Night Hawk (14 page)

“Where you headed?” he asked. She could see him gauging Justin and he didn't appear pleased.

“Just out for some fresh air. We'll be right back.”

Justin was viewing Bigelow warily, so to forestall any kind of confrontation, she said, “Come on, Justin.”

He followed but he shot another quick look back at the marshal.

Outside, Maggie pulled in deep breaths of the fresh air. She had to admit stepping out had been an excellent idea.

Justin asked, “Who was that man?”

“His name is Bigelow. He's a bounty hunter and a deputy marshal.”

“He looks dangerous. Is he your father?”

It took all Maggie had not to burst into laughter. She imagined Bigelow would shoot him a hundred times had he heard that. “No. I was in his custody for a short time.”

Justin froze and then asked, “Why?” But as if suddenly realizing the rudeness of his request, he apologized. “I'm sorry. That wasn't very polite.”

“No. It's a natural question.”

Like the handsome farmer she'd met at Lola's, Justin studied her as if her crime could somehow be discerned by the features of her face. So she explained to him how she'd come to be in custody.

“That's quite a story, but now you've been released?”

“Yes.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

Before she could respond, the door opened and out stepped the marshal.

Justin's eyes widened. Maggie's mouth thinned.

Bigelow didn't say a word, but apparently Justin heard something because he offered Maggie a hasty “I'll see you back inside.”

Once Justin was gone, she stood silently at the rail with her back to him, her attention focused on the passing landscape. Ian sensed he was about to be verbally flayed and he didn't know whether to smile or start running.

“He's been making cow eyes at you since the minute you walked in the car. Just came out to make sure you were okay.”

She didn't respond at first. “He's studying to be a doctor.”

“The race needs good physicians.”
But not one intent upon Maggie
, grumbled a testy voice inside.

“And what if he has been making cow eyes at me?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder.

“Is that what you want?”

She turned away. After a few moments of silence, she said, “His mama would probably keel over dead if he brought me home.”

“Probably.”

“You don't have to be so agreeable, you know.”

“Trying to be helpful.”

She looked back. “What am I going to do with you?”

He shrugged. “Wondering the same thing about you.”

“And have you come to a conclusion?”

“Not yet.”

“Neither have I.”

“At least we're in agreement.”

Ian ran his eyes over her beautiful copper face, the lush petals of her lips, and wanted to pause time so he could make love to her there and then. He wanted to slide his hands over her breasts and hips and kiss his way up her thighs. He wanted to hear her soft moans when he entered her and take her screams into his mouth when she came. He closed his eyes to get a hold on himself. When he opened them, her eyes were waiting and sparkling with a quiet smile, as if she'd been party to his thoughts.

“Shall we go back in?” she asked softly.

“Might be a good idea.”

“Or we can stay out a bit longer.”

“You trying to tempt me?”

“Maybe. Maybe not?” she said playfully. “Which would you prefer?”

Ian had yet to meet a bolder, more confident woman. He wanted to eat her up. “The former.”

“Then shall we meet later to explore why?”

He folded his arms and studied her. She had every inch of him alive and aroused. “I can make time for that.”

“Good. I'm ready to go back in.”

It took all Ian had not to drag her into his arms. “After you.”

For the rest of the afternoon her saucy invitation filled his mind. He doubted a woman like her would ever blaze across his life again and he'd be a fool to just sit back and watch it go by. He refused to deny himself any longer. It was his plan to enjoy these last few days with her and let her sunshine brighten his darkness.

However he was presently glowering in the gloom over the attention Taylor was paying her. He doubted she was encouraging him in a way that would lead the young man on, but even so, Ian was jealous. He couldn't remember ever being jealous before, not even with his wife, Tilda, but he was honest enough to admit that with Maggie everything seemed to be different. He didn't want her near another man, let alone a pup like Justin Taylor.

Chapter 14

D
usk had fallen when the conductor entered the car to announce that the train would be making a stop to take on fuel and water. They'd be able to get off and stretch their legs, if they had a mind to, and take advantage of the food stands manned by some of the local families waiting beside the tracks.

After his departure, the train slowed and Ian saw Maggie rise to her feet and look his way. He set down his book and threaded his way through the small throng of people moving to the exit.

“Do you want to get something to eat?” he asked.

“I'd love to. Is it okay if Justin joins us?”

Ian eyed the doctor. Of course he wanted to deny the request, but he also wanted to keep her happy. “Sure.”

The three of them stepped down onto the tracks and followed the others over to the food stands. There were offerings of everything from paper bags holding roast chicken and vegetables to sandwiches and slices of pie. Maggie settled on some sliced beef between large wedges of bread and a piece of apple pie.

Justin dug into his suit coat. “I'd be honored if you'd let me pay for that.”

But Ian had already handed the coins to the woman behind the stand.

Justin's face registered his annoyance but he didn't argue. Instead he asked Maggie, “Do you want to sit in the grass or go back inside and eat?”

