Texas Lawman

by Carolyn Davidson

  “I will,” she said firmly.

  “I’ll do my best to—”

  “Stop,” she said. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me, Brace. I know you won’t hurt me, and I know you’ll be all I ever wanted. That’s all I can ask.”

  His eyes darkened with a touch of anger. “Of course I won’t hurt you, sweetheart. I’d never do such a thing. It’s a possibility, if a man is careless or hasty. I don’t plan to be either, not with you.”

  She turned into his arms and rested there, feeling a tranquil peace creep into her very soul. “I trust you,” she said, the statement a positive pronouncement of her feelings for him. “I’ve given myself to you for all the years to come. For life, Brace.”

  “Well, you haven’t yet. Not quite,” he said. “But soon.” And his eyes lit, dissolving the anger he’d shown just moments before. “Soon, Sarah.”

  Sarah listened to Stephen’s prayers, as she had since Sierra’s death when he’d come to her, noting with joy his inclusion of his new father instead of the usual blessing on Brace. From the doorway Brace watched, and Sarah caught a glimpse of joy written plainly on his face. Then he entered the box room and approached Stephen.

  “Are you too old for good-night kisses?” he asked. And as if he offered the boy no choice, he bent low over the bed. Slim arms reached up to hold him fast as Stephen planted a noisy buss on Brace’s cheek.

  “Kids never get too old to kiss their mom and dad,” he said soberly. “I’ve decided that Aunt Sarah is still my aunt, but she’s really gonna be my mom from now on, and I’d already decided you were gonna be my new daddy. Is that all right with you?”

  “Certainly,” Brace told him. “I feel honored.”

  “You gonna sleep with my new mom?” Stephen asked in the midst of a yawn.

  Brace looked taken aback. “Yeah, as a matter of fact, I am.”

  “I just wondered. My mom and dad used to sleep together, and you and Aunt Sarah each have your own bedrooms. I just wondered.”

  “Wonder no more, son,” Brace said, laughter tingeing his words with melody. “Your aunt Sarah is moving into my room, as of tonight. We’re married now.”

  “I’m glad,” the boy mumbled, his eyes closing as he drifted off to sleep, his world secure, his mind at rest.

  “Your room?” Sarah asked softly as they moved into the hallway.

  “My room,” Brace said firmly. “It’s larger, room for all your stuff and mine, too. I’ve even got a decent-sized closet, and my bed’s bigger.”

  Sarah nodded. “Sounds to me like you’ve got your arguments all lined up.”

  “No argument, just the facts,” he told her. Reaching the door to her room, he shooed her inside. “Get what you need for tonight,” he said, “and then come across the hall to me.”

  “I’ll put on my gown. I won’t be a minute,” she told him, thankful that he’d given her these few moments of privacy.

  “Five minutes, Sarah. That’s all I’m willing to wait, and then I’ll come back and get you.”

  She made haste, undoing her dress, stripping off her stockings and underwear and pulling the full white nightgown over her head. Her chores behind the screen in the corner took but minutes, and when Brace opened the door, it was to find her in the middle of the room, her hands in her hair, busily taking out the pins.

  The sight of dark waves and curls cascading down her back was almost his undoing, and in two long strides he was in front of her. “I’ll do that,” he said gruffly. “I’ve been looking forward all day to taking your hair down.”

  He took the pins from her and walked to put them on her dresser, then returned to her, brush in hand. “Turn around,” he said, his voice almost harsh, and he tried to soften his tone. “I’m impatient, Sarah. I promised myself I wouldn’t be, but it seems I don’t have a lot of self-control where you’re concerned. In fact, the past week has been a lesson in behaving myself.”

  “You’ve had your hands all over me,” she said sharply. “You call that behaving yourself?”

  “Little do you know, sweetheart,” he murmured, using the brush with long, slow strokes to tame her curls. The tendrils licked out like flames of dark fire, touching his callused hands and clinging to his hard skin.

