Tempting the Marshal: (A Western Historical Romance) (Dodge City Brides Series Book 2)

by Julianne MacLean

  When their eyes met, her emotions dipped alarmingly. He stood at the bottom of the porch stairs with one boot resting on the second step, his hand on his raised knee. He gave her a subtle, reassuring smile and she found herself knocked slightly off kilter by how devastatingly handsome, muscular, and manly he was.

  That smile…It was an absolute killer.

  “What happened?” she asked, fighting to breathe steadily and not get lost in the whirlwind of his good looks.

  “Nothing much. We just talked.”

  Just talked. Leo hadn’t just talked to anyone in six months. “What about?” She tried to sound nonchalant.

  The marshal didn’t answer right away. He walked calmly up the steps, moved around Jo, sat himself down on the porch swing and leaned back. “Care to join me for a minute or two?”

  The invitation—the thought of sitting so close to him—made her insides grow hot with nervous excitement. She tried to smother the reaction and stiffly made her way to the swing and sat down, keeping her backside perched forward on the wooden seat to avoid touching his muscular arm, which rested across the back of the swing.

  “How’s your shoulder?” he asked.

  “It still pains me a great deal. I’m anxious to retire.”

  The corner of his mouth turned up, as if he were amused by her constant attempts to get rid of him. “I see. Can you stay awake long enough to hear what your son had to say?”

  “Of course.” She met his gaze directly. “I’m always interested in what Leo has to say.”

  “I’m sure that’s true. Only problem is, he doesn’t think so.”

  Jo felt as if she’d been blasted by another pistol, this time straight through the heart. She knew she and Leo had been having problems since Edwyn died, but she didn’t want to hear it from Marshal Collins, of all people.

  “He’ll come around in time,” she said, working hard to be guarded and abrupt with this man who seemed to be pushing to get closer, to understand her and Leo. Could that be true? Could he be as sincere as he sounded?

  The marshal leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees and laced his fingers together. “He told me what happened to your husband.”

  Jo let her eyes follow the erratic flight of a bat overhead. But he didn’t tell you the truth. I’m the only one who knows what really happened.

  The marshal continued. “You can’t let that stop you from letting your son grow up. He thinks you don’t trust him with things. That you don’t have any confidence that he can take over the ranch.”

  “He’s just a boy. Taking over the ranch is a long way off.”

  “Not in his mind. He feels he’s ready to be a man. He wants some freedom.”

  Jo knew this already. She’d known it for a long time. She just couldn’t bring herself to give that kind of independence to Leo. How could she, when she knew he only wanted to be out from under her protective wing so that he could investigate his father’s murder?

  Part of what angered her now was that she was being told this by a man who had no business with her family. In fact, he was the last person on earth she wanted involved.

  “Did he talk to you about Edwyn?” she asked, hoping desperately that Leo hadn’t tried to elicit the marshal’s help in finding his father’s killers.

  “He said things were different when he was alive.”

  “Of course they were different—” She heard her angry tone and cut herself off before she spilled out all her woes to the marshal right then and there.

  But oh, how she needed to spill her woes to someone. It had been so long since she’d had anyone to trust with the workings of her heart—her doubts and fears in the middle of the darkest nights….

  And what was it about this man that made her feel safe, even against her better judgement?

  “I know how you feel,” he said gently, and his kindness, which she had been working hard to deflect, nearly broke her.

  She had to move away from him. She stood up, and the swing twisted to and fro. The porch planks creaked beneath her feet.

  “Just try talking to him,” Fletcher said. “Let him know why you’re prudent, and maybe you could relax the rules a little. Let him do the things he used to do.”

  A chilly evening breeze blew her skirts as she stood resting her hands on the white-painted porch rail, gazing across the dark hills. “I can’t,” she whispered, feeling as though the ground was slipping out from under her.

  “You have to. Or you’ll lose him.”

  Jo swallowed a sob that rose up in her throat. Either way, she would lose.

  She heard the swing creak behind her as the marshal rose and approached. Jo closed her eyes, feeling his nearness. He was going to touch her. She sensed it. Her heart was racing and her body was growing warm at the mere thought of it.

  Oh, God, how long had it been since she’d been touched? Since she’d felt any sort of sensual pleasure?

  Fletcher laid a hand on her good shoulder. She felt his breath on the back of her neck, knew he was smelling the orange flower water she’d splashed on before supper.

  Her skin tingled with desire and she wanted to touch his hand. To thank him, oddly enough, for wanting to help Leo, even though she’d not wanted him to. It had been a while since Leo had looked to anyone for advice. None of the ranch hands seemed wise enough. Mature enough.

  But the marshal…he was so much of a man.

  He gently squeezed her shoulder and she sucked in a shaky breath. She could respond to him now, turn around and…

  Oh, she wanted to. She longed to touch him. Her heart was beating wildly in her breast, imploring her, pushing her…

  She bowed her head, fighting the urges and desires she hadn’t known she was capable of feeling. She felt so wildly confused and physically tormented. Even if the marshal was ignorant of Zeb’s crimes—and she couldn’t be sure of that—he would still feel some duty to protect him. Zeb was his sister’s husband, after all. Why was she feeling this burning attraction to him? It made no sense.

