A Promise of Roses (14 page)

Lucas pulled his mouth away but held her derriere even more tightly. “Megan, we can't."

She ignored him, closing her fingers around his pulsing shaft.

He groaned. “This isn't going to work, Megan."

She took the end of his ear into her mouth, suckling gently. “Take off my drawers."

"Huh?” He pushed the collar of her shirt aside, kissing the sensitive flesh of her shoulder.

"Take my drawers off, Lucas."

He seemed to get the message that time, for he removed his hands from her bottom. He fought to find the waistband of her drawers beneath her shirt, which hung to
midthigh
. Finally he found the tie. For long minutes he struggled with the knot, cursing more foully than Megan had ever before heard.

She chuckled, still massaging his rock-hard arousal. “Hurry, Lucas,” she whispered, curious to see just what he would do.

She didn't have long to wonder. With a savage tug, the string snapped. He leaned back, lifting her so the silken undergarment could fall away, leaving her naked from the waist down.

When he set her down, she spread her legs to straddle him, her legs resting on his thighs.

"I can't wait, Megan. I can't."

She wrapped her arms around his neck just as he lowered her onto his throbbing member. They both gasped at the contact. Sweet, electrifying bolts of lightning shot through their bodies.

"Tell me if I go too fast.” He grasped her hips, lifting and lowering her.

Megan thought she would die. Her stomach clenched; her breath caught. A wave of untamed heat spiraled through her, causing her to cry out.

Hearing Megan's shout, Lucas thrust faster, bringing them together with added force. It happened before he could think to stop it or even slow things down. White-hot pleasure washed over him. He clutched her close as he came, filling her with the hot liquid of his climax.

When he could once again manage to breathe air into his paralyzed lungs, he swore. “Christ. I think I died and went to heaven.” He felt Megan's chest move against his own as she laughed.

She raised her head from his shoulder, meeting his eyes. Lucas pushed long, errant curls out of her face,
then
kissed her.
Soft, slow, not so much with uncontrolled passion as with gentle caring.

A few flickering lights in the distance alerted him to their nearness to town. He pulled the tail of her shirt down as far as it would
go,
covering her, loathe to let her go. He reached behind him for her trousers. “You'd better get dressed."

She took her pants, turning sideways on the saddle. “Where are my drawers?” She looked around, patting him down in case they were tangled in his clothes.

"My guess
is,
somewhere back there.” He arched a thumb over his shoulder.

"Back there?” Her eyes widened. “You mean ... back there ... on the ground?"

"Yep.”
One side of his mouth lifted.
“Unless some horny little raccoon grabbed them up."

"Lucas!” She slapped his chest. “That's terrible. How could you lose them like that?"

He ran a hand up under her shirt to tease one pearl-tipped nipple. “I had more important things on my mind. Care to repeat the experience?"

"No, thank you.” She snapped her trousers in the air, struggling to get them on over her boots. She did not, however, ask him to remove his hand. It remained on her breast until they arrived at the outskirts of town. Then Lucas
rebuckled
his gun belt, and Megan straightened in the saddle.

Her face flushed guiltily, he noticed, even though no one was around. Had the main street been brimming with people, he didn't think anyone would possibly guess what had occurred on the trail. Only he and Megan knew. And he wasn't damned likely to forget. He suspected he would carry the memory with him long after he'd cocked up his toes and moved on to the hereafter.

The livery was dark when they arrived. Lucas stabled their mounts and scrawled a short note to the owner, asking him to have Poor Girl
reshod
.

They walked to the hotel, through the empty lobby, and up to their room. Lucas struck a match, lighting the bedside lamp.

Megan felt suddenly self-conscious. About her failed attempt at escaping Lucas and returning to Leavenworth. About her boldness in making love to him, especially
that way
, out in the open for God and
all the
world to see. Her cheeks turned hot just thinking about it. If he mentioned it—said one word—she would burn up from embarrassment.

She reached up to pull the brim of her Stetson down, hoping to hide her reddening features, but her hand met with only soft, tangled curls.

"What the ... Where is my hat?” She whirled around, as if it might be hovering behind her, making faces, and she had to catch it.

