Desperado

by Lisa Bingham

  “Say, Henry, do you have any idea if there’s anyone else in the area?” Elam asked, trying to pose the question as casually as he could.

  Henry’s eyes twinkled. “The nearest checkpoint is five miles away. The observer, Brandon Lasley, I hear tell, has had some … car trouble.”

  Elam stiffened, wondering if the sabotage was extending to the contest officials as well.

  Henry cackled. “He’s stomping mad. Seems his tires went flat—all four of ’em—sometime after your brother Bodey brought him something to eat. He can’t prove it, but since he and Bodey have been Cow Cutting rivals for years, he’s swearing Bodey wanted to maroon him on Wilson Point for the night since there’s a dance at the Bowery and he and Bodey are fighting for the affections of the same girl.”

  And Elam wouldn’t put it past Bodey to stack the deck in his favor.

  But then, Elam was struck by another thought. Wilson Point. There was no way Lasley could see into Henry’s valley from there.

  “If you’re wondering about the other contestants,” Henry said with a wink, “you all were the last ones to get buttoned down for the night. So … you’ve got the place to yourself for the night. Feel free to help yourself to the supplies.” Again, he pointed a warning finger. “But no shenanigans. You stay within a hundred feet of the cabin or you’ll have all our butts in a sling.” He turned the key, stomping on the accelerator until the engine finally turned over. “I’ll see you at first light.”

  *

  “THERE’S dust, Jace!” Barry announced from the passenger seat. An excited bounce quickly followed. “It must be Henry!”

  Jace pushed back his hat and yawned, waking from his doze. After signing off as a volunteer for the Games and picking up Barry from his Scout group, Jace had been watching a field of alfalfa and it was just about ready for him to adjust the dam and begin another set of water.

  At least, that was his cover story. Truthfully, he’d been waiting for Henry to appear.

  Turning the key, Jace flashed his lights. Within seconds, Henry stopped and rolled down his window.

  “Did it work?” Jace asked.

  Henry’s chuckle came straight from the gut. “You bet. He looked pole-axed soon as I mentioned I was leavin’ ’em alone.”

  “You’re sure you can keep it from the contest committee? I wouldn’t want to hurt their chances for the prize money.”

  “Hell, no one’s gonna argue about givin’ your brother and P.D. a little privacy—after all they’ve been through? It’s not like they’re goin’ anywhere.” He made a dismissing gesture with his hand. “How ’bout you? How’s he gonna take it when he realizes you’ve been doin’ a little matchmaking?”

  “He’d better never find out,” Jace said, putting the truck in gear.

  “What’s Elam not supposed to find out?” Barry asked wide-eyed from the passenger seat.

  “Never you mind, Barry,” Jace said.

  “But I want to know,” Barry insisted.

  Henry chortled and explained, “He’d better not find out what happens when two lightning bugs are left shut up in a jar, Barry.”

  Barry blinked. “But there’s no lightning bugs in Utah,” he insisted.

  Jace laughed. “There’s a couple of ’em tonight, Barry.”

  His little brother’s eyes widened. “Can we go see ’em?”

  “Not tonight, Barry. Not tonight.”

  Henry chortled and put his truck in gear. With a wave, he drove away in a cloud of dust.

  Jace headed in the opposite direction, his truck rumbling down the gravel road. And for a moment, just a moment, he was struck by a wave of sadness—and a healthy dose of sibling jealousy. What would it be like to have a woman regard you with so much naked emotion—love, desire, friendship—in her eyes the way he’d seen P.D. looking at Elam? Try as he might, Jace couldn’t get a female past the friendship stage. Especially once they realized that the ranch, his brothers, and his guardianship of Barry all came as a package deal where Jace was concerned.

  And he wouldn’t change his situation for anything. Not even a woman.

  He glanced at Barry with his gangly boy-man body completely at odds with the little-kid earnestness of his expression. For several long moments Barry stared into the darkness frowning, clearly trying to work out something in his head. Then he turned and asked, “Jace, what does happen when you put two lightning bugs in a jar?”

