Carol Finch (14 page)

Gideon decided the golden-eyed female had her father wrapped around her finger. She flashed Clive a dimpled smile. He relaxed his defensive stance and went with her without complaint.

“I can’t tell you what a relief it is to be home so I can snuggle up in my own bed, after living like a soldier on bivouac,” she said.

“You’re right, sweetheart. We all need our rest.” The glance Clive sent Gideon assured him the subject of possible favors wasn’t over—only postponed.

“I’ll show you to your room, Gideon,” she offered.

“I’ll take care of that,” Clive said a little too insistently.

“I’ve been heating water for an honest-to-goodness bath.” She cast Gideon a smile then headed upstairs. “Good-night to both of you.”

“I’ll take my bath in the river after your father shows me to my room,” Gideon said.

“Whatever you wish.” Lori veered down the hall to her room.

Clive blocked his view, as if that would stop Gideon from figuring out where Lori would be sleeping. Wherever it was, it would be the wrong place, if he wasn’t there with her. Gideon didn’t know why he considered it vital that Lori slept in his arms. Maybe because someone had tried to shoot her and abduct her to collect a high bounty. Or perhaps sharing one night of amazing passion hadn’t been enough to appease him.

Perhaps two nights would satisfy his craving.

He doubted it, but he could only hope.

“Your room is down here.” Clive gestured forcefully in the opposite direction as Lori disappeared at the far end of the hall.

Clive halted beside a spacious room. He stared pointedly at Gideon, who wore a carefully blank stare. “I expect you to stay in here. Marshal or not. I believe we understand each other.”

“I believe we do.” Gideon turned on his heels. “I’ll scout the area again, just to be on the safe side, after I bathe.”

“Thank you, Marshal Fox. And beginning tomorrow, you will resolve these ridiculous accusations against my daughter so you can go back to what you do best. Tracking ruthless fugitives, not
innocent
women who should be home under their father’s
vigilant
protection.”

Gideon inclined his head ever so slightly. “Exactly what I was thinking,” he said before he walked away.

It was an outright lie, of course. Clive Russell would skin him alive if he knew the thought of sharing Lori’s bed was the only recurring thought on his mind.

Lori opened her window, then stared down at the dark silhouette moving gracefully across the lawn toward the river. She frowned pensively, remembering that her would-be kidnapper reminded her of the way Gideon Fox moved. She contemplated that for a moment as Gideon disappeared into the bushes near the ferry. She couldn’t recall any of the locals who reminded her of Gideon’s size, stature and lithe economy of movement. Whoever was stalking her wasn’t from the area, she assured herself.

Impulsively, Lori wheeled toward her bedroom door. She wanted to speak with Gideon, wanted to be with him. She halted halfway across her room and grumbled under her breath. Her father had become excessively protective after her extended absence and he seemed determined to keep Gideon a respectable distance away from her.

Ordinarily, she would have appreciated his concern, but she’d made the mistake of falling in love with a man who could only be hers during the course of this investigation. Their days were numbered—hers perhaps more than his, if unidentified snipers kept shooting at her then trying to take her captive.

Which made it even more important not to waste a single moment of the limited time she had left with Gideon.

Lori reversed direction and returned to the window. If her would-be captor could scale the outer wall then so could she. If she could balance on the jutting stone momentarily, then she could reach the gutter pipe to steady herself while she climbed the rest of the way to the ground.

Determined of purpose, she slung her leg over the windowsill then twisted sideways to anchor her hands on the ledge so she could let herself down until she could place her foot on one of the rough, protruding stones. Slowly, carefully, she reached sideways to latch onto the drainpipe. From there, stepping from one stone to the next was much easier and she made it to the ground without mishap.

Concealing herself in the trees to ensure her father couldn’t see her, Lori crept toward the river. An amused smile quirked her lips when she spotted Gideon backstroking across the moonlit water that rippled like a sea of shimmering diamonds. Fascinated, she peeled off her boots, breeches and shirt to join him for a swim. Lori shook her head, amazed at her own reckless abandon. She’d never considered sneaking from her room to be with any other man….

Her thoughts trailed off when Gideon swirled suddenly to stare in her direction. She walked into the river, headed directly toward him.