"What?” Lucas asked from beside the bed.

"My hat.
It's gone."

He glanced at his. It rested on the dresser where he'd put it when he came in earlier that evening, forgotten in his rush to find Megan. But hers was nowhere in sight.

"I must have lost it,” she said. “Damn. I loved that hat, too."

"I'll buy you a new one in the morning."

"But—"

"In the morning, Megan.
For now, can we please get some sleep? I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted."

She shrank back a step, clutching her hands behind her. “You're not going to cuff me again, are you?"

He answered her question with a question of his own. “Are you going to run away again?"

"I might."

"Then I'll cuff you."

"But I might not,” she offered.

"Then I won't."

"But how will you know—"

"Get into bed, Megan."

She shrugged out of her trousers, making sure the shirt covered as much exposed skin as possible. She didn't know why she bothered, since Lucas had already seen her, touched her,
made
her cry out, and ... Good, Lord, she had to get her racing pulse under control.

Lucas whipped back the covers, pointing to her side of the bed. She climbed in, drawing the bedspread over her bare knees as she puffed the pillow behind her back.

He turned down the wick of the lamp, casting the room into a dim yellow-orange glow. Then he moved to the other side of the room, in front of the bureau mirror.

"Aren't you coming to bed?” she asked quietly.

"In a minute."

She watched him a second longer before snuggling under the covers and nodding off to sleep. Her last conscious thought was that it seemed colder, even under the quilted blanket, without Lucas's arms around her.

Lucas yawned, raising a hand to rub his eyes. The misty gray of early morning peeked through the hotel window. He turned his head to glance at Megan. Her dark hair fell over her face like a veil, fluttering slightly each time she exhaled.

He rolled out of bed without disturbing her. By the time he dressed, shaved, and strapped on his matching Colts, the sun was up and people were milling about town. Tucking his well-worn hat on his head, he slipped out of the room.

He stopped at the mercantile, purchasing a new beige Stetson for Megan. He figured it was at least partly his fault that she'd lost the old one. He smiled at the memory. The last thing he'd been thinking about on the ride back to Wichita was her hat.

He was on his way back to the hotel when he noticed a man vigorously sweeping outside the saloon. Something in his brain sparked. The back of his neck tingled. He'd been a bounty hunter long enough to know not to ignore instinct. He crossed the street, stepping up on the opposite plank sidewalk.

When he got closer, he recognized the bartender from his earlier late-night visit to the Whiskey Barrel.

"You're out awfully early, Pete,” he said casually.

"Damn rowdies,” Pete swore, swinging the broom even more violently than before.

"Sounds like I missed all the excitement."

He huffed. “No excitement.
Just a down-and-dirty brawl."

"What happened?” His voice was calm, but he felt as if he were trying to squeeze blood from a turnip.

"Some mean-ass drifter came in about midnight, one o'clock. Trouble started when he decided to take another cowboy's girl upstairs."

"Anybody hurt?"

"Not ‘less you count me.” Pete pulled back the collar of his shirt. A thick red welt ran across his chest and shoulder. “Bastard tried to take me out with the leg of a chair."

"What did you do?” Lucas asked. He could just imagine.

"Let's just say he'll be
walkin
’ funny for a while."

Lucas chuckled for a moment,
then
probed for more information. “What did this guy look like?"

"The meaner side of ugly,” Pete said. “Had a face a mother would have trouble loving. I don't even want to think about what the rest of it looked like under that beard."

Lucas stiffened.
“Black hair going gray?
About six feet tall?"

Pete shrugged. “Guess so."

"Did you see the horse he came in on?"

"Yep.
Made sure he rode out on it, too."

"What did it look like?"

Pete stopped sweeping, leaning on the broomstick. He gave Lucas a curious look. “It was a black, scraggly old thing. Probably
shoulda
been put down long ago. Why do you ask?"

"I've been looking for someone,” he said quickly, not offering more. “Did his horse have an old scar across its left flank?"

"Sure did."

Blood rushed to Lucas's brain. His palms began to itch with anticipation of the kill. “Which way did he go?"

