The Outlaw's Angel

by HELEN HARDT

  Instead, she wove her arms around his neck and whispered against his mouth, her voice a sensual caress.

  “Bobby.”

  His name. How sweet the sound from her innocent lips. He was a goner now. His cock woke in his britches, and he pulled her against his arousal.

  “Open, angel,” he said against her rosebud mouth. “Open your lips and let me in.”

  “I don’t know how—” She broke away and spoke into his chin. At the same time her fingers entwined in his hair. “Bobby. This isn’t...proper.”

  “To hell with proper, darlin’. Kiss me back. Please. I’m aching for you.” He found her mouth again and drank from her raspberry lips. “Open. Please.”

  A soft sigh escaped her throat as she parted her lips, just a touch, and he slipped his tongue between them. Every nerve in his body screamed for him to thrust into her mouth, to mimic what he wanted to do with another part of his body. But he held himself in check. Likely she’d never kissed a man before, and even if she had she was otherwise untouched. As much as he longed for her, he didn’t want to scare her away.

  But when the tip of her sweet tongue touched his, he shattered. He pulled her closer, reached behind her with one hand, and began plucking out those dratted hairpins. With his other hand, he held her back at the waist and pulled her against the throbbing in his groin. Soon he was tunneling his fingers through the thick sable waves. They were softer than he’d imagined, like fine oriental silk. A throaty groan rumbled from her chest, and like the waters through a damn breaking, he rushed forward, thrusting into her satiny mouth with urgent yet tender kisses. His tongue tangled with hers, and when she moaned again he deepened the kiss and tasted every crevice of her soft, sweet mouth.

  The kiss went on and on, and when she finally broke away, her breath came in rapid puffs against his cheek.

  “Angel,” he whispered, “you’re so beautiful. So perfect.” He rained kisses across her cheek, her jawline, to the tender spot below her earlobe. Her lavender fragrance ensnared him, and he inhaled deeply. Still she panted against him, and he waited for her to stop him, almost wanted her to stop him, because if he didn’t stop soon he wasn’t sure he’d be able to.

  “Bobby.” Desire thickened her voice.

  His cock responded. How he longed to set it free from its constraints, to watch her wrap her ruby lips around it and pleasure him. Then he’d bury his face between her creamy thighs and return the favor before plunging his hardness into her virgin depths.

  But he couldn’t do this.

  She was too good for the likes of him. To soil her would be to bastardize perfection.

  Once more, though. Just one more taste of those honeyed lips and then he’d stop. He nibbled at her neck, breathed in her lavender essence, and then trailed to her lips again.

  “Naomi,” he said, and bent to touch his mouth to hers.

  She gasped, but before he could thrust his tongue into her, she broke away from him, turned, and ran toward the creek.

  Who’d he been trying to kid?

  If he’d tasted her again, he wouldn’t have been able to stop.

  Chapter Four

  Naomi knelt in the soft mud and splashed her face with the crisp, clear water. She was burning inside, on fire, and she needed something, anything, to cool her off. Her heart pounded against her sternum, her skin rippled with heated chills, and the flutter between her legs had become unbearable in its intensity.

  How had she let this happen? She knew better. She’d been raised better. What would Ma and Pa think of her brazen actions? She’d already succumbed to gluttony. And now lust?

  More water. She splashed herself again and took a long drink. The liquid soothed her, but heat still flashed through her body. Every sense inside her screamed to run back into Bobby’s arms. The sweet pressure of his hard body against hers. The spicy male aroma of his neck. The sleek texture of his beautiful brown hair. The rough stubble of his cheek against hers as he nibbled at her lips, her neck, her earlobe. The softness of his lips. She’d never imagined a man’s lips could be so soft.

  And his tongue. Smooth and delicious inside her mouth. Such an amazing sensation. More. She wanted more. So much more. His moist tongue trailing wetness across her neck, her shoulders, over the buds of her nipples which were tight and painful against her bodice.

  Naomi forced the images from her mind. What she desired would be sinful with a fine upstanding man.

  And she wanted it with an outlaw.

  She splashed her face once again, the fire still burning deep within her.