  His hands were dark against her white gown, and he felt a moment’s regret that his skin was rough, his body showing the results of a hard life. Sarah deserved so much, and he was so in need of pleasing her. He willed his hands to relax, praying for patience enough to pet her and caress her as she deserved. The arousal in his trousers was becoming more rigid, and he sensed his control was near to breaking.

  “Come to my room,” he whispered, pulling her against him. She leaned in, gladly, he thought, as though she relished the feel of his long body against hers.

  “All right,” she told him. “Just let me get my robe. I’ll need it in the morning.”

  He laughed softly, his thoughts speeding ahead to daybreak. By the time he let her get dressed in the morning, it would be later than her normal rising time to face the day. She was most assuredly not rising at the crack of dawn as was her usual practice. He had other plans.

  Quietly, watching for the squeaky board in the hallway, they crossed to his room, and he closed and latched the door firmly behind them. A lamp glowed softly on the table beside the bed and he led her there.

  “I’ll pull back the covers,” she said, as if she must make conversation in order to keep her thoughts from the coming night. “Everyone had a good time, didn’t they?” She looked up, awaiting his reply.

  “Yeah, I’d say so. Old Mr. Johnson had a gallon of corn likker in his wagon, and if he’d had his way, they’d have had a regular party out there.”

  “I didn’t know that,” she said, wide-eyed as she turned to him.

  “Mrs. Johnson did,” Brace told her. “I’ll bet he got what-for all the way home.”

  “They brought us some lovely gifts,” Sarah murmured. “The quilt from Mrs. Metcalfe is beautiful, isn’t it?”

  But his eyes were fixed on the vision of loveliness before him as Brace nodded agreeably. “Lovely. But not nearly as beautiful as you,” he said impulsively, watching as a flustered look filled her features with confusion.

  “I’m not beautiful,” she said quickly. “No one’s ever thought so.”

  “I do,” he said quietly. His hands trembled as they touched her face, his fingertips sliding over her nose and cheeks, cupping her chin as he murmured his opinion of that piquant feature.

  “You have such a stubborn little chin,” he said. “And your blue eyes are dark tonight.”

  She blinked at him and he almost laughed aloud. His hands twitched as he dropped them to her shoulders, and then he slid his palms down the slope of her breasts, soft, yet firm and full beneath her nightgown. He cupped them carefully, not willing to rush her or put any trace of fear into those liquid eyes.

  “I’ve never known such a woman,” he said quietly. “I’ve never wanted another woman as much as you. You’re exactly what I’ve needed for a lot of years.”

  “I’ll talk to you about that in a year or so,” she said with a shaky laugh. “I may not wear well.”

  “Oh, I think you will,” he answered, his hands moving to the line of buttons that held her gown together. He was deft as he undid them, and then noted the anxious look she wore.

  “Please turn out the light,” she said. “I feel…”

  “Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he said reassuringly, although his eagerness to see her in the light almost prevailed. Had he begged for the lamp to remain aglow, she might have acquiesced, but for tonight he would do as she willed. If Sarah was more comfortable in the dark, then they would discover each other with the faint glow of moonlight guiding their lips, hands and fingertips. Another night would see their lamp lit well into the hours after midnight.

  Sitting on the edge of a chair, he took off his boots, then slid off his stockings. “I’ll just be a minute,” he told her, watching as she folded bac
k the sheet and quilt, fluffing the pillows as she prepared his bed. He stood, peeled his jacket off, then unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it across the chair.

  Sarah picked it up, folded it neatly and replaced it there. She looked up at him then. “The light?”

  “Right now,” he said, and walked to the side of the bed to blow out the bright glow. The room was cast into darkness and Sarah was but a blur against the blackness behind her. Her white gown seemed suddenly to take on a life of its own, and Brace stepped closer to her as he slid his trousers from his waist, taking his drawers with them. He stepped on them carelessly, freeing his feet from them as he reached for her.

  “Your trousers,” she said against his chest. “Let me fold them up for you.”

