from her legs enough to look under it. She reached down and slapped him. “Stop that.” She took a step away from him and watched him blink sleepily at her before she sighed. “Are you drunk?”
He made a sound deep in his throat before shaking his head. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” She laughed. “I think you are, Mr…., what is your last name?”
“Avery.” He grinned up at her, tilting his head back. She suspected to try and see up her shift again. “Colton Avery but don’t be spreadin’ it ‘round. I’m an outlaw, you know.”
Sarah laid a hand to her hip when he brought a finger to his lips and made the “shhshing” noise at her. She knew full well he was an outlaw, which was precisely why he needed to go. “Get off the floor, Colt.” She pulled the sheet tighter around her and pursed her lips. “And then crawl back out into the hall. This is my room and I intend to occupy it alone.”
He shook his head before rolling over onto his back. He crossed his hands across his stomach and blinked lazily at the ceiling. “Can’t do. Done told the man’s my room so I gotta stay.”
“What man? And you’re not staying in my room.” He rolled again, lifting himself to his knees before crawling fully into the room. “Colt, you’re not staying here.”
He ignored her, collapsing at the foot of her bed. A noise in the hall drew Sarah’s attention and a man peering inside the door was enough for her outrage to intensify. She slammed the door in his face.
Colt was facedown on the floor, his hands tucked under his cheek. The desire to leave him there, lying in lord only knows what was on the floor was strong but she needed him gone. People would talk if they found him in her room.
Walking to the small table by the window, she threw off the sheet she’d wrapped around herself and picked up the water pitcher before turning and dumping what little bath water she had left on his head. His howl of outrage was loud enough to wake half the town.
He sat up, scowled, and blinked bloodshot eyes at her. His gaze traveled the length of her before resting on her breasts, his eyes focusing before he threw her a lopsided grin. “I can see through your shift.”
Sarah gasped and tossed the pitcher to the bed and snatched her sheet off the floor, covering herself. “Colt, I need you to go. Now.”
Colt raised his hand, swiping his wet hair out of his eyes and something in the way he was looking at her caused Sarah’s pulse to leap. She’d seen that look before. It was the day he’d kissed her. The day he’d more or less said he wanted to bed her. The memory of his words caused her stomach to clench as she realized they were alone, in a room with a bed and she was standing in nothing but her thin muslin shift and a sheet.
Seeing him sway, she took in his clothes, the wrinkles deeply imbedded into the material. The top three buttons of his shirt was undone, the light dusting of dark hair on his chest visible. A shady smudge of some sort was on his neck. Sarah tilted her head a bit to see it more clearly. It looked like a bruise of some kind. She noticed another lower down at the base of his throat.
Staring at the bruises, realization dawned on her. She’d seen marks like that before. Her father had nearly whipped one of the house servants for being loose and coming into the house with “love bites” as he’d called them, on her neck. The shape of Colt’s marks, and their location, led her to believe someone had put them there.
Remembering he’d been in the saloon all evening, it wasn’t hard to guess how the marks had gotten there. The painted ladies above the saloon, she’d imagine.
A vision of someone kissing his neck flashed through her head and the ridiculous irritation she felt then left her hands trembling. Her heart started racing and she clenched her fists to keep from knocking him silly. He’d been with one of those—women and had come crawling back to her. How dare he!
Lifting her chin, she clutched the sheet tighter to her chest. “What’s wrong, Colt? Did the ladies at the saloon not satisfy you?”
He laughed and shook his head. “Nope. They talk too much.” He slid his gaze over her again, lingering on her bare feet and ankles before rising to her face. “They also smell, wear too much paint on their face and aren’t half as beautiful as you.” He stared at her, gave her another goofy gr
in and called her, “his sweetheart.”
On any other day the compliment on her beauty would have flattered her until her face heated and she blushed like a schoolgirl. Today, the words were followed by a tiny voice inside her head telling her he was drunk. His bloodshot eyes were testament to that. He could barely look at her and keep his eyes open.
She gritted her teeth and crossed the space between them and grabbed his arm. “Let’s go, Colt. You’re not sleeping in my room.”
Trying to lift him from the floor was easier said than done. One good tug and his body shifted but it wasn’t in the direction she wanted. He leaned heavily to one side, teetered dangerously before he reached out and grabbed her, pulling her with him to the floor.
Sarah’s startled yell died when they landed with a thud, the sheet she’d wrapped herself in tangling around their bodies and effectively trapping her under him. His laughter only made matters worse. She tried lifting her arms to push him off of her but couldn’t lift so much as a hand.
Closing her eyes, Sarah took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves while Colt got his laugh. When he stopped, she looked up at him. He was staring at her, that lust filled look directed at her again. Her pulse leaped. She realized the position they were in seconds later. He was half on top of her, one long leg pressing against her inner thighs and she could feel him against her hip, thick and growing harder by the second. She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. “Colt, let me up.”
He shook his head, his gaze resting on her lips. “Don’t want to, sweetheart.”
“I’m not your sweetheart.”
Lifting his hand, he ran his index finger over her bottom lip. “You will be.” He shifted, lying half on top of her, his fingers sliding across her cheek. His eyes lifted to hers and Sarah could tell he was serious. He smelled like he’d crawled across the floor of the saloon but there was too much clarity in his eyes for him to be as drunk as she first thought.