  “Angel?” Bobby’s voice had deepened.

  Tingles raced across the back of Naomi’s neck. Slick perspiration beaded on her forehead despite the coolness of the water. Her pulse raced.

  “Angel,” he said again, “are you all right?”

  All right? She choked back a laugh that had seemingly come from nowhere. She doubted she’d ever be all right again. Heat scalded her face, and she couldn’t turn to look at him. She was afraid of what she’d see in his eyes.

  Of what he’d see in hers.

  Within a few seconds he was next to her, his canvas-clad knees indenting the soft mud. He reached tentatively toward her and stroked her cheek. Such a tiny touch, barely palpable, yet it scorched a path of fire in its wake. What was wrong with her?

  She brushed his hand away and reached for more water.

  “It won’t help,” he said.

  “Wh-What?”

  “Trying to cool off.” He chuckled and reached toward her again. She backed away.

  “I know how you’re feelin’, darlin’. I’m feelin’ the same. And I can guarantee you an ice bath wouldn’t help me right now.”

  Naomi shivered at the thought of an ice bath, but then heated again as she gazed into his darkened amber eyes. She had to say something. But what? She’d never felt anything like this.

  “I...”

  “Don’t worry, angel. I understand.” He cupped his hands and took a long slow drink from the creek. Then he took her arm and helped her up. “We’ve made a mess of ourselves.”

  Naomi glanced at the muddy knees of his duckins and looked down at her brown work dress streaked with the same wet clay. Now what? They had nothing else to wear.

  “Mr. Morgan—”

  “Back to Mr. Morgan now, are we?”

  “Well, I...I think it’s only appropriate.”

  “Angel, my tongue was just in your mouth. I think we know each other well enough to be on a first name basis.”

  His bold words, though highly personal and improper, flashed across her hot body and landed between her legs. He caught her before she could drop down to the water again.

  “We need to sleep now, darlin’. I want to get an early start tomorrow. By noon we’ll hit the railroad camp, and you can be on your way home.”

  Home. Thank goodness. Home was where she could get back to her life. Back to life before Bobby Morgan. Had it only been a few hours ago? It seemed she’d spent a lifetime with this man. Wanted to spend another.

  “I...Mr. Morgan, I’m so very sorry for...” For what? For letting him kiss her? The good Lord knew that was a lie. That kiss had been the most powerful experience of her life.

  He smiled, and that adorable dimple twinkled at her. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I promised I wouldn’t harm you, and I’ll keep that promise. I’ve learned how to control my actions. Trust in that, if nothing else.”

  Harm her? Is that what he thought he’d done? Her mouth dropped open but she shut it quickly. He was thinking about what came next between a man and a woman. After a kiss. Her married friends had told her how difficult, even painful, it could be for a man to stop. Had she caused him pain? The thought saddened her. She shouldn’t have let the kiss happen. It definitely couldn’t happen again.

  “I don’t think we need to find the cavern,” he said. “It’s a beautiful night. We can sleep under the stars. The ground’s pretty flat over by those boulders.” He pointed. “God knows I’ve slep
t on a lot worse, though I reckon this’ll be pretty uncomfortable for a lady like you.”

  “I’m certain I’ll be fine.” Naomi stalked past him to the area he’d gestured to and lay down in her soiled dress.

  Bobby lay down a good ten feet away from her, no doubt keeping his distance on purpose, for which she was grateful.

  Her body ached from the time spent bareback, and she tossed around. She could handle the lumps on the ground, if only she had a soft place to rest her weary head.

  In the darkness, the scent of spicy male assailed her. Ten feet away, and she was still hyper aware of him.

  “Come here, angel.” His voice traveled across the thickness of the humid air. “You can rest your head on my shoulder.”

  “I’m perfectly fine, thank you.”

  Bobby’s chuckle rang out. “You’re not used to this, and I’m not gonna get any shuteye with you thrashin’ around like a bear in a beehive. Let me offer you a resting place. I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

  “I said no thank you, Mr. Morgan.” She turned away and burrowed her head into her upper arm. He kept his word and didn’t touch her. Soon his breathing turned shallow and regular, and she knew he’d fallen asleep.