“What are you doing here? How did you get past your father? There might be a sniper lurking around and Clive will have my head if he catches us together….” His voice became a husky growl. “Lord, you’re beautiful. I never tire of looking at you.”

Lori smiled, pleased by his compliment. Praise from a man like Gideon Fox was rare and was meant to be savored.

Despite the chilly water, Lori warmed up the moment her body glided suggestively against his muscular torso. She looped her arms around his broad shoulders, then kissed him with all the pent-up emotion bubbling inside her.

Gideon moaned hungrily as he plunged his tongue into her mouth and all but devoured her. She melted beneath his
ravishing kiss, delighting in the feel of his hands gliding from the peaks of her breasts to the curve of her hips then back again.

“Your father thinks I’m demanding favors from you in exchange for investigating the murder,” he whispered against the curve of her neck.

“Did you tell him I was offering you favors in exchange for lessons in passion?” she teased playfully.

He raised his damp head and stared quizzically at her. “Is that what’s going on here, hellion? We never got around to discussing what happened last night. Maybe we should now.”

She wasn’t about to tell him that she’d fallen hopelessly in love with him. That’s the very last thing Gideon would want to hear.

He cupped her chin in his hand and raised her face to his intent gaze. “What
is
going on here, Lorelei?”

She moved suggestively against the whipcord muscles, hard contours and sleek planes of his masculine body, well aware that he was aroused. “I’m seducing you into helping me, of course. I’m calculating and manipulative and I want to get my hands on you every chance I get. So stop wasting precious time talking when I want everything you have to give.”

Then she kissed him for all she was worth and skimmed her hand down the washboard muscles of his belly to curl her fingers around his rigid shaft.

“Honesty,” he rasped. “I like that in a woman.”

“What else do you like, Mister Marshal? This…?”

He groaned aloud when she stroked him from base to tip then cupped him in her hand. Hungry desire throbbed heavily through him as she caressed him gently and teased his mouth with light, feathery kisses that made him crave a
deeper taste of her. Her touch made him burn with a fever that only she ignited and only she could satisfy.

That worried the living hell out of him—but not enough to prompt him to back away from her. She was the one temptation in life he couldn’t resist. His Waterloo. His Achilles’ heel… He could go on and on, but her arousing touch was boiling his brain down to mindless mush.

He swore softly when the erotic stroke of her hand had him arching toward her in shameless defeat. It amazed him that a previously inexperienced woman could devastate him so easily, so thoroughly. He’d almost swear she’d cast some sort of unbreakable spell over him because the self-discipline and good judgment he’d spent years cultivating seemed nonexistent when this feisty beauty was in his arms.

Need riveted him and he wrapped her legs around his hips, aching to bury himself inside her. He sighed in satisfaction when she guided him to her and he pressed intimately against her. The instant he became the burning flame inside her, all seemed right with his world.

Definitely a mystical spell, he decided as he moved ardently against her and she matched him thrust for thrust. He had her protective father to worry about and a sniper waiting to collect a reward. Yet, all that mattered was having Lori heart-to-heart and flesh-to-flesh with him, sharing her incredible passion and leaving him spiraling through time and space to revolve around her, as if she were the sun in his universe.

“Say you love me,” she whispered as passion overtook him, despite his attempt to hold on to his crumbling restraint.

“You love me,” he murmured breathlessly.

He felt her shimmering around him as he shuddered in helpless release…and he thought to hell with the
consequences. For once in his hardscrabble life, he felt wild and reckless and fulfilled. Not wary and cautious. He wasn’t looking over his shoulder, expecting the worst. He was savoring the feel of Lori’s lush body joined intimately to his while he treated himself to a few dozen more intoxicating kisses.

He wondered if his brother, Galen, and Sarah experienced anything remotely close to the soul-shattering pleasure that consumed him when he was with Lori. Then he felt guilty because his other brother, Glenn, had developed a fascination for this alluring woman. Gideon hadn’t stepped aside for his brother and he maybe should have. He’d always placed his family first—except with Lori. He’d made her top priority and he wasn’t sure how to deal with that undeniable, but unsettling, realization. His perspective had changed drastically and he didn’t know how to stop it from happening.

