Texas Lawman

by Carolyn Davidson

  Her mouth was full, swollen from his kiss, and her eyes flashed with an excitement that drew him ever closer. And in the midst of it all, she leaned into him, her lips seeking the flesh of his throat, her invitation unmistakable as she suckled for a moment on the skin just beneath the edge of his collar.

  It would not show to an observer, but he would know it was there. When he shaved on the morrow, when he washed for bed tonight, he would see the small reddened mark she’d left behind, and remember this moment.

  With a show of strength he seldom displayed, he lifted her, holding her close against himself, then sought the stairway that led to the second floor. Their bedroom door stood open, but not for long. He caught it with his foot and closed it firmly, then lowered her to the floor and set the latch securely.

  She stood before him, a strange half smile curving her lips, her eyes half-closed, her breasts rising and falling as she breathed deeply, in an erratic fashion.

  “You’re a witch,” he said, his voice rough. “A woman who should know better than to tempt a man beyond his control.”

  “Have I done that?” she asked sweetly, her eyes rounding as if in surprise.

  “You know very well what you’ve done, and you’re about to pay the price,” he told her. His hands were quick as he stripped her clothing from her and then held her at arm’s length, his gaze measuring each inch of her flesh. She was like an ivory statue, he thought—not tall, but well formed, slender, yet rounded in all the right places.

  She was perfect. Absolutely perfect. His hands circled her waist and he lifted her, his face seeking the soft cushions of her breasts, his mouth open against her skin, his words muffled as he sought and found the curves that enticed him. It mattered little that she did not understand the words he spoke, for his meaning was clear, his need for her obvious. He kissed and suckled, rubbed his nose and cheek against her softly rounded breasts and then lowered her a bit until he could reach her mouth, that soft arrangement of lips and teeth and tongue, that welcoming place she opened in anticipation of his kiss, from which she uttered soft words of satisfaction, sounds of pleasure and expressions of wonder.

  Her legs twined around his waist and hips, and she gripped him with the strong muscles of a woman who has ridden a horse and learned the skill well. He felt her body adapt to his, shuddered as she moved restlessly against him and then crushed her to him in a frenzy of desire that made him fear for her.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he growled against her skin. “I’m afraid I’ll be too rough.”

  “No. You won’t hurt me,” she assured him, sliding down his body as if she would imprint her curves and hollows on his masculine form. Her arms circled his back, her hands beneath his shirt, her fingers seeking purchase in the muscled width of his torso.

  “I need to take a deep breath,” he said. “Back off a little. I can’t take a chance on bruising you, Sarah.”

  “I don’t care,” she whispered, bending forward and setting her teeth in a ridge just below his shoulder. She bit, not gently but with barely enough strength to cause pain, and he growled deep in his throat.

  “I don’t care,” she repeated, her nails digging into his back.

  His boots hit the floor with two solid thumps, then his trousers were quickly dealt with and his shirt was stripped off. Before she could catch her breath, she was flat in the middle of the big bed and he was looming over her. Without warning, with no pretense of gentle persuasion, he touched her, his hands exploring her body, his fingers taking measure of her breasts, her belly, and then into the feminine warmth below.

  She lifted herself to his touch, cried out in abandon as he sought the treasures gifted her by her Maker, brought pleasure to each place he visited, and then followed the path his hands had taken with the heated passion of lips and tongue. She cried out again, not in fear or pain but in triumph, and he caught the sound with his mouth, tasted it and felt the joy of bringing her to a height of desire and pleasure that brought tears to her eyes and the moans of a woman who has known satisfaction to her lips.

  “Sarah.” He spoke her name, breathing the syllables against her ear, and then moved between her legs, seeking to find welcome there. With slow movements he claimed her; with deep thrusts he made her shiver with delight, taking her once more to the peak of passion. Then he joined her as she clung to him, whispering his name, holding him close in the clasp of arms and legs that seemed unable to release him from her hold.

