To Love a Texas Ranger

by Linda Broday

  A single row of lace around the neck of the chemise, tied with a rose-colored ribbon, did nothing to hide the swell of Sierra’s enticing bosom. A flick of his wrist untied the ribbon, and the fine cotton fabric fell open. His breath hitched at all that bared velvety skin.

  With a hand under her jaw, he hungrily covered her lips, while his other released her hair from the knot at the nape of her neck. The dark strands spilled over his hand in a silky waterfall.

  If he couldn’t have this woman now, he’d die.

  Sweeping her against his naked chest, he carried her to the bed and sat her down on the quilt. Kneeling, he drew each stocking slowly down her shapely legs.

  Tossing them aside, he raised her small toes to his mouth and kissed each one. He loved everything about this woman who stole his breath.

  Finally, he stood. Kissing the nape of her neck, he removed her chemise and laid her back on the bed. Her beautiful dark hair spread in wild abandon around her.

  Quickly disposing of his gun belt and boots, he shed his trousers and propped himself on his elbow beside her. “Are you sure about this, Sierra?”

  Tears sparkled in her blue eyes as she placed her small palm on the side of his face. “I’ve never been surer of anything.”

  “I’ve wanted to make love to you from the moment we met on the train. You’re so beautiful and kind, and you make me crazy with want. This hunger for you has taken over, and I don’t have the power to squelch it.”

  He nibbled her mouth and ran his tongue along the seam, then captured her lips in a soul-shattering kiss. It had to have totally and fully swept all doubts from her mind about Sam finding her enough.

  If she was any more, he wouldn’t be able to stand it.

  With the gentlest touch, he outlined the curves of her body with his hands before returning to her soft, pliable breasts. He loved the weight, the feel, the sight of them.

  He kissed each one and watched them seem to yearn for more. Despite the fact that women were mysterious creatures, they fascinated him. Take, for instance, Sierra’s response to the slightest caress. Her spirit held a bit of the wanton—a hint of the wildness of the mountains that he loved.

  She gasped when his mouth closed around her nipple and he began to gently tug on it. A moan slipped from her as she sank her hands into his hair.

  “I need you, Sam. Get rid of this achy feeling inside me. I can’t bear it.”

  Sam lifted his head and laid a palm on the dark curls that guarded the juncture of her thighs. He slipped his fingers inside and stroked as Sierra arched her back, pressing herself harder against his hand.

  Each stroke brought her higher and higher to the top of the wave.

  At last she gave a cry and, as shudders ran through her body, he took a swollen, hard nub of her breast into his mouth.

  She lay spent, her body covered with a thin sheen of perspiration. Sam snuggled beside her, drawing her into the hollows of his long form. He took her hand and kissed each fingertip while she caught her breath.

  “Sam, I’ve never known anything like that.” Sierra turned to face him. “I rode cresting waves of pure pleasure.”

  “I’m happy I could introduce you to that part of yourself, darlin’.” He grinned. “There are other delights to come.”

  “I don’t think I can beat that.”

  “You will,” he murmured. He had lots more to teach her. After a few minutes’ rest, he slowly mounted another sweet assault on her beautiful body, beginning with the soft curve of her ear. He left a trail of kisses from there to her cheek before settling on her mouth.

  The eagerness with which she welcomed his kiss stoked the fire inside him. She laid her hand on his jaw. Without breaking the kiss, he rolled on top of her. A surprised gasp rushed into his mouth when her bosom met the hard planes of his chest.

  One thing he could say with certainty: Sierra Hunt was a very fast learner. She locked her arms around him, pulling him tight against her.

  A grin formed as he ended the kiss. He maneuvered his hand between them to explore. First the wetness that bore proof of her desire, then the entrance to the center of her being.

  A low moan slipped from her mouth. “Please, Sam. I need you inside me.”

  That was all he needed—her assent.

  Pain was inevitable. With a prayer that she would forgive him, he thrust into the warmth. He stilled immediately so she could grow accustomed to him, kissing her eyes and mouth in silent apology.