“W
hat are you thinking?” Lori whispered as she nestled her cheek against Gideon’s shoulder while they clung together in the river.

“That Glenn made it clear he was interested in you…and I betrayed him.”

She leaned back to peer up at him. “I told you that I hold him in the same regard that I did Tony. You’re the one I wanted, Gideon. You want honesty? There it is.”

“That’s good for my self-esteem, but it isn’t much consolation for Glenn.”

Lori pressed a kiss to his lips then eased away. “I can’t help what I feel,” she murmured before she dived underwater then reappeared near the riverbank. “How
did
you get past your father?” he asked curiously.

“The same way the intruder came in. I climbed through the window and down the outer wall by holding on to the gutter pipe for support.”

“What!” he yelped in disbelief, then lowered his voice
so Clive wouldn’t come running to blast him out of the water. “You have snipers shooting at you. Don’t do them any favors by breaking your own neck and making it easy to haul you in and collect a reward.”

“Why not? It would make your life infinitely easier. You’d be rid of me and you’d end the investigation that places you in the line of fire.” She pulled on her breeches—while he admired the erotic sway of her bare breasts.

“Getting shot at goes with my job,” he said, distracted.

She halted in the process of grabbing her blouse. “Is that all I am to you, Gideon? Another job and a diversion while you’re off duty?”

“Is that all I am to
you,
while you’re waiting for me to find evidence that clears your name?” he shot back.

Disappointed, he watched her cover her full breasts with her shirt then fasten the buttons. He could make a dedicated study of her curvaceous body and never tire of admiring her. What did that mean? That he was in lust with her?

“I told you last night that I expected nothing from you.” She sank down on a fallen log to pull on her boots. “I wanted you. You needn’t feel obliged to me in any way because of it.”

“You
had
me,” he reminded her. “
Thoroughly.
And I wanted you so much that I couldn’t find the willpower to back away. Even now, I wouldn’t let you sleep alone if your father wasn’t lurking about, trying to prevent impropriety.”

“Yes, well, that’s a moot point now, isn’t it?” She turned away. “Good night, Gideon.”

“Wait up. I’ll give you a boost up the wall.” He waded ashore to hurriedly pull on his breeches—backward. He cursed, then started the process all over again.

The damnedest thing happened on the way to the trading
post. Gideon slipped his hand into hers. He’d never been the romantic type, inclined to hold a woman’s hand. But he couldn’t make himself let go of her, couldn’t set aside the magical moment they had shared in the river.

He was losing his edge and getting soft, he decided, grinning wryly. Except when he was with Lori. In those instances, her touch, her kiss, her smile left him hard and aching in the time it took to blink.

His thoughts scattered when they halted beneath her bedroom window and he stared at the obstacle course of stone-and-timber wall. “You climbed down from there?” he choked out.

She nudged him with her shoulder. “Just proves how eager I was to be with you.”

“I’m flattered,” he said, and he meant it.

“Good, but you should know I’ve been a hopeless tomboy all my life. I haven’t spent much time worrying about what a lady should do and what she shouldn’t.”

“I prefer self-reliant tomboys to useless, whimpering females.” He linked his fingers together to give her a boost.

Impressed, he watched her grasp the drainpipe for support then step from one jutting stone to another. When she reached out to grasp the windowsill, Gideon held his breath and moved directly beneath her, just in case. But she agilely shifted sideways and pulled herself through the window. Smiling triumphantly, she poked her head outside and waved good-night.

Knowing she was safe and sound, Gideon spun on his heels to circle the building one last time. He halted beside the rough wall below Clive’s bedroom—the one the would-be abductor had scaled to attack Lori. The climb looked to be more difficult, but a clump of trees obscured this side of the trading post, making it vulnerable to siege.

Gideon frowned worriedly as he headed toward the front door. He wasn’t dealing with a dense, fumbling bounty hunter. Whoever the man was, he was skilled and patient. First thing in the morning, Gideon vowed to scout the area and search for clues that might lead him to the man who had shot at and then captured Lori briefly this evening.

