TheSurrenderofLacyMorgan (2 page)

He let his hand drift down below the chains of the choker
and opened the next few buttons until he could see the swell of her breasts.
Her undergarments felt as silky as her skin beneath.

Interesting.

She hid behind the schoolmarm guise and men’s clothes as
cool as any outlaw, but underneath the frigid exterior she wore the garments of
a courtesan. Still, she’d ridden with Devil Morgan’s gang and had been
instrumental in at least one robbery. He wasn’t fooled by her outer trappings.
She was more dangerous than she appeared, but she’d finally met her match.

Now was the time to show her he was in control and she was
at his mercy.

“Strip.”

She blinked. “Pardon me?”

“You heard me. Take off your clothes.” He stepped back, then
pulled a rickety straight-backed chair up against the wall. A glint from inside
the carpetbag on the bed caught his eye. He strode over and pulled a Colt out
of her bag. He slipped it into the pocket of his duster, then sat in front of
the only exit. “Now strip. I want to be sure you don’t have any other weapons.”

“That was the only gun I have.”

“Darlin’, my mama didn’t raise a fool and you’re trying my
patience. Start with your shirt.”

Her eyes narrowed like an angry cat ready to draw claws and
attack. Would she?

He arched a brow, drew her pistol from his pocket and
checked the chamber. Clean and fully loaded. He pointed it in her direction.

Her hands clenched into fists at her side. For a moment he
thought she’d refuse, almost wished she would. He was so angry he would like
nothing more than stripping her of all pretense to show the harlot beneath the
façade.

Then, slowly, she inhaled, lifted her chin and straightened
her spine. Something in her eyes—courage or defiance, he wasn’t sure
which—struck a spark deep inside him.

Almost as if she dared him to watch her, she lifted her
hands to the front of her shirt. One after another she released the buttons to
reveal the silky white garment beneath. When she shrugged out of the top, her
dark nipples stood taut and visible beneath the thin silk.

Even covered, her breasts were magnificent. Not too big, but
certainly enough to fill even his large hands. They stood tight and full
against her chest. He clenched his hand tighter around the handle of the Colt,
then relaxed.

She folded the top and laid it carefully on the bed, then
turned back to face him.

“Now the pants.”

With an inhaled breath, she pulled off her boots. Then she
unfastened the front of her pants and wiggled them over her hips. The loose
camisole gaped to give him a bird’s-eye view of her breasts as she bent to push
the dungarees down her long, shapely legs, then struggled to step out of them.

Quinn swallowed hard as heat surged to his already
stiffening cock. She was a means to an end, nothing more, and he needed to
remember that fact.

As with the shirt, she folded her pants and laid them on the
bed, then turned to await his instructions. She was stripping all right, but
not of her own will and she wanted to be sure he understood. He read it in her
posture and the fire in her eyes.

Standing before him barefoot and in her silky underwear, she
looked like a goddess ready for sacrifice. “Satisfied? I have no hidden
weapons.”

Oh she had weapons, all right, and they were still hidden.

“All of your clothes.” Holding the gun steady, he waved his
free hand to indicate her undergarments. “Now.”

She glanced at the open window to her right before she
reached for the ties lacing her camisole together. Anyone walking past could
look in and see her stripping for him. The idea of exposing her nakedness to
others had his cock straining to get loose.

Her fingers worked quickly and he almost missed the subtle
shaking in them, so fascinated was he by the growing vision of her skin and
breasts. She obeyed him, but she wasn’t used to undressing in front of
strangers. He didn’t know why the idea pleased him, but it did.

Dakota would love watching this.
Too damn bad,
someone had to get the woman a horse. Besides, they’d shared more than one
woman in their travels. Quinn was glad he’d have this memory for himself.

Once she stood before him proud and naked, he drank his
fill. He wished he had time to tame her, slow and seductively, bring her to
obey his will of her own accord. Unfortunately, he needed her cooperation
before Devil escaped to wreak havoc on more innocent people. He’d sworn to make
him and everyone involved, even the naked woman before him, pay for his
mentor’s death. Anson’s widow deserved justice.