  “Leave them where they are. I’ll take care of them in the morning.”

  “I’m your wife now, Brace. I need to do this sort of thing for you.”

  He laughed softly. “If you think that’s all a wife’s responsibilities cover, I’ve got news for you, Mrs. Caulfield.”

  “I know that. I just don’t like to think of your good trousers on the floor all night.” She bent, her hair brushing against his naked chest and belly, and he felt a thundering within him that signaled his readiness. It was all he could do to stand still as she folded the rest of his clothing and placed it on the chair atop his shirt.

  “All done?” he asked, and rued the impatience in his tone.

  She turned back to him and he peered down at her, wanting to see her expression. “I’m done for now,” she said. “I don’t mean to be such a fussbudget. But I think you’ll have to get used to me.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.” His voice held an undertone of determination and his arms were firm and steady as he picked her up and placed her on the bed, tucking her feet beneath the covers. Circling the footboard, he found his place beside her and slid beneath the sheet.

  Her leg brushed against his, the fine fabric of her gown between them. Then her hand reached to touch him and brushed against the mat of hair on his chest. “That’s what I thought,” she said, aware of his lack of covering. “You’re not wearing anything.”

  “I never wear anything to bed.” It was a fact. “I guess you’ll just have to get used to me, too, Sarah.”

  “I’ll try.”

  He turned his head on the pillow and caught a glimpse of her pale features in the moonlight. The stars were bright, the moon full, and he blessed the faint gleam that allowed him to watch her, even though he’d have preferred the lamplight. His arms encircled her and he drew her into his embrace.

  “I’ve never slept with a man,” she said, as if she must explain her lack of experience. “No one else has ever touched me the way you do.”

  “I know,” he answered. “I’m glad. That gives me the chance to be the first. And the last, Sarah. This marriage is forever. I hope you realize that. I don’t begin anything I don’t intend to finish.”

  “I figured that out already,” she told him, allowing herself to conform to his longer length, his firm muscular chest and the flat planes of his belly. He felt her feet touching his shins and the enveloping folds of her gown keeping her warmth from him.

  “I’m going to take off your gown,” he told her gruffly. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Would it matter if I did?” she asked, humor lacing the words.

  “Probably not,” he admitted. “I can’t touch you through all the material. And I want to have my hands on you.”

  She inhaled sharply and then he watched as she nodded—almost reluctantly, he thought.

  “All right,” she whispered, and sat up beside him. Her hands were busy pulling the gown from beneath her and then she stripped her arms from the sleeves and he sat up and took over, lifted the garment over her head and placed it at the foot of the bed.

  In the moonlight her breasts were exposed to him, limned in the glow of stars, lifting from her chest, seeming to him to be twin offerings presented for his pleasure, making his hands twitch as he considered how he would test and discover the essence of her skin. It was something he determined to do without waiting. Her breasts would be his, his to hold and touch and kiss. He trembled again as he considered the idea, inhaling her fragrance as it rose from her body.

  But first, he decided, he would woo her, teasing and petting her until she was eager for him, ready for his possession.

  Chapter Six

  Sarah turned her head in Brace’s direction. His eyes gleamed in the light of the moon and stars, his gaze was focused on her breasts, and Sarah felt more naked than she’d ever thought possible. Her gown was too far away to reach and she wasn’t quite certain she wanted it back on, anyway. The freedom of being unclothed was exciting, and the knowledge that her body had the ability to entice Brace and make him eager for her was beyond description.

  He’d let her know in small, subtle ways that he liked her form, that she was attractive to him, but this was different. Now he looked with the eyes of a conqueror upon her unclothed body, his hand rising, even as she watched, to touch the underside of her breast. Her breath caught as he formed his palm there, and then she felt it slide upward to enclose the whole of that soft mound in his hand.

  A sound slipped from his lips, a soft acknowledgment of his approval, she decided, although what was so exciting about a woman’s breasts was more than she could understand. They were just there, part of her anatomy. Yet Brace sat beside her and viewed her in the starlight with a look of rapt absorption that made her feel as if she were a treasure he had just uncovered and was planning to claim as his own.

