One-Click Buy: September 2010 Harlequin Blaze

by Lori Wilde

  She touched his lips with her fingers as he rolled over on his side. Her body was still alive with the aftershocks, frissons of pleasure running through her.

  “Is it always like this?” she asked.

  “No,” he said. “Hardly ever…like this.”

  She put her head on his chest. It was damp with sweat and she was intoxicated with the scent of him.

  His free arm went around her. She wished she had the key to the handcuffs so she could be engulfed in his arms. It seemed that Archie had been wise to keep it.

  She couldn’t decide whether she could trust Jared. Even now when she had given herself to him both with her body and her heart, she couldn’t be sure. That hurt to the core.

  She didn’t want to think of that. She just wanted to revel in all the new sensations that still rocked her body. Sated. That was the word.

  Another Reese word she had never understood fully until now.

  She turned, careful of his leg, and ran her fingers along his chest and up over the ridges of his hard face, the sun lines and the dark eyebrows that could glower so well.

  She’d never known there could be such simple joy in touching.

  He closed his eyes even as fingers kneaded the back of her neck. She put her head against his heart and heard it beat. She knew she should leave. Archie might well kill him if he caught them together, even if it was her fault.

  “Samantha,” he finally said. “I like the sound of your name.”

  “I like the way you say it.”

  “This is a damn fool thing to do,” he said.

  He tugged at the chain absently.

  She met his gaze directly. “I don’t have the key.”

  “Archie is a wise man,” he said.

  Would he have used these minutes to free himself and go after Mac? Was he only using her now?

  A chill ran through her. She’d thought…believed…he was as caught up with the fire between them as she was.

  As if he knew exactly what she was thinking, he touched her face with a tenderness that was unexpectedly painful. It was accompanied by something else she couldn’t quite define. Regret? Maybe uncertainty? It was so hard to tell with him.

  Yet she couldn’t stop herself from touching him. She was sore where he’d been, and yet a craving for him was still curling inside her. She’d just started exploring an entirely new world and she didn’t want to stop now. Her fingers moved along the muscles of his stomach, and she felt them tightening.

  “Don’t begin something I can’t stop,” he warned, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

  She leaned over and kissed him, slowly, and felt the fires beginning again. “I think I like starting ‘somethings.’”

  His gaze caught hers, held it. “Does anything ever scare you?”

  “You do,” she said. “I want you, and I know I shouldn’t. I think you want me, too, but I don’t know how much. I don’t know if you bed every woman you meet, and I don’t know whether I should care. I…” She swallowed hard. “I thought…I could just…”

  “Use me?” he said wryly.

  “Not exactly,” she said. “I wanted…” She was tripping over her words. She couldn’t say what she felt. She couldn’t give him that advantage.

  “And now you know,” he said, his voice suddenly hard and his eyes cold. “I think you had better go, Miss Sam. It wouldn’t do for your Archie to find you here in the enemy’s arms.”

  She didn’t want to leave. She didn’t want to stop touching him. But he had suddenly distanced himself. She’d made a mess of trying to explain herself, but she was too confused by the wash of new emotions to know exactly what she felt.

  Enemy. He thought she was using him.

  But wasn’t she doing exactly that?

  She stood. Looked down at him in the flickering light of the lantern on the table. His eyes met hers steadily, and the deep blue she sometimes saw was eclipsed in their blackness. He looked dangerous and angry and suddenly untouchable.

  She pulled on her now wrinkled clothes and started for the door.

  “You might want to get clean sheets,” he said in a cool, dispassionate voice.

  She suddenly became aware of the scent lingering in the room and the stains on the sheets. Her face flared, but she knew he was right. Archie would be checking his leg in the morning.

  Without answering him, she opened the door and closed it behind her. She took a deep breath. Her body still sang from his touch. From their lovemaking. Ripples of sensation reminded her of the pleasure that so recently rocked her body. But just as strong was the memory of the way his eyes had shuttered and his face hardened. Just as strong was the pain. He had felt nothing. Or at least, very little. His face had told her that.

  A tear slid down her cheek. One lone tear. Then another. She angrily wiped it away. She never cried. Never. At least not since her mother died, and not before the marshal.

  And not again. She swore to it.

  JARED WATCHED the door close, and he wished he had something to throw. Some way to vent his frustration and anger and guilt.

  He groaned. Damn, but he hurt in more than a few places. He’d strained his leg, and the wound throbbed like the blazes, but so did his groin.

  Even more painful was the ache in his heart.

  He’d listened to her try to explain what had just happened, but her eyes had said so much more. He wanted to take her in his arms—arm—and soothe those fears and uncertainties. He wanted to kiss her again. Dammit, he wanted his heart to come alive again. He’d believed it was better not to care, because then you didn’t get hurt.

  Now he realized the cost of the path he’d followed.

  He hadn’t really been alive. He’d gone through the motions, replacing his heart with duty. Replacing love with revenge.

  Sarah would have hated that.

  He looked down at the stains on the sheet. Her blood. His stains. It had taken every ounce of control in his body to pull out before he spilled his seed. He couldn’t leave her with child. Not until he solved the question tearing him apart. Could he forget about MacDonald? Could he forget the man had killed Emma, had killed others in cold blood?

