by Multiple
Before anyone.
“I know, darling. I figured that out all by myself.” His crooked grin tugged familiar in her soul. “You just make him work for it. Okay?”
She blushed, thankful that the darkness hid it. ‘Thank you, I think. But…”
“But?” He prompted, ignoring the whistle from Buck that Sam was ready. Scarlett glanced across the dark camp. The moon was still passing full, so they’d waited for it to set before waking her. The darkness was composed of thin and fat shadows, some moving, some not.
Glancing back down, she was thankful that the wolf gave Cody eyes that seemed to glow in the dark, the rich, yellow-brown reminding her of the leaves turning in the autumn. “I don’t really know how things are going to work out with Sam, if they work out at all. But you’re still…”
She trailed off, she didn’t know how to ask him if he would still be there. Still be her brother. Still love her. Was it even fair?
“Scar, don’t be stupid. I’m always going to be here. You can’t get rid of me. You need me, you just send word and if it doesn’t work out with Sam, I’ll beat him silly and take you home to the mountains.” It was a promise from the man and the wolf.
“Hey, you two, we’re going to be there in a week or two, let’s go.” Buck appeared out of the darkness, impatience rolling off him.
Scarlett stuck her tongue out at him and he returned the salute by crossing his eyes. She chuckled again and let Cody take the lead, guiding her horse over to Sam. Like her brothers, he could see better in the dark than she could and he would lead her horse, letting her take it easy for the first leg of the journey.
“Ready?” He asked in near whisper.
She nodded mutely, glancing at the faces of her brothers around her. The borrowed mare, a sweet sorrel, belonged to Kid and he’d insisted because she had the lightest gait and was less likely to jar Scarlett’s wound open. “See you soon?”
“You will. Now go.” Cody patted Sam’s horse, sending them off into the darkness. She twisted in the saddle, having a care for the bandages wrapped around her middle. Noah had healed the gash mostly closed, but admonished her to be careful for the next few days until the skin was fully knitted together.
“The sun will be up in a couple of hours,” Sam’s voice carried back to her. “Just hook your leg around the pommel and get some sleep if you can.” He’d told her to sleep the last time they’d ridden through the night, only then she’d been snugged between him and the pommel.
She hadn’t really listened to his advice then either.
The next two days followed the exact same routine. They rode north, never deviating and pausing at the watering holes only long enough to rest the horses and refill their canteens. By the end of the second day, Scarlett was thoroughly sick of endless dunes, scrub grass and sand.
The sand itched. It got into her boots, her britches and even seemed to migrate under the bandages. The sun blazed down on them, turning the sand into shimmering glass that glared up at her eyes. They made cold camps, no fires and no talking. They slept fully dressed, with the horses saddled. Night came quick in the desert, but Sam kept driving them north and for two long days, they watched for signs of pursuit.
Thankful that none came.
Every night, she dreamt, waiting for word from Buck, but he was curiously silent. If he visited Sam, the marshal was keeping it to himself. At the first scent of pine, she jerked her head up.
“Do you smell that?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Sam pointed. “Up there.”
Scarlett strained in the saddle, bringing her hand up to shield her eyes against the never-ending glare. A mile or so to the northeast, a bluff was visible, a rock face cut along the desert as though a wall against the sand. Green pines stretched like fingers up to the sky.
“Water.”
“Shade.”
Sam flashed a grin in her direction, a first since they’d left the others and her heart kicked against her ribs. “Race?”
“Oh yeah!” They’d been careful to spare the horses since starting into the wasteland but with the promise of cool refreshment dangling before them, they touched heels to the horses’ flanks and sent them into a rocking canter. The horses must have scented the water because her sweet mare stretched her neck out, breaking into a gallop and Scarlett leaned down, holding onto the reins and moving with the horse’s pace. Her hat flew off, only to be caught by the strap around her throat and her hair pulled loose, to stream behind her in the wind.
It was a lot like how she imagined flying to be.
Sam’s mare kept close pace to hers, paralleling her race towards the bluff. They slowed only to find the path and then let the horses pick their way up, the sweet scent of green grass, cedar, pine and water providing a powerful lure.
They crested the trail and shade burst over them like a storm cloud, cool air washing over their heated skin and even the horses seemed to sigh. Scarlett nudged her mare forward eagerly, but Sam cut her off with a patient look. “Let me go first.”
She rolled her eyes, too pleased with the promise of water and a bath to argue, much. “Well then hurry.”
He laughed, a soft, sweet sound that went straight to the pit of her belly and made her skin tingle. The bluff top seemed to be home to the edge of a forest, below, the desert spread out like some great, barren sea. Sam dismounted and stepped deeper into the shadows, beneath the trees.
Her mare’s ears twitched forward and back, but then seemed to focus forward and Scarlett let her walk, snuffling. She could hear water splashing over rocks.
“Come on, we’re clear, I don’t see signs of any recent encampment.” It was still early for the third day’s camp, but Sam didn’t seem to mind and Scarlett wasn’t going to complain. She slid off the horse and loosened her girth before following Sam and his horse into the patchwork grotto surrounding a merry little stream. A sliver of silver splashed up to the surface and then down again.