  When Sam felt her relax, he began a rhythmic dance. With an instinct older than time, she matched his movements.

  This dance appeared to be inborn within Sierra, a part of her she didn’t know existed. Sam had been taught by the best and knew how to bring her to the release she sought.

  Making little mewling sounds and gasps of pleasure, she ran her hands up and down his back. She caressed, stroked, and nibbled.

  Sam rose to dizzying heights and hung there suspended while he waited for her. They would reach the crest and ride the swirling passion together.

  When he felt her muscles clench him tightly in release, he took his pleasure. Blinding light burst around and inside him. He hurtled from the confines of his body to float on waves that carried him up beyond the planes of earth.

  With ragged breath, he rolled to the side, exhausted and quivering. He’d never experienced passion this deep, this all-consuming. This magnificent.

  When he was able, he glanced at Sierra. She lay with eyes closed, her lips gently parted. Instantly, he felt remorse. What had he done? Though he knew she wouldn’t blame him, the fact was he’d ruined her. A woman’s sullied reputation made her life hell. She could never regain good standing. People had long memories.

  It had to be this house. Miss Beecher had abandoned her students, her reputation, and her self-worth to run off with another woman’s husband. He glanced at the Bible verse quilt. The square beside him read “Flee Fornication.”

  A glimpse of the other side said, “Abstain.”

  Sam grinned. Nope. They weren’t about to make him feel guilty. He’d waited too long for this.

  Sierra, looking drugged and very happy, rose and gave him a smile that sent heat pooling again into his belly. When she slowly dragged one finger down his chest and belly, all thoughts of scripture and sinning vanished in an instant.

  “I’ve never felt so alive, Sam. Do you think we might possibly…?”

  Voices outside reminded Sam of the daylight beyond the windows and that he must do whatever he had to in order to protect Sierra. That meant leaving with no time to waste. He’d give no one reason to talk about this woman who’d been spurned by her family.

  He tweaked the tip of her nose and gave her luscious body one last, longing glance. “It’s getting late. You have to go for Hector, and I need to get out of here before someone sees and the tongues start wagging fit to beat all.”

  “You’re right, of course.”

  Rolling off the bed, Sam grabbed his trousers and slipped them on. He located Sierra’s petticoats and dress and helped her into them before putting on the rest of his clothes.

  “That should wipe away the notion that I gave your heart back. It’s right here. Safe.” He patted his shirt, then picked up his gun belt and buckled it on.

  Sierra stood in front of him, clutching his arm. “But will you feel the same way tomorrow?”

  Sam took her face between his large hands, “Tomorrow and every day after that. Don’t ever, ever think you’re not enough. And I will fight to become the kind of man you need.” He lowered his head and gave her a kiss that probably singed every Bible verse on that quilt.

  Thirty-three

  All through supper, Sam couldn’t take his eyes off Sierra. He remembered every minute, every stroke of the passion they’d shared. When he rose from the table, he saddled his buckskin. He had some thinking to do, to make sense of the
turmoil inside. Lots of thinking—not only the way Sierra had changed his life, but also the telegram from the marshal.

  Not that the latter would matter much with Luke determined to ride out. Might have already, since he wasn’t at supper and his gelding was gone from the corral.

  He galloped to the place he’d always gone to sort through things in his mind—a high bluff that overlooked the Red River snaking below. He rode along the bluff a ways before reining up. Dismounting, he stood looking down at the rushing current. The powerful river struck fear in the hearts of anyone trying to ford it. Drovers taking large herds up the cattle trail to Kansas called it the Mighty Red.

  That river wasn’t what troubled Sam now.

  Sierra Hunt and what choosing her meant to him, and his job, did.

  Just when he’d managed to convince his heart that loving her would only destroy her, he’d swept everything right back to the beginning. Hope blossomed that he’d somehow, someway find a way to have a life with her. For if not, he would shrivel and become a shell of a man.