  If she was fearful of his passion she did not reveal it, for her face glowed with a look of satisfaction he could not fail to recognize. If she had been roughly used, she appeared not to be wary of him, for she held him ever tighter against herself. And if his movements and the caresses he’d bestowed upon her had been too abandoned, she seemed to have thrived on them. Her eyes were half-closed, her swollen lips soft and inviting, and he bent to claim them once more.

  “I didn’t hurt you?” he asked, and she shook her head and then laughed, a soft, enticing sound that brought him to readiness once more. But it was too soon. He would wait, wait until supper was tended to, until Stephen was in bed and until Sarah was once more ready for his loving.

  It would strain his patience, but he had learned well over the past few weeks that that quality was a virtue with much value, especially as it applied to his relationship with Sarah. And so he kissed her and rolled to one side, holding her close, fearful of crushing her, yet needing to remain as one with her.

  His hands were gentle, his fingertips straying tenderly across her flesh as he brushed back her hair, caressed her cheek and traced the curl of her ear. She was all that was warm and womanly, all that any man could ever hope to possess as his own.

  Sarah.

  Chapter Eight

  It was two weeks after the hearing when Brace, who had felt able to breathe better and stop looking over his shoulder, heard of two strangers in town. Now, in the hotel lobby, they met a third, held a hurried conference in a dimly lit corner, then hastened up the wide stairway to the second floor. From the desk, Bart Simms watched with barely concealed curiosity, and when the men had disappeared into the upper hallway he sidled out from behind the wide desk and made his way out the front door and across to the jail.

  “Sheriff?” He called out Brace’s title with a breathless, subdued cry that brought the lawman hastening from the back of the jailhouse. At the sight of Brace’s face, Bart Simms seemed to relax and plopped down in a chair in front of the battered desk.

  “Two fellas just rode into town, come a-visitin’ that Lester fella in his room at the hotel. They sorta put me in mind of him—long noses and sharp, beady little eyes. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re kin of one sort or another.”

  “Probably his brothers,” Brace said quietly. “I figured he wasn’t just hanging around to see Stephen. I’ve been waiting for something like this to happen. I suspect they’re a nasty bunch, the whole kit and caboodle of them.”

  “Well,” Bart said with a sigh of relief, “I just wanted you to know what was going on. Thought you’d be interested. I rented rooms to the both of them.”

  “Damn right I’m interested,” Brace said, the words vehement. “I’ll have to ride home and make sure my wife is safe and sound. I think they’re set on making a misery of her life.”

  My wife. The words sounded sweet to his ears, and Brace recognized in the next few minutes that it was a joy to head for the big white house just past the edge of town. Spending hours with Sarah was his favorite pastime these days, and the mere suggestion of harm heading in her direction made him angrier than he’d thought possible.

  “Sarah? You here, honey?” he called out, finding the back door open and entering the kitchen with haste. The room was empty, but then she would have gone on to other pursuits once the breakfast dishes were done. Now, with the added danger of Lester’s brothers in town, he’d have to caution her about leaving the house open.

  “What’s wrong, Brace?” she asked, mere seconds after he heard her shoes cla
tter down the staircase. Her hair falling about her face and shoulders, she held a hairbrush in one hand and a length of ribbon in the other.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, his gaze doing a complete survey of her neatly clad figure. Except for her hair being free and waving, she was the picture of ladylike elegance, even if a simple housedress was her attire. She lent it a dignity he admired, and she looked every inch a wife. A wife he’d spent long hours cherishing just the night before, holding her close to his side, luxuriating in her scent and the feel of soft curves pressed to his long, lean body.

  “I’m fine,” she said with a sharp look over his shoulder at the closed door. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “The door was unlocked,” he told her, and recognized that his worry on her behalf sharpened his tone.

  “Hmm,” she murmured. “I’d have sworn I locked it before I went up to get dressed.”

