She was nearly there when a shadow separated itself from the tree trunk.
“What are you doing out here?” said a harsh voice.
Ash. Sunny sagged with relief. Then, trying to deny the quiver beneath her breastbone, she stepped closer and shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep.”
Ash swore silently, wishing desperately for a smoke. Wishing she hadn’t come out here. Wishing she wore something other than a thin nightgown that glowed pale in the darkness and pressed itself against her shape like a kid glove. Wishing he couldn’t see the yearning in her face.
“Go back to bed, Sunny.”
She took a step closer. “I don’t think so.”
God, she was going to do it again. She was going to come at him and destroy every ounce of his self-control. “I mean it, Sunny. Go back inside.”
She took another step. “And if I don’t?”
“This isn’t like the last time.” The deep throbbing pulse in his groin turned his voice harsh. “This time I’m really leaving.”
“I know that.”
How the hell could she sound so calm, when he could barely catch his breath for wanting her? “Do you?”
Another step. “Yes.”
“Then what the hell are you doing here?” Lord, she was almost close enough to touch. She was close enough for him to see what the sudden coolness in the damp wind did to her nipples beneath the thin cotton of her gown.
“Where else should I be?” she asked him.
Ash ground his teeth in frustration. She knew damn well what she was doing to him. She knew what it cost him to keep from touching her. “You should be with some nice, respectable shopkeeper’s son.”
Her laugh sounded harsh on the wind. Thunder echoed it. “By respectable, I assume you mean someone who’d have trouble finding his way underneath my gown.”
“It’s a damn sight better than what a man like me would do to you!”
Thunder boomed closer, and lightning flashed in the hills. The wind shifted abruptly, now coming out of the north. The limbs of the old cottonwood groaned and creaked in protest at the violent gusts.
Sunny stood braced against the elements, the calm eye of the storm, and kept him trapped in her bold gaze. Trapped, like a rabbit in a snare. “What would a man like you do to me?” she asked.
It was a taunt. A dare. A challenge. And she won. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her against him. “This,” he said. He kissed her hard, letting his need of her take control. Somewhere in his mind hid the half-hearted hope that the violence of his passion would scare her off, or make her mad enough to shove him away and run back to the house, where she’d be safe. From the storm. From him.
But he didn’t want her to shove him away. He wanted to pull her to the ground and lose himself in her, the storm be damned.
With lips and tongues and teeth, the kiss became more than a kiss. It became a mating of mouths and minds. Wants and needs. Hearts and souls.
Before he realized what he was doing, Ash backed Sunny against the tree trunk, his mouth still clinging to hers, and held her hands in one of his over her head. With his other hand, he rediscovered every curve of her body, settling on a heaving breast barely covered by thin cotton.
He shouldn’t be doing this. Dear God, this was Sunny. He couldn’t take her up against a tree! He tore his mouth from hers and gasped for breath. “Tell me to stop, Sunny,” he pleaded. “Tell me to let you go.”
Ash.
Had she whispered his name, or was it the wind?
“For God’s sake, Sunny, tell me…”
“Let go of my hands.”
Relief and devastation warred in his chest. Let go…He dropped his forehead to hers and released her hands.
“That’s better,” she whispered. Then her arms, delicate and trembling, wound themselves around his neck and pulled him closer.
Stunned, Ash raised his head. She trailed hot, most kisses along his jaw. He pulled back slightly. “This won’t change anything, Sunny. I’m still leaving in the morning.”
As her lips closed over his, she said, “I know.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
Her hands slid down and tugged his shirt from his pants. When her cool fingers spread across the skin of his stomach, he was lost. He leaned in to her, forcing her flush against the tree, and let her feel the hardness that ached for her.
He was hers. Sunny reveled in the knowledge, even as tears formed, for she knew he was right. This time, he really would leave. But not yet. Not right now. Right now, he was hers.
