Texas Lucky

by Maggie James

  But not to Mary Lou, who was not about to give up her fine home and fine life. Things could go on like they had, she had adamantly declared. Tom wanted a baby, and she would give him one, and then she and Curt could continue their relationship, keeping it a secret. Everyone would be happy.

  That night he had left the ranch, bitter and brokenhearted. His heart had eventually healed, but there were scars…scars that made him leery of ever trusting another woman.

  There had been other women, and while he had kept a tight rein on his heart he had never taken one selfishly. Always he made sure they were pleasured…but never had he promised anything beyond the moment.

  He closed his eyes and thought about Tess and how he found himself being drawn to her more and more. She was tiny and cute and getting spunkier every day, and even in their shared misery, she made him laugh with her wit and charm. Under different circumstances, he might have been in danger of being too drawn and started backing away, but here, what difference did it make?

  Maybe he should pursue it. Maybe—

  No.

  He would not let himself think like that.

  He would not take advantage of the situation and try to seduce her.

  He would be strong and try to find a way out for both of them, and—

  A scream split the black silence, and Curt was on his feet in seconds, yanking on his boots.

  It was Tess, of course, and as she kept on screaming, he cursed because the fire was almost out. He had to take time to drop to his knees and blow the sparks and ignite another makeshift torch. The torches did not burn long, because there was no oil to keep them going, just strips torn from old blankets he had found.

  He hurried toward the front. “I’m coming, Tess,” he shouted, his voice echoing off the rocks. “Hang on, I’m coming.”

  He found her pressed back against the wall, eyes wide with terror. “It crawled on me. I don’t know what it was, but I was terrified.”

  Curt glanced around and saw the tarantula a few feet away. The huge, hairy spider, about two inches long with a leg span of maybe five inches, looked as scared as Tess.

  Biting back a laugh, Curt reached down and scooped him up and tossed him into the shadows. “Tarantulas look meaner than they are,” he explained. “They only bite when they’re threatened, and while it’s painful, the bite won’t kill you.”

  She shuddered and whispered, “It would kill me, because I’d die of fright.”

  He did laugh then and reminded her, “See what I mean? You don’t belong here.”

  “You keep saying that,” she flared, “not stopping to think I’ve got a right to be upset when I feel something big and hairy crawling on me in the dark. If I’d been born here, I’d still be scared. And besides that, I’ve never seen a spider that big. I’ll wager the first time you did, you were scared, too, so I wish you’d stop badgering me, and—”

  He kissed her.

  He could not help it.

  Did not plan it.

  It just happened.

  She was standing so close, hands on her hips, eyes flashing fire, bosom heaving with her indignity, and Curt was struck by an impulse too powerful to resist. He grabbed her in his arms to pull her close and kiss her long and deep.

  At first Tess resisted, struggling and beating on his back with her fists, but when his tongue parted her lips, his mouth sipping hers, surrender came from deep within. She ceased to fight him, melting against him as her arms slipped unconsciously about his neck.

  His hands moved to her shoulders, then up and down her rib cage to squeeze the sides of her breasts, inflaming him as he felt the soft, tender flesh through the thin dress she wore.

  His tongue entwined with hers and he began to work at the fastenings of her bodice, fingertips pausing now and then to brush her nipples, which had sprung to hardness, eager to be touched.

  Her dress finally gaping open, he lowered his head to lick each breast in turn, lapping hungrily. Finally he closed on one nipple and held it against the roof of his mouth as he suckled deeply.

  Wrapping his arms about her, he drew them both to their knees, lips still fastened to her bosom.

  Her breath caught in her throat as she sighed deliciously and whispered, “Oh, my God…”

  He lifted his mouth and said, “Tell me to stop if you don’t want me, Tess. Tell me—”

  “No, no…” she shook her head wildly from side to side. “I mean yes…yes I want you. I…I’ve never wanted anything more.”

  And Tess meant it.