He was still unsure of the man’s true purpose. The questions the intruder had posed, while holding Lori at knifepoint, sounded as if he were verifying that she
couldn’t
identify Tony’s killer. Was
he
the killer? Would he leave Lori alone now that he knew she couldn’t identify him…?

Gideon snapped to attention and asked himself at what point in time he had convinced himself that Lorelei Russell hadn’t committed murder. He wasn’t sure, but he was beginning to think the amber-eyed minx really had seduced him into believing her. He swallowed a smile as he opened the front door. She could seduce him every night during this investigation, if she were so inclined, and she wouldn’t hear a single complaint from him.

He pulled up short when Clive appeared from the shadows at the head of the stairs and glared down at him.

“Long bath, Marshal.”

“A long bath to end a long day.”

He climbed the steps and brushed shoulders with Clive, who stared speculatively at him. Then Gideon ambled into his room and closed the door. He wondered if Clive planned to stand guard in the hall between Gideon’s room and Lori’s. If he did, he’d waste his time and miss sleep.

Gideon flopped on the bed, tired and sated. He dreamed of the flame-haired hellion who scaled walls and brought him to his knees with the kind of incredible passion he never realized existed.

Reece McCree returned to the bunkhouse at Burgess Ranch and Stage Station sporting a hellish headache, compliments of the surprisingly feisty Miz Russell. Next time he’d know better than to take her for granted.

He inwardly groaned when he noticed Maggie Burgess awaiting him. He was in no mood to answer questions while dealing with this blinding headache. But Maggie gave him no choice because she blocked his path.

“Well? Where have you been?” she demanded tartly.

“Around.”

Her back went ramrod stiff and she glowered at him. “
Around
is not a sufficient answer, considering what I’m paying you. Have you checked the trading post to see if Lorelei has sneaked home yet?”

“Despite what you think, I don’t answer to anyone,” he retorted sarcastically then lit his cheroot. “That’s the luxury of my job—”

When she swatted at his cigar, knocking it from his hand, he glared at her. Then he bent to retrieve it from the dirt.

“You are trying my patience, Mister McCree. If you cannot produce satisfactory results in the next few days then I will dismiss you without further pay.”

She stared pointedly at the horse he’d been riding. “And you can return my mount, too. That well-bred Pinto is the property of this ranch and stage station. Both of which I intend to sell to the highest bidder,” she said huffily. “Far as I’m concerned, the Indians are welcome to this god-awful territory. I don’t know why those silly Boomers keep invading the place and insist on having the territory opened to settlers. This uncultured, uncivilized country is not my idea of the promised land!”

Reece arched a brow. “It doesn’t bother you that the government promised this territory to
all
the Indian tribes they herded here after confiscating their original properties and sacred ground?” Reece snorted sourly. “The government will inevitably give in to the Boomers and conveniently forget this territory was supposed to belong to all Indian tribes, for as long as rivers run and stars twinkle in the night sky.”

“I have my own problems and I don’t have time to worry about Indians,” Maggie snapped petulantly. “I’ve lost a husband and foreman. I want to quit this place. But before I go, I want the murderess responsible for Anthony Rogers’s untimely death captured and punished.”

“Are you certain she is to blame?” Reece questioned as he watched her pace back and forth on the bunkhouse porch.

She wheeled around to glower at him. “I saw what I saw,” she insisted stubbornly. “Lorelei is like a black widow who disposes of her mate when she is finished with him.”

Reece rubbed his throbbing head. Watching Maggie pace back and forth was making him dizzy. “I’m thinking of pursuing the possibility that there was a bushwhacker in the underbrush,” he announced.

“What?” She lurched around, then puffed up with irritation, making her ample breasts heave, drawing his unwanted attention. “I told you what happened that night. Do you think just because I say the killer is a
woman
that I must be mistaken?”

She shook her finger in his face. “First thing in the morning I want you to ride back to the trading post and stand guard until you see that murderess. She has to be around here somewhere.
You’re
the one who prophesied she’d come to roost in a familiar place eventually.”

“So I did,” he murmured as he turned away.

