After Sundown (19 page)

Cursing, he shoved the other crumpled letter into his pocket.
Why the hell had he kissed her?
He’d had no business kissing her. Didn’t know what had made him give in to the impulsive desire to pull her into his arms and tangle his fingers in her hair and feel the warmth of her mouth beneath his.

He was
not
impulsive. Hadn’t done anything rash in years. Hell, since he’d been a kid.

No, not true. He’d even been steady and sensible as a kid. He hadn’t done anything rash in his whole
life
.

Lucas paced, raking a hand through his snow-dampened hair. He had kept his distance from her, kept his hands off her, but that wasn’t helping. Even making plans for their return to Missouri wasn’t helping. Not enough. It didn’t stop him from wanting.

And thinking.

Thinking he might’ve been wrong about her.

He glared at the crushed letter from Denver that lay in the snow a few yards away.
How much more evidence did he need?
She wasn’t some greedy, scheming female who only cared about money. She hadn’t given a damn about the money. Had given it to orphans. Orphans, for God’s sake.

And in some part of his brain, he was beginning to suspect that maybe, just maybe, what had held his brother’s interest for three years hadn’t been Antoinette’s beauty or any tricks she’d learned from her mama... but a tender heart, like her friends kept insisting she had.

His stomach clenched as he considered that possibility even for a moment. If Antoinette was capable of tenderness and caring, if she had told the truth about her baby, and about the money...

What else might she be telling the truth about?

I didn’t mean to do it, Marshal. It was an accident...

Lucas stopped pacing, ground the heels of both palms into his eyes.
No
. God, no. It was wrong. To believe for a second that she could be innocent was wrong. He’d heard those same words from a hundred other criminals, every one of them guilty as sin. He was letting his desire for her distract him, blind him to his duty.

Being cooped up in that damned jail was making him crazy. He had to get out of here. Should be in Texas, on the Rio Grande, hunting the Risco brothers, pumping the bastards full of bullets. His men were risking their lives—
losing
their lives—and what was he doing?

Sitting on his ass in Colorado. Feeling this overpowering attraction toward an
outlaw
.

The woman who had killed his brother.

Lucas glared up into the sky, welcoming the sharp, biting sting of the snow against his face. There was only one explanation, one reason Antoinette had him so... beguiled. He’d been without a woman for months now. Too long.

That was why he couldn’t stop thinking about the lush sweetness of her lips against his and the silkiness of her hair in his fingers. Or the way her brown eyes looked in the firelight, all drowsy and languid. Or how he had felt when he made her smile...

With a vivid curse, he turned on his heel and stalked back toward town, his steps echoing like gunshots when he reached the board sidewalk. He needed to go write two letters, the kind he hated to write—one to Seth Thompson’s widow and one to Henry Reynolds’s parents, expressing his condolences.

But first he needed to douse this feeling that burned inside him for Antoinette Sutton.

And he could think of two damn fine ways to do it.

The dissonant noise of someone playing “Nelly Bly” on the piano set his teeth on edge as he shoved open the swinging doors to Fairfax’s saloon. There were only a few people inside: a scruffy prospector at the bar, another at the piano, and three more seated at a table with O’Donnell and Holt, playing poker.

O’Donnell—who had a curvaceous, scantily dressed redhead in his lap—grinned and raised a hand in greeting. “Marshal.”

Lucas stalked over to the bar. “Beer.”

Fairfax looked delighted. “Coming right up, Marshal McKenna, sir. Finest ale in the state of Colorado. And let me say what a pleasure it is to see you again.”

Lucas didn’t reply. He had said beer, not conversation.

Fairfax filled a glass until foam bubbled over the top and slid it down the bar. Lucas caught the glass, drained a quarter of it in one long swallow, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The strong, dark brew burned pleasantly down his throat.

“And what brings you here this afternoon, Marshal?” Holt asked, sounding curious.

Lucas flicked a look over his shoulder. “You spend all your spare time in the saloon, Doc?”

Holt frowned at him. “First spare time I’ve had in a while. Spent three days riding the mountain to call on sick homesteaders, dug a load of buckshot out of a miner’s backside at four this morning, and delivered a baby about an hour ago. And how’s your week been so far?”