  For desire, raw and savage, was not something spontaneously evoked merely by his sweet, velvet assault. Too many nights she had dreamed of it happening. Too many days she had turned from him lest he see the longing in her eyes.

  It was inevitable that they yield to what had been building as they had struggled to escape their fate, for this was here and now with no promise of a tomorrow, and they had to seize the moment…savor it…enjoy it.

  “I’ll try not to hurt you,” he promised as he began to slide her skirt up about her waist.

  Pleasantly surprised to find she wore no undergarments, he smiled as she shyly told him, “I…I washed my personal things…they’re drying…”

  “And I’m glad,” he growled, nibbling at her ear and then diving down to feast upon her breasts once more as he parted her thighs almost roughly.

  He was also pleased to discover she was wet, and the knowledge fed his urge all the more. He fondled her with his fingers, gently working between the folds of her sex to massage and probe, before plunging up and into her.

  She gave a little gasp and jumped at the sensation, then sighed once more and relaxed against him.

  He worked in and out, first two fingers, then three, wanting to make her ready for him, because he sensed…knew…it was her first time. He wanted to be as gentle as possible.

  He raised himself long enough to unfasten his trousers and free himself.

  His erection pressed against her thigh, and Tess jumped again. Then, after a moment, she touched him, hesitant at first, then boldly, fingers finally closing around him.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he murmured.

  And she proved she was not by caressing and stroking, awed by the wonder of his manhood…as well as by the strange and wonderful emotions coursing through her body from head to toe.

  Curt maneuvered to a sitting position. With his back against the wall, he put his hands about her waist and positioned her to straddle him.

  “It won’t hurt as much if you take me this way,” he said. “You can control how hard and fast, though God knows it’s all I can do to hold back,” he added fiercely.

  She did as he wanted, raising up on her knees until she was positioned just above him. Then, very gently, still holding her waist, he began to lower her onto him.

  She swooned out loud with delight to feel him sliding into her ever so lightly, only to lift her up again, then down.

  Curt began to undulate his hips delicately, not wanting to cause her discomfort, while at the same time provoking a sweet kind of torture that had her gasping for breath over the rapid pounding of her heart.

  Finally he was able to release her so she could take over, rhythmically pumping herself up and down, and he cupped her breasts and squeezed, his thumb flicking over her nipples.

  He pulled her closer, taking her in his mouth as she threw back her head, husky moans coming from deep in her throat as he tugged and suckled and squeezed, all the while their hips moving in unison.

  And then she could stand it no more.

  With one hard thrust and one quick pain, she settled onto the whole of him, marveling at how he filled her, not caring that it hurt. She began rocking up and down, moving around and around, and he bounced beneath her, releasing her breasts to clutch her buttocks and squeeze her yet tighter against him.

  She felt it coming…the rush of joy from deep within.

  And he felt his own and dared not believe it could happen at the same time for both of them.

>   But it did.

  Tess screamed out loud with the wonder of it all, as Curt moved swiftly to flip her up and over on her back to propel them all the way to glory.

  When it was over, Tess lay with her head on his sweat-soaked chest and thought how nothing would ever be the same between them. And, if fate did so cruelly decree that she should die, then at least she could go to her grave knowing, if only for a little while, what it was like to belong to a man.

  Chapter Eight

  There was no turning back.

  And there were no regrets.

  Neither thought of tomorrows, or yesterdays, instead savoring each day, each moment together.

  They did not speak of love, and Curt saw no need to make it clear, as he had with other women in the past, that he offered nothing beyond the deepest passion he was capable of giving in the moment.

  Tess expected no more than the joy at hand, yet could not help thinking how it might have been had they met and known each other in another time, another place, for her happiness went beyond the ecstatic, unbridled passion that they shared.

  The reality was that she delighted in just being with him, for there were actually moments when they could put the dismal future out of their minds and pretend gloom and doom did not hang over their heads.