  A few seconds later, Fletcher withdrew his hand from her shoulder and stepped back. Jo felt a chill of disappointment move through her.

  “I should be on my way,” he said in a low and husky voice that slid over her like velvet. “I’ll just get my hat.”

  The door squeaked open and Jo looked up at the starry sky, so impossibly distant. She heard Fletcher thanking Matilda, then the door squeaked again and he stepped onto the porch. The evening crickets chirped a steady rhythm and she clung to such normal things, to distract herself from her unexpected desires.

  He stood behind her for a moment, and she realized he had not asked her any more questions about the shooting. Had she managed to convince him she’d said everything there was to say? Or had Leo simply distracted him from it?

  Or had he felt the same things she had felt? Was he fighting desire?

  Jo turned around and faced him.

  He donned his hat. “Thank you for supper, ma’am. I’m much obliged. Good night, now.”

  With that, he breezed by her and walked to the rented buggy. It bounced as he got in, and the horse nickered. Fletcher flicked the reins and turned the buggy around in the yard, gifting Jo with one last look as he passed by the house.

  For a long moment, she felt as if she were floating in a lake of erotic bliss. He touched the brim of his hat, staring a little longer than would be considered proper, but Jo stared back all the same, wishing she could trust him to take care of all this for her, to make it all go away.

  Confused, she stood on the porch watching the back of the buggy until it disappeared over the moonlit hill. The relief she was expecting from his departure eluded her. All she wanted, strangely enough and in the most unsettling way, was for him to return and touch her again. To whisper softly in her ear so that she could feel his hot, moist breath upon her neck.

  * * *

  Fletcher drove away from the O’Malley ranch, fighting the urge to turn back and take that reclusive widow into his arms and satisfy t
he rampant flood of desires he’d been trying to fight all night long. He was certain he’d seen something in her eyes that suggested she didn’t want him to go, that she was aroused physically, as he had been. That she wanted him.

  He drove over the hill and simply had to pull the horse to a halt. His body was on fire with yearning, and after that pleading look in her eye just now, he began to wonder if there wasn’t something more going on here—besides an obvious attraction he couldn’t be mistaken about. But maybe she’d actually seen the gunman the other night, and that’s why he’d shot her. Maybe that’s why she was so secretive. She was afraid the gunman might come back to finish her off if he knew she could identify him, and she wanted Fletcher to know.

  But it still didn’t explain why there had been no bullet hole in her dress, he thought with some irritation. After spending time with her, he was finding it harder and harder to accept the explanation she’d given him, despite the rumors about her.

  Come to think of it, he was finding it harder to accept the rumors, too.

  Unable to make sense of this, Fletcher sat alone on the dark prairie, squeezing the soft leather reins in his hands. He wanted—needed—to protect her from whatever danger he sensed she might be in.

  But how was he to stay on his toes and maintain his professional impartiality when all he wanted to do now was put his hands on her body, taste those sweet lips, and carry her off to his bed? He hadn’t wanted a woman with such extreme desire in a very long time, and he certainly didn’t want anything like this to happen now. It would never work to take a wife. He’d known that when he chose this career path. He shouldn’t be having these thoughts.

  He took a deep breath and tried to think rationally. If he went back there, it would be personal—that much he knew—and it made him clench his fists in frustration.

  But despite it all, he flicked the reins and began to turn the buggy back around toward the ranch, with no idea what he would say or do when he got there.

  * * *

  The fragrant prairie breeze cooled Jo’s flushed cheeks as she stood on the porch, watching the dark horizon. All she could think of was the intimate conversation she’d just had with the marshal when she knew he was a man she could not trust—the brother-in-law of her husband’s murderer and the man her son had confided in instead of her.

  Why then, was she staring after him? Why was her body thrumming with heat and passion for something she had no business wanting? She was a widow. Her husband hadn’t been dead long enough for that.

  She waited a few moments, then sighed heavily and went into the warm, lantern-lit house where all was quiet. Leo was in bed, Matilda was in the kitchen, and the ranch hands had retired to the bunkhouse.

  Jo stood in the front hall staring at Edwyn’s large tilting portrait. The black-and-white photograph had captured him well—his brown eyes serious, brows in a straight line, mouth covered by a long bushy mustache that made him appear to be frowning, even though he wasn’t.

  She reached out to straighten the gilt frame, trying to remember the long-ago days when they were first married. Had he ever made her body respond with fluttering, breathless desire as the marshal had tonight when he touched her shoulder and she had felt his breath on the back of her neck?

  No, she did not remember anything like that with Edwyn. Ever. He was a kind man. A decent man. That was why she had married him, and they’d had a good life together all these years. But there had never been passion for either of them in their union. Her husband’s touch had never inflamed her senses like Fletcher’s had tonight. She hadn’t even really known such a thing was possible for her.

  She stepped back and stared a little longer, feeling guilty for so many things.

