The Rainbow girls hadn’t exaggerated. Ned Shaw cut a fine figure, wearing a tailored suit, polished boots and a bowler hat that most likely cost more than a ranch hand’s weekly salary.
“You lose again, Shaw,” one of his opponents gloated as he raked in cash from the table. “Good thing you’ve got yourself a rich claim. Good thing for me, that is.”
Shaw took a puff on his cigar. “Don’t count me out just yet. Deal the cards,” he demanded, “the day is long from over.”
“Sure thing. I’m willing to take your money.”
An old miner seated next to Shaw, holding a pair of queens, commented dryly, “Don’t know why you ain’t pullin’ that ore outta your stake right now, instead a sittin’ here all day. Hell, in my day, ain’t nothin’ woulda stopped me from workin’ my claim, no matter that none panned out worth a darn. Borrascas they were, every dang one.”
Ned turned to the older man. “That ain’t any of your business, old man.”
The miner spit a wad of tobacco onto floor. “Maybe not, but even a sourdough knows you can’t leave your claim for too long. Someone might just get a jump on you. And nothin’ the law can say about it. It being legal and all.”
“I know the law, Judd. Now are you finished giving me the schoolmarm lesson?”
“Ah hell, I’m done, Ned. It’d be a dang shame to see you lose your claim.”
“That ain’t gonna happen.”
“Are you folks in or out? Last I checked, we was playing poker,” the fourth player said with impatience.
“I’m in,” Ned said.
“Me, too,” Judd replied, “I got nothin’ but time.”
The game broke up thirty minutes later. Steven hightailed it out of the saloon before Shaw could get a look at him. Steven hadn’t gotten what he’d expected out of listening to Shaw. He’d only made one reference to Glory, calling her that bitch his brother married and how he hoped she was dead. Steven’s jaw clenched then, but he held back, realizing listening in would be more productive than pulling Shaw up by his collar and slamming a fist in his face.
But he had gotten something worthwhile from this trip. He banked on a hunch and had one more stop to make, to the Claims Office before he could return home to Glory.
Steven pushed through the kitchen door, eager to see Glory cooking up a meal, wearing that dress that matched his curtains and smiling up at him when he entered. To his disappointment, she wasn’t there.
“Glory?” he called out.
The house seemed to embrace the silence, where not a clatter, a creaking, not even a tiny sound could be heard.
“Glory!” he shouted again, rushing through the empty parlor, opening her bedroom door, checking the root cellar, then striding out the front door to the barn and then the chicken coop.
There was no sign of her or the dog anywhere on the ranch.
Glory and Buddy were missing.
Steven controlled his panic, though his heart raced with dread. He searched the grounds once again, and only after long minutes of probing, did he find Buddy’s pawprints alongside of what could be Glory’s footprints. God, he hoped so.
He followed them out past the back of the house until the earth became a low-growing meadow, grazing land for his horses.
There the trail ended.
Steven followed his instincts and headed north toward a cropping of trees far off in the distance, glancing around all the while, hoping to catch sight of her in the fields somewhere.
He wouldn’t allow negative thoughts to swallow him up. He wouldn’t even consider something bad happening to Glory. He couldn’t fathom the loss, so he continued on in hope of finding her.
Minutes later, Steven found her. Anger surged forth. He banked his temper the best he could, wondering what on earth had gotten into the woman. She and Buddy were splashing around in a small creek, the sun beaming down on her bared skin as she scooped water and poured it onto her hair. She wore only a chemise, the gossamer fabric clinging to her wet skin.
Steven leaned back against one of the trees, arms folded, one booted foot crossed over the other. Slightly hidden by the shadows, he watched in wonder, his anger slipping considerably in favor of something far more dangerous. His body tightened with need, the raw sensation he’d been living with lately, barely contained. Like a starving man awaiting his last meal, Steven couldn’t tear his gaze away. All of the hunger he’d controlled for so long slowly and methodically destroyed his willpower.