  She told him about growing up in the East, and he shared with her some of his adventures in the war, as well as the untamed West.

  But what Tess enjoyed hearing about most was ranching.

  Curt told her how Texas was fairly drowning in cattle since the Civil War. Six million head, it was estimated. “It’s because several generations were born since the war started. Bulls, thousands of them, which would have been castrated if most of the cowboys hadn’t been off fighting Yankees, bred over and over. And to make things worse, tens of thousands wandered off untended home ranges.

  “It’s being called the ‘Big Drift,’ and there’s no way of knowing how many unbranded cattle are miffing around, free for the taking. But till markets get reestablished, ranchers who do have control of their herds can’t afford to keep them, much less get more. They say”—he paused to give a bitter snort—“that a man’s poverty these days is judged by the number of cattle he owns.”

  “But you wanted to start a ranch,” Tess reminded him.

  “Yeah, because land is cheap now, and I just go out and round up some unbranded cows and get a nice herd going. I almost had enough money, too, but I was stupid enough to think I could win more at poker so I’d have some extra to build a barn and maybe a little house.”

  The thought of a house provoked Tess to ask a question that had been burning in her mind for quite a while. “Do you have a wife? Is that why you wanted a house?”

  They were sitting by his fire, way back in the shaft, because it was private there. That way they never had to worry about Skelly or any curiosity seekers from town peering through the gate at the front.

  At her question, he reached out to tenderly brush back a curl that had fallen onto her forehead. “I’m as unbranded as those cows out there.”

  Because Tess figured it did not matter how brazen she was, given that they would soon be parted forever, she was able to quip, “Well, I don’t know about that. Maybe I’d have roped you in and put a brand on you myself.”

  “Think so, huh?” He leaned back, propping himself on an elbow. He liked to look at her in the firelight, for it made her hair glow like a field of dandelions in the sun. He did not like the pallor of her skin, however, for the time spent in the shaft had taken its toll, and she looked pale and drawn.

  “Yes, I think so,” she continued the coy banter. “Because I believe I could’ve learned to tie a lasso and rope a steer and do anything a cowboy could do.”

  “But right now you’re just a tenderfoot.”

  “A what?” she blinked, bewildered.

  He grabbed her foot and yanked off her shoe and started tickling, and she squealed and kicked out at him as he taunted, “See—a tender foot. That means you’re not used to boots and saddles and stirrups or anything else to do with being a cowboy.”

  Breathless, Tess scrambled up to dig her fingers under his arms and do some tickling of her own. He growled, pretending to grow angry, and threw her down to pin her on the ground as he loomed above her. “Now what are you going to do, you little wildcat?”

  She gave a mock growl and warned, “Claw your eyes out like any good wildcat would do, of course.”

  “Oh, yeah?” He raised himself up, arms and legs stiff, hands still holding her wrists to render her immobile. “You sure you want to be a wildcat? Wouldn’t you rather learn bronco busting? I can teach you, you know.”

  He bent his arms to lower his torso so his mouth could claim hers in a kiss that left them both breathless. Then, lifting up once more, he continued his challenge. “I don’t think you could stay on a horse. I think you’d get thrown the first time he bucked.”

  “I could,” she whispered, eyes locked with his in dizzy longing. He had allowed the lower part of his body to drop a bit, and she could feel his swelling brushing against her belly. She trembled with excitement to know where all the jesting was leading. “I really think I could ride…”

  “Well, let’s find out.” He rolled to one side and tugged at her skirt. “But you’ll ride better without this in the way.”

  Without hesitation, Tess stripped out of her clothes, and when they were both naked, he lay down on his back and positioned her above him. Clasping her tiny waist, he settled her onto his erection and commanded tersely, “Now we’ll see if you can bust this bronco, tenderfoot.”

  He began to move his hips up and down, slowly at first, sensuously, gyrating from side to side now and then to tease and delight as he rocked against the velvet walls of her womanhood.

