One Texas Night (10 page)

“Blue and I have been talking and we don’t think the attack on you was an accident. No one would be just riding by this place. It’s too far off the road.”

“So, what are you saying?” Hank watched her as he tried to follow the conversation. She had shifted and now the soft roundness of her left breast molded against the shirt. Suddenly, nothing about her seemed childlike. There was no doubt she was all woman.

“I’m saying . . .” She moved again and Hank closed his eyes so his ears would work. “I’m saying,” she repeated, “that someone wants you hurt . . . or dead.”

Hank shook his head, then regretted the action. “I don’t think so. I don’t make a habit of crossing folks if I can help it, and it’s been years since I even had a heated discussion with anyone.”

“Try and think,” she coached. “Who lately would benefit from your being hurt or dead? Who has threatened you?”

“Nobody but Potter Stockton on the way back to town the other night. He told me I’d be wise to get on the train and forget about you, because I must know you’d never come.” Hank told the account in passing, nothing important, he thought . . . until he saw Aggie’s face. “You can’t believe Stockton would send someone to hurt me? Sure, he was probably disappointed when he learned you left with me, maybe even mad. But mad enough to try and kill me?”

Aggie nodded. “On the way to the station, Charlie told me he was glad I didn’t pick Potter even though Dolly thought he was the best choice. Charlie said he heard Potter beat a man near to death one night after losing a few dollars in a poker game. He said the railroad man had gunfighter eyes—cold and hard as casket wood.”

Hank raised a doubtful eyebrow. “But Charlie still invited him to dinner?”

Aggie shook her head. “He only invited the banker and told him that if he knew a man looking for a wife, to bring a friend along.”

That explained Charlie’s coldness to Potter Stockton, but Hank still found it hard to believe any man would try to kill another over a woman he’d just met.

Then he looked at Aggie with her beautiful hair and shining eyes and he knew it must be true.

“When did the man insist on having a drink with you?” she asked.

Hank tried to remember exactly the order. “He was standing behind me when I bought our two tickets.”

Aggie frowned. “So he knew you were expecting me?”

“He also knew I didn’t have time to wander over to the saloon.”

She leaned closer. “Do you think, when the offer for drinks didn’t work, that he pulled the knife thinking one way or the other he’d make sure you missed the train?”

Hank didn’t want to admit it, but she made sense. The fellow hadn’t acted all that drunk at first, then as soon as he’d slipped the knife over Hank’s arm, he’d run away. “Maybe,” Hank admitted. “He knew if I wasn’t at the station you wouldn’t be going anywhere that night.”

Aggie finished the thought. “And if you weren’t there, I would have turned around and gone back to Dolly and Charlie’s place.”

Their eyes met. Hank felt like he could read her thoughts. There was no need to continue piecing the puzzle; they’d both seen the picture it made.

Lacing her fingers together, she leaned an inch closer and whispered as if saying her words too loud might make them come true. “Do you think the hired gun might come back?”

Hank wished he could say no, but he didn’t want to lie to her. “He might,” was the best he could do.

Aggie swallowed and nodded. “Then, would you mind if I slept in next to you? I’d planned on making a pallet in the kitchen, but I’d feel safer here.”

Hank wouldn’t have trusted any words. He simply lifted the covers beside him.

She smiled and joined him.

When he stretched and turned out the light, she whispered, “Thank you, dear.” As if he’d done her a favor.

Hank wouldn’t have been surprised if lightning came through the second floor and struck him any moment. He wasn’t worried about anyone trying to kill him; his shy little wife was going to give him a heart attack by doing something as simple as trusting him.

This time she didn’t wait for him to pull her next to him. She snuggled against him and laid her hand on his bare chest.

Then, before he could think to breathe, she laughed.

He covered her hand with his. “What’s so funny?”

“Your chest hair tickles.”

“Aggie?” His fingers stilled her hand.

“Yes, dear?” she answered.