“Fish.” She murmured and her stomach growled in approval.
“I saw. Let’s get these ladies stripped down and staked out for grazing, then I’ll see about catching us some dinner.”
Her itchy skin argued with her grumbling stomach, but in the end, she decided she could dive into the water as soon as Sam caught dinner. Despite their mutual hurry, they were both methodical about the tasks and she shooed Sam off to fish while she currycombed his horse for him. It was a measure of how comfortable they’d grown that he’d left her to it.
Once the horses were cared for, she went over the saddles, unpacking the bedrolls, digging out what remained of a bar of soap, some towels and clean clothes. The saddle blankets she hung on a low branch to dry and she made sure to check the tack as Sam required, noting a loosened tie on one and taking the time to repair it.
By the time Sam returned with a string of six fish, Scarlett was starving, but they still needed wood. He hung the fish on a stake and helped her gather it together and then took a step back to watch her coax flame from the damp wood. It smoked more than she cared for, but soon the flames were popping.
Sam nudged her out of the way and set about gutting the fish, taking the pan she handed him, the only one they’d packed and setting it carefully on the fire to start heating. He was wrapping the fish in leaves, but she trusted he knew what he was doing.
He certainly knew more about cooking fish than she did. She checked their makeshift camp once more, to be certain that all the set up chores were done. Satisfied, she toed off her boots and stripped down, abandoning every piece of her sand filled, itchy clothes. The bandage was still tight against her side, but she would peel it off after she swam.
It wasn’t until she bent to pick up the towels and soap that she heard a choked sound from Sam. Glancing at him, she lifted both of her eyebrows. The cool air felt delicious on her parboiled skin, the desert heat and sand having left her raw and irritated.
“What are you doing?” He managed to squeeze out, standing absolutel
y still next to the fire, fish in one hand, and leaves in the other.
“Taking a bath.” She paused, considering what Micah had told her and remembering the way Sam’s eyes followed her every other time she’d been swimming. Her nudity was probably wildly inappropriate, but she found that despite the flush creeping over her, she just didn’t care. She curved her lips into a smile. “You can join me if you like.”
She left him tending the fire and marched down to the water before her courage could abandon her. She dropped the towels on a rock just within reach and waded out into the stream, startled by just how brisk the water was. Her nipples stiffened to hard peaks as her skin rippled with goose bumps. She gasped and then ducked herself under the water, the cold a blessed relief.
Rising from the water, she dared a look back to the shore and grinned at Sam. He was standing exactly where she left him. She laughed and ducked back into the water, luxuriating in the swift cool down. Despite her penchant for fire, she was not fond of sweat or the desert now that she’d truly experienced it.
She swam, stroking out from the shore a ways until the bottom fell away forcing her to wade or turn back to the shallower waters. The bandage was soaked through, but she was pleased to see no sign of redness against the white cloth. Maybe she could take it off for good after her bath. She settled into the shallow water and worked the soap into her hair, careful to pull the strands apart and clean it thoroughly. It felt like weeks, not days since she’d been able to wash. A splash from the shore dragged her gaze around. A lean, nude Sam strode into the water, his brown gaze riveted on her.
Her smile grew at the determined look on his face and she held out the soap to him in wordless invitation.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Sam still couldn’t believe that he’d glanced up from the fish to find Scarlett dropping her britches into a pile with the rest of her clothes. She was all creamy flesh from her narrow tapered waist to her sweet, freckled shoulders. The waterfall of rich, red hair cascaded over her shoulders and brushed the curve of her back where dipped into the luscious curve of her bottom.
His mouth went dry and he had to fumble with the pan to catch it. The sassy little minx didn’t even grace him with a shy or embarrassed smile. Instead she’d just grinned at him, a welcoming, warm, teasing grin, invited him to join her and marched her tight little ass right down to the water.
What the hell were her brothers teaching her? Didn’t she understand modesty? He watched her sink under the water and then burst upwards, hair flying back in a thick mass as water droplets caught the sunshine speckling through the trees stretched wide overhead.
She was utterly captivating. She splashed out from the shore, swimming with easy, confident strokes. A flash of white on her side as she twisted in the water and dove down only to splash back up reminded him of her injury. She was supposed to be taking it easy. But in one unguarded moment, her expression of bliss as she splashed through the stream, Sam realized he had long since lost this battle.
Days of being close, but not daring to touch beyond a few stolen kisses. Basking in the warmth of her smile and facing down the wrath of her temper. Meeting the challenge of every single one of her brothers, one after the other until each stood aside. He’d chased her halfway across the territory, not to satisfy the law or some moral obligation, but because he wanted this.
The pure and absolute abandon that he’d had the pleasure to glimpse in the swimming hole at the Flying K. The pure, unspoiled and unabashed beauty that he’d shared a stolen intimacy with in a cave. He knelt by the fire and wrapped the last fish, stuffing it in with the rest and burying it at the edge of the fire.
They would slow cook.
Or they could burn.
He watched her cavort in the water, splashing out into the deeper portion of the stream and then returning to the shallow waters kissing the shore. He unbuckled his gun belt and shucked his own clothes, letting them drop into a pile, forgotten next to his boots.
