Sunset Embrace (40 page)

Not telling the law about a tall, good-looking man who had spurned her because he was obviously too much in love with his beautiful young wife was one thing. But keeping quiet about a tall, good-looking man who was indeed a notorious criminal, who had ridden with the James gang, was stretching Madams limited generosity too far. After all, she had her business to consider. And gossip, strategically circulated, that she had unwittingly entertained the outlaw Sonny Clark in her own wagon, well . . .

Looking at the sketch still lying on her desk, she thought about the man's gifted touch. The green fire in his eyes could melt the heart of even the coldest woman, and Madam had been dubbed that by more than one man. His caresses combined just the right amount of roughness to lend excitement and sufficient tenderness to make a woman feel cherished rather than used. She had wanted him. When he had fondled her breasts, she had purred her contentment.

But she also remembered him fighting off her clinging arms, jumping free of her, wiping her kiss from his mouth, and looking down at her exposed body with disgust aimed both at her and at himself. How could any woman be expected to defend a man who had rejected what others paid a premium price for?

She had the two men's attention as she reached for the sherry decanter on her desk. Slowly, respectfully, they lowered themselves back to their chairs. Madam poured the wine into a crystal goblet and extended it to Mr. Gentry. Her lips were curved into a congenial smile, but her eyes remained frosty.

"Sherry now, Mr. Gentry?"

Gentry, mercilessly gnawing the inside of his jaw, reached for the glass. "Yes." When she didn't release the glass right away he humbly added, "Please."

* * *

Lydia paused to take a deep breath. Time was of the essence and it was running out. Ross would arrive any minute for supper. Atlanta Langston had taken Lee for a walk around the camp and would soon be bringing him back.

She mopped her perspiring forehead with her sleeve and braced her arms against the chest once again. It moved, but only a few inches. She tried again, putting her entire weight behind it. This time she managed to move it away from the side of the wagon.

If the jewelry did exist and if it were in the wagon, Lydia knew it had to be hidden under this chest. She had looked everywhere else. For days, in every spare moment, she'd searched, finally resorting to prying up the floor-boards and looking for possible hiding places. Nothing had turned up and she was getting desperate.

If she could help it, Ross wasn't going to be caught with stolen jewelry in his possession should he be apprehended. She would explain to him how she knew about the jewelry when the time came—if it ever did. She still didn't believe he knew anything about it. In the meantime, she would do all she could to protect him from both Clancey and the men pursuing him.

She dropped down onto her knees, picked up the file that had facilitated her dislodging other boards, and wedged it between the cracks. She began working it up and down, sweat rolling into her eyes, until the section of board could be levered up. Mechanically and without optimism, she slipped her hand underneath it.

Her breath stopped at the same time her hand became motionless. For instead of feeling only the rough underside of the wagon, her hand contacted something soft.

Bending down, she peered under the board, at the same time clasping the soft object and extracting it In her hand was a black velvet bag about ten inches long and six inches wide, tied with a braided black silk cord at its top. It was heavy.

Perspiration poured down Lydia's sides and rolled between her breasts as she pulled open the cord and tilted the bag into her palm. She shook the contents out. Her gasp was loud in the hot, still wagon. She wasn't even aware of the outside noises over the thundering of the pulse inside her head.

Beautiful things filled her hand. She had never seen jewelry, except for the cheap merchandise on the peddlers wagon and an occasional cameo or locket the ladies wore on Sundays. She was awed by the glistening stones in myriad colors. They threw rainbows on the walls of canvas as they caught the bright afternoon sunlight filtering in. Rings, earrings, bracelets, necklaces, brooches, some with gold and silver settings so intricate they were as fragile looking as spiderwebs. Lydia didn't appreciate the monetary value of them. She only delighted in their beauty.

She shook off her entrancement and shoved the pieces into the pouch. What to do with it? If she hid it somewhere else until she could turn it over to Clancey, there was the possibility that Ross would discover it gone. But then Ross didn't know about it, did he?
Did he?
In any event it was letter to leave it where it was even if it meant having to move the chest again.

