The Irish Westerns Boxed Set

by C. H. Admirand

His gaze locked with hers. “Have gone into the parlor.” Need swirled in the stormy gray depths of her eyes. God help him, he wanted—no. He needed to claim her as his own.

  “But I can’t—”

  “Damnation!”

  He felt her lips curving into the crooked smile he’d give his right arm to see.

  “We’ll surely be damned if we let our hearts rule our minds.”

  “Pearl, I need you.”

  She nodded, tucking her chin to her chest, hiding from him.

  Touching the tip of his finger to the cleft in her chin, he urged her to look up at him. “Pearl?”

  A hundred questions were contained in that one word. Her name. Would she understand, or would she turn away from him?

  “Davidson. I’ve never let desire rule my head.”

  He chuckled. “Never?”

  She cuffed him on the side of the head. “No.”

  “Are you tempted, Pearl?”

  Her gaze shot up to meet his, and hot licks of desire for him burned in her gaze, flowing over him like warmed honey, slipping inside and filling the empty spaces in his soul. “Yes,” she whispered. “I’m afraid I am.”

  “I won’t hurt you, Pearl.”

  “I know.”

  “Then why did you stop me?”

  “I have four very good reasons.”

  “Mr. Smythe!”

  The sound of his name, screeched in horror, had him looking over his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

  “Riders. I can see the dust in the distance. Oh God, Pearl! What if it’s Mrs. Burnbaum? What are we going to do?”

  Smythe drew in a fortifying breath and stepped back from the molten pleasure promised in the depths of Pearl’s lovely gray eyes. “We shall meet adversity head-on. If I do not lay claim to your ranch, they cannot pursue the matter any further.”

  The girls nodded as one. Amy reached above the doorframe for the shotgun and Daisy opened the drawer, grabbing the Colt and the bullets.

  “Do you trust me?” Smythe waited, breath held, for her reply.

  Pearl didn’t hesitate; she nodded. “Yes.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Aloysius Stanton stood with his back to the room. “Have you found him?”

  “Smythe’s in Colorado Territory, in a town called Emerson.”

  Stanton didn’t bother to turn around.

  “What would you have me do, Mr. Stanton?”

  His hands clenched in fists at his sides, wanting to shout, ‘Kill the bastard!’ But prudence prevailed, and he calmly said, “Arrange an accident.”

  “But—”

  He whirled around to face Lincoln’s lackey. “I have paid your employer more than sufficient funds to ensure he’ll do as I ask. Arrange an accident.”

  Aloysius faced the window once more, though his eyes looked past the scene below him. He was seeing the wilds of Colorado, the wide-open spaces, and his cousin’s death. He could not claim Michael’s inheritance until Davidson met his maker. Then he’d have Davidson’s half as well.

  “Do not bother to contact me until you bring me news of Smythe’s death.”

  * * *

  “ ’Tis Sarah!” Daisy moaned. “What’ll we do?”

  The fear in Daisy’s words cut through the haze of desire surrounding Pearl. For a moment she stood befuddled. Davidson Smythe had the power to wreak havoc with her life. Damned if he hadn’t done it the other day, claiming her ranch as his own, and he done it again moments ago, after kissing every last thought from her beleaguered brain. No man had ever fogged her brain and set fire to her heart like the one glaring at her.

  “Do not go out to meet her,” Davidson warned.

  “Why ever not?” It made sense to Pearl to meet the horrid woman halfway. She didn’t want her to step foot inside her house again.

  “She needs to meet you on your terms.”

  “It’s my damned house!” Pearl couldn’t believe he wouldn’t let her go outside. “I don’t want her in here.”

  Davidson’s expression was filled with compassion. “I understand how you feel, but you must let her come inside. You are not well enough to face her down on the front walkway.”

  Pearl started to argue with him, but realized he might be right. She was exhausted. She’d had more than her share of trials yesterday. Obviously today was not to be any different.

  “And if I don’t agree with you?”

  Davidson turned to face her. “You said you trusted me.”

