Love of a Cowboy 1

by Paige Tyler

  Rafe sat down on the side of the bed, his hat literally in his hands. “I’m sorry about what I had to do. If I knew then that I’d fall in love with the little brat I saw when I snuck in that afternoon—”

  Mary Rose whirled on him. “You snuck in?”

  Rafe was beginning to think that maybe talking wasn’t such a good thing. It was just digging him deeper, dammit. “I had to scout the place out. I was here in the afternoon, before I came in and ordered a drink. I needed to know how many people were here and whether or not we could take them.”

  “So when I told you that we had guests, you knew that I was ly—bluffing.”

  He chuckled softly. “Yes, and I understood why. You’re a strong women, Mary Rose. It’s one of the things I like best about you.”

  “Don’t say that!”

  “Don’t say what? That I like you? I do. In fact,” he stood and walked towards her, his hands in his jeans, looking uncharacteristically tentative. “I think I love you.”

  Mary Rose snorted. “Oh, I’m sure to believe that, after I’ve found out that you’ve been lying to me since you met me.”

  “Not because I wanted to—I was under cover! The less you knew the better! I couldn’t even let on that I’d met my brother—the guy in black that we met in town and downstairs is my brother, Augustus. The other two—as you know from your own experience with Hernandez—were capable of anything. I couldn’t tell you the truth and take the chance that you might slip up and say something accidentally that tipped them off. Then all of us would have ended up dead.”

  Mary Rose was not in the mood to forgive and forget. She was in the mood to commit a murder of her own. Nothing he had said had made her feel the least bit of pity for him. She was quite happy stewing in her own juices on her own, feeling like twelve kinds of a fool for having fallen as hard as she did. Hard enough to let him touch her in a way she never expected to let any man. She was just starting to come to grips with having given herself to a killer, and here he was telling her that everything she’d known or thought about him—good, bad or indifferent, was based on a lie.

  Rafe stood there, looking down at her, and hating his own weakness in this, his own indecision. So he decided to lay it on the line for her. Everything. He took a ring box out of his pocket and opened it, showing her a beautiful big diamond solitaire that had been his grandmother’s on his mother’s side. “I want to marry you, Mary Rose Caldwell. I want more of what we had last night. Lots more. I want you to lie in my arms all night long like you have for the past few days.”

  Mary Rose thought he had surprised her as much as he possibly could in one day, but then he went and topped himself. Marry him? A virtual stranger?

  She thought not.

  Chapter 8

  If she thought that her outright refusal to marry him was going to send him scurrying away, she had the wrong man. In fact, he was around so much for the next few days that he was driving her crazy. He was everywhere—helping the men fixing the inn and the saloon, supervising the building and placement of the new tubs, getting underfoot in the kitchen when she was trying to cook.

  She had to hand it to him—with all these starving, dried out men having descended on her establishments, she was raking the money in left and right, although she was busier than a one armed paperhanger. Then they finally began leaving, and by the end of the week, it was just him and Penny. Stu had come back to tend bar—well, really to get the dirt on what had happened so that he could bring it back to town. They had had a steady stream of town folk out here for the same reason, to gawk, but as long as they ate or drank something, Mary Rose didn’t really mind.

  But things had died down a lot, and she had to admit that she was just as happy. Although she wanted to do well, she didn’t want to be so busy she didn’t have time to think. She wanted a steady stream of customers, not most of the population of the town descending on her all at once.

  It was seven at night before she had a chance to sit down, after cleaning out all the vacated rooms and cooking breakfast, lunch and dinner. Mary Rose flopped down into a wing-backed chair in the inn’s small lobby, sitting in a manner that was totally unbecoming a lady, but then she was less of a lady than she had been before she’d met—him.

  And, speaking of the devil himself, he sauntered in and plopped down beside her. “So. Will you marry me?”