“Kiss me good night,” he whispered as she looked up.

This time, when his mouth covered hers, he couldn’t hold back. He had to kiss her the way a man kisses a woman . . . the way a man kisses his wife.

His arm pulled her against him. The thin layer of flannel did little to mask the feel of her. He kissed her long and hard, drinking her in, needing to end the drought in his life, needing to need another.

When he finally let her go, Hank rolled an inch away and tried to think of something, anything to say, but no words would come.

He could feel her tugging at the covers, pulling a blanket over her shoulders, snuggling into her own pillow. “Good night, dear,” she said in almost a whisper.

“Good night?” he answered. “Don’t you have anything else to say after what just happened?”

She rose to one elbow. “What just happened?”

Hank closed his eyes and swore beneath his breath. She was going to make him say it, then there would be no doubt what he was apologizing for. “About the way I kissed you. I didn’t plan it, but I’ll not say I’m sorry.”

“All right,” she said as if she’d given it no thought.

He had the feeling she was staring at him in the darkness. Probably thinking of ways to kill him herself since he was stepping way over the line of being partners.

“You’re not mad about the kiss?”

She laughed again. “No, dear,” she answered. “I rather liked it. I’m surprised that something I’ve given little thought to in my life could be so pleasant.”

He was back to step one of trying to understand Aggie. “Then you wouldn’t mind if we did it again?”

This time she rolled toward him. “I wouldn’t mind at all. I rather like the feel of you.” Her lips lowered above his before he had time to move. With her mouth brushing his, she whispered, “I find I like kissing you very much.”

This time he didn’t try to hold her to him. He let her lead. Her kiss was softer, sweeter than his had been. But the weight of her breast resting on his chest drove him mad. “I love this shirt,” he whispered against her mouth. “I love the way . . .” She didn’t let him finish. She was busy learning.

When she finally raised her head, she stared down at him. Even in the darkness he could see the devil dancing in her eyes. She shifted, using his chest to lean on and propped her head on one elbow. “What comes next, dear?”

“You really want to know?”

She nodded. “I didn’t think I ever would. I thought things between a man and a woman were for the man’s pleasure, never the woman’s. Since you kissed me I’ve been reconsidering.”

“I’ll show you,” he said, wondering how she could possibly want him to be her teacher. “But how fast we go down this road, and when we stop, will be up to you.”

“Fair enough.” She nodded as if they’d made an agreement.

She waited.

He hesitated. “Aggie,” he finally said. “What do you know about how it is between a man and a woman?”

She shrugged. “Mostly what my sister told me. About how it’s something to be endured. I wanted no part of that. But your kisses don’t seem that way.” She looked down, embarrassed by her own boldness.

Hank placed his hand on her waist. “And my touch? Would you welcome my touch?”

She nodded slowly.

“Aggie,” he whispered, “look at me.”

She raised her head and he saw her eyes in the moonlight. Nervous. Shy, but not afraid.

His hand moved slowly up her rib cage, a light touch against soft material and softer flesh beneath.

Her eyes widened, but she didn’t move.

His first finger touched the bottom of her breast and gently pressed against its weight. Then, as slowly as cold molasses, his fingers moved over the fabric covering her breast. The full mound ripened beneath his caress, and he explored.

Hank’s breaths came faster as if there were not enough air in the room to fill his lungs. He cupped her in his big hand and thought he might die from the pleasure the feel of her brought. His fingers moved gently across her and she closed her eyes for a moment and smiled.

He’d never wanted a woman the way he wanted Aggie. For the first time he understood why men of old fought dragons for their women. The need for her was a physical ache so deep within him he thought his blood must surely be heating to boiling level. He stared at the cotton covering her breast as his hand twisted the material into his fist.

She pulled a few inches away. “You’ll rip the cloth.”

“Then take it off.” He spoke his thoughts in a voice so low he didn’t recognize it as his.