"He was headed east, but I overheard him telling one of the girls he was on his way to
Missouri
. Lexington. No, that
ain't
it. Started with
an
i
... Independence,” he said, slapping his leg. “That's it. Said he was on his way to Independence. Hey, where you
goin
'?” he called.

Lucas didn't hear Pete or any of the other sounds of a town waking to a new day. His mind was on blood. Damn it, if he hadn't had to go running after Megan last night, he'd have been around to catch Scott.

But then, there was no guarantee that he'd have even known the bastard was in town, he reasoned.

He knew now, though. And all he had to do was catch up with Scott on the trail to Independence.

The thought that Independence,
Missouri
, was two hundred miles away didn't dim his determination. He finally had a decent lead, and he was not going let Silas Scott get away.

He strode into the hotel room, letting the door slam behind him.

Megan sat up with a startled yet sleepy expression on her face. “What's going on?” she asked groggily.

"We're leaving. Get dressed."

She fell back against the pillows with a moan. “Not again,” she complained. “Can't we ever stay in a town more than one night?"

"This time is special,” he told her, stuffing their things into his saddlebags.

She gave an unladylike snort.

"I'm taking you home."

Suddenly she was wide awake. She stared at him with mammoth, disbelieving eyes.
“Really?
You're taking me back to Leavenworth?"

"Yep.
But only if you're dressed and ready to ride in two minutes."

She leapt out of bed and dragged on her trousers, not bothering to tuck in the shirttail. “Why the sudden change of heart?” she asked, struggling to jam on her boots.

"No change of heart. I got a new lead on Scott that takes me through Leavenworth.” That wasn't the complete truth, but he figured Leavenworth was close enough to Independence that he could drop Megan off at the marshal's office without losing too much time. And without her slowing him down, he could cover a lot more ground.

He went to the door, holding it open. “Ready?"

"Ready.” She pushed to her feet and left the room ahead of him.

Before she slipped out of arm's reach, he brought the new Stetson up behind her and dropped it on her head. With a pat to the hat and one to her bottom, he ushered her out of the hotel.

The closer they got to Leavenworth, the more anxious Megan became. Lucas hadn't said half a dozen words to her the entire trip, and she could almost feel the cold iron bars of a jail cell closing around her. She was sure he still intended to turn her in. Why should a few hours spent in carnal splendor change his mind?

But the thought of sitting in jail didn't bother her nearly as much as the distance that seemed to have grown between the two of them overnight.

She had almost begun to believe that there was more to Lucas than the hard exterior he presented to the world.
More than vengeance and bloodlust in his heart.
Now she feared she'd been wrong. All that truly mattered to him was finding Silas Scott and killing him for what he'd done to Annie and Chad. And while Megan understood his anger, hatred, and need for justice, she couldn't quite fathom a fury that consumed one's whole life, one's whole soul.

She glanced to the side, taking in Lucas's stiff form, his hardened
jawline
.

"You're still going to turn me in, aren't you?"

"Yep,” he answered without looking at her.

"And there's nothing I can do to change your mind?"

"Nope."

So much for bargaining, she thought.

She took a deep breath. “All right, then. I know you're only doing your job, so I'll go along quietly."

That brought his head around. He stared at her, eyebrows raised. “No arguments?"

"No arguments."

"No kicking, screaming, and threatening to see me hanged?"

"None of those things,” she promised.

Lucas didn't take his eyes from her. Something was brewing in that devious mind of hers; he was sure of it. He didn't let himself believe for even a minute that she would let herself be locked up without a fight.

"What's the catch?” he asked.

"No catch.
Just a small favor."

He grunted, facing forward again. “No deal.” He'd rather drag her to jail kicking and screaming than make a deal with the Devil herself.

"Please, Lucas. It's not a big favor, just a little one. It would mean so much to me."

He didn't look at her, didn't respond.

"I promise to let you turn me in to Marshal Thompson without so much as a tear if you'll just let me see my family first. I don't want them to find out about all of this by word of mouth. I want to be able to tell them myself so it's not such a shock. Please, Lucas."

