A Texan's Luck (34 page)

She untied her first petticoat and let it drop to the floor. She took a step. The next petticoat fell.

Walker, who was removing his boots, watched her. "How many of those do you have on?"

Another dropped. "Five. Mrs. Deeds said that was the absolute minimum." Another puddled on the floor.

Walker had lost interest in his boot and simply stared as the last one fell. She stepped out of it wearing her silk pantaloons with lace and ribbons tied just below each knee and white stockings beneath.

When she leaned to pick up the petticoats dotting the floor, he said, "Lacy, come over here."

She walked to where he sat, wondering if he might be having trouble taking off his left boot. The bandage around his arm was stained in blood, but it appeared more dried than fresh. "What's the matter?"

"Do you have any idea how adorable you look?" He smiled, letting his hand brush from her waist to rest on her hip. "I can't stop watching you."

"Let me change that bandage while you're doing all this watching. If the blood dries, it'll be really painful pulling the old cotton off."

The strap of her camisole fell from her shoulder, leaving her breast exposed almost to the nipple.

"Forget it." His voice sounded low, and for a second she thought angry, until she saw the fire in his eyes. He tugged at her strap and pulled the silk down until he freed one full, rounded breast.

Drawing her suddenly between his legs, he opened his mouth over the tip of her breast as his hands slid down over the silk of her undergarments.

Lacy cried out in surprise and pleasure. But this was no gentle game of kissing and touching. She wanted him to touch her, but slowly. She didn't want him to take her, she wanted to give herself to him.

His arm pulled her down in his lap, and his kiss moved to her mouth savage with need. She suddenly felt like they were doing battle, and he planned to win.

"Wait." Lacy tried to push away. "Wait!" She needed him to go slow. His haste made any pleasure vanish. All she felt was panic. She pushed harder. "Stop!"

He released her so fast she almost fell backward.

For a moment he stared at her, breathing hard, pulling himself under control. Lacy stood, stepping out of his reach. She turned her face away, embarrassed, even though she wasn't sure what had happened. One minute he'd be polite, loving, and the next it had been all fire and hunger. She wasn't sure if it was his fault or hers; all she knew was that something hadn't been right.

"If you're waiting for me to say I'm sorry," he said as he jerked off his boot, "you'll wait till hell freezes."

Lacy raised her chin. "I only wanted you to slow down. This is new to me. I need time."

"How much time! A week? A month? Five years of marriage?" He plowed his fingers into his hair and looked down, angry more with himself than her. "You're driving me completely mad, Lacy. You're every inch a woman. A woman made for loving if there ever was one, but sometimes you're like a child. You make it seem like the passion I feel for you is somehow dirty."

He tossed his boot into the corner. "You were fifteen when we married, and part of you is still fifteen. You want me to hold your hand and kiss you and sleep next to you and not make love."

"And you're old and worldly at twenty-seven?"

"Well, I've had some experience. Who lives to be twenty and never even kisses a man? I didn't think that was possible for even women like Theda, much less a woman like you."

"I was married at fifteen. I didn't think I was supposed to go around kissing men. Within months I had a paper to run and your father to care for. That didn't leave a lot of time to run around town kissing any man who bumped into me." She made herself take a breath and added, "I thought my husband would teach me all about it, not get angry at what I don't know."

She reached for her coat. "I'm not a child. But if I'm so behind in years, I can fix that in one night. How many men are there on this fort? Three hundred, maybe more. If I kiss a hundred, will that help even our score? Or maybe I'll expose myself to a dozen. You seemed to like the view; I'm sure they will."

"Calm down, Lacy!" he yelled.

She headed toward the door. "If they're as fast at bedding as you, I might be able to sleep with several before dawn. Then maybe I'll be caught up to you, and you'll stop treating me like an idiot."

"Lacy, don't you dare leave this room." His words rattled the air.

She turned back to him. "Or what?"

He moved toward her until he stood a foot away. "I swear I don't know whether to paddle you or make love to you." He kept his hands at his sides as if forcing himself to use words and not actions. "I didn't mean that it's wrong nor to know how it is between a man and a woman. I meant that it's hard on me seeing you and wanting you and…" He rubbed his forehead. "Oh, I don't know what I mean. You've succeeded in completely destroying my peace of mind."

Lacy almost felt sorry for him. "You haven't been easy on mine, Captain."

They stared at one another, then both smiled, knowing each gave as much as they got. She knew a fire burned between them, but she had no idea what to do about the flame.

"Truce," he said, watching her as if he still feared she might bolt.

"Do you think we'll kill each other before your tour of duty is over at guarding me?"

"We might," he answered honestly. "But I've always wanted to die an interesting death."

He moved behind her and gently helped her off with her coat. She thought of saying she was sorry for flying off the handle when he'd kissed her so boldly. She knew he hadn't intended to harm her. "Maybe making love is like dancing." She turned to face him. "A gentleman never dances above the lady's level of skill."

He bowed. "I stand corrected, madam." The need for her still reflected in his gaze, but he'd managed to check his hunger.

She moved toward the dresser. "Captain, how many women have you been with?"

"That's not something a man talks about to a woman, and especially not to his wife."

"But I see it as only fair. You know I've had none."

"All right, I'll tell you numbers, no more."

"How many?"

"Two, and both were paid for." He studied her as if trying to decide how much to tell her. "Since you came to me that day in Cottonwood, none."

"None, paid or unpaid?"

"None, period."

She turned, surprised. "Why? I knew you wanted no part of our marriage. I wouldn't have held you to a vow another made for you."