  He’d asked her at least once a day since he’d originally proposed, and, so far Mary Rose had found him totally resistible. He always pretended to be devastated by her refusal, but he always came back for more.

  Not wanting to get into another discussion—a rather one-sided discussion about the merits of marrying him, Mary Rose got up to check the stock in the back room of the saloon. “Have you had your period?” He asked flat out, in a voice that anyone around them could have heard.

  Luckily, there wasn’t anyone around him until Mary Rose fluttered her way back, laying into him with her dishrag. “You are the most uncouth man I’ve ever—”

  “Have you?” he asked again, catching the rag and using it to pull her against him.

  She colored brightly, not able to meet his eyes. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Don’t play coy with me, Mary Rose. I’ve held you in my arms while you buried your screams of pleasure against my chest. Tell me whether you’ve had your period since we were together. Now.”

  Suddenly, it was El Diablo—or a reasonable facsimile thereof—who was holding her. The man who refused to tolerate any nonsense. He’d made more than the occasional appearance since his ruse had been revealed. Usually when someone refused to do something, or when the men got drunk and got to fighting, which was hardly unusual in a saloon. Mary Rose had to admit it was nice to have a strong man around to act as bouncer.

  She didn’t want to answer him—her answer would give him hope that she’d gotten pregnant, and that would mean that he would hang around here—where he wasn’t wanted—that much longer. But he didn’t look like he was in any hurry to let her go, either. She rolled her eyes impatiently. “No.”

  He got that triumphant look in his eyes. “Ah-ha!”

  “No, I’m not due yet, as if it’s any of your business.”

  He picked her up into his arms and began to carry her up stairs as easily as if she weighed no more than a feather. “It is my business, Missy. If you’re pregnant—”

  She interrupted him with a loud “sh.” There were other people in the hall and she didn’t need to ruin her reputation any more than she had. The whole town now knew that he was not her beau from the East, and all sorts of speculation was being conducted as to her virtue, or rather the lack thereof. She didn’t need everyone betting on whether or not she was pregnant, although they were probably already doing so. The first time she’d gone into town after the shoot out she’d been confronted by a very snotty Henrietta Seymour, who, although she certainly wanted to pump Mary Rose for all of the goriest details of her captivity, also wanted to look down that big nose of hers and give her false sympathy about her predicament.

  He brought them to her bedroom and set her down. In a tone that let her know that he was completely unrepentant, he continued—“then it would be with my child, and then it certainly would be my business, now, wouldn’t it?”

  Mary Rose futzed around the room, trying not to pay any attention to him, but it was like trying to disregard the presence of a seething volcano in the middle of her room. “I suppose I’d have to tell you. Perhaps. If I wanted to. But then again—” She stared at him pointedly.

  She wasn’t going to give an inch. She was pissed at him and didn’t seem to be in the least inclined to forgive him. She hadn’t calmed down in the least—not one iota. She was still seething. Which was why he was taking matters into his own hands. He wasn’t going to move an inch until—at the very least—he could confirm whether or not she was pregnant. But he’d gone further than that. He’d been very busy the past few days, and not always because he was helping the other men make sure that
her livelihood—such as it was—was returned to the same condition as it had been—better, actually—before the shoot out. He’d also taken some steps towards the particular end that he hoped for, the first of which was that he had mustered out of the Rangers. He’d decided—especially after this last assignment—that he no longer wanted to live as he had been. It was a decision his mother was only too happy to hear about, he was sure. She’d hated the fact that he was almost always in danger, but then, that was the way mothers were.

  He thought he might try his hand at running a combination saloon and inn, with a feisty little woman who was sure to keep him on his toes the whole time—and he was just as likely to keep her either beneath him or over his lap for one reason or another.

  Rafe wanted to marry this woman. He wanted to father her children, be her partner, and most definitely the man that kept her in line, which he was quite sure was going to be a much bigger job than being a saloon or innkeeper.

  Speaking of which, he was reminded of something that he’d let go for much too long.