Buddy paddled as fast as his short feet would allow. Glory’s laughter echoed against the trees, a sweet throaty sound of delight. She picked Buddy up and washed him, pouring water on the squirmy dog and rubbing his fur clean, before setting him adrift again.
Buddy could hold his own, Steven thought with a wry smile. The pup maneuvered his way to the far bank and shook vigorously, spraying darts of water all around.
Again Glory chuckled, then resumed her own bath, sliding down the thin sleeves of her chemise to use her rose soap on her shoulders. Steven would swear the scent drifted by, teasing his senses.
The water was only waist-high, so Glory bent and scooped again and again, washing her shoulders, her throat, and lower yet, allowing Steven a view so damn alluring, he nearly choked on his own breath.
Then Buddy barked with tail wagging and eyes peering directly his way. Steven had been caught. Damn the dog.
“What is it, Buddy?” Glory asked, before she looked in the same direction as the dog’s gaze.
“Oh!”
She tried to cover her breasts, criss-crossing her arms over her chest.
Steven swiftly removed his boots, his socks, then his shirt. He entered the water heading straight toward Glory.
“Steven?”
He continued, splashing his way through the slow flowing water.
“Steven,” she breathed out. “What—”
He came within inches of her and gazed with leisure, noting how the last shred of blazing sunlight made her moist skin glow. “Damn, you gave me a scare. I couldn’t find you.”
“Buddy ran off.”
“And you chased him?”
She nodded, still covering her body with crossed arms.
Steven glanced at a rock on the bank. “You just happened to have a blanket and soap with you?”
“No, don’t be silly. I never knew this creek existed, but Buddy found it. And then I went back to the ranch to get the bathing supplies. The water looked so inviting, so I came back here. And…well, I had Buddy with me the whole time.”
“Your new protector?”
They both glanced at the pup that had lain down on the dry earth, lazily soaking up sunshine.
“I had the gun, too,” she offered.
Steven’s brows arched.
“It’s under my dress on the rock.”
Steven didn’t bother looking in that direction; he had everything he wanted right in front of him.
Glory peered up at him with wide eyes. “Are you angry?”
“I was. You weren’t supposed to leave the ranch. When I couldn’t find you…let’s just say I’m not willing to go through that ever again. I figure that after putting me through such torment, you owe me.”
Glory’s brows knitted together. “What do I owe you?”
Steven grinned. “A bath.”
Steven unfastened his gun belt and tossed it onto the bank. When he began stripping out of his pants, Glory whirled around, shocked, by his bold move and by the flutters of desire invading her stomach. “W-what are you doing?”
“Can’t have my bath with my pants on,” he stated, then continued in a softer tone, “but I’m leaving my underdrawers on.”
Glory heard his pants land onto the bank somewhere. She shivered. “You expect me to give you a bath?”
“You owe me, remember?”
When Glory didn’t move, Steven reached around to pull her back against him, holding her gently. He spoke in a quiet, velvety tone. “I’m only asking for a bath, sweetheart. I promise.”
Glory turned in his arms to face him. “You promise?”
Steven nodded, a slight bobbing of his head. “I told you already, I’ll never take anything you’re not willing to give,” he said evenly, then added with a grim smile, “Even if it kills me.”
Glory couldn’t hold back her own smile. The thought of touching Steven, soaping his skin, running her fingers through his hair, was far too tempting to resist. “I do owe you, for making you worry.”
“Yes, you do,” he said, his smile no longer grim.
“And you won’t mind smelling like roses?”
“A whole garden of roses wouldn’t bother me.”
Steven turned around, giving her his back. “Wash me, Glory.”
He’d known it would be easier if she didn’t have to face him. He’d been right. She stroked the soap over his back, her palm splaying over the broad contours, his undeniable strength. She moved slowly then more deliberately and then when she’d gotten the courage, she asked him to kneel.
He obeyed her command without qualm, allowing her to pour water over his head. She washed his hair, running her fingers through the thick dark strands, noting how the hair at the base of his neck curled up, adorably, like a child’s, or a very appealing man’s. Deep yearning threatened to unnerve her. Glory fought the feeling, continuing on until it was time for Steven to stand and turn to her.
