Denim and Lace

by Rice, Patricia

  "After I told Harry about the divorce, he wasn't much interested in going back East. He had thought he would make Melinda a wealthy widow by knocking me off, and then they could finally marry. But he hasn't been slow about making female acquaintances out here. Harry and Melinda never did know the meaning of fidelity. There's always going to be someone to fall for good looks, fancy clothes, and a few sweet words."

  Sam looked outraged. "You mean he spent six months trying to kill you, and pretty soon he'll be out of jail and free to marry some poor innocent woman and steal her money?"

  Sloan leaned forward and circled an exploring finger higher than the rounded hill of her belly. "Do you really think I'd let him off that easy? You must think you've turned me into a real pussycat, sugar. What do I have to do to show you I'm not?"

  She slapped uselessly at his hand. "Tell me Harry Anderson will never bother us again."

  "Harry Anderson will never bother us again," he said in his most reassuring voice, moving his finger inexorably upward. "I've scared off the few decent women he courted. The only choice he'll have when he gets out is Marvelous Mary. She made her money in the mining camps. A woman does not make her money lying flat on her back in the camps unless she's one tough female. She knows precisely what she's buying in Harry. He won't be able to touch a cent that she doesn't give him. Now don't you think you've had enough sun, Sam? Isn't it time to go inside for a nice siesta?"

  Sam closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensations disturbed by his wandering hand. She could never get enough of Sloan's loving, and she knew she would give in to him time and again, but that didn't mean she always had to make it easy for him.

  As his fingers eased open the fastening of her gown, she murmured, "Harriet is down in that arbor with Hawk's kid brother. You'd better see what they're doing."

  Sloan chuckled. "I know what they're doing. The same thing Bernadette and Donner are probably doing over in the wagon shed. Let Jack watch them. His head's been practically spinning for weeks now. Remind me to order some new anatomy books. Nap time."

  Without waiting to ask her again, Sloan lifted Sam from the lounge and carried her through the open door to their bedroom. Sam gave a gasp of surprise and clung to his neck, but she made no other protest as he laid her across the bed. When he began unfastening his shirt as he stood over her, she merely watched him with her usual fascination.

  "I wanted to get out to the valley to see how they're progressing with the house," she reminded him lazily.

  "They're progressing very nicely without you. Joe threatened to turn it into a saloon if you didn't leave them alone. The field's planted, and Hawk's looking for a few good mares to bring up for breeding stock." He dropped his shirt and started on his trousers. "Are you taking that gown off, or will you make me do it?"

  Sam lifted one long leg and wiggled her bare toes at him. A portion of the skirt slipped backward, revealing a limb uncovered by stocking, or possibly anything else. "You do it. You're the one who wants to make me take naps. I don't suppose you can talk Hawk into staying this time? The way this town's growing, it's going to need a sheriff."

  Sitting on the side of the bed to remove his boots, Sloan leaned over and slid his hand beneath her skirt, pushing one side of her gown up. No drawers. "Damn, Sam," he muttered under his breath and hastily started pulling at his boots. "He owes you one for letting him keep that damned mare," he said out loud, more to distract himself than anything else. He couldn't keep losing control like this around his wife. He'd officially been married for three solid months already.

  "It wouldn't have been fair to leave a horse like that idle, especially since you won't let me ride anything faster than a mule. You're a stubborn man, Sloan Montgomery."

  Finally undressed, he sprawled on the bed beside her and resumed unfastening the buttons of her bodice. "And you're an ornery woman, Samantha Montgomery, but I love you anyway. You didn't really think I would let you have our baby in the middle of a mountain trail while you scampered back and forth between the valley and town, did you?"

  "I'm only five months along, you monster. What are you going to do, tie me to the bed at six?" Her fingers raked the unruly curls back from her husband's forehead as she spoke.

  "Tying you to the bed sounds like an excellent idea." Sloan leaned over and applied his tongue to the portion of skin uncovered. "I'll remember that when you get too fractious."

  She arched eagerly into his embrace, letting the flaps of her bodice fall open to reveal the scantiness of the chemise beneath. "No matter how much I love you, there are some things I won't forgive," she murmured, before his teeth took her breath away.

  "Oh, you'll forgive that," he promised between nibbles, "especially when you see the bed I'm having delivered as soon as our house is finished."

  "Bed?" was the last thing she remembered saying before he pulled her skirt up.

  Later, when they were entwined in each other's arms and too lethargic from the aftereffects of lovemaking, they didn't even bother moving when a fusillade of what sounded like gunfire went off.

  Sam opened one eye and scanned her husband's tranquil expression questioningly.

  Sloan didn't bother opening his eyes. He just adjusted her more comfortably and murmured, "Chinese firecrackers. I gave them to Jack to use when he thought appropriate."

  Sam closed her eye again. "I hope you warned him not to use them when Riding Eagle was wearing his gun."

  Sloan chuckled softly. "Hell, no. The man ought to be given an even chance. Let Horace deal with the monster for a while."

  "Horace?" Incredulity laced her sleepy voice.

  "Riding Eagle."

  She snickered.

  He smiled.

  And the town of Talbott slept comfortably in the golden California sun.

  Except for Horace Riding Eagle and Jack, who were engaged in a mad footrace down the side of the mountain.

  And perhaps for a few miners farther up the hill who were learning about a powerful new explosive called dynamite that would blast the gold right out of the ground. They'd already learned to distrust some of Emmanuel Neely's wilder ideas and currently edged backward toward their horses before he lit the fuse.

  When the rumble of the explosion shook the whole side of the mountain sometime later, Neely was the only one left to watch the tower of dirt rise into the sky. Shrugging at this lack of a receptive audience, he pocketed a gold nugget to show Sam and started back down the trail on foot, the horses having all mysteriously disappeared.

  He glanced up as a golden ray of sun shot through an opening in the canopy of evergreens overhead. California gold. He'd struck treasure here.

  Let Sloan Montgomery think he owned this land. God and Chief Coyote knew better. But Sloan would take care of the mountain. Sam would see to that.

  Author Bio

  With several million books in print and New York Times and USA Today's bestseller lists under her belt, former CPA Patricia Rice is one of romance's hottest authors. Her emotionally-charged contemporary and historical romances have won numerous awards, including the RT Book Reviews Reviewers Choice and Career Achievement Awards. Her books have been honored as Romance Writers of America RITA® finalists in the historical, regency and contemporary categories.

  A firm believer in happily-ever-after, Patricia Rice is married to her high school sweetheart and has two children. A native of Kentucky and New York, a past resident of North Carolina, she currently resides in St. Louis, Missouri, and now does accounting only for herself. She is a member of Romance Writers of America, the Authors Guild, and Novelists, Inc.

  For further information, visit Patricia’s network:

  www.patriciarice.com

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  http://patriciarice.blogspot.com/

  www.wordwenches.com

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