“Let's sit out here until the train's ready to leave. The evening air is nice.”

Most of the other passengers had chosen to sit in the grass as well.

“How about here?” Maggie asked. They were close enough to keep the train in view but far enough away to have a bit of privacy. However, before she could sit, Justin removed his coat and laid it on the ground.

“A gentleman never lets a lady dirty her clothes in the grass.”

Maggie thought the gesture unnecessary seeing as how she was wearing trousers but she appreciated his chivalry. She glanced at the marshal, but his face was as emotionless as always, so she sat. “Thank you, Mr. Taylor.”

“You're welcome, but please, call me, Justin.”

He took up a seat at a respectful distance.

Maggie looked up at the marshal, who was still standing. “Are you going to join us, Marshal, or just stand there and loom?”

She thought a smile crossed his lips as he sat.

They ate in silence until Justin asked, “How long have you been a marshal, sir?”

“A few years.”

“Must be exciting.”

“It has its moments.”

“Who's the most interesting character you ever encountered?”

“You're sitting next to her.”

Justin choked on the water he'd taken from his canteen.

Maggie shot Bigelow a look that was part disbelief and part amusement. He held her eyes for a moment and went back to his sandwich.

Justin was still looking bemused, so Maggie said reassuringly, “I'm sure the marshal is just pulling your leg.”

“No, I'm not.”

She shot him another look. She could see Justin eyeing them both before he asked, “Does being a marshal require any formal schooling?”

His tone, though neutral, was a bit more superior-sounding than Maggie cared for.

“No.”

“I didn't think so, but wanted to be sure.”

Again he'd kept the tone neutral, but again it rubbed her the wrong way. “The marshal is from Scotland, Mr. Taylor.”

“Now I know he's pulling our legs. Say something in Scottish.”

So the marshal obliged.

“And that means?” the still skeptical doctor asked.

“Arse hole.”

Maggie choked on her sandwich.

Taylor's jaw dropped to the grass.

The marshal took a sip from his canteen.

Taylor had no more questions.

The train's whistle blew, alerting the passengers that it was time to return, so they disposed of their trash in a bin by the vendors and boarded. She was still reeling from the marshal's translation. The doctor had earned the set-down with his condescending behavior, but all she'd wanted was food and a little fresh air, not be in the middle of whatever they were intent upon.

Back inside the smoking car, a fiddler had joined them and was sawing away. Men and women were up dancing festively. Watching from the edge of the room, Maggie was unconsciously tapping her foot to the lively music.

“Would you like to dance?” Justin asked.

“No,” she replied kindly, “but thank you.” Any more snide remarks out of him and the marshal was liable to draw his gun, so she thought it best if Justin made himself scarce for a while. “I'm sure there's a lady here wanting a partner.”

When he hesitated she said encouragingly, “Go on, I'll be here when you return.”

Only after his departure did she allow herself to acknowledge the heated presence of Bigelow standing behind her.

He said quietly, “You did him a good turn by sending him off.”

“I didn't want you filling him full of holes.”

“Might be a good way for him to get in some doctor practicing.”

She chuckled softly and turned to look up into his eyes. Even in the shadows they held power, but then again, she already knew that.

“Turn back around before I kiss you.”

Her knees went weak but she tossed back, “Oh really?”

“Right here in front of everybody.”

“And what brings this on?”

He traced her lips and she trembled as he whispered, “You.”

Maggie didn't hear the musicians end the song or the opening notes of the fiddle introducing a slow melodic waltz. All she was aware of was his blazing eyes.

“Come dance with me, first.”

She studied him as if she'd never seen him before. “You dance?”

“One of my mother's lovers was a dancing master. I used to be fairly competent.”

He offered his hand. Stunned, she laid her hand across his palm. He placed his free hand against the back of her shirt with a touch so light she could have been wearing silk. Next she knew, he was waltzing her expertly out into the room. Maggie was speechless, and if the shocked faces of the passengers looking on were any indication, so was everyone else in the room. Bunny had her hands over her mouth and sparkling delight in her eyes. Young Dr. Taylor didn't appear delighted at all.

Maggie however saw none of this; she was too busy being overwhelmed by the marshal's mastery and skill. Having been a dance hall girl, she knew most of the current dances including the waltz, and whoever his teacher had been had taught him excellently. He was a marvelous dancer and even though she was wearing old boots, trousers, and a too large shirt, he guided her as if she were a queen. The intensity in his gaze holding hers made memories rise of kisses that parted her lips and hardened her nipples like wild cherries. That night was one she'd readily repeat because this surprising enigma of a man had her enthralled. They stepped and moved in rhythm with the music as if they'd been dancing together their entire lives, and his hand on her back burned like a brand.

And then the music slowed and faded away. As they drank each other in, and her heart started beating faster in response to his mesmerizing presence, applause rang out, along with a bunch of whooping, hollering, and whistling. He slowly traced her mouth and then swept her up into his arms. Neither of them heard the deafening roar that followed them as he carried her through the door and out into the night.