She tugged his shirt off and threw it to the ground. His skin, ah, his skin. With greedy hands, she touched all of it she could reach.
When he fumbled with the buttons on her gown, she tried to help him. But he pushed her hands away and tugged. Buttons popped loose, cloth ripped. She didn’t care. His fierceness only spurred her on. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.”
Frantic, calloused fingers pushed her gown off her shoulders, then trailed over her breasts and ribs. The empty ache inside her grew. The heat flared. When he lifted her in his arms and took a nipple in his mouth, she cried out and wrapped her legs around his waist, hanging on…hanging on.
If only she could hang on to him forever.
The rain came, rattling against the leaves above them, roaring in their ears. “We’ll be drenched,” Ash said against her breast.
She clutched his head to her. “I don’t care. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”
With her fingers in his hair, the sweet smell of lilacs clouding his brain, and the tip of her breast beading against his tongue, her words, the desperate passion in her voice, snapped what little remained of Ash’s control. He had to have her. Here. Now.
He wouldn’t think of tomorrow, of leaving her. With her legs wrapped tight around his waist and her gown bunched up around her hips, it was simple enough to free himself from his pants and pull her down onto him. He did it. The deep groan he knew was his came from knowing that finally, once again, and for the last time in his life, he was right where he belonged, buried deep inside the only woman who would ever matter to him.
Thunder rumbled, and the ground shook. Or was it only his quaking need of Sunny? His name, coming hot and sweet from her lips, over and over again, drove him on. Harder. Faster.
Sunny clung with all her might, relishing each claiming, aggressive thrust of his body into hers. She’d never known such madness, such glory. Tears mixed with rain on her face, and she didn’t care. She let them come, cleansing her, freeing her to feel everything, every touch of Ash’s fingers, every thrust of his body, until it felt as though he touched her very soul.
He took her higher and higher. The aching tension in her wound tighter. So tight, she knew she would soon explode. And she did. Over and over, as a white, hot release convulsed her body.
Ash felt her climax, and it was his undoing. An instant later, he cried out harshly and gave one final, fierce thrust, spilling all he had, his very life, into the sweet shelter of her depths.
Before he caught his breath, he knew his legs weren’t going to hold him. Gently, reluctantly, with arms trembling, he eased them apart. Then he cradled her in his arms and sank to the ground. There he leaned against the tree and held her. He kissed the rain from her cheeks and tasted the salt of tears.
“I’m sorry, God, Sunshine, I’m sorry.”
She cupped his face in shaking hands and pressed her lips to his. “No,” she whispered. “Don’t be sorry. Not for this. Never for this.”
She had more than satisfied the ache of his flesh, but what could take away the pain in his heart, the huge lump in his throat? He pressed her head to his shoulder and held her, feeling their time together seep away, as the storm swept on toward the east.
When the rain stopped, he knew it was time. He couldn’t put it off. He feared if he stayed, if he held her even one more minute, his resolve would crumble. And for her sake, he couldn’t let that happen.
He rose and carried h
er to the back door, where he stood her on her feet. One kiss. One tender reminder. A last farewell. As he pulled away, their lips clung until the last possible moment. “Good-bye, Sunshine.”
He left her standing there, wet, bedraggled, looking more beautiful than a vision, with her breasts and legs still bared by the gown bunched around her waist. Every step he took drove a stab of pain straight through his gut.
Good-bye, Sunshine.
In the gray morning light, Sunny stood before the front window hugging herself. She was so cold. When Ash had left her on the porch, rain still dripping from the roof, she’d cried for an hour while drying her hair and changing clothes.
She watched now, dry-eyed, while Ash saddled up and rode out. She wanted to cry again. She couldn’t—she was too empty.
He rode east toward town and the growing light on the gray horizon. At the bend in the road, just before it rounded the hill, he stopped and looked back.
She nearly broke.