  She struggled to get comfortable and said her prayers, begging for forgiveness for her wantonness in allowing that kiss. But the prayers gave way to images of Bobby caressing her, undressing her, loving her with that beautiful and sinful mouth of his. Flutters coursed through her belly as she recalled the sensual scraping of his chestnut stubble against her cheeks. He badly needed a shave. He did have that razor, perhaps she could...

  Her body jerked. Where had such a sinful thought come from? And about her kidnapper, no less? Shaving a man was more intimate than a stolen kiss. It was a wifely duty.

  A strange, yet not unpleasant, sensation spasmed in her belly at the thought of brushing lather onto his chiseled face and drawing the straight blade up against the hair growth.

  He’d smile at her, those amber eyes twinkling, and she’d murmur something coquettish and then back away, embarrassed by her boldness.

  Fire consumed her body. Again.

  Truth be told, she was sorry he’d kept his promise not to touch her.

  She clasped her hands together and prayed to be free from lustful thoughts.

  Chapter Five

  Naomi woke to the sun rising against a pink sky. She stretched and discovered new twinges in her already aching body. Where was Bobby? She smiled when she discovered he’d rolled up his shirt and placed it under her head.

  But if his shirt was here...

  She warmed. He’d haunted her dreams through the night. She’d awoken several times, drenched in sweat, images of their bodies entwined plaguing her, to find him still sleeping soundly. He was older than she, and more experienced. To him, she was no doubt just another woman of many. Clearly he’d had no problem sleeping.

  She sat up and brought his shirt to her nose, inhaling his now familiar aroma. Would she ever be able to get enough of it?

  “Stop,” she said aloud, and tossed the shirt to the ground. She was behaving like a loose woman. She’d been raised better.

  Naomi stood and brushed the now dried dirt from her dress.

  And beheld a dazzling sight.

  Bobby stood in the creek, his back to her, cleansing himself in the cool water. He was too far away for her to see much, and though she knew it a bad idea, her feet, seemingly disengaged from her brain, propelled her forward.

  When she’d walked a few hundred feet, she plopped on her fanny and appraised his male beauty with wide eyes. His hair was wet and clung to his thick neck. His golden back rippled with muscles, from the breadth of his strong shoulders to the leanness of his narrow hips. The smooth slopes of his buttocks shone with wetness. Two perfect globes. Her heart quickened and she lowered her eyes, only to raise them again, unable to look away. His legs were long and powerful, covered with fine brown hair, and when he squatted to rinse his face, the sinewy lines in his calves bulged.

  As she considered averting her eyes, he stood tall and turned around, his eyes widening at the sight of her.

  Brown hair, the same color as his head, scattered across his golden chest. Two copper nipples poked through, and she had the strangest urge to touch them. She gazed downward, to his flat belly, his navel, and the line of hair that ended where the male part of him hung loosely within a nest of chestnut curls.

  It drew her eyes like a magnet.

  “‘Mornin’, angel,” he drawled, not seeming the least bit uncomfortable as he ambled out of the creek to his duckins which were draped across a rock. His legs still dripping, he scrambled into them, and she couldn’t help thinking what a shame it was to cover such a paragon of manliness.

  “Would you like to wash up? I’ll give you some privacy.” He chuckled. “Though you haven’t afforded me the same courtesy.”

  Heat flooded Naomi’s cheeks, and she glanced down at her soiled garments. She couldn’t launder them. They’d never dry in time. But oh, to clean her clammy skin sounded like heaven on earth.

  “I apologize, Mr. Morgan. I didn’t know you were here, and I wanted...needed a drink of water.”

  “Go ahead,” he said, buttoning his trousers. “And wash up if you want. I’ll pick us some berries for our breakfast.”

  Though she longed to cleanse her body, even with no soap, she couldn’t undress with Bobby in such close proximity. “I’ll just wash up my face and hands. I’ll be fine.”

  “Suit yourself,” he said, and he walked, barefoot, toward the boulders where his shirt lay.