  And there was the crux of the matter. She had said she trusted him. “I do.”

  “Then go sit in the parlor and wait for her to come to you.”

  “Where will the girls be?”

  “In the kitchen starting supper.”

  Pearl narrowed her eyes. Was this a test? I’ll fight fire with fire, she reasoned, glaring up at Smythe, trying to intimidate him, but he was made of sterner stuff. He didn’t bat an eye. “And if I don’t?”

  “You will.” His confidence irritated her.

  “And if I don’t?” she repeated.

  “Are you going back on your word?” The look of uncertainty in his dark gaze unnerved her. Before she could be sure she’d seen the hesitation, the emotion was gone. The unflappable, unmovable man was back.

  “No. I’ve never gone back on my word.”

  He nodded. “I’ll be right back.”

  “What are you planning to—”

  She might as well have been talking the wall. Davidson was already through the door and standing on the porch. Heaving a sigh of resignation, she stalked back to the parlor and sat in the rocking chair. The movement of the chair soothed her. By the time the door opened, she was more than ready to meet whatever faced her.

  “You have nerve, I’ll give you that.” Sarah Burnbaum stood in the doorway, her face flushed and breath huffing, either from the exertion of walking too far with a corset tied too tightly or the prospect of being ousted from Pearl’s ranch. Take your pick; it didn’t much matter. The old bat was already inside.

  “I did not invite you in.” Pearl decided to stay seated. It gave her the advantage of appearing at ease. Besides, no one would ever find out how badly her legs were actually shaking if she sat still. If she stood up now, they would be a dead giveaway.

  “Of all the nerve!”

  “Why are you here?” Pearl demanded. “What do you want?”

  “I told you this morning I’d be back.”

  Pearl’s mouth went dry. “And I didn’t think you would bother.”

  “What? Now see here, young woman—”

  Before she could go off on a tirade, Davidson stepped into the room. “There seems to be a misunderstanding, Mrs. Burnbaum.”

  The older woman drew in a breath, and once again he was reminded of the puffed-up hens parading behind the ranch’s one and only rooster.

  “Well, I never.”

  “I’m sure that’s so,” Davidson mumbled beneath his breath.

  “Pearl Lloyd is trespassing on your property. Aren’t you going to demand that she leave?”

  Davidson found his first smile. “It is not my property, and I do not think I will.”

  Pearl marveled at the way Sarah’s face turned an interesting shade of apoplectic purple. “What?”

  “It seems there has been a misunderstanding. Pearl did not advertise her ranch in the Denver Chronicle.”

  “Well, I know that.”

  “What else do you know, Mrs. Burnbaum?”

  Davidson’s voice had a distinct edge to it. It had the fine hairs on the back of Pearl’s neck standing at attention. If she hadn’t already met him, she’d be afraid of him.

  Sarah sputtered, her mouth opening and closing twice, but no words came out. Pearl would have to remember exactly how she looked. Maggie and Bridget would want to hear all about how closely the do-gooder resembled a trout caught on a hook.

  “If Pearl did not place the advertisement, then who did?”

  Silence filled the front parlor. Pearl’s heart stuttered, and she w
as afraid she’d not be able to finish facing down this woman. Her heart clutched in her breast, but she knew that if she didn’t stand up to the head of the Committee for the Betterment of Emerson, she’d as good as admitted her defeat. That thought didn’t sit well with Pearl. She’d been struggling to rebuild her life ever since her husband died. She couldn’t roll over and let the committee get away with land fraud!

  Before Sarah could form a response, Pearl challenged her. “I think you know very well who placed that advertisement, don’t you?”

  Jaw-grinding silence met her question. Was Sarah afraid to admit to her duplicity? Her eyes darted back and forth between Davidson and Pearl. Those eyes and her stance signaled either a lie coming on or a retreat. Pearl had learned to recognize both reactions over the years.

  Hell. No matter how much she wanted Sarah to admit to her schemes, Pearl sensed she couldn’t force the issue. If she were to get to the bottom of the mystery behind the advertisement and subsequent sale of her property, she’d have to get the woman to openly admit to her machinations.