She asked him shyly, “Do you want me to finish?”
Steven lifted up, like a mythical god rising from the water. He turned to face her. “I’d want you never to finish.”
Glory took in a sharp breath.
Mercy.
Steven smiled, but his eyes shone with heat, appearing hotter than the Nevada sunshine. He grasped her hand that held the soap and laid it on his chest. “Don’t stop, sweetheart.”
Tentatively at first, Glory ran the soap over his chest, building up a little lather and working it in. Her fingers traveled over him, the hairs on his chest prickly, the muscles underneath powerful. Glory moved slowly, with care and longing. When her fingertips grazed the area below his navel, Steven sucked in a breath.
She looked down. A mistake. His manhood stood erect against the material of his underdrawers.
Bravely, Glory lifted her head to peer into his eyes. He shrugged, his lips lifting in a crooked half smile. “You’re the only woman I’ve wanted like this, Glory.”
Shame didn’t come, and neither did fear. Glory’s heart pounded wildly and she ventured to ask, “Like what?”
Steven glanced away for a moment, as if deciding how to answer. Then his eyes met hers with honesty. “Sometimes when I look at you, I can’t breathe. It’s like you’re the water of my life. If I don’t take a drink, I’ll die.”
In that moment, it seemed Steven had reached down deep into her soul and touched a chord in her that had never been touched before. It was as though he knew her heart, taking it in his palm and cherishing it with lovely words and tender emotion.
In the past, Glory had compared Steven to her late husband, Boone. She knew that comparison to be unfair now. She’d worried about trusting a man again, worried that Steven was just another charmer, someone who’d take from her everything she had, then abandon her, leaving her alone, an empty unloved shell of a woman. She’d fought hard against that, thinking Steven would hurt her in the same way Boone had.
But as she looked into his gleaming eyes, she witnessed sincerity and compassion. She saw a man who would treat her with tenderness, as he’d promised. She saw a man who would give to her and only take what she chose to offer.
Glory wanted him. She wanted to know that kind of gentle, sweet loving he had pledged. She wanted to place herself in his hands, and for once, reacquaint herself with the faith and trust she’d lost. She wanted Steven, for as long as they could be together. She didn’t know her future. She only knew her past, and many parts of that still didn’t fit, but she did have the present. She had a man standing before her, baring his body and soul to her.
Perhaps she did owe him this. She certainly owed it to herself. She extended her arm and reached behind his neck, smiling and bringing his head down to hers. “I’m thirsty, too, Steven,” she said, brushing her lips against his. She kissed him again, this time more soundly, applying pressure to his mouth eliciting from him a deep groan of pleasure.
“You are?” he asked, planting soft exquisite kisses along the rim of her lips.
“Yes,” she said, then whispered in his ear, “I want to lie with you and give you that drink. We’ll drink together and maybe die a little as well.”
Glory had never been so brazen, but she’d spoken from her heart, the words flowing out with pent up passion.
“Ah, Glory,” Steven said, with a plea in his voice. “Sweet, sweet Glory.”
Steven swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bank of the creek. He set her down and unfolded the blanket she’d brought, spreading it out between two trees. He led her over to that spot and brought her down with him.
“Here?” she asked, seeming the fool, but needing to know his intentions.
“I’d never make it back to the house now, sweetheart.” His groan was enough of an answer. “Don’t worry, Glory. The sun’s setting and nobody knows this area.”
“I’m not worried,” she said, gazing up into his handsome face. She stroked his cheek and he turned his head to kiss the inside of her palm. “Not worried at all,” she breathed out.
Steven ran his hands up and down her arms. Moisture still clung to her skin in small beads that pooled in provocative places. Blond waves flowed down her back, wet and untamed, the hair dampening the blanket she lay upon. Her chemise pressed against her body in wrinkles and folds that stirred his blood. They faced each other, eyes meeting, hearts hammering and bodies brushing. “No one will ever hurt you again, Glory.”