“Let me up, Colt.”
“Not yet.” He continued to stare at her, his fingers a light caress on her face before he ran them down her throat and over the skin along the edge of her shift. She remembered him saying he could see through the material and her nipples hardened at the thought he could see them now.
After long minutes of him doing nothing but staring at her breasts, Sarah sighed. “Colt, what are you doing?”
“Lookin’ at ya.”
“I can see that. Why?”
“You won’t let me bed ya. Lookings alls left.”
Sarah opened her mouth to reply but was at a loss for words. What was she supposed to say? He still wanted to bed her and her reasons for not letting him do so were still the same. Not to mention the fact that he was intoxicated and had probably already spent more hours rolling around the sheets with some woman at the saloon than she wanted to think about.
He grabbed the ribbon holding her shift together and Sarah struggled beneath him until his hand stilled. “Colt.”
“Why?”
She blinked at him. “Why what?”
“Why can’t I bed ya? Do you really not like me?” He grinned again. “I’m real purdy. My ma told me so.”
A small laugh bubbled up and Sarah let it escape before she could stop it. “You being ‘purdy’ has nothing to do with it, Colt. You’re an outlaw.”
“I’m not a bad man.”
“An outlaw isn’t a bad man?” It was her turn to grin. “Since when?”
He leaned down close to her face and whispered. “I’m not really an outlaw.” He looked toward the door like someone was there listening before facing her again. “I’m a US Marshal but don’t tell anybody. I’ll have to kill ya if ya do.”
Sarah stared at him and took back her assessment of him not being that drunk. The US Marshal statement confirmed he was. Right? “You’re a US Marshal?”
“Yep.”
“Since when?”
“Since… um, always.” He inhaled a breath and reached for the ribbon tying her shift closed. “No more talking, sweetheart. I want you and I aim to have ya.” He untied the ribbon and pulled the material apart, exposing a good portion of her breasts. Sarah gasped and yelled his name, struggling underneath him. He stopped and looked up at her and she could see the clarity she’d seen moments ago, again filled his eyes.
He stared down at her for long moments before he flung himself away, falling to the floor beside her hard enough his head smacked against the wooden boards. Sarah stared at the ceiling, wondering if he would have really had his way with her against her wishes.
Turning her head to look at him she saw his eyes were closed, small lines bracketing the edges he was holding them shut so tightly. He wouldn’t have taken her by force. She wasn’t sure how she knew but she did. Colt may be an outlaw but he was a decent man. Other than stealing a kiss and saying a few unseemly things to her he hadn’t touched her. Not before tonight, he hadn’t.
Rolling to her side, Sarah leaned up on one elbow to look at him. “Colt?”
He opened his eyes and one corner of his mouth tilted in an apparent smile. “I’m gonna make you beg for it.”
“Excuse me?”
That lopsided grin turned into a full-blown smile as Colt rolled to face her, propping his weigh onto his elbow to be eye level with her. “By the time we part ways, sweetheart, you’ll beg me to bed you. You’ll crave me like I crave you.”
He craves her? She didn’t know whether to be flattered by his admission or laugh at how ridiculous he sounded. He was intoxicated, after all. He probably wouldn’t even remember half of what he was saying by morning. She wondered what he’d be willing to tell her in his current state and wanted to test her theory.
“You said Virgil and his men were after you because you turned them over to US Marshals. Why would you do that if you led their group?”
Colt laughed, an amused look in his eye. “Told you, I’m a US Marshal. It’s what I do.”
Sarah narrowed her eyes at him. “What do you do?”
He sighed, closed his eyes, and shook his head. When he looked back up at her, the clarity she’d seen earlier in his eyes made him look less intoxicated and more tired. “I find the outlaws no one can catch, then worm my way into their gangs, set up a heist, then turn them all over to US Marshals when its all said and done. I catch the bad guys when no one else can.”
The way he explained it made it sound so—true. Sarah stared at him and wondered if this tale was just a drunken delusion on his part or if he was in fact telling her what he did for a living. Pursing her lips, she contemplated his words and shook her head. “I don’t believe you.”
He laughed again, the sound so light-hearted she couldn’t help but smile. “It’s why I’m perfect for the job. Who would believe someone as dangerous looking as me to be one of the good guys?”
“I’m not sure how dangerous you are, Colt, but you’re obviously a good liar.”
“I’ve not lied to you.”
“If you say so.” She crawled from the floor and gained her feet, staring down at him as she retied her shift. He was staring up at her, an unreadable look on his face. “You have to leave.”
“I know.” He rolled over onto his back again and closed his eyes. “Just give me a minute. My head is spinning.”
Sarah waited, and waited some more. The longer she stood there, the more aggravated she became. When he made no attempt to get up, she prodded him with her foot. “Colt.”
He didn’t move. A few more well placed jabs at his side with her foot and Sarah realized he’d passed out. On her floor. “Great.”
Chapter Six
Waking in a semi-soft bed was bliss compared to waking on the hard ground, covered in dew from the grass and smelling wet earth. Sarah smiled and stretched her body, only to still a moment later. She wasn’t alone.
