“Well, it could have caused some real problems,” J.T. told him. “You don’t know how close you came to getting shot by me when I saw you down in that canyon and realized you’d been playing a double-edged game by being part of the gang.”
Cleary shrugged. “It was good cover, and they believed my story. It was the only way I could see to find out where the herd was being held. And now, let me tell you something.” His pause was short as he considered his words. “If I hadn’t been there, I’m not sure what would have happened to your wife, Flannery. Gus was swinging both ways and if push came to shove, I don’t know if he’d have been able to take her out of range of the bullets.”
J.T. lifted a hand as if to brush aside the man’s statement. “I don’t like being made a fool of. And lying to me puts you in a position that isn’t favorable to any sort of friendship between us.” He’d might as well spit it all out, he decided. “And another thing. I don’t like the way you look at my wife.”
“Looks don’t do much harm, as far as I can see,” Cleary said easily. “And in the case of your wife, she hasn’t got eyes for anyone but you, anyway. I’d think you’d know that.” His gaze shifted from the perusal of his boot, and focused on J.T.’s face. “You’ve got yourself a good woman, Flannery. If my being nice to her and appreciating the care she’s taken of me has made you sit up and take notice, then maybe you’ll recognize that the woman’s dotty about you.”
J.T. was silent, dwelling on the man’s casual assumption of Chloe’s feelings. “You know, if I doubted your word on that score for one minute, you’d be flat on your back, Cleary.”
Cleary smiled, yet his eyes were wary. “I’m not sure my shoulder would stand for that,” he said. “Guess I’d better get my gear together. If I can manage it, I’ll head for town in the morning. Micah said when he stopped in yesterday that the judge is back. There’ll be a quick trial, and they need me there as witness.”
“Will Chloe’s pal, Gus, be sent to Laramie to prison with the rest of them?” J.T. had evaded the subject for the past days, but now that things were coming to a head, it seemed a good time to make a stab at keeping Chloe on an even keel. She’d not done much talking since that first night, and right now his aim in life was to get his wife back to being the woman he’d married.
“I plan to vouch for him,” Cleary said. “He could have kept her in the forefront of the action, and she’d probably have been killed in the process. There sure wasn’t anyone else looking out for her.”
“Except you,” J.T. said dryly. “And those of us who were watching when things began to happen.”
Cleary shrugged and smiled. “I was just doing my job, Flannery. And your wife returned the favor when she loaded me on that stallion with her and hauled me into the trees. Not to mention stopping the blood flow.” He sobered and shifted in the chair. “I suspect the bottom line is that I owe her my life.”
“She’s tough,” J.T. said quietly. “Tough and strong. She’s a rancher, through and through, the way her father raised her to be.”
Cleary glanced up and J.T. caught sight of a look that might be construed as envy on the man’s face. “And you,” Cleary said with emphasis, “you’re the lucky son of a gun that managed to talk her into marriage. Women like Chloe don’t come down the pike every day.”
J.T. nodded his agreement. “I just happened to be at the right place at the right time. And smart enough to take advantage of a situation that Lady Luck threw in front of me.”
Micah showed up the next afternoon before supper and spent a few uncomfortable moments with J.T. on the back porch. His assumption that J.T. was aware of his suit brought about a moment of dead silence as he casually mentioned that he’d spoken to the minister of the small church in town. J.T.’s ear caught the unspoken innuendo.
“You going to make a stab at church-going?” he asked.
“I’ve been going to church for years,” Micah answered, his defenses well in place.
“Then what are you talking to the preacher about these days? Something going on that I’m not aware of?”
J.T. watched as Micah shot a look of inquiry at Chloe, who stood in the kitchen doorway, primed, it seemed, to call the men in for supper. She lifted her hands in a helpless motion and backed away, leaving Micah to J.T.’s mercy.
He had none to offer. Cleary’s leaving had done little to calm his temper, what with Chloe and Tilly being so gracious and giving instructions to the man to see the doctor in town. And now Micah seemed about to set things topsy-turvy here, with an agenda of his own in motion.