  In a complete turnaround, the committee head warned, “You have not heard the last of this.” She stormed from the room.

  No one spoke. Pearl supposed they were all waiting for her to say something. What could she say? She’d been warned, but she’d stood her ground and routed the enemy. Yet the question remained: for how long?

  Looking around the room at each pair of concern-filled eyes, she forced herself to smile. “She’ll be back.”

  Davidson nodded but didn’t say anything, perhaps waiting to see what she would do.

  “But we’ll be ready,” she promised.

  Feeling better than she had in a long while, Pearl smiled at the man who’d chosen to stand beside her rather than kick her out of her home. “Would you care to stay for supper, Mr. Smythe?”

  He smiled. “It would be my greatest pleasure.”

  Instead of planning her next move, their next defense, Pearl wondered how long it would take to convince the girls to leave them alone so he could kiss the breath out of her again.

  As if he sensed the direction of her thoughts, his gaze locked with hers.

  She licked her dry lips.

  His pupils dilated.

  Did she have such an effect on him? She licked her lips again.

  His jaw clenched as his gaze centered on her mouth and the tip of her tongue where it had shot out to moisten the dryness. He raised his eyes to meet hers.

  Her belly fluttered, and a shiver of desire wracked her body. What had he been thinking of when he stared at her tongue?

  “Are you cold?” Amy’s question broke the sensual hold he seemed to have on her.

  “No. Just a little tired.”

  “Why don’t I bring in some more wood for the stove?”

  Pearl nodded, accepting Davidson’s offer. Turning toward Amy and the girls, her mind raced, wondering how to explain the way she’d been acting. In the last few months they’d been living with her, she’d never once acted so distracted, so befuddled by a man as she was at this moment.

  The attraction pulling her toward the fair-haired man was too strong to be denied. But she didn’t know where to begin to explain how she felt to her girls. She didn’t have the words. Amy and Mary had both been abused by their families; sold to the highest bidder in exchange for money to feed their younger siblings. They knew so little about the power of love.

  Love? God in heaven, she wasn’t in love! She was just…well, she was… She could hardly claim to feel that way about a perfect stranger, could she? They did seem to have a lot in common, though. Her ranch topped the list. Being used by the Committee for the Betterment of Emerson vied with the dark shadows she’d glimpsed in his eyes. There was turmoil, and maybe more…tragedy?

  What could not be denied or explained away was the fact that they were inexorably drawn to each other. That attraction added a dizzying mix to the brew. How it would all turn out, only time and the Lord would tell.

  She sent the girls about seeing to their evening meal while sneaking peaks out the parlor window, watching the man who’d captivated her completely. His shoulders strained against his pale blue cotton shirt. He was broad and warm. She closed her eyes and remembered what it had felt like being held against the heat of him. He had not been rough with her, like John.

  She shook her head to clear it of memories better left in the past. The object of her desire grabbed an armload of wood and looked up. Their eyes met and desire flared to life.

  “Oh, my.” Her heart fluttered beneath the hand she’d placed to her breast.

  He didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was interested. The heat in his gaze sparked an answering heat deep inside of her. What it would be like to have his undivided attention focused solely on her?

  “Pearl?” She turned her back on the window and waited for Mary to stop calling her and come to find her. She didn’t have to wait long. Mary, wrapped in one of Pearl’s worn white aprons over a twice-mended calico dress, had a book in her hands. “Can I try my hand at the butter cake?”

  Her grandmother’s cookbook. The one person who hadn’t put her own needs and desires first; the one who’d taught Pearl the meaning of love. She smiled. “I’m sure Mr. Smythe would enjoy that.”

  Walking over to where Mary stood, she studied the recipe over the girl’s shoulder. “Do you need help separating the eggs?”

  Mary glanced up, then back down at the page. “No.”

  Pearl knew Mary was perfectly capable of mixing the recipe. The difficulty lay in the trouble the young woman had deciphering the words, and Pearl knew how sensitive Mary was about that fact.