  “Well, you didn’t,” he said, stepping a bit closer and reaching for her. “Scared me, I don’t mind saying. You need to be careful, sweetheart. We’ve got problems.”

  “Lester?” she asked. “What’s he done now?”

  “He has company,” Brace said shortly. “Two men rode in today and took a room at the hotel. Bart Simms said they have a family resemblance. Probably some of Lester’s kin.”

  “What can they do?” she asked, fitting neatly into his embrace. She sighed, and he felt her body relax in his arms. Leaning a bit, she nestled her head in the curve of his shoulder and tipped her head, the better to see him.

  It was a temptation, and Brace could not resist. He bent to take her lips and she sighed again. “I like being Mrs. Brace Caulfield,” she whispered. “You’re so good to me, Brace. I could get used to being pampered real quick.”

  “You’d better get used to it,” he growled. “’Cause I intend to have you right beside me for the rest of our lives.”

  “Well, not when you’re at work,” she said, her breath sweet against his mouth. “But I’ll be happy to spend the rest of my life with you.” And then she jerked away from him. “Is Stephen all right? Can they get hold of him while he’s in the schoolhouse?”

  Brace shook his head. “No, I’ve put his teacher into the picture, and that sweet little spinster carries a big gun. She’s not afraid to use it, either. Taught her how to handle it myself.”

  “Well, aren’t you a handy man to have around?” Sarah said with a chuckle.

  “It seemed like a good idea when she took over at the school a couple of years back. She’s got a lot of responsibility over there, keeping those young’uns safe.”

  “Especially our young’un,” Sarah mused. “I wonder if he’d be better off staying home for the next little while. I can work with him here.”

  “No. Let him stay in school,” Brace said with finality. “He’s as safe there as anywhere. You’re the one I’m concerned about right now.”

  “I haven’t used my gun much, except for practicing, years back,” she admitted. “I’m not sure I’d be very good at shooting it, even if I had to. But I’ll try, if you like.”

  Brace considered her, noting the calm assurance she portrayed, the loveliness she wore as if it were an innate part of her. For so it was, an appeal she seemed unaware of, a beauty she apparently took for granted. And it was his, all his.

  Happiness seemed to surround him in this moment and he kissed her again, offering his love with such apparent ease, it surely must be visible to her. “You’re a special woman, Miss Sarah,” he said quietly. “I can’t believe my good fortune.”

  “Does a meal of chicken and biscuits for supper tonight sound like good fortune enough to suit you?” she asked pertly.

  “Yes, ma’am, it surely does,” he answered, aware now of the scent of the meal she’d begun, apparently right after breakfast. “What’s for dinner at noon?”

  “Whatever is left from yesterday,” she said, her brow furrowing as she considered the subject. “Probably roast beef sandwiches with gravy.”

  “Is it almost noon yet?” he asked hopefully, subtlety not his strong suit.

  She eased his hat from his head and ran the fingers of her other hand through his hair. “It will be very soon.”

  “I believe I’ll just stick around, then. No sense in making another trip.”

  He watched her from the table, noted her skill with the sharp knife as she cut thick slices of beef from the remains of last night’s roast. Bread was quickly sliced to order in preparation for the filling. She heated gravy in a saucepan on the stove, with sliced beef drowning in the savory liquid, and he’d just taken his first long whiff of the offering before him when a knock sounded at the front door.

  “Wait here,” he said, adjusting his holster as he left the kitchen. “I’ll see who it is.”

  “All right,” she answered, fixing her own plate. “It might be Lin. She said she’d be here one day this week.”

  “Well, if it is, that’s fine,” he told her. Alert to anything out of the ordinary, he felt a jolt of surprise when the stationmaster’s frowning face met him at the door.

  “Thought you’d want to see this,” the man said quietly. “Jamie said you’d come home for dinner.”

  “Yeah. I’m just sitting down. Want to join us?” He took the wire from the man’s hand and held the door wide.