  She made love like she’d danced that night by the light of the campfire—free and full of wild abandon. His skin still burned with her silken touch, caresses that had lit such a fire inside him. He’d thrown caution to the wind and taken pleasure, forgetting everything that lay at stake.

  A troubled sigh escaped as he hunkered down on his heels.

  No way in hell was he going to let her go. The lady was his.

  Some said he was a fair man. Honest and loyal to a fault. He would argue that he was a son of a biscuit eater for not seeing what was in front of him.

  At the sound of hooves striking the ground, Sam stood, pulled his Colt, and whirled all in one motion.

  “Gonna shoot me, little brother?” Houston said.

  Sam holstered his sidearm. “Can’t be too careful, with trespassers running around.”

  Houston swung down. “Saw you ride out. Knew you’d head here. This is where I always come when I need to sort things out.”

  “Then you know such a task is best done alone,” Sam growled.

  “I wanted to bring some late telegrams Jim Wheeler brought over. Better read these.” Houston handed him two slips of paper.

  By the light of a match, Sam read Captain O’Reilly’s message. The sheriff of Bridger, Texas, had spotted a man fitting Rocky Hunt’s description riding toward Lost Point. He was in the company of Felix Bardo, an outlaw as ruthless as they came.

  This was the break he’d searched for. But would Sierra leave when he found Rocky? No way could he let her go now.

  Dragging his thoughts back, he read O’Reilly’s second telegram.

  ANOTHER STAGE HOLDUP NEAR YOUR RANCH STOP FOLKS SAY IT WAS WESTON

  Doubts circled in Sam’s head. Fact was, Luke rode out late at night, and not only had he refused to say where he’d gone, he’d admitted he couldn’t give up outlawing. Hell!

  “Appears we might have a storm brewing,” Houston said.

  “Yep.”

  “Do you think Luke is back to robbing stages?”

  “I’d be lying if I said no. Where does he go these nights when he rides out and doesn’t return until early morning? I can’t really trust him, Houston. And that tears me up inside.”

  “Does me too.” Houston threw a rock into the river below. “The other about Sierra’s brother is good news though.”

  “Not if she still plans on leaving afterward. I can’t lose her, Houston.”

  “Sorta thought it might be that way. She means a lot to you.”

  Sam nodded. “It’s serious.”

  Houston hunkered down. “She’s what you need.”

  Sam stared up at the sky and the millions of stars. “Are you ready to ride to Lost Point, Houston?”

  “Say the word. Pa can handle things here.”

  “How about now?” Sam slanted a look at him. “The night would give us cover.”

  “Or we could walk blind into a hornet’s nest. I say leave at first light. Two men innocently passing through would get us closer, and we could get more information from the people who live there.” Houston stood next to Sam with their shoulders touching.

  “You have a point. Dawn it is.” Sam folded the telegrams and stuck them in his pocket. “After that, I’ll have to straighten out this mess with Luke.”

  “Yep.”

  “Luke’s just like us in a lot of ways, Houston. He wants to be alone until he can figure stuff out in his head. He shares a lot of Legend traits. Maybe he rode off to think.”

  “Maybe. I hope so. He’s growing on me.”

  Sam wasn’t ready for a showdown with his brother. To have to put Luke in jail would rip their family apart at the seams.

  * * *

  When Sam and Houston rode up to the corral, surprise rushed through Sam. The dwelling they’d given Luke, since he still refused to stay at headquarters, had a light inside. It had be early—around nine o’clock, which told him Luke hadn’t gone anywhere.

  Sam didn’t know why that filled him with happiness, but it did.

  Houston also noticed the light. “Go talk to him. I’ll unsaddle the horses,” he said.

  Giving his brother a nod, Sam covered the distance in long strides. He knocked on the door.

  Seconds passed before Luke came. Sam took in his brother’s tousled hair, bare feet and chest, noting that even in a state of relaxation, Luke wore his gun belt. When Luke had fought for his life, he’d kept that Colt within easy reach. Sam had only seen him without it once—that first night at the Lone Star at the dining table.