Somewhere, his father was sighing to the heavens for his manners, but Sam ignored that. He embraced every crazy moment of the last four weeks since she’d been deposited into his life. His body was one, hard solid length of need. He watched her play and when she finally settled into the shallow end to wash, he forced himself into the cold water.
Awareness fired along his nerves as the summer green of her eyes came to rest on his. Her creamy skin was pink from her exertions and Sam dove into the bracing water, letting it sluice the sweat and dust from him. He’d managed to stay shaven all week until they’d broken away to ride across the desert. He scratched at the stubble thoughtfully as he surfaced, aware that the water was lapping at his thighs.
Even more aware when her gaze darted to his waist and then lower still. Sam forced himself to remain where he was. He’d spent the last week getting her used to him, touching her hand or her cheek often, until it was casual and natural for her to accept it. He’d enjoyed the teasing kisses, the quick brush of his lips to her forehead, the gentle caress of her lips on his cheek and the deeper, sweeter kisses.
He held up his hand when she started to rise in the water. Her nipples were hard peaks, straining against the cool air and colder water. His groin ached at the sight, but he waved her back to her wash.
Uneasiness crept across her expression, stabbing him with her innocence at the perceived rejection.
“Not everything has to be a rush, Minx.” He teased her, gentling his tone and forcing his own body to accept that it, too was going to have to wait for satisfaction. He stretched back, dipping lower in the water. The coldness stung his skin and cleared the haze of desire that flushed his vision since he’d first gotten a look at her.
“I suppose,” Scarlett’s voice was quiet, but it carried over the rushing water.
“But?”
“But I thought men and women, well that they…you know.”
He suppressed a laugh and widened his eyes in mock surprise. “Men and women what?”
Her forehead squinted together in an irritated frown. “I have seen animals mate before, Marshal.”
“Sam.” He reminded her, wading forward with a playful lunge that had her skittering backwards until her bottom brushed the stream edge. He laughed and threw himself backwards, desperate for the distraction from the raging need pulsing in his cock.
Time, he reminded himself. She needed time.
Time and proper care.
He swam deeper into the water, reciting the first fifteen Psalms, but they proved no match for fiery haired minxes who waded out to meet him. He tread water, fighting the gentle lure of the stream’s current. Scarlett dipped into the water and rinsed her hair.
Sam tested fate and dared a little closer, his gaze scanning the shoreline. The horses munched on the grass peacefully, their banked fire smoked cheerfully and even the birds overhead seemed to have settled in for the late afternoon respite. It was idyllic.
Scarlett’s green eyes clashed with his.
Perfect.
He sighed. “Scarlett, I have all these grand intentions.”
“To court me,” she grinned. “I know, Micah explained it.”
He was going to have to kill his brother. Sam exhaled a slow breath, inching forward until she was in arms reach, but keeping his hands to himself. He settled his feet on the sandy bottom. Glad for the clear water that let him see what he was stepping on, and even more for what it revealed of her slender feminine form. He let his gaze wander to the juncture between her thighs. The smooth as a baby’s bottom juncture.
Frowning, he edged closer and Scarlett watched him with a mixture of anticipation and wariness. “What’s wrong?”
“I thought there would be red curls,” he was disappointed and not in the same breath. He stretched his hand out and touched the soft dimple of flesh. He rubbed his thumb over the soft mound, not daring to go deeper. Scarlett gasped at the intimate touch, but curiosity pounded his temples.
“I had some, for a while
.” She confessed it in such a small voice, as though he were going to be disappointed and Sam lifted his gaze to hers.
“What happened to them?”
Her cheeks turned a soft shade of pink. “I think I burned them off.”
Sam laughed. It was such an odd conversation and yet so normal at the same time. He spanned his hand over the flat curve of her belly, and further still until he touched the bandage. The water lapped at their hips teasing them together and then apart.
“How is your wound?”
“It doesn’t even really hurt anymore.” Scarlett brushed her hand over the cluster of green and yellow bruises along his rib cage.
“It’s okay,” he dipped down to murmur in her ear. “You can touch me. I don’t mind.”
Her fingers were tentative as they spread out against his chest. Her eyelashes fluttered up and down, green gaze fixed on his abdomen, ribs and chest. She was killing him, one butterfly touch at a time. Still, he forced himself to wait, to let her get used to it. He shaped his hands over her hips, their roundness both appealing and welcoming. Her legs were composed of supple muscles and demonstrated her strength.
A groan tore out of his throat as he recalled the way they’d locked around his hips in the cave.
“Sam?” The question in her voice tugged him back to the exquisite reality.
“Yes?”
“That wasn’t a gun poking me that night on the way to the Flying K, was it?”
His eyebrows climbed at the question and he followed her glance down to his cock. Even in the balls-aching cold of the water, he was swollen with arousal. He chuckled. “No, I’m afraid not.”
Scarlett lifted her wide, clearly uncertain gaze to his and Sam wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against him. It was both pleasure and pain for his cock as it nestled into the soft warmth between her thighs. The chill in the water fled as heat bubbled to the surface.