  Jared knew he couldn’t keep his badge if he did. It would violate every tenet of his oath. To the law, to himself.

  He wondered whether she would return with fresh sheets. The image of her face when she left was burned into his mind. More wistful than sad. More puzzled than angry. More bewildered than tearful. Dignity intact. Dignity and pride and independence.

  Damn, he loved that independence.

  He admired that sense of loyalty, even if misplaced.

  Heaven help him, but he feared he was falling in love with her. How could love happen in such a short time?

  It hadn’t. It was lust, he told himself. Just lust.

  So why did his heart continue to ache?

  MORNING CAME much too soon or maybe she just didn’t want to face the day. And the marshal.

  The sheets. She scurried out of bed, dressed hurriedly and grabbed several clean ones from another bedroom and ran down the steps. The coffeepot was cold, which meant Archie hadn’t come down yet.

  She grabbed the key to the marshal’s room and went inside.

  He was sleeping, the top sheet tossed on one side. She wanted to remain angry. She also wanted to touch him. To remember all those feelings from last night.

  She put a hand on his shoulder, and he sprang awake, one hand going to his side as if reaching for a gun, the other pulled tight against the chain. He blinked, then focused on her.

  “I…came to change the bed.”

  She felt embarrassed, by both her reason for being here and her own wanton behavior last night.

  He raised a lazy eyebrow, then nodded. She had him roll over several times until she was done, then gathered up the soiled sheets.

  “I’ll bring you coffee later,” she said.

  “I’ll be waiting,” he replied seriously.

  She didn’t know whether he was
laughing at her or being kind, or just trying to ignore last night. She decided to do the latter, though her heart beat so loudly he must have heard it.

  Just as she was dumping the sheets with other washing to be done, she heard noises outside. A loud greeting.

  She looked out.

  Reese. Reese was back. Another gun. Another pair of eyes that might see what she didn’t want anyone to see.

  And another one of her godfathers.

  She ran out the door, into the street, where she could really look at him. Slender as always. Tall. He was a handsome man with auburn hair and a fair complexion. Unlike Mac, he didn’t seem to age, although gray edged his hairline under the expensive black hat.

  He’d been gone two months, and he couldn’t have arrived at a better time. Or a worse one.

  “Sam, lass, but you’re a sight for these weary eyes.” He swung her up in his arms as he had when she was a kid. Not as high, but every bit as fast.

  “You came through the pass this morning?” she asked when he set her down. She noticed now that he looked tired, older, and his usually immaculate clothes were wet and rumpled.

  “Aye. I arrived at the pass last night, but the rain was still too heavy to chance it. I stayed in that old shack on the other side. Rode through at first light although it was hard going. Probably wouldn’t have made it without my sure-footed Sally. She knows the trail better than I do.”

  He paused. “I saw Jake. He damned near shot me. He told me about Mac and that marshal. How’s Mac?”

  “Better, but Archie said he still can’t ride. Maybe a few more days.”

  “I’d already heard some bastard was raising an army to get Mac. It’s one reason I rode back, although I was on one hell of a winning streak. There was a lot of conversation in Central City. Someone saying there was big money to be made for capturing Mac. One guy was asking a lot of questions about this area, places to hide, and sure as Lucifer, someone told him about this place. Just like someone must have told that marshal.” He looked at her. “Did you really shoot him like Jake said?”

  She nodded.

  “Where is he?”

  She nodded toward the room. She tried not to show any emotion.

  “I should have been here. You weren’t hurt?”

  “No. I might have been. He noticed I was a woman and hesitated.”

  Reese studied her closer. “I’ll talk to him as soon as I get some dry clothes on.” He paused, then said, “Can you heat some water? I could use a bath. I’ve been riding nonstop. I wanted to make sure you got out of here if you weren’t already gone. Mac’s wounds complicate things some.”

  “We just need a few days more.”

  “I don’t think you can depend on that,” he said.

  “I’ve prepared the mine shaft. We can stay there several days.”

  “The marshal, too?”

  How much had Jake told him? “I don’t know.”

  “How badly injured is he?”

  “His leg. I don’t know if he can walk, but he’s getting stronger. Archie handcuffed him to the bed. He’s in the room they used to use as a cell. Mac doesn’t know about him yet,” she added. “We—Archie and I—were afraid he might try to go down…”

  “Mac isn’t going to like that,” he said. “I wouldn’t, either.”

  “You don’t know how…sick he was.”

  “He’s better now?”

  “Some. But…”

  “Tell me about the marshal.”

  She didn’t want to talk about Jared… “Not much to tell. He’s a marshal. He’s been after Mac for a long time.” She hesitated. Whatever she said would be a betrayal to either Mac or Jared. But Reese had to know. “He believes Mac killed his sister-in-law. He won’t give up.”

  “Then we have to change his mind. Or,” he added, “solve the problem for him.”

  Her heart stopped for a moment. She wasn’t sure what he meant.

  “Don’t look so stricken, Sam,” he said. “I don’t want a marshal’s blood on my hands.”

  “Then…how?”

  “Let me think about it.”