  “What?” Luke growled. “Checking on me?”

  “Concerned is all. Gonna let me in?”

  Luke finally opened the door wider, and Sam stepped in. The rumpled bed called his attention.

  “Can’t a man get some sleep around here?” Luke barked.

  “This will only take a minute.” Sam leaned against the doorframe. “You informed me you were leaving, so imagine my surprise to see your lamp.”

  Luke let out a troubled sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Decided to wait a few days.” He glanced out the open door. “This land casts a spell over a man. My mother would’ve loved it here. But for a quirk of fate, I’d be running the ranch, and…you and Houston might’ve been the outlaws. Deep stuff to think about.”

  He was right, and the different viewpoint gave Sam quite a lot to ponder. “Strange, isn’t it? I wish you could’ve grown up here with Stoker.”

  Luke barked a laugh and waved his arm wide. “I wasn’t prepared for this—to be taken in and treated as an equal. Thought you’d throw me out on my rear.” He laughed again. “Or shoot me.”

  “Well, you didn’t know us very well,” Sam said.

  “I rode this way often, you know.” Luke’s voice was wistful. “I’d hide and watch all of you, wondering what it would be like to live here. It troubled me that you were always gone. So I followed you, doing my best to keep you alive…for them.”

  The ache for his brother was almost unbearable. “If not for you, I would be dead. Probably many times over.”

  Luke jerked from his thoughts. “You didn’t come to hear all this. Why the visit?”

  “Got a telegram telling of a stage holdup near here.”

  Anger darkened his brother’s eyes. “I wondered how long it would take before doubts set in and the trust faded. I didn’t rob any stage recently. Do I need to put my hand on a damn Bible and repeat it?”

  Relief flooded over Sam. “Nope. Your word is good enough.” He pushed away from the doorframe.

  “One day soon I’ll show you proof of where I go and put your doubts to rest.”

  Sam welcomed that. “Me and Houston are riding to Lost Point tomorrow. Join us.”

  “Sure. I’m glad you want to include me. Thanks.”

  The lump in his t
hroat prevented him from saying another word. With a curt nod, Sam left. Tonight he’d looked into Luke’s heart and saw his brother’s pain clearer than ever.

  * * *

  Before daylight, Sierra stood at her window, thinking about Sam—about making love to him and hearing him say she was more than enough. Those words had finally put to rest every doubt that he cared. Her lips tingled as she remembered his kisses and his gentle touch.

  A few minutes ago, in keeping with her custom of looking at the Texas flag flying so proud, she’d opened her door. There, lying on her stoop, was a note from Sam, saying he might have an idea where Rocky was. Her breath caught in her chest. Was it possible she was going to get him back? Her brother was all the family she had. Hope that Sam would find him alive burst inside her.

  Movement outside caught her attention. She pressed closer to the window in time to see Sam riding out, sandwiched between Houston and Luke.

  Her breath caught at the sight of the man who’d made such passionate love to her. His black Stetson rode low on his forehead, and though she couldn’t see his eyes, she knew they were cold and hard. The way he sat in the saddle, his tight grip on the reins, and the stiffness of his spine told her he meant business. Her gaze shot to the sight of his deadly Colt hanging at his side. All three brothers wore grim expressions.

  For a moment, she stared, struck by the powerful sight. Three men riding as one with a singular purpose.

  Each rode tall and proud in the saddle. Brothers. Legends.

  They didn’t know the sight they made. If she saw that line galloping toward her, she’d run for cover.

  She didn’t know how she’d keep her thoughts on the children’s lessons. The hours would be hard with the low hum of worry in her head.

  Releasing a troubled sigh, she turned to organize her day, hoping to fill it with so much work she wouldn’t have time to think about the danger Sam would face. She had so many plans for her students. Yesterday, for the first time in her life, she’d found true purpose that filled the empty hole inside. She meant to make the most of what she’d found.