She rose, stood there, and stared at him. If she decided to walk away, he couldn’t even follow. With his leg, he would never be able to catch her if she ran. And he had a feeling that if he frightened her and she ran, she’d run all the way to Dallas or Austin or Chicago before she stopped.

Hank closed his eyes and groaned. What did he think he was doing? A man with a broken leg doesn’t seduce his wife. He’d almost passed out moving to the washstand and back. If he even tried to make love he’d probably succeed only in making a fool of himself.

When he finally opened his eyes, Aggie was still sitting next to him. She’d unbuttoned two of the buttons of the shirt.

“If I get to pick when we stop,” she whispered, “I pick one touch tonight. I know there is more, but I have to think about it first.”

Hank took a deep breath, almost saying thank you. He wanted their first time, if there was to be a first time in this partnership, to be perfect.

“One touch,” he agreed. “Only, if you’ve no objection, I’d like to do so while we kiss good night once more.”

She nodded and moved off the bed so he could lift the covers. When she scooted beneath the quilts, another button had come loose.

Chapter 11

Aggie lay on her back and waited while Hank shifted onto his side without moving his broken leg any more than necessary.

Her heart pounded faster than a sparrow’s as she unbuttoned the entire shirt and spread the soft material away from her chest. She didn’t move when Hank lifted the covers away to her waist.

“Are you cold?” he asked, staring at her body in the shadows.

She shook her head, too afraid to speak. In truth, her skin felt hot and she was sure he would notice when he touched her. She told herself she’d agreed to one touch, even wanted it, but she hadn’t thought ahead to realize that he’d also look at her. Not just look—study.

Before she lost all courage, she turned her face toward him and his lips gently met hers. She’d thought he’d touch her breasts first, but he took his time tasting her lips. She liked the way the hard line of his mouth turned soft when it touched her. His rough cheek brushed against hers as he moved slightly. His tongue slipped across her tender lips and pushed inside. Her cry of surprise blended with his sigh of pleasure.

When she didn’t pull away, his kiss softened once more, offering her paradise, but still, his hand remained at her waist.

With his coaching, she opened her mouth wider, enjoying the newness of her husband’s kiss. She thought that marriage was so much more than she’d imagined it would be. Nice, she decided; marriage was nice—then his hand spread across her abdomen. And nice moved to pure bliss. The warmth of his mouth, the slight weight of his fingers on her skin, made her whole body warm with an awareness she’d never experienced.

Her fingers reached up and brushed the hair just above his ear, liking the way the thick coarseness of his straight hair felt to her touch. He was her man, she thought, hers. She liked his strong body and his gentle ways. She liked his voice and the way he worried about her. She liked everything about him.

Just when Aggie was reaching a flat plateau of shear enjoyment, he broke the kiss.

Gripping his hair in her fist, she tried to tug his mouth back to her, but he’d already found somewhere else he wanted to taste. As his open mouth moved down her throat, she let out a sigh of delight. Roughly, he pushed her chin aside so that the length of her throat lay open to his exploring.

His hand pressed gently into her middle, anchoring her to earth while she floated toward the heaven of his kisses against her skin. When he brushed his lips across her ear, he whispered her name then added softly, “Aggie, my love.”

She thought he’d return to finish the kiss, but slowly she realized his mouth planned to play along her skin until he had his fill of the taste of it. He opened wide and touched his tongue to the spot where her pulse pounded, then dipped low until the whiskers of his chin brushed across the top of her breasts.

She lay beyond words, beyond thought as his mouth took hers once more, giving and demanding fire all at once. As if her body had a will of its own, she arched, pushing against his hand, fighting to get closer to him.

He held her fast to the bed, but his mouth told her of his pleasure at her attempt. He was tasting deep of her now, taking all he wanted from the kiss, and giving more than she’d ever known to ask. His fingers gently stroked her stomach, and she felt the light embrace all the way through her body.