  He pressed on her breast, his other arm behind her shoulders, and lowered her to lie beside him on the bed, his shoulder becoming a resting place for her head. She was silent, unwilling to admit her total ignorance of the mating that was to come. Sierra had told her in no uncertain terms that it was filled with pain and an uncomfortable messiness. That knowledge had totally put her off any pleasant anticipation of the venture.

  Lester, apparently, was not of the same nature as Brace. Impatient and selfish were the words Sierra had used, and even with so little to go on, Sarah knew instinctively that Brace did not deserve either of those two designations. Even now, as his body readily gave evidence of his desire, his arousal pressing against her leg, he was careful of her tender flesh and placed soft kisses against her cheek.

  She wanted more. Just what more consisted of, she wasn’t entirely certain, but she knew a yearning for his big body to cover hers, a need for his hands to touch the hidden places that wept for his possession. As though he’d read her thoughts, he slid his hand from one breast to caress the other. Then, lifting himself on one elbow, he bent low and kissed the puckered crest, a soft, undemanding touch of his lips, and then with an openmouthed caress he nuzzled at that small scrap of flesh that seemed to swell and grow taut as if it held a vast amount of tension within. Tension that was doubled by the touch of his tongue against her.

  She wiggled against him, one hand rising to clutch at the back of his head, holding him against her breast, as if she would express the urgency of her need.

  He murmured soft words and his hand held her in place, fingers spread wide across her stomach as he suckled the flesh he’d exposed. Sarah moved restlessly beneath his hand and he laughed softly, a sound that pleased her.

  “You like that?” he drawled in a lazy fashion, as if he could remain where he was for the whole night to come.

  Her reply was but a muffled assent, but he seemed to understand the message and his palm moved lower, touching her hipbones, caressing the small rounding of her belly and moving lower still—until he reached the triangle of curls that guarded her female parts. Parts so very different from the hard pressure of his masculine need against her thigh.

  She shivered as he carefully touched her damp flesh, shuddered as his fingers slid ever closer to the channel where he would place himself, and caught her breath as one long finger slid into her body.

  “Brace?” A question
shivered in her voice as she called his name, and she tensed against his hand. He soothed her, whispering assurance in her ear, leaning over her to kiss her skin in a myriad of places, from her forehead to her lips, then back down to the breasts that seemed to be especially appealing to him.

  Words of praise rolled from his lips and she listened with awe as he described her in an undertone. “Pretty…soft…sweet smelling…” And the list went on, as though every word that described beauty was suitable to be used in his evaluation of her. She felt a thrill of excitement pass through her body, centering where his hand was discovering the womanly parts of her.

  His fingers slid readily where they would, for her flesh was damp and slippery, a fact he seemed to be pleased with, for he mentioned it just at the moment she’d decided to be embarrassed because of it.

  “It means you’re ready for me,” he whispered, his hand moving ever closer to a small nubbin that yearned for his touch. It felt swollen and in need of something, and she moved again beneath him. “Let’s see how this works,” he said softly, lifting himself to part her legs and insinuate his body there.

  He was big, his shoulders wide above her, and his weight was almost frightening, although he held himself from her, leaning on his forearms on either side of her head. “Am I too heavy for you?” he asked. “I can do this another way if you want me to.”

  She felt overwhelmed by the moment of decision and simply gave her consent to his preferences with a simple nod of her head. He seemed to understand her dilemma, and chuckled softly. “I know I’m heavy, sweetheart. Let’s do it this way.”

  In a lithe movement he knelt between her legs and lifted them to lie across his thighs. She felt exposed, more naked than she’d thought possible, but he bent and kissed her gently, murmuring words of assurance.

  “I’ll try not to hurt you, baby,” he whispered. “The first time is painful, I’ve heard, but, God willing, I’ll be careful and take my time.”