  Jace allowed himself a slow smile. “Sparks, Barry. Lots of sparks.” And suddenly, his bad mood drifted away as he chuckled. “And with a little luck, it will create some spontaneous combustion.”

  FIFTEEN

  THE hiccupping grumble of Henry Grover’s truck had barely disappeared in the distance when Elam suddenly ripped off his holsters, then whipped his shirt over his head and threw it onto the ground.

  P.D.’s jaw dropped. But by the time she could react, his fingers were already poised at the buttons of his fly.

  “What are you doing?”

  He spared her a glance. “I don’t know about you, but I haven’t had a decent shower in two days. I’m heading for the pond.”

  Elam shucked out of his pants, revealing a pair of period-style drawers that coated his butt like a second skin. But before P.D. could truly appreciate the scenery, he was running toward the gangplank. Launching into the air, he made a perfect shallow dive, disappearing beneath the glassy surface before reappearing again farther in the lake.

  “Come on in!” he called, pushing the wet hair out of his face with his palms.

  P.D. eyed the water, unconsciously licking her lips. “I can’t swim,” she finally admitted.

  “What? Really?”

  She nodded.

  He swam toward her, then near the gangplank, he stood. Water rushed over his shoulders and chest, arrowing down to a point beneath the chiseled ridges of his abs. Where he stood, the water came to his navel.

  “It’s not deep unless you’re in the middle.”

  P.D. didn’t need a second urging. She set her holsters and pistols near Elam’s, then quickly unbuttoned her shirt and her skirt, then wriggled out of her petticoats. When she straightened, she became aware of Elam’s keen stare.

  “What?”

  He leaned back into the water, idly swimming away.

  “Just enjoying the view.”

  She suddenly became aware of her corset, chemise, and pantalets. Although the attire covered most of her body, there was still something … suggestive about the period underwear.

  The thought caused her to cross her arms over her chest. “What if there are observers nearby?”

  Elam’s smile was slow and intimate. “Henry assured me that the nearest Peeping Tom is five miles away on the wrong side of the hill. Besides, within an hour, it’ll be too dark for anyone to see anything.”

  Privacy.

  The thought brought an immediate rush of awareness. Deciding to test more than just the waters in the pond, P.D. dropped her arms and began to move with deliberate slowness, first tugging on the ribbon of her chemise.

  “What if someone else shows up?”

  “I don’t plan on sharing the pond.”

  “Elam,” she chided.

  “No one’s going to come. We were way behind on the Colby house challenge so we were the last of the teams to arrive at our checkpoint. The contest committee has kept us all buttoned up tight and in one place at night.” When she still didn’t move, he added, “There’s no way Henry would have left us here if he was expecting someone else.”

  Her hands moved to the metal fasteners of her corset. Elam followed the movement so keenly, she felt his gaze like a brand.

  “You’re sure?” she asked as she unhooked the metal post from its eye.

  Elam’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

  She released the rest of the fasteners and tossed her corset into the grass.

  The moment the stricture was gone, she sighed in relief. A cool breeze touched her hot flesh and she realized that she’d be
en wearing the rigid foundation for nearly two days—and it had been nearly that long since she’d had a bath.

  Unwilling to wait another minute, she ran toward the pond, slowing down only when the cool water hampered her movements. Then she launched herself into Elam’s arms.

  What had been meant as a purely utilitarian gesture to keep herself afloat instantly became an explosion of sexual awareness. Elam’s skin was slick and smooth as he wrapped his arms around her. She held on tight, and her legs drifted intimately between his. He was already aroused, and she smiled against his lips.

  “Mmm. I like that.”

  Then, while he held her, she tugged her chemise over her head and threw it onto the bank.

  “You’re sure no one will come,” she whispered one last time.

  “They’d better the hell not, or I’ll have to shoot them.”