She sighed into his mouth when he took a deep soulful kiss. He caressed her shoulders, stroking her softly with each touch a new exploration. Then with care, he slipped the sleeves of her chemise down altogether, lowering the material to expose her breasts.
“I’m dying a little right now,” he rasped out.
Tenderly, he cupped her, running his fingers over one beckoning bud, creating tingles of heat that made her ache with need. He kissed her again and again while his fingers worked magic caressing her breast and flicking the tip with the utmost precision. The ache inside grew stronger.
He dipped his head and moistened her nipple with his tongue. A jolt shot straight through her. She squirmed, her body requiring something…something more.
“Hold on, sweetheart,” he said urgently.
Glory heard a bird chirp, Buddy whimper in his sleep and the air around her smelled delicately of roses. Her senses heightened, feeling everything twofold.
The sun gradually made its desent, most likely putting a chill in the air, but Glory didn’t feel cold. Incredible heat swept through her and she was lost, caught up only in the spiraling sensations Steven created.
To her surprise, Steven laid back and she heard his breath whoosh out. “We have to slow down, honey,” he said.
Glory didn’t understand. She didn’t have enough experience, and she didn’t want to think about the rough way Boone had always taken her. “Why?”
Steven turned to her, his eyes twinkling, but she noted a hint of pain as well. He took her hand, planting a sweet kiss on her knuckles. “Because I vowed to make this good for you, that’s why.”
“You are, Steven. You’re making it perfect,” she said.
He groaned, a deep growl emanating from his throat. “Just give me a minute, okay?”
Glory nodded. “Can I do anything?”
Steven closed his eyes. “Pray for me, honey.”
“What?” Glory certainly misunderstood.
“Never mind.” He reached up and pulled her down on top of him. Her slender body spread out over his broad one. Immediately, she felt his manhood, the erection that bore into her through the thin fabric of her chemise.
“Mercy.”
“I agree.” Steven grunted when she wiggled her body to get more comfortable. “There’s no hope for it. I’ll be as gentle as I know how to be, but it’s got to happen soon.”
He rolled her onto her back and kissed her deeply, parting her lips to stroke her tongue. She whimpered, a sound not unlike Buddy’s, a sound she’d never made before.
“You’re really killing me, Glory,” Steven said, kissing her again and again, his hands probing her body, caressing her softly, gliding over her breasts, her torso, leaving no part of her gently and lovingly untouched. And then he cupped her between the legs, his hand covering her female mound. The sensation startled her. She grew moist instantly. “Oh, Steven. Oh, please,” she called out.
“Just a little longer, sweetheart. Just a little longer,” he repeated, reassuring her.
She didn’t know this sensation, this burst of pleasure-pain. And when he slid his finger inside gently, slowly sliding back and forth, tiny explosions erupted, causing her to moan with unguarded delight. “Oh, yes.”
Steven brought his mouth down to suckle her breast as he continued to stroke her. Glory’s body flamed. Her heart raced madly. She called to Steven again and again, each moment sheer torment and pure joy.
Steven lifted her chemise, and pulled off his drawers. He rose above her, meeting her eyes. “I won’t hurt you.”
She believed him.
With her heart and her soul, she trusted him not to cause her pain.
“I know.”
He entered her and she saw his restraint, the pleasure he held back for her as he filled her.
“Ah, Glory,” he said, his voice shaky. “Move with me, sweetheart. Let’s drink together.”
He thrust into her slowly, carefully, pacing his movements. Glory closed her eyes, relishing the feel of him inside her. There was no pain. There was no shame. Steven fit her perfectly. She gazed into his eyes as she moved with him.
He smiled briefly, but there was so much more in his expression. He concentrated on bringing her pleasure, on bringing her to the pinnacle, on giving her all that he had.
Glory gave back. She lifted up and together they moved as one, his thrusts coming stronger, with more demand. Glory was ready for him, for his power and strength to consume her. She wanted to witness the pleasure she could bring to him.
The Courting of Widow Shaw Page 19