  He wouldn’t say anything else now, and she wanted to divert his attention from Jared. “How much did you win?”

  “A little less than ten thousand dollars. Enough with your gold to buy a good piece of land for ranching.” His aristocratic features creased in a smile. “My luck came back.”

  “I hope it continues,” she said.

  “I’m going to get out of these wet clothes,” he said, “then check on Mac. I want to meet this marshal, too. And I really don’t like the idea of you being trapped in the mine. I heard they were looking to hire Jed Cantrell. He’s the best tracker in Colorado. I think we should start thinking about the raft. It’s still in place?”

  “Yes, but the creek’s not passable. Been getting higher with all this rain.”

  “We may not have a choice. I’m hearing that rancher raised fifteen, maybe twenty men. Believe me, they won’t care who they shoot. There’s a five-thousand-dollar bounty on his head.” He flashed the devil-may-care grin he usually wore. “If Mac weren’t my friend, I’d be mighty tempted myself.”

  She swallowed hard. She’d been worried, but nothing like she was now. “Got something to eat around here?” he asked, his gaze never leaving hers.

  “Bacon. Some hard biscuits. Jam. Honey. I took most of the supplies to the mine.”

  “I’ll go see Mac while the water’s heating,” he said, “and any food you have would be gratefully received.”

  She nodded, anxious for him to leave. Each time they mentioned the marshal, she was afraid the blood would rush to her face.

  She filled a large pot and put it on to boil. Archie had already stuffed wood in the stove for the coffee and the embers were still burning. It would take a while to heat. In the meantime, she fried bacon and potatoes and heated yesterday’s biscuits. Fear kept her moving. She’d halfway thought the marshal had been lying. She’d gone through the motions of preparing the mine shaft, but the need hadn’t been entirely real. Now it was. Reese was concerned, and Reese didn’t get concerned often.

  Fear snaked up her spine, just as it had when she’d shot Jared. Fear not only for herself but for her three godfathers.

  And Jared? What would Archie and Reese do about him?

  She poured some coffee and fetched the key to the marshal’s room. She wasn’t surprised to see him awake. Did he ever sleep?

  Light filtered in from the other room. She left the door open while she handed him the coffee, then lit the lantern on the table. It took all the willpower she had to look him directly in the eyes.

  “You wanted to know who else lived here,” she said. “My third godfather just arrived. He says your rancher has raised fifteen or twenty men along with a tracker.”

  He sat straighter. “You have to get out of here.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Because of MacDonald?”

  Her face must have supplied the answer.

  “Would he let you die for him?”

  “No.” The familiar voice came from the doorway, and she whirled around to see Reese.

  He had changed to a dry pair of clean dark pants and a white shirt, his usual deceptive smile in place. That and his British accent often fooled people into not taking him seriously. He could shoot every bit as well as Mac if necessary, though he preferred using his wits over violence.

  “Evans?” he acknowledged.

  Jared nodded. He shifted on the bed to a sitting position, gingerly lowering his wounded leg to the floor. “And who might you be?”

  Reese turned to her. “I think that bacon might be burning,” he said.

  Sam didn’t like the dismissal. She didn’t want to leave. She wanted to hear what was being said.

  Yet she did smell the bacon sizzling and they didn’t have that much left to waste. Besides, any objection might raise more questions later. She wasn’t ready for those.

  When she’d warmed the biscuits, she opened a pr
ecious can of peach preserves and spooned out a third for Reese. There would be plenty left for Mac and Archie.

  And the marshal.

  She wished she was a fly on the wall inside that room. She wished the door wasn’t so stout. She wished a million things, but she feared now that none of those wishes would come true.

  She went over in her mind what Reese had said. Fifteen or twenty men. There were, at best, seven of them, including Jake and Ike. This wasn’t their battle.

  And the tracker could easily find the mine shaft. And the raft? Being buffeted on the swift-moving creek would be even more dangerous for Mac.

  Would he let you die for him?

  The marshal’s question echoed in her head.

  As did Reese’s blunt reply.

  Her hands shook as she turned over the bacon. Why had she allowed herself to be caught in some fantasy when the world was closing in on her and the men who made up her family?

  15

  JARED STARED at the man who’d just entered the room. He’d been surprised that Samantha had so meekly agreed to leave. He hadn’t suspected meekness was in her.

  “I’m Reese,” his new visitor said. “I’m Mac’s friend, and you might call me one of Sam’s godfathers. That’s what she always calls us.”

  “Are there any more?” Jared asked wryly.

  “You’ve met Archie. You know about Mac. I’m the third and last.”

  Jared stared at him. He had an aristocratic bearing and his clean white shirt was well tailored. A bit fancy for his taste. As were the black trousers. The man’s hair was beginning to gray, and Jake judged him to be in his forties. He had a slight English accent, but it was obvious he’d been in the country a long time.

  “You need some clothes,” Reese said, his gaze going to Jared’s open shirt.

  “It’s hot as hell in here.”

  “And Sam has been in and out.” It wasn’t a question. More an observation.

  Jared shrugged. “She’s been looking after the leg.”

  “She said you think Mac killed a relative of yours.”