He stalked toward her, Colt in hand, letting her fear build
just a little. She was magnificent. Tall, round in all the places to make his
cock throb, her skin a golden color. An offering waiting for him to claim. He
wanted to pull her onto the bed and thrust deep inside her.

Inches from her, he stopped and slid the cold metal barrel
of the gun down her arm, eliciting a shiver from her. Both nipples drew even tighter.

“Don’t. Please.”

He reached forward, pulling on one, twisting it between his
thumb and index finger, increasing the pressure.

She gasped, arching her back slightly.

Yes
, he thought.

Releasing the nipple, he slid his hand slowly down her
chest, over her belly to the dark coppery curls at the junction of her thighs.
“Open your legs for me,” he ordered, his voice sounding deeper even to his own
ears.

She pressed her lips together in the thin line of anger once
more, her gaze piercing him with defiance. “No. I’m not a whore. You can see I
haven’t any weapons.”

“Don’t think for a moment I won’t force you.” Fury swelled
through him, along with his need to control her. He locked his gaze with hers,
willing her to submit.

Mutiny and fear warred within her. And something else.
Guilt?

He knew the moment she conceded. With her eyes lowered, she
took one step to the side to part her thighs. He slipped his fingers between
them.

Just as he thought—slick and warm.

The woman might resent his orders, fear retribution for
defying him, and even be humiliated, but obeying him had excited her.

He might not know exactly where to find Devil Morgan, but
he’d learned one thing he could use to get the information.

Lacy Morgan loved having someone else in charge.

Lacy tried not to flinch at the intensity of Blue-eyes’
gaze, but when he held his fingers to show her the evidence of her own arousal,
she wanted the plank floor beneath her feet to open up and swallow her.

“Your mama was a whore, and you’re gonna be one for me
someday.”

Devil’s ugly voice rang in her ears. If only the words
weren’t true.

But she’d left Devil and his men behind, even the
son-of-a-bitch who betrayed her. No man would use her again.

She lifted her chin a little higher.

“This is going to be an interesting trip after all.”
Blue-eyes licked his fingers.

Lacy should have been disgusted, but the sensual way he slid
his fingers over his lips to suck off her essence surprised and thrilled her.

He watched her with unwavering power. He was so close, his
scent filled her senses. Unlike Devil and his men, this man didn’t reek of
rotting teeth and body odor. Leather and trail dust mixed with an underlying
scent of sandalwood soap and something purely masculine. Deep inside her, the
woman who wanted to be loved shivered at his nearness.

She shook off the sensation and straightened her spine. Once
before she’d fallen for a man who smelled and acted different from Devil’s
usual henchmen, only to discover she’d made a tragic mistake in trust and
judgment. When she’d ridden out of Devil’s camp, she’d sworn no man was going
to own her again.

She’d leave with Blue-eyes and his partner, but first chance
she got she’d hightail it in the opposite direction of them and Devil Morgan.
“Satisfied I’m unarmed?”

Her challenge caused his eyes to narrow just slightly and he
lifted one brow as if mocking her renewed courage. He stepped back and pointed
her gun at her camisole. “You can get dressed.”

She slipped on the camisole and cursed her fingers for
shaking as she tried to tie the lace ribbon, feeling his eyes continuing to
watch her every move. He let her get the men’s shirt on, but pulled the
dungarees out of her hands.

“I think you should wear a skirt.”

“I don’t ride sidesaddle.”

“Good. I’ll like looking at your legs.”

He thought to embarrass her. Too bad. Humiliation had been
Devil’s favorite weapon. She’d learned to let it slide off her like a goose
shedding water.

He laid the pants on the bed, then handed her the dark blue
skirt she’d just taken off. She narrowed her eyes and snatched it out of his
hands. “Just because you have me, Devil isn’t going to come out of his hiding
hole. Believe me, you can’t use me as bait.”

He shoved her gun into the back of his belt. The corner of
his lip lifted in a half-smile as she pulled the skirt over her head and
fastened it at her waist. “I’m not using you as bait, kitten. More like a
gift.”

He wanted to give her back to Devil? No way in hell!

Panic seized her chest. Fingers stretched like claws, she
lunged at his face. “You bastard!”

He grabbed her hands, but she wiggled one loose and raked
her nails down his neck.