He gritted his teeth for a moment, thinking her proposition through. He supposed it wouldn't hurt to let her visit her brother one last time before he took her to jail. The most he would lose was a few hours. He let his eyes stray to Megan's face. Damp black curls stuck to her skin where they'd escaped the confines of her hat. A bolt of desire ripped through him, hot and intense.

He swore under his breath. He was going to miss her more than he cared to admit. How could he possibly say no when all she asked was one last visit with her family before an indefinite prison stay?

"All right.
But when it comes time for me to turn you over to the law, I don't want even a peep of argument. Got it?"

"Oh, yes, I promise,” she said, bringing her horse closer to his. Without warning, she threw her arms around his neck, hugging him close.

He held her tight as she slipped from her horse to his. Setting her sideways on the saddle in front of him, he let the heat of her supple body seep into his. Yes, he was going to miss her, he thought a second before their lips met.

Lucas let his eyes drift across the expanse of Caleb Adams's ranch. The large white house was nestled in a valley between two crests of pasture land. A few head of cattle grazed on the hilltop. The lawn was strewn with toys.
A hobbyhorse, a red wagon missing a wheel, the remnants of a corn-husk doll, and proof of a bloody battle between wooden cowboys and Indians.

As they rode up to the hitching post, Lucas noticed two sets of fingers wrapped around the porch railing. His hand moved automatically to the Colt at his hip.

"No,” Megan said, covering his hand with her own. “It's just little Zachary.” She dismounted and moved toward the house.

When the small boy recognized Megan, he popped up and ran yelling happily down the porch steps, launching himself into her arms.

"Aunt Megan! Aunt Megan!"

"Hey, there, Zach.”
She picked him up and spun him around, kissing him atop his light-brown hair.

"Where've you been, Aunt Megan? Mama and Daddy have been awful worried ‘bout you."

"I know, but—"

"Zachary Adams, what on earth are you yelling about? You're going to wake your sister if you don't—"

A woman with hair the exact color of the boy's stopped in midstride. The screen door fell closed, hitting her behind.
“Oh, my God.
Megan.” She flew down the steps.

After several minutes of happy embraces and excited chatter, the women broke apart. Megan set Zachary back on his feet, turning to Lucas.

"Lucas,” she said, taking his hand and drawing him closer. “This is my brother's wife, Rebecca, and their son, Zachary. This is Lucas,” she said by way of introduction.

"Zachary,” Rebecca said, “
go
to the barn and find your father.” The little boy ran off without further urging, leaving a trail of dust in his wake.

"Come inside.” Rebecca took Megan's hand and guided her through the front door. “Sit down, both of you.” She waved to the settee in the middle of the parlor.

Megan took a seat on the sofa while Lucas sat in an armchair off to the side.

"Are you all right? We've been worried sick about you,” Rebecca said.

"I'm fine,” Megan answered, smiling. “When Caleb gets here, I'll tell you everything. How's Rose?” she asked.

"She's napping.
Unless Zachary woke her with all that screeching.
Maybe I ought to check on her."

"I'll go with you.” Megan followed her sister-in-law to the stairs leading to the second floor. “I'll be right back,” she mouthed to Lucas.

He sat back in the chair, exhaling a deep breath. The women were gone no longer than five minutes when heavy footsteps echoed on the porch. A tower of a man with dark hair and brown eyes stepped into the room.

"Megan!” he barked. “Megan?"

The little boy scooted around the man's legs and hopped onto the sofa.

"Caleb!” Megan came clattering down the steps, throwing herself into her brother's arms.

Rebecca appeared a second later, carrying the baby. “You're all going to give poor Rose nightmares if you don't hush.” She bounced the child gently in her arms, cooing quietly.

"Where have you been, Megan?” Caleb asked. His tone was rough, but he kept his voice low. Then his eyes darted to Lucas. “And who the hell is he?"

"This is Lucas McCain” Megan said. “He works for Union Pacific. They sent him to find out who was stealing the payrolls."

"So what is he doing with you?"

"Union Pacific thinks I had something to do with the robberies,” she told him.

Caleb gave her an odd look.

Without batting an eyelash, she blurted out, “Lucas is taking me to jail."