She had just returned the cache to its hiding place and moved the chest back when Ross slung wide the canvas flaps, surprising her. "What are you doing?"

She had been leaning over the top of the chest, regaining her breath, when she guiltily spun around at the sound of his voice. "Nothing," she said quickly. She swallowed and willed her heart to stop pounding. Was her husband a thief?

"Your cheeks are red."

"Are they?" she asked, clapping her hands to her fiery face. "I'm hot. There's not a breath of air anywhere. I haven't had time to wash."

He smiled, swinging a long leg inside and drawing the other one in behind him. "Let's go swimming." He came to her and folded his hands around her neck, linking the fingers at her nape. His mouth was hot as it covered hers, drinking in her taste, bathing her damp upper lip with his tongue. "You taste salty."

Her muscles were liquefying, just as they always did when he kissed her. Despite the heat, she leaned into him and splayed her hands over his chest. His shirtfront was damp too. "I told you I haven't washed."

"Neither have I. I'm dusty. So, let's go to the river," he murmured into her neck. His hands had found her breasts and were massaging them with appreciable talent. "We'll take off all our clothes and—"

"No," she said, pushing him away and shaking off his hands. "I can't do that. Someone will see us."

He laughed at her indignation, which made her curls bounce around her head and her eyes flash like comets. "All right. I'll take off all my clothes and you can swim in your chemise."

"I can't swim," she said prissily.

Only recently had she learned to flirt. She didn't know what it was called, or even that she was doing it. She only knew that when she acted saucy and made hint reach for her, he seemed to like the embrace all the better. She turned her back on him and headed for the end of the wagon.

His arms came from behind to enclose her. He drew her back against his chest, thrusting his hips against her bottom. One hand closed over her breast and fanned the nipple with his thumb. The other fit over the bowl of her belly and his fingers curled into her. "Then we'll do something you can do. Something like this. You can do this, can't you?"

"Hmmm," she purred, nodding. "You taught me how." She turned in his arms and for long minutes they were lost in their kiss. Not only their mouths participated, but their bodies as well. Her breasts flattened against his chest and she massaged the hardness in his trousers with her middle.

"Goddamn," he muttered and pushed her away. "You're right. It's hotter than hell in here." His face was drenched with sweat. "Let's get Lee and go to the creek."

He led her out of the wagon, their hands clasped, and as they went looking for Lee, Ross wondered when evert the thought of having sex had started being so much fun.

The next morning he was still sleeping when Lydia awoke. They had had quite an evening. First, they had spent an hour splashing in the shallows with Lee. Then Ross had showed off by diving in and scaring her half to death when he didn't come up for what seemed a full five minutes. She was calling his name frantically, clutching Lea to her and scanning the sunset-dappled surface of the water, when she was soundly pinched on the bottom and Ross came roaring out of the water like a sea monster.

"Oh, I could kill you," she shrieked and started after him, fighting both the current and the slippery stones, and trying to maintain her hold on Lee, who was thrashing his arms and legs in glee at being cool for the first time that day.

"Kiss me instead," Ross said, laughing at her aquatic eflbrts. He grabbed her slippery arms and pulled her to him. Fastening his mouth on hers, they swayed in the current, delighting in each other's warm taste. Lee fussed between them. He was ignored.

"You know," Ross said softly when he released her mouth, "swimming in that chemise has its benefits." She glanced down to see the thin cloth plastered to her, enhancing far more than covering. Her nipples were impudent and rosy enticements. Just then, with a particularly vigorous kick, Lee's foot caught on the lacy border of her chemise and pulled it down over her breast. Her skin was white, wet, shiny in the late afternoon sunlight, smooth as marble and crowned with that delicate peak.

It was too much for Ross to resist. He made a low, Brawling sound in his throat as he slipped his hand beneath her breast, lifted it free, and lowered his mouth to it. He kissed the smooth curve, then took the nipple in his mouth and tugged gently even as his tongue painted circles around it.