Lucas tossed a coin on the bar, scowling at him. “Just perfect.” He shifted his attention to two of the other card-players: a pair of bearded, middle-aged prospectors who were staring at him. “And what are you two looking at?”

“Nothing, Marshal, sir.” One stood up and grabbed his money off the table, dropping some. “We was, uh, we was just on our way out, wasn’t we?” He headed for the door, without picking up the fallen coins.

His friend grabbed his own winnings and followed. “Hyup.”

Lucas shook his head, recognizing a hasty retreat when he saw one. At the moment, he didn’t especially care why the two were hightailing it out of his vicinity.

O’Donnell looked up in dismay, watching as half his players walked out in the middle of the game. He slanted Lucas a dry look. “Have you noticed, Marshal, that you seem to have a certain effect on people?”

The redhead on the gambler’s lap giggled.

Before Lucas could reply, Fairfax came over to him, wiping his hands on his white apron. “The beer is on the house.” He slid the coin back across the bar. “Anything else I can get for you, Marshal?”

Lucas turned toward him. “You got any whores left in this town?”

Though his voice was low, the prospector seated at the bar overheard. “Whores?” he exclaimed, chuckling. “You lookin’ to clean up our streets now, Marshal? Fill up yer jail with pretty ladies?”

Lucas gave him a quelling glare.

But the others in the room had heard the man. O’Donnell, Holt, and the third remaining card player now seemed more interested in what was being said at the bar than in their game.

Lucas took another long drink and told himself he didn’t give a damn.

“Well sir,” Fairfax said smoothly, ever the efficient host, “we used to have quite an array, but these days we’ve got but two ladies of the evening still with us. One of them would be Miss Ivy there.” He gestured to the redhead seated in O’Donnell’s lap. “And Miss Indigo can usually be found here when she’s not with a customer, but I haven’t seen her yet today.”

Lucas turned and considered the redhead. She was young and attractive, her plentiful assets almost spilling over the top of her tight-fitting green dress. And she smiled prettily at him.

O’Donnell frowned, looping a possessive arm around the girl’s waist. “Ivy, honey, why don’t you go fetch Indigo,” he suggested.

She sighed, linking her arms around his neck. “Aw, Morgan, you know I been trying to avoid her all day. She’s been dogging my heels like a... oh, hell.”

“Ivy!” A tall brunette appeared at the saloon’s entrance, shouting. “What are you doin’ lollin’ around in there still? The stage will be leavin’ in an hour.”

“I’m not going,” Ivy said sullenly.

“What did you say?” the brunette cried, pushing open the doors.

“I said I’m staying here!”

This, Lucas guessed, arching one brow, would have to be Indigo. He silently observed the new arrival as she came sauntering in, dressed in a gown of blue satin and black lace and a matching cape that was thrown back over her shoulders.

“The hell you are.” The brunette marched over to the card players’ table. “Ivy, we done decided already. We can’t make enough money in this town. There’s nothing left here but a bunch of... a bunch of... well, just look at them!” She gestured to the various men in the room. “Any man worth more than two bits cleared out last...” Her gaze settled on Lucas and she paused.

And her voice suddenly shifted. “My, my.” She looked him up and down, then took a black lace fan from a pocket in her skirt and opened it. “You that famous lawman everyone’s been talkin’ about?” Her red lips curved upward as she fanned herself slowly. “Just look at you.”

Lucas returned her regard. She had dark hair, dark eyes, a good body.

“Indigo, I’m staying,” Ivy said.

The brunette’s smile faded. “Be with you in a minute, cowboy,” she said to Lucas before she rounded on Ivy. “Staying for what? For him?” She stabbed a finger toward O’Donnell. “I bet you been givin’ him free ones again, ain’t you?”

The gambler looked sheepish.

Ivy stood up, planting her hands on her hips. “He doesn’t have much money right now, but he’s got plans—”

“Oh, sure, he’s got plans. Big plans. That’s
all
he’s got. That’s all
any
man in this town has got. The ones with money and sense all cleared out a long time ago!”

“And I’m going to be moving on soon as well,” O’Donnell said, reaching for a bottle in the middle of the table and refilling his glass.