“I asked Tilly to marry me,” Micah said bluntly, his jaw set, ready, it seemed, to take on any challengers. “We’re gonna set a date tonight.”
“I’d think you’d have said something to Chloe about that, seeing as she’s all the family Tilly has hereabouts. I know the woman’s old enough to do as she pleases, but there’s a matter of simple courtesy involved.”
“I already did,” Micah said with a look of satisfaction. “And she’s all for the idea. And she told me and Tilly both that we’re welcome to stay on here after the wedding. Said there’s lots of room upstairs for us, and she doesn’t want to take a chance on Tilly moving away. I think Chloe needs her here.”
“And you’re going to ride back and forth to town every day?” J.T. looked skeptical as he voiced the query. “I can’t see that going on for long.”
“Nope,” Micah said firmly. “I’m getting beyond the time when I want to be out lookin’ for rustlers and such. Not that we’ve had much trouble with them before this last batch moved in. But Ripsaw Creek’s growing. It’ll be time to get us a sheriff, instead of just a town constable.” He removed his hat and J.T. noted that the man’s hair was more silver than brown, a fact he hadn’t considered before.
“Getting too old for the job?” He couldn’t resist the dig, even as he recognized Micah’s words to be valid. The man had to be nearing sixty, maybe even older, and by rights, should be able to take life easy.
“Nope, I’ll work till the day I die, I suspect,” Micah said. “Just not at tossing drunks in jail on Saturday night or lookin’ for the stray bad man. It’s a job for a younger man, I figure.”
“What kind of work you going to be looking for?” J.T. asked, thumbing his hat from his forehead. He stretched out in his chair, boots crossed at the ankle.
Micah cleared his throat. “Seems like there oughta be an opening somewhere hereabouts for a man who’s good with horses.”
“You think so?” J.T. slid upright and then stood. “The women have supper ready. Might’s well go see what Tilly’s cooked up.”
From the bunkhouse, Hogan and Tom headed toward them and J.T. motioned them to be on their way. “Time to eat. I was just going to ring the bell.”
Micah was left to ponder throughout the meal, and J.T. enjoyed his silence. Having the last word seemed to improve his mood lately.
“You still talking to me?” Chloe asked, looking in the mirror at J.T.’s reflection as he stood in the bedroom doorway. “I think I can count on one hand the times you’ve said two words to me in the last five days.”
“You’ve been busy, and I didn’t see much of you. Guess there wasn’t much to talk about,” he said, unbuttoning his shirt and letting it hang over his trousers as he sat to pull off his boots. With a muffled grunt, he tugged at one, then the other, avoiding her gaze, as if undressing was the most important thing on his mind. And so it seemed to be, Chloe thought, her brush strokes reaching through to her scalp as she wielded the instrument.
Naked in less than a minute, J.T. walked across the room, and Chloe’s eyes widened as he stood behind her. “You gonna take all night messin’ with your hair?” he asked, deliberately slurring his words as his voice deepened and his eyelids lowered to effectively obscure the dark orbs from her sight. His hand reached to take the brush from her fingers as she sought for an answer, and she tightened her grip.
“I know how to brush my hair without your help.” If he wanted
to be ornery, she could match his mood with very little effort.
She found her fingers pried from the wooden handle as his big hand lifted the brush from her grasp. “I have no doubt of that,” he said, his voice a rusty sound that drew her attention. One hand gathered up the dark length of her hair and the other pulled the brush through it. “I was just wondering,” he said, his voice a slow caress, “whether you were missing your patient tonight.”
Chloe rose, an abrupt movement that brought quick tears to her eyes as J.T.’s grip on her hair pulled her head back. She reached behind her, her hands coming in contact with the hard muscular length of his thighs, and then her fingertips brushed against the full length of a male arousal, and she caught her breath.
“Find something you like?” His grip on her hair lessened, his fingers sliding through the strands, and then he turned her toward himself, tossing the brush to the top of her dressing table. She felt her face flush, wishing desperately that the telltale warmth would not so blatantly give away her confusion and embarrassment.
