Almost a Lady (21 page)

Brandt didn't bother to bite back his groan, which earned him a chuckle from the temptress whose face floated just inches above his throbbing groin.

The most he could see was the top of her head, moving slightly up and down. He didn't know what she was doing, didn't feel anything more than her hands pressing the insides of his thighs. But his shaft seemed to recognize what she could be doing and strove to meet her halfway.

And then he felt
a wet
warmth low on his belly. A second later, he felt the same sensation a fraction higher. Again and again until her head was nearly parallel with his. He looked down to see the front of his shirt lying open, apparently unbuttoned by Willow's teeth and tongue.

"Holy Christ,” he breathed. “Why didn't you tell me you could do that?"

A dimple appeared in her cheek as she smiled gamely. “I didn't know until now. You inspired me."

"What else can I inspire you to do?"

She leaned forward, letting her bare breasts rub against his now shirtless chest and whispered wild, hotly erotic suggestions in his ear. And he wanted her to fulfill each and every one of them.

"Which should we start with?” she asked when she raised her voice to a normal level.

"You pick,” he said, because he wanted to see what she would do, and he wanted to be surprised.

"All right.
But you have to lift up.” She undid the front of his trousers and gave them a tug, pulling them down over his raised hips and off his legs.

Now they were both primarily naked, except for her stockings and his drawers. But from the tented front of his underclothes, there was little doubt of how long this covering would remain effective.

Willow noticed the prominence, too, and moved to lie beside him so that her head was level with his groin. She reached out the tip of her index finger and slowly moved it toward the peak of his straining masculinity. The minute she touched him, with just that tiny tip of her tiny finger, Brandt's buttocks shot off the buckboard like a wild mustang being broken to saddle.

Willow laughed in throaty pleasure, running her finger around the crest of his shaft and then down one long side, back up and down the other. “Do you like that?” she asked in a sultry, seductive timbre.

"Do you need to ask?” His own voice was nearly an octave higher than usual, but with Willow doing what she was doing, how could he care? If it would keep her hands and mouth between his legs, he'd don one of her bloody corsets again and sing “Johnny Get Your Gun."

Her head lowered next and he felt the moisture of her tongue through the cotton of his drawers. His hands clutched the sides of the wagon, his nails digging into the rough wood until splinters pierced his skin. Her tongue lolled around the head of his erection, moving lower and lower. She wrapped her fingers into the waistband of his drawers and began tugging the fabric down. They caught on his stiffness and she left the material there for a moment, teasing, taunting,
building
the sensations her mouth was creating to a fever pitch. And then she lifted her head and removed the garment altogether.

Her lips and tongue continued to torment him as she straddled his legs and his hands tangled in her hair. He let her work her magic for several more minutes, and then he stopped her, pulling her face up to meet his gaze. “Enough,” he whispered raggedly. “I want to be inside you. Before it's over too soon and we're both sorry."

She licked her lips as if she'd just dined on a particularly delectable delicacy and knee-walked her way closer to where he was propped against the side of the wagon. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she sat back on her heels so that the springy curls of her
mons
brushed enticingly along his rigid length.

He wanted to grab her up right then, roll her to her back on the
wagonbed
, and thrust into her. The only problem with that, he knew, was that he'd climax immediately. He was so close to fulfillment already that one move from the beautiful woman above
him
and he'd fly over the edge. He needed a second, just a fraction of a minute, to regain his equilibrium and contain his raging emotions.

Willow seemed content to allow him time to regroup. She sat still above him, the tip of her tongue darting out to dampen the corners of her mouth, while her breasts rose and fell with her deep breaths. After a moment, Brandt's own pulse seemed to slow just enough that he thought he could touch her again, have her touch him again, and bring them both to a shattering satisfaction without embarrassing himself. He moved his hands from her waist, where they'd drifted, to her hips, his fingers flexing into her buttocks.

"Ready?” she asked, as though she'd known he needed a short break and was willing to wait right along with him.

He nodded. “Are you?"

"Oh, yes.” Her lips trailed along his jaw. “So are my bells."

With a chuckle at her brazen remark, he lifted her hips and guided her toward his seeking manhood. Her hands slid down his chest, causing his stomach muscles to tighten. And then her fingers closed around his hard length, guiding it into her honeyed warmth.

Brandt sighed in ecstasy. Nothing had ever felt this good, this right. He watched Willow's teeth clamp onto her bottom lip, her head thrown back,
her
eyes closed. Just as he thought she was getting her bearings, he raised her slightly,
then
brought her back down, at the same time lifting his hips. The friction wrenched a desperate cry from low in her throat.