"Ross, Ross," Lydia murmured, tears of love and happiness welling in her eyes. She wanted the moment to last forever, but she could feel Ross's arousal against her thigh. She put her hand on his cheek and lovingly lifted his head away from her. "We're not that far downstream. Someone might see us. And there's Lee here."

His eyes reflected the green canopy of tree branches overhead as he smiled down into her face. She would never ask him outright to stop, but he read her pleading message. He reverently recovered her breast and said, "I think Lee's ready for supper anyway. I know I am." He took the boy from her and held him tight against his chest as they walked back to camp- And again Lydia had wanted to weep with the love she had for both of them.

Now Lydia gazed at the sleeping form of her husband and couldn't believe God had been so good as to give him to her. As if in rebuke, her eyes went to the chest and she knew an instant sobering. When would Clancey come again?

He appeared that very morning as soon as Ross had left to fetch fresh water.

"Mornin', Miz Coleman," he drawled.

Lydia, not wanting him to know she was afraid of him, turned slowly and looked at him with a haughty disdain that had always made him furious. She didn't say anything.

"Did you find it?"

"Yes."

His eyes lit up greedily, but she didn't move. "Well, ya stupid bitch, git it 'fore someone sees me."

"I can't. It's hidden too well and will take some time to get out."

He cursed irritably and was tempted to slap the aloofness from her face. But all around him the camp was beginning to stir and he knew it wouldn't behoove him to attract attention.

"This evenin' then."

"Not at the wagon."

"Near the corral after everone's put their horses up for the night." She nodded and he turned to slink away through the trees. Before he went, he turned back to her. "You better be there, gal, if ya know what's good for you." She nodded again.

That was one sunset she would dread.

But it arrived, lavender and crimson and gold. She had supper waiting for Ross when he came back to the wagon. It hadn't been easy but she had managed to retrieve the pouch of jewelry during the noon break.

There was an air of expectancy throughout the wagon train. In only a few days they would arrive at their destination. Scout was anticipating their crossing the Red River in two days. Then possibly three more to Jefferson. Of course most had much farther to go, but they would be disbanding there. All of them were already exchanging addresses of relatives where they could be reached until they had permanent addresses of their own.

Ross went to talk to Grayson after supper. Ma had taken Lee for a stroll and stopped to chat with Mrs. Sims while her two twins toddled around. Lydia had no problem in sneaking off toward the corral.

She walked straight and dignified, even though she was quaking with fear. Would she finally be rid of Clancey after this? She had thought he was dead, and he had resurrected himself to torment her again. The thought oi turning over Ross's late wife's jewelry was odious. But even more so was the thought of Ross's being caught with it. Surely if Clancey had such wealth in his possession, he would leave and never bother them again.

Lydia didn't see him before he came up behind her. He brought her to a painful standstill by grabbing a handful of her hair. "Boo!" he said softly.

She tore her hair out of his fist and whirled on him. "Get your hands off me." They were speaking in whispers and had slipped into the cover of a copse of trees. Even the horses corralled nearby didn't so much as twitch an ear in their direction. "If you touch me again, Ross will kill you."

Clancey revealed a disgusting display of rotting, tobacco-stained teeth with a sly grin. "But he ain't gonna know, now is he? You gonna tell him? I ain't. Not if you drought that jewelry."

"I brought it," she said tersely and took the velvet sack out of her pocket. She thrust it at him. "Don't ever bother me again. She made to brush past him.

He barred her way by placing his hand on the trunk of a tree, almost catching her under the chin. She reared back and was put off guard. When she recovered she was being held imprisoned against the tree, Clancey's thick body pressing against hers.

"You're gettin' mighty feisty, girlie. Mighty feisty. Don't know if I like it or not."

"Let me go," she ground out, struggling and trying to get her knee up. She had accidentally caught him in the groin with it once and learned quickly that that was a sure way to prevent his assaulting her.

Adroitly he dodged her knee. "You're makin' me mad, gal, that's what. Makin' me good and mad and horny."

His breath was foul as it struck her face in huffing pants. He groped for and squeezed her breast cruelly. "No," she sobbed, fighting. She wouldn't let this happen to her again. Not after Ross. Clancey would have to kill her first.