  Giggling, she said, “Maybe we’d better wait. Just in case. I’m kinda hungry and—”

  “I’m freakin’ starving,” he interrupted hoarsely, then captured her lips in a powerful kiss.

  From that moment, there was no time left to think, only feel—the strength of his arms, the rasp of his beard against her cheek, the rough-slick texture of his tongue as he tasted her again and again and again.

  P.D.’s eyes slammed shut as she focused her entire being on this moment, this man. Never had she felt so at home in another person’s arms. There was no awkwardness, no self-consciousness. Her fingers roamed over his cheeks, his shoulders, his back as he slanted his mouth over hers.

  He drew back only when they were both gasping for air.

  “It’s about time,” he said, his lips trailing down her neck. “I don’t know if I could have lasted another day.”

  She laughed, wrapping her legs around his waist. “Are you sure about that?”

  He groaned. “Oh, yeah.”

  His fingers reached for the button of her pantalets.

  “Why, Mr. Taggart, whatever do you think you’re doing?”

  “You know what I’m doing.”

  “Such outrageous liberties.”

  “Hell, yeah.”

  He quickly shucked her pantalets, throwing them onto the bank. But when he would have reached for the buttons to his own drawers, she beat him to it, her fingers quickly releasing the fasteners. She spread her hands wide, smoothing the fabric away from his buttocks, allowing him to spring free. Then, it was her turn to sigh in relief as her hands closed around him, feeling the heat, the rigid strength.

  “Damnit, I don’t think I can hold on for very long,” Elam whispered against her lips.

  “Then don’t hold on.” She smiled against him. “We have all night.”

  As if the words were all he needed to hear, he strode from the water, her legs still wrapped around him. He reached for the trousers he’d abandoned on the bank, fumbling for a condom. But she was there already, helping him to ready himself. Then, he was laying her down in the verdant grass, and in one single thrust, he entered her.

  P.D.’s head arched back and she gasped.

  He was immediately contrite. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No. Don’t stop,” she said frantically, drawing his hips back to meet her own. “It feels so good.”

  He began rocking against her, his face a study in pleasure and concentration. His wet hair hung down around his face, giving him a primitive air. He could have been an example of primordial man at his finest … or a cowboy of old, like the books she loved to read.

  She tangled her fingers in his hair, drinking in his blatant desire, knowing that the intensity of his expression would live in her memory the rest of her days. No matter what the future might bring, no matter when they might part ways, she would remember the reverence, the joy, the utter passion that radiated from his face.

  Finally free to explore the body that she had admired for so long, she roamed the curves and valleys of his chest, his shoulders, as if she were blind and he were Braille. His skin flowed beneath her fingers like hot silk, overloading her senses, making her wish that she could freeze this moment in time.

  Saints above, please don’t let him tire of her too quickly.

  Because she didn’t think she could ever grow weary of this … him … Every time she saw Elam, she would remember the strength of his embrace, the power of this joining.

  P.D. held him even more desperately as their movements became frenzied, frantic, and the pleasure built to a fever pitch. Flinging his head back, Elam muttered a curse as his whole body began to tremble.

  “I … can’t … hold … on.” His eyes squeezed shut. “You … feel … too … damned … good …”

  “Let go, Elam,” she whispered, knowing that his expression alone was enough to finish her off.

  He plunged into her one last time, then cried out with the power of his release.

  P.D. followed immediately on his heels, biting her lip to keep from crying out loud with the intensity of her orgasm.

  When she finally became aware of her surroundings, Elam lay with his head cradled between her breasts, his wet hair cooling her hot skin.

  He was still, so still.

  In a rush, she realized that this was probably the first time he’d made love since Annabel’s death. A wary chill crept through her body as she prepared herself for the inevitable hurt, knowing that he would probably experience a wave of guilt or a rush of old memories—and she couldn’t fault him if he did. It would be natural for him to think of his wife at a time like this.

  But he remained where he was, one finger lifting to trace idle circles on her side.