  “You just let me know if you need me,” she said, patting Mary on the shoulder and following her into the kitchen.

  Davidson squatted beside the growing pile of split wood in the bin beside the back door. He stopped and looked up at her.

  Did he know what she was thinking?

  “Why don’t you and Mr. Smythe take a walk?” Daisy suggested, watching Pearl watch Davidson.

  “We’re cooking supper,” Mary added, “and he’s already carried in the more than enough wood.”

  Not taking her eyes off of his beautifully sculpted lips, Pearl agreed. “If you girls are certain you don’t need my help.” She wanted those lips on hers.

  “We’re sure.” Amy grinned. “Aren’t we?”

  The girls all smiled.

  “Mr. Smythe?”

  Brushing bits of wood from his hands and his powerful thighs, Davidson stood and walked toward her. “Allow me.” Taking her by the arm, he led her outside.

  Pearl felt a thrill as the heat of his hand burned through the thin fabric of her dress. What was wrong with her? Why did this man make her feel things she never experienced before?

  “Are you still cold?” Concerned, he turned them back toward the house.

  “It’s nothing.” The touch of her hand on his forearm made him pause.

  “Let’s walk while it’s still light,” she urged, daring to press closer to his side. She was rewarded when he slipped his arm free and curved it around her back, drawing her closer still.

  She breathed in deeply. Summer was at its peak. The soft breeze carried the scent of wildflowers and herbs sweeping past her nose. “I love this time of year.”

  They were just far enough away from the house that she wasn’t worried the girls would be spying on her. She turned so that she stood within the circle of Davidson’s arms. He tightened his hold on her, mindful of her newly healed ribs drawing her impossibly closer.

  Crushed against him, not a breath between them, she tilted her head up and met his mouth halfway. His lips were firm and warm. She could not keep from reaching up to cup his face in her hands. The stubble of his beard beneath her fingertips thrilled her. He wasn’t as polished as the first time she’d seen him, but the polished stranger did not attract her the way this rougher version did.

  “Mmmmm.” He tasted of her best tea and all man.


  It had been such a long time since she’d let anyone kiss her. With his lips moving against hers, she wondered why she’d waited. Her heart knew why. She’d been too busy changing Pearl’s Place.

  No one else ever made her burn like this man. His lips teased her. He sure could kiss. She couldn’t hold back the sounds coming from the back of her throat, couldn’t stop the joy filling her. She wanted to show Davidson how much his kisses affected her, how much she cared for him.

  Her fingers slid down the sides of his neck, along the breadth of his shoulders, and she squeezed the muscles, delighting in the way they tensed, responding to her touch.

  He increased the pressure of his lips, no longer taking leisurely sips, but drinking from them like a man dying of thirst.

  She moaned louder. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop kissing me.

  “Pearl.”

  She pulled slightly back and opened her mouth to speak, but he brought her close again and tasted the rim of her mouth with tip of his tongue. Her breath hitched. No one had done that before. John hadn’t liked kissing her at all—but he sure didn’t mind kissing Betty Lou.

  Pushing that thought away, she concentrated on the lovely sensations coursing through her as Davidson let his tongue slip past her lips to fully taste her.

  Her legs buckled.

  He tightened his hold on her and plundered deeper, harder, faster. There was no mistaking what he needed. What he wanted. The evidence pressed insistently against her belly. An answering pull from deep inside had her clinging to him.

  Everywhere his body touched hers caused the ache deep in her belly to intensify. She was on fire, and only Davidson could quench the flame. She ached so fiercely, she thought she’d die unless he somehow eased the ache building inside of her. A rush of feeling threatened to overtake her, and its intensity frightened her.

  What was happening to her?

  “Davidson…please, wait—”

  “God help me, Pearl. I can’t. I need to touch you.”

  He slid his hands up her sides, brushing the undersides of her breasts. She shivered, and he repeated the movement. The feeling was so overwhelming, she cried out, “What’s happening to me?” She drew back from him, chilled to the bone without the intense heat from his body scalding her, melding her to him.