After a long moment, he turned and disappeared into the rising sun.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Well now,” Sheriff Jamison said when Ash walked in to Ella’s. “You said you’d be back today. Glad to see you keep your word, b—”
Ash glared at him. If the sonofabitch called him “boy,” Ash knew he’d end up spending at least one night in jail for assaulting the town sheriff.
“Uh,” Jamison said, “uh, glad to see you.”
Ella stepped into the hall from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “So, you left her there all alone, did you?”
“Leave him be, Ella. The man did what he had to do.”
Stunned by the sheriff’s sudden show of support, Ash was momentarily speechless. But not the sheriff.
“So what are your plans now, McCord? You gonna stick around or move on?”
“If he wants to tell you his plans, he can do it over lunch,” Ella said.
Ash shook his head. “Thanks, Ella, but I can’t stay for lunch. And neither can you,” he told Jamison.
“Come again?”
“You and I are going to take a little ride out to Baxter’s.”
Jamison narrowed his eyes. “Now why would we be wanting to do a thing like that, when he’s probably over at the bank right now?”
“I’m going to talk to Maria. I’d…appreciate it—” God, how it galled him to ask this man for anything “—if you’d come with me.”
Jamison nodded slowly. “Maria. Yeah, I’ll ride with you. It’s all over town how she nearly died of fright the other day when she saw you.”
Ash snorted. “I’ll bet.” He’d also bet that wasn’t the only thing that was all over town. The gossips were probably having a field day speculating on him and Sunny.
“Of course, they’re kinda divided on just why she was so scared. Some think she’s just plain frightened of the man who shot her boss, scared maybe he’ll shoot her to get even for her part in sending him to prison. Others,” he said eyeing Ella, “others think more or less the same thing, but they say she’s scared because it was her lies that sent you to prison. I’m kind curious to see if I can figure out for myself just which ones are right.”
The smallest breeze could have blown Ash over. He couldn’t have heard right. Jed Jamison couldn’t actually be having second thoughts about Ash’s guilt. It wasn’t possible. And yet…
“What’ll do if you can’t get her to change her story? Gonna try talking to Gus?”
“You know as well as I do talking won’t work with Gus. If Baxter told him to put his own gun to his head and shoot himself, Gus would do it without question.”
Jamison nodded. “I suspect you’re right about that. Let’s go talk to Maria.”
Ash stared in amazement, unable to comprehend the sheriff’s sudden change in attitude.
“Well, you comin’?” Jamison asked.
Ash looked to Ella, silently asking, Is this happening?
The glow in her smile and the tears in her eyes told him that maybe, just maybe, it really was.
In a daze, he put his hat back on and followed Jamison to the livery. Within minutes the two men were riding out of town toward the Bar B.
Hope. It was a scary thing. It let loose dreams better kept hidden. It made him think of golden hair and laughing, loving eyes. Of soft hands and softer lips. Of lilacs. Of tree trunks and rain-slicked skin.
He swore. That kind of thinking would get him nowhere. In the end it wouldn’t matter that Jamison questioned Ash’s guilt. It wouldn’t really even matter much, except to Ash, if Maria told the truth and his name was cleared. There were still those in town who would never see past his prison record, past the name “back-shooter” that would hang over his head the rest of his life.
He couldn’t subject Sunny to that. Not now, not ever.
You could take her somewhere else, a voice whispered.
Yet even as the thought enticed him, even though he knew she’d go anywhere in the world with him, and drag her sisters along if necessary, Ash forced the dream aside.
She didn’t deserve a man who’d take her up against a goddamn tree. He was nothing better than an ex-convict drifter with no means to support a wife and family.
Wife!
The word made him nearly double over with pain.
When had he let that particular dream get such a firm hold on his heart?
“Sunshine.”
Ash didn’t realize he’d spoken her name aloud until the sheriff questioned him. Then he felt himself blushing. Lord, he was losing his grip on reality. Talking to himself. Blushing. He shook his head. “The sun feels good,” he finally said.