  Naomi stripped off her shoes and stockings and waded into the creek. The cool water lapped around her toes and ankles, tickling her. She let her skirts drop. So they’d be wet. They’d dry. She squatted and splashed water on her face and then palmed some sandy dirt from the creek bed and scrubbed her hands. When she’d drunk her fill of clean water, she returned to the creek bank, picked up her shoes and stockings, and headed to where Bobby sat on the dry dirt. She plunked down across from him and plaited her tangled tresses into a long braid.

  “Here you go,” he said, handing her some berries. Her fingers still stained from the previous evening, she popped a few into her mouth.

  “I’ll get you a clean dress when we get to the camp,” Bobby said.

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “Of course it is,” he said. “I can’t send you home in that old brown thing.” He cocked his head and raked his gaze over her, heating her skin. “You shouldn’t wear such a drab color. Blue. You should wear blue, bright blue or violet, to bring out your pretty eyes.”

  Naomi looked away, embarrassed. “You won’t be able to find a dress for me at a railroad camp.”

  “Oh, you’d be amazed what I can find,” he said. “I just have to offer the right price.”

  Naomi dropped her mouth open. “But you said Sheriff Stiles took all your money.”

  “Correction, angel. I said he took the money in my pockets.” He grinned. “Trust me, I keep the bare minimum in my pockets.”

  Naomi couldn’t help but laugh. “Your boots.”

  He winked. “My boots. And honestly, if your sweet sheriff’d had a clue what he was doing, my boots would’ve been the first place he looked.” He smirked. “But he didn’t, lucky for you.”

  “And you.”

  “Yup. And me. I need a new horse and a new weapon. I could go for some clean duds myself. And I’ll need money to pay your passage home.”

  “Just how much money do you have, Mr. Morgan?”

  “Enough that you don’t need to worry about me, darlin’, if you’d been inclined to. Bounty huntin’ can be pretty profitable. If you’re good at it.”

  “And I suppose you’re good at it,” she said coyly.

  “Angel, I’m the best.”

  * * *

  “Wh-Where exactly are we?” Naomi trembled and leaned back into the solid wall of Bobby’s chest. Two rough men eyed them as they trotted thr
ough the dusty railroad camp. Naomi knew the railroad wouldn’t reach Dakota Territory for a while. President Lincoln, may he rest in peace, had only signed the Railroad Act a few years ago. So what was this place?

  “The workers have to blast through some of the rock here,” Bobby said. “It’s a dangerous job, but they’re well paid. I’ve passed through here several times, and they’re a good bunch of fellas, always willing to do some trading. I’m bankin’ on that today.”

  Bobby stopped old Barney and hitched him to a post next to a ramshackle shanty. He helped Naomi down, squeezing her hand. She was strangely comforted by the gesture.

  “I’ll take you to Bessie. She feeds this mass of men. The foreman’s name’s Ike. He’s a right nice fella. Married. A couple kids. He’ll see you get home all right.”

  Naomi trembled and eased closer to Bobby. She wasn’t sure about this. “Uh, Mr. Morgan? Bobby?”

  He smiled down at her. “Hmm?”

  “Please don’t leave me here.”

  “Don’t be scared, angel. Bessie and Ike’ll take care of you. They know how to keep these hicks in line. They’re all out workin’ right now anyway. Come on. I’ll take you in to meet them.

  He led her into the building.

  A plump woman standing over a cookstove greeted them. “Bobby Morgan, as I live and breathe.”

  “Hello, Bessie.”

  “And who’s this pretty thing? Don’t tell me you went and settled down.”

  “No.” Bobby flushed.

  Naomi’s breath caught at the rosiness in his chiseled cheeks.

  “You know me better than that. This here’s Miss Naomi Blackburn. I need you to see to her, if you don’t mind. And get Ike to get her passage home. To Dugan. Her pa’s the preacher there.”

  “And just how’d she end up with you? As if I didn’t know.”

  “Take it easy. It was all a silly misunderstanding. Seems I was caught in the wrong place at the wrong time during a furlough in Dugan. This lady was my ticket out of town. I’ve taken good care of her, but I got to get back to work, and you know my work’s no place for a lady. I need to sniff out Daily again before his trail gets cold.”