“Good night, Mister McCree,” she muttered as she started down the steps. “I have a long hard day of work, thanks to the disappearance of my two hired hands. I have another coach of travelers to greet and feed tomorrow morning. You will
not
be welcome at the table. Buy something at the trading post while you’re standing guard.”

Reece watched the agitated widow storm to her house. Then he entered the bunkhouse to nod a greeting to Sylvester Jenkins—the one-and-only hired hand left on the premises.

“Was that Maggie I heard yapping like a dog?” Syl asked as he limped over to pour himself a cup of coffee. When he glanced back at Reece, who passed by the lantern, casting light on the injury, he frowned curiously. “What happened to you?”

When Syl tried to inspect the knot on Reece’s head, he moved away. “Nothing worth mentioning. I simply forgot to duck.”

“You might have to start ducking around Maggie if you don’t find Miz Russell soon,” Syl said before he sipped his coffee. “Ask me, she’s obsessed with seeing Miz Russell convicted of killing Tony before she sells out and moves away. It’s like unfinished business hanging over her head.”

Reece studied Syl carefully. “Do you believe the girl killed Tony? Or do you think there might have been an unseen sniper gunning for him?”

Syl lifted his thin-bladed shoulders in a noncommittal shrug. “All I know is what Maggie told me.”

“Where were you the night Tony died?” he asked abruptly.

Syl took a slow sip of his coffee, then stared into the distance. “Riding fences.”

“Do you know anything about Tony’s past? Did he confide in you or anyone else?”

“Nope. Most folks in the territory don’t like to discuss their past.”

“You included?” Reece inquired as he stared pointedly at Syl’s stiff leg and wondered how he’d come by the injury.

Syl shrugged enigmatically. “All Tony ever confided in me was that he’d lived southeast of here for a time.” He took another sip of coffee then added, “I think he had a lady friend…or two…hereabouts, before he began courting Miz Russell. But he was secretive, not one to kiss and tell.”

“You think he was seeing someone besides Miz Russell?” Reece questioned as he dipped a cloth in water and held it against the side of his throbbing head.

“There was always someone. Women liked Tony and he liked women,” Syl replied. “But I doubt Miz Russell was the only one he was seeing. Ladies offered him all sorts of invitations, but I don’t know them by name.”

Reece frowned pensively as he grabbed the whiskey bottle he’d tucked in his leather pouch. “How many ranches are nearby?”

“Four or five. Three belong to Osage families. The other two are Boomer camps. The army patrols don’t bother to chase squatters across the Kansas border.”

“Maybe I need to check around to see who else might have wanted Tony Rogers out of the way,” Reece mused aloud.

“Good idea.” Syl watched Reece pop the cork on the liquor bottle. “If you scare up some interesting facts, maybe it’ll get Maggie off your back. And mine. She’s been nagging at me since we became shorthanded. I’ll be glad when
she sells out and moves away. I only hope the new owner will hire me.”

“She’s difficult to work for?” Reece ventured as he sipped his whiskey.

“And then some… Got enough bug juice to spare a friend?” Syl limped over to extend his cup—and Reece wondered again how Syl had come to have that noticeable limp. “It’s been a long damn day and I could use a stiff drink,” Syl added.

Reece poured a generous amount of liquor into Syl’s coffee then said, “Tell me exactly what you thought of Tony Rogers.”

Maggie Burgess muttered and scowled her way to the house. “Blast that incompetent hired hand and curse that cocky bounty hunter!” She swore the man was lollygagging about, trying to collect his wages without putting serious effort into apprehending Lorelei Russell.

“How long does he think I’m going to let him drag this out?” she asked no one in particular as she stamped upstairs to her elegantly furnished bedroom.

Her room. The one she didn’t have to share with all her brothers and sisters in that shabby shack on the bayou. The room she hadn’t had to share with her older husband, either. This was
her
private domain and Hub Burgess had agreed to leave her in peace, except for a few intimate visits. That was their agreement when she married him and he’d pestered her only a handful of times in the six years they were married.

She glanced at the expensive furnishings as she pulled the pins from her dark hair and shook it around her shoulders. This was a far cry from her childhood home, thank God. But it still wasn’t good enough. Maggie wanted the best proper society had to offer.