“Yeah. Glad winter’s over.”
“Tell me something, Jamison.”
“What’s that?”
“Why are you being so…cooperative all of a sudden?”
“Just trying to get at the truth.”
“Hell. According to you, you’ve known the truth all along.”
Underneath his weathered tan, Jamison flushed. “People make mistakes.”
Ash nearly fell off his horse on that one. Then he chuckled. “What’s the matter, Sheriff, Ella been burning your supper because you wouldn’t listen to her?”
Incredibly, Jamison’s face turned even redder. “Let’s leave her outa this.”
Ash laughed outright. “Or maybe—didn’t somebody say something about a marriage proposal yesterday? What’d she do, refuse to marry you because of me?”
At the heated glare Jamison shot him, Ash knew he’d hit it. Ella’s staunch defense of him was no laughing matter, but he couldn’t help but laugh. Watching Jamison squirm was down right amusing.
“Mind, I ain’t saying I made a mistake where you’re concerned,” the sheriff told him. “Even if your pa was unarmed, that might make Baxter a murderer, but you still shot a man in the back. In my book, there’s no excuse for that.”
“Never?”
“Never.”
At one o’clock William Davis left the hotel and headed for the bank. His note to Baxter had said he’d be there after lunch. It was after lunch.
What he would say to the man, he still wasn’t sure. He wasn’t even sure why he was in Cottonwood Crossing, except that Melissa had talked him into it.
She’d had some crazy notion—or, knowing Baxter, maybe not so crazy—that something terrible was going to happen. Will had tried to put it down to female hysterics, except there wasn’t a less hysterical woman in the world than his wife. If Melissa said something was wrong, then something was wrong.
Then he’d got that report from Hatcher. Hatcher, who’d been found in a San Antonio alley with his throat slit the day after Ian Baxter had lost all that money to Will back in February.
Will had assigned Hatcher the job of watching Baxter’s pet dog, Gus. Gus, who, once in a great while, liked to drink too much. And when he drank too much, he talked.
Hatcher had written it all down, but had hidden the report, probably waiting until Baxter and Gus left town before prese
nting it. He’d never got the chance to present it to Will. And it had taken Hatcher’s poor widow all these weeks to work up the nerve to go through his things.
With Hatcher’s report, Will had enough proof to have Baxter put away, or even hanged. It was time to put a stop to the fifteen-year-old cat and mouse game he’d been playing with the bastard. Time for Ian Baxter to get his due.
Revenge was going to taste so sweet.
Will opened the door to the bank. The bell overhead jingled.
“He’s not here, sir,” the teller said when Will asked to be directed to Baxter. “He wasn’t feeling well yesterday, so he went home early,” the little bird-like man supplied. “I suspect he’s still a bit under the weather.”
Will nodded tersely, thanked the man, and left. He couldn’t put this off any longer. He’d have to ride out to the Bar B. Into the lion’s den. But he wanted company for this particular trip. He headed for the jail.
“Sheriff ain’t here right now. You might try down at Miz Standridge’s boarding house.”
Miz Standridge’s boarding house.
Will smiled to himself and headed that way.
Ella Standridge herself opened the door to his knock.
“As I live and breathe! Will Davis! Come in, Will. It’s good to see you.”
When Sunny told the girls that Ash was gone, Amy and Rachel cried. Katy looked at her solemnly and said, “You didn’t want him to go, did you?”
“No,” Sunny said past the ache in her throat. “I didn’t want him to go.” But he went anyway.
She forced back her tears and tried to cheer the girls. But it was three sad young ladies who left for school that morning.
And one devastated young woman left behind.
Sunny found it hard to accept that Ash was really gone. Even though things had been strained between them for some time, she’d at least known he was nearby. And last night…No. she wouldn’t think of last night.
A crushing loneliness bore down on her. He wasn’t nearby anymore, and never would be again.
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