“Horsefeathers! You been sayin’ that for a year and you’re still sittin’ here with a glass of bourbon in your hand and five dollars to your name.” Indigo looked from him to the redhead. “How many times I
told
you, Ivy?” She stamped her foot. “Don’t fall in love with the customers. Y’ain’t much of a whore if you give it away for free. You think he’s gonna marry you? You think he
loves
you?”

Lucas took a long drink from his beer, feeling sorry for the naive little redhead.

Ivy remained standing next to O’Donnell, clearly waiting for him to say something. “M-Morgan?” she asked tremulously.

The gambler didn’t look at her as he spoke in that aristocratic Louisiana drawl. “You go on home and pack, honey. Like Indigo says.” He studied his cards. “I’m no good for you.”

The girl blinked at him, covering her mouth with one hand. A stifled sob escaped her as she turned and ran out the swinging doors. They flapped in the chilly air behind her.

Indigo sighed as if in relief, giving O’Donnell one last, withering look before she walked over to the bar.

As she joined Lucas, her smile returned. “Now then,” she said, fanning herself, “where were we, lawman?”

Lucas caught the scent of her perfume. Roses and musk. Her hair was brown. And so were her eyes. And she was voluptuous. And willing. What more could he ask? What more could any man ask?

She placed a hand on his arm. “Stage’ll be leaving soon,” she said, in a low, purring voice, “but I got about an hour left in this town. Wasn’t planning on any more customers...” She smiled at him, stroking the muscles of his arm through his shirt. “But I might change my mind. My, oh my, I surely might.”

Lucas couldn’t summon a smile in return. In fact, as he looked at her, he couldn’t seem to summon much enthusiasm, either. His gaze traveled down her body and back up again, from her curvaceous hips to her artfully displayed bosom to her ruby-painted mouth. And he felt...

Indifferent. Unmoved.

He stared at her in silence, astonished that she didn’t arouse his interest, when so many like her had in the past.

Indigo wet her lips with her tongue. “You sure look like you could make an hour memorable for a lady.” She slid her hand up to his shoulder. “And something’s got you all knotted up like a bale of barbed wire. I could soothe those kinks out of you. Real slow and easy like.”

His fingers seemed to go numb around the glass of beer in his hand. Why was he even hesitating? This was exactly what he’d wanted, what he’d come here hoping to find. A woman to relieve his hunger. No complications. No questions. Just an hour with a willing, beautiful, available female. The type who had always satisfied him in the past.

This one was eager and no doubt highly skilled. But somehow, he found himself wanting something... different, something...

More.

Something he couldn’t even name. Never in his life has this happened to him. It was stunning—unnerving—to discover that she wasn’t what he really wanted.

That the longer he looked at her, the more he thought of another woman.

A delicate elf in faded calico who had soft brown eyes, and the scent of herbal soap in her hair, and the sweetest lips he had ever kissed... and a tender heart.

“What do you say, hmm?” Indigo ran a finger down his chest. “Come on back to my place and help me celebrate leaving this town for good.”

“No thanks.” He couldn’t believe he was saying it, even as he heard the words coming out of his mouth.

Indigo arched one shapely brow, looking surprised. “My mistake,” she said lightly, withdrawing her hand and taking his rejection with a shrug. “But something’s sure got you all knotted up.” She turned away from the bar, a sly, knowing look in her eyes. “What’s her name, lawman?”

Without waiting for an answer, she sashayed toward the door.

One of the three remaining card players stood up and followed her. “
I’ll
give ya a last go, Indy.”

“You got money?” She kept walking, not even looking back at the prospector. “Cash money?”

“Just won twenty dollars.” He waved the bills in the air.

She looked over her shoulder at him, sighing. “Come on, then.”

Silence fell as the pair left. Lucas stood there, burning with a mix of unsatisfied hunger and befuddled confusion at what he had just done.

Made worse by the fact that the other men in the room seemed equally curious about his actions.

Holt in particular was looking at him with a furrowed brow and questioning eyes.

Lucas responded with a glower and turned his back, glaring down into his beer.

“Things sure have changed around this place,” O’Donnell said morosely. “Remember the old days, Cam? Two hundred men a day coming through those doors, their pockets heavy from the silver mines, every one of them eager for a bottle, a woman, a game of cards...” The gambler sighed fondly. “And we all made so much money, we could hardly carry it to the bank.”