  “No. I can’t be away from the station for too long. The noon train whistle just sounded. I’ll see you later. I’m sure you’ll want to send a reply.”

  His curiosity piqued, Brace nodded slowly and closed the door, making his way to the back of the house, the message in his hand.

  “I heard you talking to someone. Was it Lin?” Sarah asked as he reappeared in the kitchen.

  “No, a wire came in for me a little while ago.”

  “What does it say?” Sarah asked, and then backtracked. “Have you read it yet?”

  “I thought maybe you’d read it to me,” he said haltingly. His gaze fell to the paper and he frowned. “I can make out some of the words, but it’ll be easier if you just read it off.”

  “I can do that,” Sarah said. She scanned the message quickly, then looked up at Brace. “This is from the sheriff back in Big Rapids. He got your message asking for an inquiry into Sierra’s death. Apparently Lester running off with Stephen put him on alert. He says they’re going to reopen the investigation, due to renewed interest in the case. He wants you to keep a watchful eye on Lester and wait for further details.”

  “Makes sense to me,” Brace said slowly. “And if the man stays in town, it won’t be too hard to do. So long as he stays away from you, I’ll just watch him and continue with his visits with Stephen.”

  “When is the next one scheduled?” Sarah asked.

  “Tomorrow. Right after school. I’ll pick the boy up and take him back to the jail and let Lester know to come over.”

  “I hate having that man near my nephew,” Sarah said sharply. She raised a hand as Brace would have spoken. “I know. I know. It was the judge’s verdict, but I’ll be glad when he comes back to town and makes a final decision.”

  “There are no guarantees, Sarah. Lester is his legal father.” She needed to be aware of all the possibilities, Brace decided. The chances of the judge giving custody to Lester were slim, but still within the range of reality.

  “I won’t let him take Stephen from me,” she said, anger alive on her face and in her voice.

  “If the judge decides in the father’s favor, there’s not much we can do about it,” Brace said simply. “I’m sworn to uphold the law, and that includes any decision the judge makes, sweetheart.”

  “I know,” she said fretfully, “but I can’t believe a man like Lester would be given the right to take Stephen from us.”

  “Don’t fret over it now,” Brace told her, one wide palm making its way across her back in a possessive gesture. “We’ll just take one day at a time.”

  “You’re planning on spending all your spare time right here with us, aren’t you?” she asked. “No
t that I’m complaining.” She stepped away from him and picked up his plate. “Let me heat this up for you. It’s gone almost cold while we stood there canoodling.”

  He grinned widely and sat down. “Is that what you call it? Never heard it described that way before.”

  “My mother used to scold my father when he carried on hugging and kissing in front of Sierra and me. Said he was a canoodler of the first degree.”

  Brace chuckled, pleased that Sarah had good memories of her parents. His own weren’t as pleasant, but it hadn’t been his mother’s fault that school had been so difficult for him. And now he was making strides, thanks to Sarah. He’d have to write to his mother, once his penmanship had improved a little more.

  “I think I’d like your family,” he told her.

  “They’re far from perfect, but then none of us really fit that description, do we?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” he said slowly, looking down at his reheated meal. The gravy steamed once more and he picked up his fork to sample a bite. “This is about as good as it can get,” he said, “and the woman who put it together is in the same category.”

  Sarah sat down with her own plate and smiled, a look of feminine satisfaction lighting her features. “I like your style, Sheriff,” she said, with a glance that told him she was more than pleased with him. And that suited him just fine.

  Their evenings were satisfying to both of them. Brace, because his knowledge was expanding at a rapid pace, and the studying gave him Sarah’s undivided attention. And Sarah found joy in watching Brace’s progress, listening to his reading skills improve day by day. They spent long hours reading, heads close together in the lamplight, aware of each other in a new and satisfying way. Stephen came and went, bringing his own schoolwork with him to study across the table from Brace.