"Because I didn't want another woman. I tried a few times to go upstairs with a woman for an hour but couldn't talk myself into climbing the steps. None of them looked like you … smelled like you … were you. You came into my office that day and changed the way I saw women."

She poured water in the basin. "I'll clean that dressing now."

When Lacy turned, he'd sat at the table without arguing. He seemed relaxed once more, but she knew he still wanted her. Maybe in the doctoring, they'd find a common ground to stand on once more.

As she worked, he moved his finger along the inch of space between her camisole and pantaloons. His touch brushed light, teasing, and she was glad something took his mind away from the discomfort she caused in pulling the bloody bandage from his arm.

She cleaned the wound, noticing his fingers had gently tugged her drawers down an inch until they hung lower on her hip.

When she made no comment, he unbuttoned the last button of her camisole so that his hand could slide along the skin exposed at her waist.

"You don't mind this?" He moved his hand over her flesh.

"No," she answered, closing her eyes and letting the pure pleasure of his touch wash over her.

"Because I'm your husband?"

"Because it feels good to have you touch me like this," she answered.

"Me, or would any man do?" He watched her as if testing the waters.

"Well, the doctor's too thin, the ranger's too dirty, and the sheriff's too old. I guess that only leaves my husband. You."

He moved his hand over her skin like a blind man memorizing details. When his fingers brushed the thin scar just below her belly button, he stopped. "What's this?"

"It's nothing." She tied the clean bandage in place on his arm.

His hand crossed back over the tiny scar. "How'd you get it?"

Lacy didn't answer.

He waited, crossing back and forth over her flesh.

She tried to step away, but he held her with a hand at her back.

"Tell me, Lacy." Worry crossed his face, but the words sounded more like an order than a request.

She squared her shoulders. "Your belt buckle cut into me that day in Cottonwood."

She couldn't have shocked him more if she'd slapped him.

Walker watched Lacy pick up her petticoats and
fold them into a box. She moved about the room that had suddenly become small and confining to Walker's way of thinking. The whole fort wouldn't provide enough space between them right now with the way he felt about her.

He studied his wife as she brushed her hair out, trying her best to act as if nothing had happened between them. They hadn't said a word to each other since she'd told him about her scar. He didn't know what to say, and she seemed to think she'd said too much. Silence stretched between, endless and void.

He tried to remember the details of those few minutes they'd been together in Cottonwood. She'd looked wrinkled and dusty when she entered his office, like she'd spent days traveling. And then, once she informed him who she was, she had insisted she would not leave until they were man and wife.

He thought that she kidded, played a game with him. Walker called her bluff. Only when she removed her clothes, he didn't stop. He wasn't proud of what he'd done. The fact that she'd wanted it, even demanded it, didn't make his actions he any easier on his conscience.

He hadn't raped her. They hadn't made love. He didn't know what to call the mating, but one thing for sure, what they'd done was nothing like what he wanted to do now. He wanted to make love to her, not just to satisfy a raging hunger within him, but to satisfy her. He wanted a mating of more than just bodies. He ached to be so close to her that he no longer knew where he ended and she began.

Leaning forward, bracing his elbows on his legs, he lowered his head into his hands. Part of him wished he'd never seen her before. If she had never come to Cottonwood that day … if he hadn't been forced to return to protect her … would he know any peace now? Or would he be even more lost than he felt?

Part of him knew he'd see her every day and night he had left of this earth whether they were together or not. And it was a sure bet they wouldn't be within a hundred miles of one another in two weeks. He'd made her a promise to leave, and judging from the count on her notebook, she planned to make sure he kept his word. Not that he would ever break it, but she didn't know. She didn't trust him enough not to fear him.

He knew forever could never work between them. She hated the fort, and he knew no other home. She was crazy about that little nothing town, and he could hardly breathe there. They spent more time yelling than they did talking since he'd been forced to come back to her. Nothing matched about them; even their sleeping patterns were different. He rose early, she slept in. If they were ever together for a time, they'd miss half the days watching each other sleep. They didn't fit together dancing, she loved animals while he didn't want to even be on a first-name basis with cats.

Walker stood, realized he had nowhere to go, and sat back down. This was insane listing all the ways they didn't

go together. It only reminded him of how they did match.

He closed his eyes trying to forget how good she felt in his arms, how her lips tasted, how much he wanted her.

Nothing changed the fact that they were married, or that they'd started off all wrong. He thought they were mending, getting used to one another. He knew she was attracted to him, or at least she had been before he frightened her. He'd messed everything up tonight, and he wasn't sure how to make it right between them again.

If he wanted to start over, he had to be honest. He had to tell her who he was. Who he really was. Walker figured it was the only way. If she were going to pull away from him, she might as well do it for real reasons and not something she feared might be true.

"Lacy, we need to talk. There's something you've a right to know." He didn't lift his head. He didn't want to see her face when she found out what her husband did for a living. He took a breath and started at the beginning, "I left Cedar Point when I was seventeen because I thought I was in love with Samantha and found out she'd only been playing with me while she planned to run away with my brother. After they'd gone and I swore I'd never tell another woman I loved her, I discovered Emory had taken all our father's savings he kept locked away in the bottom drawer of his desk."

He expected Lacy to ask a question, but she sat silent as he continued, "I was putting money of my own back when my father caught me in his office. He thought I was taking it. We had a fight, and I left. Later, he figured out the truth and promised he'd make it up to me, but by then I was in the army.