  Of course, Edwyn must have had his share of guilt, too…

  She walked into the parlor and sat on the sofa, letting her fingers roam idly over the deeply buttoned crimson upholstery. She thought about the marshal, and imagined her fingers roaming over the strong lines of his jaw, through the wavy hair at his nape. Though she tried to chase the thought from her mind, she wondered what it would feel like to kiss him. Heaven help her, if he came back in this moment and she found herself looking up at him in the doorway, she would be done for…

  * * *

  Fletcher sat quietly in the buggy in Mrs. O’Malley’s front yard, wishing he had not returned to see what he’d seen through her front door—a young widow staring so intently, so longingly at her dead husband’s portrait, she’d not noticed the man in her yard.

  Perhaps it was best, he told himself as he flicked the reins to head back to town. Maybe that’s why fate had urged him to return here just now—so he could see the way things really were, and put an end to this attraction before it gained any momentum. Before it turned into something he sure as hell would have to be crazy to want.

  Chapter Nine

  Leo blew out the lantern by his bed and snuggled down under the patchwork quilt. He stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, then out the window where the moon shone brightly onto the hills in the distance. He looked at a star, the brightest one, and watched it flicker.

  Listening to the sounds of cattle far away, he closed his eyes and thought of the things Marshal Collins had said to him in the barn. Your ma loves you very much. She just misses your pa.

  He tried to remember the last time he’d seen his ma laugh, but couldn’t. He tried to remember the last time he’d seen her cry, but couldn’t. Where had his tender mother gone? Why was she always so angry with him?

  Leo wished Marshal Collins were here so he could talk to him some more. Then he thought of his pa, and he clutched the quilt in his fists.

  “Pa? If you can hear me, I want you to know that I’m gonna take care of Ma. She’s been sad since you left us, but I think part of it’s because she’s afraid of losing me, too. At least, that’s what Marshal Collins said. Marshal Collins is a real nice man. He promised to show me the jailhouse someday.”

  Leo thought carefully about what to say next. He wanted to get it right.

  “I’m gonna take care of things, Pa. I’m gonna see that the men who robbed us get taken to jail, and then Ma will feel better and not worry so much about losing me, too. Maybe she’ll start smiling again.”

  Leo turned onto his side and looked at the star out the window. It flickered brightly in the sky, and he watched it shine until he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer.

  * * *

  Today was a day for new beginnings, Jo thought, feeling more optimistic than she had in a long time. Heading into town, she sat beside Leo on the squeaky, bouncy wagon seat, heeding some of the marshal’s advice by letting her son drive.

  She’d also told him he could run the errands for her in town—all by himself—which gave him a reason to eat breakfast in a hurry instead of fiddling with it endlessly just to prove a point. This way, Jo could accomplish two tasks at the same time: patching up some of the lost love between her and her son, and sneaking her bag out from under the privy floor.

  Of course, there was a third very important task. “Tell me, Leo, what did you and the marshal talk about in the barn last night?”

  Elbows to knees, Leo held the reins loosely. “Some talk between men is private.”

  Jo pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders, realizing her optimism was a bit premature. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

  He hesitated a moment, as if considering whether or not to continue the conversation. Jo waited, determined to prove she could give him the space he desired. After a few more minutes, Leo leaned back and said, “Fletcher told me you were just worried about me, and that you miss Pa. He said you were lonely for companionship, having to run the ranch all on your own.”

  “Lonely for companionship?” she blurted out, then wondered why it should matter what the marshal thought about her. “Of course, I’m lonely for your pa,” Jo said, trying to sound casual, “but I have everything I need in you.”

  His eyes beamed briefly. “Did you know the marshal has s
ent more than sixty men to prison? Some of them were horse thieves. He’s a real good tracker. He chased some of them for weeks.”

  “Leo, we have to put what happened to your pa behind us,” Jo said, “otherwise it will eat away at us forever. The men who robbed us are long gone and the trail is cold. We did what we could.”

  He shook his head and spoke softly. “No, we didn’t.”

  Her heart throbbed at his words. She knew Leo felt powerless and understood his frustration, but she just couldn’t let him act on it. Not while it was still so dangerous. “Yes, we did. You know I spoke to the sheriff about it. I told him everything and he looked into it. There was nothing that could be done to catch those men.”

  “But maybe Marshal Collins can help us.”

  “No, Leo.”

  “Did you ask him?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Well, I did.” Leo shifted in his seat, as if he knew how angry Jo would be, and was preparing himself.

  She stiffened and strove to control her voice. “What did you tell him?”

  “I told him what those horse thieves did and that the sheriff couldn’t find them. Fletcher said he wouldn’t have stopped hunting them until they were brought to justice.”

  Jo swallowed hard. “Is that all?”

  Leo cleared his throat nervously. “I asked him to see what he could do.”

  “You what?”

  “Why won’t you let me do anything?” he asked pleadingly. “I want things to be right again!”

  It was bitterly ironic that Leo had no idea how much she wanted that, too, and how far she was willing to go to get it. If only she could explain it to him. But if he knew what she knew, he would not survive the day.

  “You’re all I have left, Leo, and I don’t want you getting mixed up in that sort of thing.”

  “But Fletcher said he’d do all the work. He’s going to look into it for us. You don’t have to worry.”

  “There will be no looking into it, do you understand?”