This wouldn't last long. He could tell by the quaver in her breathing and the building exhilaration in his blood, all pooling in the part of his body that was so deeply embedded inside the woman he loved. And as much as he wanted to stay inside her forever, keep these heightened sensations on the brink forever, he also wanted to drive into her. A thousand times, her breasts rubbing his chest, her legs wrapped high about his waist.

As though the thought led him directly to the action, he rolled her to her back beneath him, drew her legs around his hips where she crossed her ankles to clasp him tight, and began to thrust into her warm, inviting body.

His movements accelerated, her gasps coming one after another, and the light jingling of bells kept time with them both. Her nails raked long lines into the damp flesh of his back and she screamed as her body tensed and convulsed. At that very moment, his own release hit, and his cries of pleasure mingled with hers.

As their breathing returned to normal and all the muscles in their bodies slackened, her legs slipped from his waist, causing the bells to give one last tinkle of sound. He'd finally discovered exactly what it took to make them sing.

He'd seen her. He'd seen the bitch at the police station where he'd been questioned. She'd been talking with that Pinkerton agent and he'd overheard some officers mention that she, top, was a Pinkerton. Another one, blast it.

The little harlot.
She wasn't married to the man she'd been cavorting with, after all. He suspected that her fake husband was also a Pinkerton, and that their imaginary marriage had simply been a ruse set up to track him.

But now it was his turn to track her. Too bad
Outram
wasn't here. He was so good at following and dispatching with meddlesome individuals. He'd done a fine job with that other Pinkerton agent, who had threatened to ruin the divine plan.

But
Outram
, the poor sop, had gone and gotten himself caught. That was unfortunate for both of them, but at least
Outram
wouldn't turn on him; couldn't thanks to his small impediment.

He chuckled wickedly.

And now he would have to deal with Willow Donovan—or whatever her name really was—himself. Luckily, he was prepared.

Willow
and Brandt stepped off the train and onto the wide-planked wooden platform, swinging a giggling Erik between them. She couldn't help but laugh with him. She couldn't remember ever having seen her brother so happy, and she didn't think she'd ever been so happy, either.

Brandt had been right. She'd kept Erik tucked away long enough. From the moment she'd told him of her decision to take him back to
New York
with her for a short trip, he'd been a nonstop ball of energy. He'd talked the ears off both Nelsons, until Mr. Nelson had
hied
off to the barn, not to be seen again until he was needed to drive them to the train station.

Erik had worried about Piddle, but the Nelsons assured him they'd look after the dog until he returned. And once he'd felt confident of his pet's safety, he'd turned his entire attention on the trip ahead.

He'd chattered about every aspect of the passenger car they'd taken from
Pennsylvania
to
New York
, and asked so many questions, Willow thought her head might explode. Thankfully, Brandt had been there to answer half of them and take at least a little of the pressure off her.

And even though Erik's presence had garnered several stares and disdainful glares, she had found it quite simple to merely smile at the ignorant people around them, or ignore them completely.

Brandt had been right about that, too. She'd spent years worrying about what others would think of Erik, and now she found that she couldn't care less. Erik certainly didn't seem to notice anything amiss.

In
New York
, Erik's excitement increased tenfold. He knew all about the city from the stories Willow had told him during her visits, and he now insisted on seeing each and every detail she's spoken of
right this minute.
Even some that she'd heedlessly embellished.

Rather than try to explain why that was not only a daunting prospect but physically impossible, she and Brandt shared a look over Erik's head—one that said they hoped he'd tire soon and be willing to take a nap before they both collapsed of child-induced exhaustion.

When their eyes met again, she smiled. In fact, she'd
been
smiling ever since they'd left the barn after their rather enjoyable tryst. She hadn't thought agreeing to marry him could change her life so much or so rapidly, but it had.

But it wasn't the idea of matrimony—which she still had a fair share of misgivings about—that caused her to feel so content. It was the effect Brandt had on every aspect of her life, from the way he touched her when they made love to the way he made them feel more like a family just by holding one of Erik's hands while she held the other.

"What should we do first?” Brandt asked, and Willow rolled her eyes at his slow assessment of the situation. One didn't ask such a question of an overly wound-up child. Not when there might be three hundred things on the list.
Especially when all she wanted to do was head for the nearest hotel room and sleep for the next two weeks.

Sure enough, Erik began an immediate litany of requests. “I
wanna
see the river with the big ships, and all the carriages with the
horsies
, and the eye, and meet Robert, and see the
biiiig
hotel you live
in,
and. . ."

"I'm sorry I asked,” Brandt mumbled, scratching the slight stubble of his jaw.

Willow curled her fingers into her palm to keep from reaching out to touch that stubble herself. With a chuckle, she said, “It might not be a bad idea to drop by the Agency and tell Robert we're back.” She turned her attention to Erik. “And you could meet him and see the sign."

"
Yay
!
Yay
!
Yay
!
Yay
!
Yay
!”
Erik cried, jumping up and down, trusting Willow and Brandt to keep him from falling.