The kissing began immediately; hot, seeking, melding of their mouths punctuated by roving hands and breathless sighs. Heat from his lips trailed down the side of her throat while his hand relearned the feel and weight of her breast, and it berried in welcome. As he boldly undid the buttons on her shirt and bared the camisole beneath, winds of passion blew across her skin. When his mouth closed over the thin cotton to artfully pleasure the nipple beneath, lightning flashed, setting off booms of sensual thunder that made her moan. He moved his attention to the twin and the bliss was so brilliant, she thought she might dissolve. His hands tugged the camisole free of her trousers and pushed it high so he could enjoy her without hindrance. The licks, sucks and gentle bites were buffeting; glorious. As he continued to feast, her hips moved sinuously in the age-old rhythm of the lovers' dance. Rising up again, he captured her mouth, filled his hands with her hips, and pulled her flush against the hard promise of his need. It matched her own, so she pressed back shamelessly while her palms moved blindly up and down the tensed muscles of his arms.

“This is not the place for this . . . ,” he husked out.

“I don't care . . .”

He opened her trousers and slid them down her legs. She quickly undid the buttons of his shirt and moved her hands possessively over the soft hair on his chest. His hot hands explored her drawers-shrouded hips and then the soft, damp place in between. She could feel the storm of completion building, and although she wanted to be swept away by it she didn't want the pleasure to end, so she widened her stance so he could ply her as decadently as he pleased.

He found her wet and slick, and he was so hard and ready he was on the urge of exploding. He turned her around. Tracing a finger down the satin skin of her back, he savored the softness at the base of her spine and the heart-shaped rise of her hips. His touch left her a moment so he could undo the placket of his leathers. He then eased his shaft into the place he most wanted to be.

She gasped as her muscles tightened and held. He clenched his jaw and fought against his male need to stroke himself to completion.

The positioning was as new to her as it was scandalous. While he moved within, his hands kept her nipples pleading with plucks and tugs before they toured roughly down her ribs to toy with the trembling nodule at the apex of her thighs. All the while he brushed his lips across the edges of her arched throat.

He stroked her with long, drawn-out teases that closed her eyes. Her trousers were pooled down by her ankles, effectively hobbling her movements so all she could do was take what he was giving her and gorge herself on the intoxicating rhythm of his thrusts.

When the rhythm increased her body answered; moving, twisting, bending as pleasure replaced all else. Completion was rising, she couldn't delay it any longer and when it exploded it flung her up into the stars.

Her orgasm triggered his, making him pump his hips and hold her tight and yell out his release until all that remained was the clattering of the train against the tracks.

Maggie felt ripe and lush, as if she were an exotic fruit ready to be plucked, and what a plucking it had been. Even now, his hands were running slowly over her spine in a calming and soothing manner that was accented by slow, gentle strokes. She melted back against him in weary surrender, and he kissed her lovingly. His final withdrawal made her groan with longing and dismay.

“Wait here,” he whispered against her ear. “I'll be right back.”

Maggie had no idea where he was going, nor did she care. All that mattered was his pledge to return.

Alone in the darkness, she continued to be dazzled by the memories of his thrusts, caresses, and kisses. The night air brushed against the places he'd left bare and damp. She knew she should pull up her trousers and right the rest of her clothing but the wantonness he'd placed in her blood lingered like a fever, making her want to bask in her night-shrouded, half-naked state. Who knew people made love that way? Being with him was quite an education, and her throbbing, pulsating body was eager for the tutoring to resume.

He announced his return with the warmth of his jaw against her cheek and languid, teasing passes of his hands over her breasts. “Brought you some water so you can clean up.”

But she didn't want to move, and what he was doing only reinforced that stance. His hand now circling hotly inside her drawers over the surface of her hips added more fuel. “I can't do anything until you stop . . .”

“No?” he questioned quietly.

The touring hand made her spread her legs in response to the searing plucks and circling of already blooming flesh.

Ian knew this interlude should end, but he couldn't stop touching her. Her skin was like silk and her lithe body fit against him perfectly. He couldn't refrain from brushing his lips against her neck any more than he could stop stroking his hands over the velvet curves of her behind. Forcing himself to step back, he took in a deep, calming breath. Once he felt capable of controlling himself he used the water from the canteen he'd fetched inside, along with a clean handkerchief from his saddlebag to slowly banish the remnants of their loving from her thighs.

She righted her clothes. When she was done, she stepped back into the circle of his arms and he placed his lips against her brow. The tight, answering pressure of her arms around him filled his soul with a surge of emotion he couldn't name but didn't ever want to lose. “Do you want to go back inside?”

She shook her head negatively against his chest. “Can we sit out here for a while?”

During his outlaw years, Ian had made love in a variety of places but never on the small connecting platform between two railroad cars. She continued to astound him.

He used a hand to get his bearings on the short iron fencing and made himself comfortable on the wooden floor. She cuddled up in his lap, and he whispered, “Perfect.”