“Haven’t seen enough of it lately to know whether I like it or not,” she said, and then pressed her lips together, regretting her sharp tongue and the words she’d harbored in her heart for the past days. She’d had no intention of speaking them aloud, but J.T.’s crude question had triggered her quick temper and now she rued her big mouth.
His grin was immediate and his hands moved to the front of her dressing gown, sliding the buttons from their moorings with deft movements. “I think we can fix up that lack in no time flat, sweetheart.” No matter that she gripped the front of her robe and the nightgown beneath it, she was no match for his strength and the power of his desire. He tossed the garments aside and Chloe straightened her shoulders and stiffened her spine as he tilted his head to one side and conducted a long survey of her body.
“I’d say you’re about the best-lookin’ woman I’ve ever seen, Mrs. Flannery,” he announced in a low voice. “And I don’t see any bruises that’d keep me from making love to you tonight. You got a problem with that?”
She felt anger rise, knew a moment of pure fury as he lifted her and tossed her in the middle of the bed. And then he covered her with his body, and her breath left her lungs with a whoosh.
“I want to tell you, lady,” he began, his words a hushed whisper as he leaned over her. “I’ve been looking at you for the past few days, wishing I dared put my hands on you, and all I saw was your sweet little fanny moving away from me, trottin’ around after that idiot who got himself shot and then took over a bedroom in this house.”
She felt a stirring in her depths as his narrowed eyes focused on her face. They were dark, flaring with an emotion she suspected rode the line between desire and aggravation. The foolish man was jealous. And that thought pleased her immensely. She wiggled beneath him, moving her legs to either side of his.
“You’re my wife, and don’t you ever forget it,” he whispered, one hand moving to tilt her face upward as he bent to place his mouth against hers.
“Did you think I had?” she murmured, even as his lips parted and his tongue touched her upper lip.
“That man had eyes for you.” She thought she heard a note of petulance in his voice, and she smiled against his kiss. “I won’t have it,” he whispered, his breath warm against her cheek as he dropped a series of small kisses there.
“I don’t blame you, but you sure don’t have anything to worry about,” she said quietly. Her fingers touched his cheek, a gentle caress she could not resist bestowing. “If another woman looked at you, I’d have a genuine hissy fit, and she’d be running for her life.”
He lifted his head. “Is that so?” A hopeful light took the place of aggravation and then he grinned, his smile matching hers. “You’d have a hissy fit, would you?”
“Is that what you’re doing?” she asked, her fingers sliding down to anchor themselves in the curls that covered his chest.
He thought a moment and then nodded. “I guess I am. I’ve been half mad at the world ever since Cleary got here. Especially when you and Tilly were giving him the royal treatment, after he’d lied his way in here and played both ends against the middle.”
“He was doing as he was told,” she said. “I thought he would have explained that to you.”
“He did. Didn’t make me feel any better.”
“And then Micah came courting and you felt left out, didn’t you?” Her arms snaked around his neck and her fingers slid into the depths of dark hair. “In all the fuss that was going on we didn’t get a chance to talk about him and Tilly.” She paused and waited a moment, until his eyes met hers. “That’s my fault, Jay. I should have taken time to tell you about it. Forgive me?”
“Damn, you sure know how to get around me, lady,” he murmured. “I’m all set to be mad at you and in a few short words, you take all the wind out of my sails, and set me to thinking about being nice instead of being ornery as the dickens.”
“I was thinking hard thoughts about giving you a bad time,” she admitted. “And then I realized I need you too much to waste time arguing.”
“You need me? Honey, you don’t know the meaning of the word. I’m horny as hell right now. I’ve been without your arms around me for too long, and all I had to hold me over was snugglin’ behind your back the last couple of nights.”
“You snuggled me?” she asked. “I thought you slept way over there on your side of the bed.”
“After you went to sleep, I just kinda took advantage,” he admitted. “Couldn’t stand having all that mattress between us.”