  Tess’s eyes were half-closed as she drifted into dreamy ecstasy, needles of pleasure darting way up inside, piercing, pricking, delighting.

  Suddenly he lifted his hips high and rough, and she bounced up and off of him, only to drop to penetrate once more in near pain.

  “Thought you could ride,” he goaded, giving her another fierce buck.

  Again she slid off of him, but settled back quicker this time and squeezed her thighs against his sides, locking him against her as his thrusts became wilder, harder. She was jounced up and down and around, her hair flying about her face as she fought to hang on.

  His hands clamped on her breasts, giving him leverage, and she did not care that it was rough, for the feel of his thumb against her rock-hard nipple was maddening…made even more so when he raised his head at the same time he pulled her close so he could take one breast in his mouth and feast.

  Arching her neck, she began to make soft moaning sounds deep in her throat.

  He knew she was going to climax, and so was he. He threw her harder, higher, his hips lifting nearly a foot off the floor: But she would not have been thrown from him, for he had raised his legs around her buttocks and imprisoned her against him.

  “I rode you,” she said moments later, laughing softly against his shoulder in the tender afterglow. “You were a tough bronco, but I busted you…”

  “That you did,” he was pleased to agree. “That you did.”

  Exhausted, they slept, arms about each other, and it was only when the sound of banging at the gate echoed throughout the shaft that they awoke.

  “Where are you two?” Skelly yelled. “Back there playin’ in the honeypot, I bet. Well, I got your vittles, but if you don’t come on, I’m gonna leave ’em for the coyotes.”

  Curt got up and began jerking on his clothes. “I’ll go get it. You stay here.”

  Tess was grateful to let him do so, knowing her hair was a mess, and her face felt feverish from the heat of passion still smoldering within. Skelly would see and make his dirty remarks, and what she and Curt had just shared was too beautiful to be spoiled.

  When Curt appeared, Skelly nodded to the torch he was carrying and taunted, “They’re getting littler and
littler, ain’t they? Runnin’ out of rags, are you? Well, that’s a shame, especially since you’re the first prisoner we ever had that bothered to make torches. All the others just hovered here at the gate, so’s they’d be warm by day, anyhow.

  “But then they never had no woman with ’em,” he prattled on as he poured bacon and beans into the two pans Curt held out. “You do, so I reckon I can understand why you hole up back there. Bet she’s got some good honey in that pot, too, don’t she? Reckon she’d give me a dip for an extra plate of bacon?”

  “Skelly,” Curt said in a low, deadly tone, “if you were where I could get my hands on you, I’d choke that filthy tongue of yours out of your mouth.”

  Skelly stepped back from the gate, his expression a mingling of fear and rage all at once. “It’s a good thing you waited to smart off at me till you got your vittles, otherwise I’d have dumped ’em on the ground.

  “But let me tell you one thing.” He shook the dipper at him. “You ain’t got much longer to be so tough, on account of I heard the judge’ll be here day after tomorrow, and Worley’s already got the gallows goin’ up. We’ll see how tough you talk when that noose goes around your neck.”

  Curt turned to go, wondering whether or not to tell Tess it was almost over, but Skelly called after him, “Listen, you have the bitch here to get her own food in the mornin’, understand? Worley told me to make sure I see her every day to make sure she’s all right. He said he didn’t want her gettin’ sick and dyin’ ’fore the judge gets her, ’cause it’d make him look bad, mistreatin’ a woman—even if she is a no-good horse thief that’s gonna die anyhow.”

  For an instant, Curt almost let the idea drift away like a feather in the wind. It was too simple. Too easy. Perhaps that was why it had not dawned on him before, that he could lure Skelly into the shaft with the pretense that Tess was sick, then overpower him and—

  No.

  Skelly was not that stupid.

  Or was he?

  Curt sucked in a deep breath, furrowed his brow as though deeply worried, and turned around. “The fact of the matter is she just might be sick, Skelly.”