  Closing her eyes, she allowed her muscles to become boneless as her heart eased from its thunderous pace. The emotions would come to him, she was sure of that. Maybe not right now, but soon. It didn’t mean that Elam cared about her any less. She couldn’t be jealous of a ghost.

  She wouldn’t.

  But try as she might, she couldn’t push away the fear that she would always come up short against Annabel Taggart.

  Maybe so, but tonight, he’s mine.

  All mine.

  Clinging to that thought, P.D. concentrated instead on the weight of his head between her breasts, the ragged cadence of his breathing. It seemed impossible, but she’d grown to care for Elam Taggart, battered heart and all. It didn’t seem to matter that she’d only known him a few short days. It was as if her soul had known him forever.

  So she would take whatever he could give her. Without regrets. Because somehow, he’d managed to touch a tiny corner of her heart that she’d never allowed any other man to breach. And she was more than willing to let that be enough for now.

  Tonight, he was hers.

  And she didn’t plan on wasting a single minute.

  It was much later when Elam murmured, “So how did you solve the flour thingy?”

  P.D. peered at him through half-closed eyes. “Weren’t you paying attention?”

  His gaze dropped to her breasts. “Not really.”

  She tried to look stern and disappointed, but somehow she merely managed to appear … satisfied.

  “I filled up the three-pound sack and dumped it into the five-pound sack. Then I filled the same sack again and dumped as much as I could into the five-pound bag. That left one pound in the bag. Then I emptied the five-pound bag and replaced it with the one pound left from the other container. Then all I had to do was fill the three-pound sack again and add it to the mix. That made the required four pounds.”

  Elam squinted at her. “You’re pretty smart, you know, but there’s one thing you still need to learn.”

  Her brows rose.

  “Swimming,” he supplied, enjoying the look of surprise that flashed across her features. “Come on.”

  *

  HE dodged into the cabin to borrow a lantern so that they could care for the horses and then wash and rinse their clothes. Then, they returned to the cool waters of the pond.

  Holding P.D. tightly to give her confidence, Elam taught her the rudiments of float
ing, and for the longest time, she lay on her back, looking up at the stars while the moonlight bathed her wet body in shimmery paleness.

  Through it all, Elam drank in the sight of her, her lightheartedness, her infinite joy. She’d responded to his lovemaking just as he’d thought she would—wholeheartedly, passionately, just as she attacked everything she did.

  He waited for the guilt, the sense of betrayal toward Annabel, but the feelings never came. Yes, there was a twinge of nostalgia, of saying good-bye to what he’d shared with a woman he’d known most of his life. But he was at peace with his decision to court Prairie Dawn Raines.

  Court.

  Funny how that was the word that sprang to mind. An old-fashioned word for an old-fashioned man, he supposed. Or maybe it was the Games that had put him in a traditional frame of mind. But he realized the word suited him. He wasn’t just drawn to P.D. for the sex. She was funny and smart and so full of passion—everything that had been missing from his life for so long. When they were apart, he couldn’t wait to see her again. And when they were together, he didn’t want her to go.

  Elam knew that his brothers would caution him against jumping headlong into a relationship after so long without a woman in his life. Bodey, especially, would tell him to play the field, enjoy what feminine companionship Bliss had to offer. Hell, even Elam found himself thinking he shouldn’t rush into anything approaching even a casual commitment.

  But Elam couldn’t even imagine looking at anyone else if P.D. was in the room. There was something so … real … about her. So … right. And at least for now, he refused to analyze the sensation. He was flying by the seat of his pants, following his instincts rather than his head.

  In many ways, he regretted that the Games would soon be over. Only two more days. Two days with no outside interference for P.D.’s time. But as soon as the Games were finished, she would be consumed with repairs at Vern’s, her job, and her life. There could even be other men vying for her attention.

  That thought alone was enough to send a wave of possessiveness raging through him, but he forced it back, leaning over to brush his lips against P.D.’s.

  Her eyes flickered open, her lips curving in a soft smile.

  “I love it here,” she murmured.