“Dammit!” He recaptured her hand and lifted both over her
head. He shoved her up against the wall, his weight forcing the air out of her
lungs.

Lacy tried to inhale once more, but the effort only made her
physically aware of his body pressed tightly against hers, each sinewy muscle
and hard plane stretched firm along her curves, his erection pushing between
her slightly spread thighs.

“Attack me again and you might not like my reactions.” His
gaze darkened before his mouth descended on hers.

The kiss was meant to punish. Hard. Intense. Demanding.

Lacy fought to resist. He was no better than the animals who
rode with her stepfather. They’d tried to force themselves on her and learned
she wasn’t easily dominated by them—men she couldn’t respect. Problem was,
Blue-eyes held her in such a position that her usual tricks to get free
wouldn’t work.

Suddenly, he broke off the kiss. Lust filling his eyes, he
lifted the corner of his mouth in a slight grin. “I do enjoy breaking a wild
filly.”

Before she could free herself, he pulled a leather strip out
of his coat pocket and whipped it around her left hand in a tight snare. Then
he pulled both her arms down and tied them together. “Until you learn to
behave, we’ll just make sure you can’t hurt yourself or anyone else.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Do what you want. I’m not
going to tell you where to find him.”

He gripped the strip by the loose end like a leash and
dragged her toward the door. “In time, I’m sure you will.”

Panicked he meant to leave her meager belongings behind,
Lacy dug her heels in and pulled at her bindings. “Wait. My things.”

He paused and looked at her, then back at the bag with her
clothes half hanging out. “Seems like a lot of effort for a few dresses.”

“Please. It’s all I have.” She hated to beg, but cherished
the bag’s contents.

For a moment she thought he’d refuse. Then he rolled his
eyes and grabbed the bag.

Outside, his partner had returned with their horses. Between
the white and red stallions stood a white and brown paint, a gelding. Dark-eyes
looked at the four welts on his friend’s neck, blood oozing from two, and
nodded at her. “Gave you some trouble?”

Blue-eyes shrugged and tossed the other man her bag.
“Nothing I couldn’t handle. Tie this on her horse.”

Dark-eyes arched one brow as if he wanted to tell his
partner where to shove his orders, but tied her bag in place.

Stopping in front of her horse, Blue-eyes nodded at her to
mount.

“I’m not climbing on the horse.” Even with her hands tied,
she’d hoped to find some means of escape.

His lips pressed into a thin line and the pulse at the
corner of his neck above his wounds jumped. “Darlin’, you have two choices. You
can climb on and ride sitting, or I’ll throw you on and strap you down with
your ass bouncing around in midair.”

The look on his face suggested he’d like watching the
latter. She’d be damned if she’d give him the satisfaction.

She gripped the pommel with her bound hands and tried to
lift one leg into the stirrup. The skirt’s confining fit prevented her from
getting her leg up high enough. With an I-told-you-so-look, she shrugged.
“Guess I’ll have to wear my pants after all.”

“Let’s get something straight. You’ll do exactly as I tell
you.” He slipped an angry-looking Bowie knife out of the sheath on his belt.

Oh God! He was going to kill her. Over a skirt. She stepped
into the horse’s side, causing it to shy toward Dark-eyes’ mount. “You saw me
try. Please, don’t do this.”

“Turn around,” he ordered, no mercy in his voice.

Why hadn’t she gone east to a big city? Disappeared? Her
love of the wild country and vast expanse of the West was going to get her
killed. Braced for the pain, Lacy swallowed her fear hard and turned to face
the horse.

The seconds seemed to last forever. Then she felt his warm
hand—on her bottom? Trapped with her hands looped over the pommel, she tried to
turn her head to see behind her. “What are you doing?”

“Hold still.”

He wouldn’t cut her skirt, would he?

A second later she heard a tearing sound.

He did!

Without another word, he slipped the knife around and cut
the front seam too.

Lacy exhaled the breath she’d been holding. She now had a
very expensive rag, but at least he’d only damaged her skirt. Devil would’ve
slapped her for her insolence and threatened to slit her throat for causing him
any trouble in the first place. Which he’d do the moment he got his hands on
her once more.