  Mary Rose snuck a look at him. He was staring at her and rubbing his jaw thoughtfully.

  “It seems to me that you and I have some unfinished business between us—”

  “I’ve told you—I’m not due for my—my—”

  “I heard you. I was thinking about something else.” Rafe took a deliberate step towards her, tucking his chin to his chest and looking threatening.

  Mary Rose took a step back, but found herself brought up short by the windowsill as it jammed rudely into the small of her back. “What?” she asked, hating the fact that she sounded so weak and desperate.

  He backed her into a corner very neatly, then put a hand on either wall beside her, nuzzling her neck with his nose and lips. “Lordy, woman, you smell good!”

  Trying not to knuckle under to the immediate twinges of desire she felt any time he was within twenty feet of her, Mary Rose replied caustically, “Surely you didn’t maneuver me here just to say that to me.”

  Rafe straightened. “No, I didn’t. I brought you up here,” he said, grabbing her wrist and pulling her over to the bed, where he quickly sat down and pulled her over his legs before she had a chance to protest much, “because you got out of the pantry when I specifically told you not to until I’d come for you—you could have been shot.”

  This was not a good position to be in, Mary Rose thought. She’d much rather he be trying to find out if she was pregnant, rather than trying to redden her rear. Offending her delicate sensibilities about pregnancy hurt a lot less! Of course, no amount of wiggling helped her, and reaching back to try to cover her rear—even before he bared it, which he was sure to do—only lost her the use of her left arm. Mary Rose sighed. What had happened to her boring, staid life? This man had completely ruined it.

  She was right about one thing—he didn’t hesitate to bare her bottom—why should he? He’d seen that and more now. What she hadn’t counted on was the fact that, after he delivered a searing lecture about her own personal safety and the fact that he expected her to obey him at all times without question—which only made her roll her eyes as she moaned—he rolled her onto a pillow on the bed and went to work on her with his thick, wide leather belt.

  One crack of that vicious thing across her bottom was enough to reduce her to a tearful penitent, not that it stopped him from delivering many more slaps with that awful implement. Rafe had just found the love of his life, and he was horrified at the idea that she might have been taken from him just because she was a stubborn brat and didn’t want to wait for him to come get her. And he could have lost a child with her, which is what drove him to blister her bottom good.

  When he was done, he threw the belt across the room, hearing the buckle clank against the wall, then he descended on her bottom in a different way, butterfly kissing it as she struggled to stop crying. She’d never been so sore in all her life. He made her father’s spankings look like love swats. This man had brought her more stark terror, more primitive pleasure and more burning pain than any other person in her life.

  And she loved him. She loved him as an outlaw, and had been quite prepared to take that knowledge to her grave. But he turned out to be a good guy—but of course that was relative, she mused, rubbing her abused bum. But she wasn’t at all sure she was ready to forgive him. She’d lived in fear for her life for several days, when he could easily have told her the truth.

  Rafe didn’t like it when she was quiet. It meant she was thinking too much for his own good. So he rolled her over, very, very gingerly, onto her back and kissed her as completely and lovingly as he could. He knew this was right. He wanted her. He wanted to work by her side to make the Tenderfoot Saloon and the Lilac Rose Inn the best establishments west of the Mississippi. He had the backing to do so. Hell, they didn’t have to stay there if they didn’t want to, either. They could do anything they wanted. They could tour the world, or set up shop somewhere they both liked more.

  He hadn’t told her that he was rich, because he didn’t want to buy her. He wanted her to want to be his wife because she felt something for him—besides fear and loathing. And, although he’d take her any way he could get her, he didn’t want her to marry him because she was pregnant, either, although, knowing Mary Rose, she’d refuse to do so just on principle. Contrary woman.

  So he used another weapon in his arsenal—although they were dwindling. He touched her. Gently. Knowingly. As if she were the most treasured person on this Earth—and to him, she was.