"I think that's a yes,” Brandt replied, the
smile evident in his voice, even if the words were
delivered with dry wit.

Although they probably could have walked several blocks to the Pinkerton offices, they chose to hire a hackney cab as an added excitement for Erik. He insisted on petting the gray sorrel mare before they climbed into the carriage, and then sat on Brandt's lap in order to better see out the small window.

Just as they approached the block where the Pinkerton National Detective Agency was located, they heard music drifting on the air. The telltale music that was sure to change their immediate plans.

"Oh, no,” Willow muttered.

"What's that?” Erik asked.

"I'd say the circus is in town,” Brandt answered, sounding chipper and eager.

"I wish you hadn't said that.” She leaned against the cushioned seat, letting her head fall back and her eyes drift closed. She was too tired for this.

"The circus?”
Erik squealed.
“The kind with
el'phants
and tigers and snakes?”
His young body vibrated with excitement, and Brandt had to clasp his tiny waist to keep him from toppling off his lap.

Willow was beginning to regret reading so many different books to him and telling him so many fantastical stories. She'd wanted to entertain him with tales of the big, wild world, most of which she'd never expected him to see. Most of which
she
had never seen. But now it seemed the world was living up to Erik's expectations.

"You know about the circus?” Brandt asked.

Erik's head moved back and forth as if it was on strings. “Willow
tol
’ me. There are men who eat fire and fat women with beards.” He puffed out his cheeks,
then
slapped the air out of them with his hands. “And short little people who are full-grown but still not as big as me.” He squared his shoulders and stuck out his chest, proud of his size. And then he ruined the grown-up effect by grinning and revealing the gap at the side of his mouth where a tiny tooth was missing.

"You're a pretty smart kid,” Brandt told him, ruffling his hair and grinning back with his full set of straight white teeth. “How would you like to go see how many bearded ladies they brought with them?"

Erik's eyes went wide. “Yeah,” he said in awe. Then he turned to Willow. “Can we, Willow? Can we, can we, can we?” He bounced with every word, and Brandt let out a deep belly laugh at his antics.

She groaned and ran a hand over her brow. “I just don't know if I can handle the circus."

"Please? Please, can we, Willow?
Please?
"

She opened her mouth to agree—because how could she turn down
that
much eagerness?—when Brandt interrupted.

"You look tired. Why don't you let me take Erik to the circus?” he suggested. “We can drop you at the office and meet you back there when we're through."

"Really?”
She sat up a little straighter at the idea. It would be wonderful to spend a few minutes somewhere quiet. Perhaps she could even take a bit of a nap on the sofa in Robert's office and catch her second wind before Erik returned and overwhelmed her with his enthusiasm.

"You don't mind if we go without your sister, do you?” he asked Erik.

Erik shook his head, too wound up at the prospect of seeing someone eat fire to care if she was there or not.

"We'll bring you a candied apple,” Brandt offered. And then he leaned out the window and called out directions to the hackney driver.

"This will be fine,” Willow said as they approached
Exchange Place
. “Have him drop me here."

"Are you sure?” Brandt asked.

She nodded. “It will be easier for you to continue on to the circus from here. I don't mind walking the rest of the way.” It wasn't far at all, and the streets and sidewalks were pleasantly clear at this hour. Likely everyone was enjoying the traveling circus, the same as Brandt and Erik planned to do.

Brandt told the driver to stop and set Erik aside while he stepped from the carriage and helped her down. “We won't be long,” he said, keeping hold of her hand.

"Take your time. I could use the peace and quiet."

He chuckled. “I kind of enjoy his ebullience."

"Good.” Her mouth curved up in a knowing half-smile. “Then you stay up with him tonight while he repeats every detail of his trip to the circus a thousand times."

"Gladly.
Of course, I'm hoping the tattooed ladies and snake charmers will wear him out. And if that doesn't work, I'm thinking of filling him with sweets so that his mouth is too busy to talk my ear off."

She shook her head, knowing his strategy to be futile. Seeing so many oddities would only increase Erik's storehouse of anecdotes, and feeding him so many sugary concoctions would either increase his energy level or make him sick. Whichever occurred, they would be up all night with him.

Brandt lowered his head to place a soft kiss on her lips. She leaned into him and kissed him back, her fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket.

"We won't be long,” he said again, his
voice lower
this time as the passion in his eyes ignited a similar heat in her own bloodstream.

She nodded, not sure she could speak if she tried.

He kissed her once more, a light peck on her cheek, before bounding back into the carriage, swinging the door closed behind him, and joining Erik to wave goodbye. She raised her own hand to bid them farewell and watched them roll out of sight. Still smiling, she turned and began walking toward the Pinkerton offices.