“And what do you call this?” she asked. “I’d say you’re taking advantage in a big way, Flannery.”
“Big?” he asked, moving his hips against her.
He was cocky all right. Arrogant as the dickens and cocky, to boot. And in spite of it, she loved him more than she’d ever thought she could love a man. A swell of emotion took her breath as he looked down at her and she saw a tenderness apparent on his face that filled her with joy.
“You know I love you, don’t you?” she asked, inviting his kiss as she touched his face again with her fingertips, holding him in place and lifting her head a bit to press her mouth against his throat. “I don’t give two shakes for any other man in the world, Flannery. You’ve got me right where you want me.”
“Yeah, I’ll go along with that,” he said, holding his breath as her fingers again slid to his chest, seeking the tiny, firm buttons that hid in the curls. “Right there, sweetheart,” he whispered, his breath catching as he spoke the name he was wont to call her.
And then, as if his patience was at an end, he rolled to his back, and with an ease that took her breath, he lifted her to sit astride him. “The lamp’s still lit,” she said quickly, and I don’t have anything on.”
“We can fix that. Lean over and blow it out.” His grin teased her and she glanced toward the window. It faced the front of the house and the probability of anyone being within seeing distance was next to nothing, but she could not chance it. She leaned toward the small bedside table and in so doing exposed her breast to his close scrutiny.
He was still and silent, waiting for her to extinguish the light, and at the sound of the lamp chimney touching the base, he moved. Long fingers lifted the tender weight as his hand guided her breast closer, and she found herself imprisoned by his mouth, his hands forming her, his teeth and tongue drawing at the sensitive flesh. She tilted her head back, relishing the hot, tugging sensations, each movement firing currents within her. Deep within her body, a small set of muscles twitched in response to the teasing play of lips and teeth, and she groaned beneath her breath.
“Like that, do you?” he murmured against her damp flesh, and before she could form a reply, he searched in the darkness, nuzzling her, seeking the mate to the puckered crest he had suckled with such skill. She rocked against him, in time with the movement of his mouth, and warmth swept through her as if she had been too close to the fire, making her skin hot and prick
ly, yet covering her with chill bumps at the same time.
“Jay!” It was a whimper of delight and he lifted her, shifting her to settle again atop his hips, where the hard ridge of his arousal pressed against her open legs. She wiggled against it and he moaned aloud. Lifting, she attempted to capture it inside her body, but it eluded her movements and a soft whispered word escaped her lips.
“You shouldn’t be usin’ language like that,” he muttered, lifting his hips, the better to make himself accessible to her maneuverings.
“I don’t usually,” she said beneath her breath, aware of his hands plying her breasts, then sliding down her belly, his fingers moving in an intricate dance against the flesh that she’d exposed to his touch. “I only cuss when I’m frustrated,” she told him in a harsh whisper.
“Well, never let it be said that I’d let my wife be frustrated,” he purred, his fingers working to ease the fullness of his arousal into her narrow channel. “Ahh…” His goal accomplished, he sought the depths of her, and then lifted her a few inches, only to slide her back down his length. “My, that’s nice,” he said quietly, repeating the movement.
She was beyond words, caught up in the rhythm he set, only able to hold her own with his hands on her hips, moving her as he would. And then she bent forward over him, sobbing his name.
“Jay, I can’t do this.” She clung, wrapping her arms around him, her fingers scrambling beneath his back to better grip his body. Breathless, she inhaled deeply, shivering from the pounding of her heart, the trembling of her limbs. He turned with her, rolling her again to lie beneath him, and she curled her legs around his. Lifting to his thrust, her hands pressed against his back, and she was wrapped in the heat of his embrace.
It was good. It was more than good, she thought, as sensations of fullness and completion surrounded her. She tingled, her breasts taut and full against his chest. Trembling, aching with the need for his whispers of praise, she clung to him. And then she felt the song of triumph burst within her as he called to her, his mouth seeking and finding hers, spilling the sound of her name over and over against her lips, then against the strong lines of her throat.
A Marriage By Chance Page 25