  His hands barely caressed every part of her, roaming everywhere from the blonde hairline above her forehead to the very tips of her pink toes, and every place in between. Not grabbing, not possessing or pinching at all, just acknowledging every little part of her, and avoiding those that were the most sensitive.

  He scooched down to the end of the bed and gave her a foot massage, just when Mary Rose was thinking she would really go, and not let him do this to her. But he had her right there. Her feet hurt a lot because she spent all her time on them, from before dawn to well after dusk.

  His strong fingers were bending and digging and roving all over her feet, rubbing the bottoms and each individual toe, bending her foot at the ankle and pressing his thumbs into her instep. A deep, guttural moan of pure pleasure left Mary Rose’s mouth entirely unintended. It felt so good to have her feet rubbed like this.

  Rafe grinned evilly, knowing he had her right where he wanted her. He worked his way up from her feet, rubbing her calves and over her knees, the backs and fronts of her thighs, and even the insides, but keeping his touch entirely innocent and non-sexual. Just sensually tenderizing her, helping her to relax. He was even okay if she went to sleep—she was letting him touch her. It wasn’t far from there to letting him sleep with her every night for the rest of their lives.

  As he worked over her, he had a bit of a brainstorm, and when she did fall asleep under his ministrations, he was kind of glad, because he thought he had a way to bring things to a head that would undoubtedly get him exactly what he wanted.

  ~

  It was about a week later—and he was still hanging around, of course, proposing daily and being rejected daily. It was as if they were reading from a script about how to behave with each other. He asked, she refused. But mid-afternoon, he disappeared into town with the wagon, and several hours later returned with it overflowing with people.

  Mary Rose, who was baking bread in the kitchen at the back of the inn, heard some kind of commotion in the front yard, so she dried her hands on a dishrag and, covered head to toe with flour, headed outside to see what was going on. There was only a skeleton crew of men left working on the building. Pretty much everything that needed to be done was done, so all the noise couldn’t have been from them, although Rafe had recruited some of them to stay and help her with the business at modest salaries that wouldn’t deplete her profit much.

  Mary Rose held her hand over her eyes, but then couldn’t believe what she saw when they focused
in the mid-day sun. It was her mother and her father! All the way from Virginia! She ran to her mother and hugged her tight, getting her all floury, then her father, almost not believing that they were there. There was another couple in the wagon, and Rafe grabbed her arm to introduce them solemnly.

  “Mary Rose Caldwell, this is my mother, Marguerite and my father, Angel.” He looked nervous, and it was the first time she’d ever seen him that way, despite the circumstances in which they’d been brought together. “Mother, Father, this is Mary Rose Caldwell. The love of my life.” He looped an arm around her waist and brought her tight up against his side.

  She looked at him, the way he swallowed hard after putting his heart on the line like that in front of everyone who was precious to them, and her own heart swelled near to bursting. Mary Rose looked down, unsure of what to say or do.

  Her mother asked for help with her trunks, then looped her arm with Mary Rose’s and the two walked arm in arm up to the Inn.

  The two families seemed to get on very well together—dinner was a loud, raucous affair with much laughter and teasing. Rafe’s brother, Augustus, had appeared just in time to join them, and afterwards they all wanted to hear the story of how the two lovebirds had gotten together. Mary Rose had nearly choked at that phrasing of the situation, but she let Rafe tell the entire story, supplying details here and there for him, but generally letting him twist it in a manner that their parents would find more acceptable. Then the whole tribe played cards until well into the night.

  Around two in the morning, her mother whispered into Mary Rose’s ear, “Shouldn’t you be getting to sleep, dear? You have a big day tomorrow.”

  She’d been hiding her yawns for several hours now, not wanting to leave such a fun group and maybe miss something. But her mother’s suggestion only made her weariness worse, so she excused herself and went up to bed, blushing furiously after Rafe captured her and kissed her warmly in front of everyone.