Lady of the Gun (19 page)

As if to emphasize her words, Ramsey's voice carried on
the night air. "Cass? Where are you?"

"I have to go, Brett," she told him again.

"Don't."

"I have to
."

Brett slowly released her, his desire di
minishing only slightly. "I don't trust him, Cass," he said.

"He got me to town safe
ly enough."

"It was high noon, not ten o'clock at night. You'll be at
his mercy, Cass. Remember what you're accusing his father of, and tell me you trust him completely."

Cass's eyes filled with storm clouds. "I kno
w what his father did, Brett. And if Ramsey knows anything about it, I might be able to find that out. But only if I'm alone with him. He's certainly not going to confide in me, or let something slip accidentally with you around. Wasn't today proof of that?"

"What if he tries something?"

Cass sighed. “All right. Let's say for the sake of argument that he knows his father's a murderer, and he knows I know it. Even if he wanted to do away with me, he's certainly smart enough not to try to hurt me after spending the entire day with me in front of the whole town."

“
Cass!" Ramsey yelled louder.

"I'm coming," she called back. "Now I really have to
go, Brett." She stepped back, seeing the frustration in his steely eyes.

"You're making a mistake, Cass."

"It's my mistake," she responded, then turned, leaving the shadows of the trees. "I’m over here, Ramsey," she called, walking quickly to join him once more.

"What were you doing over there?" he asked, looking
around "And where's the marshal?"

"He went back to his office," she answered.

Ramsey looked suspiciously at the dark shadows under the trees and repeated his first question: "What were you doing over there?"

"I just went for a little walk," she explained, then quickly
asked, "Were the buggy and horses in the livery?"

Ramsey looked down at her, gauging her truthfulness.
"Yes, the smithy is getting them ready now." He looked back at the stand of trees. "Shall we take a walk together while we wait? Perhaps we could walk back under those lovely trees."

"No," Cass answered hurriedly. "I'm really getting quite
sleepy. Let's just wait here."

"All right," he agreed.

Cass nearly sighed her relief. She didn't know for sure whether or not Brett was still standing among the trees, but her woman's intuition told her he probably was.

Ramsey had studied the shadows under the trees and was
certain he'd seen something, or someone, moving there. He felt it was reasonable to assume it was the marshal. Narrowing his eyes, he pondered what Cass was doing with him under those trees. He couldn't allow Cass to become romantically involved with another man. He needed her for himself.

The smithy guided the horses and buggy out of the livery
doors and stopped in front of Ramsey. "'That'll be one dollar, Mr. Tylo," he said.

"What for?" Ramsey asked.

"Why, for taking care of your horses and rig, sir."'

Ramsey's expression darkened. He hadn't asked this man
to take care of his rig. It was the fool's loss for doing something he hadn't been asked to do. He then glanced down at Cass's expectant face. Gritting his teeth, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a dollar. After tossing it to the smithy, he led Cass to the buggy. "Let's go, my dear," he murmured, keeping his temper under control.

Cass wondered why
Ramsey seemed so cross. He was definitely given to strong mood swings.

The buggy creaked and jostled over the rutted road that led out of town. The night air had cooled slightly from the day's earlier heat, and tiny bats swooped and dipped around the vehicle in search of insects. Cass smiled as she listened to the sound of crickets calling their mates. She loved summer nights. Taking a deep breath, she sighed. "Mmmm, doesn't the sage smell wonderful?" she asked.

"I suppose so," commented Ramse
y.

Cass closed her eyes, letting her head fall back in pure
enjoyment of the moment. "Sometimes, during the summer, I walk for hours at night."

“Alone?”

"Yes," she answered, opening her eyes once more.

"Aren't you afraid?"

"Why would I be afraid on my own property?"

"Well ... a woman alone ..."

"I'm not afraid," she said firmly.

"You're a brave woman, Cass," he told her.

Cass thought about his words. She didn't feel particularly brave. She just saw no need to be afraid. She'd seen death. She'd stared it right in the face while waiting for an opponent to draw. She'd listened to the pounding of her own heart, knowing that each beat might be her last. She'd taken deep, slow breaths, savoring her precious existence. And she knew there were worse things by far than death. There was nothing more horrifying than watching the death of someone you loved. "After you've seen what I have, you find there's not too much out in the world that can frighten you anymore," she said quietly.

Ramsey
glanced down at her. She'd lowered her head.

"Your family?" he asked.

Cass raised her eyes and nodded. "Did your father write and tell you about it?"

"Yes.
”

"You'd on
ly been gone for about a week when it happened," she said, remembering.

"I'd
left for school."

“
Yes. It was about two weeks after our fathers argued about the water access across our land," she said.

"I don't
remember that."

"You were there, Ramsey," she reminded him. "You
were with your father that day. How can you not remember the way your father threatened mine?"

Ramsey shrugged slightly. "I guess when you grow up
with a man who threatens violence every other day, you get kind of used to it," he explained.

"Did your father ever
threaten you?" she asked.

Ramsey looked down at her with a derisive expression.
"All the time, Cass."

She looked at him with a condemning glint in her eye.

"But he never carried out his threats, Cass. I know what you're getting at. You practically accused my father of having something to do with murdering your family. Well, I know he didn't do it."

"But you weren't even here, Ramsey. How do you know
for sure he wasn't involved?"

"I just know. My father is loud and overbearing at times.
He raised me with a strict hand, and sometimes I thought he was cruel in his methods. But he doesn't have it in him to be a murderer, Cass. He doesn't have what it takes.”

"And what's that?" she hissed.

"No conscience," he murmured, leaning closer to her.

Cass's skin crawled at his words. Someone with no conscience,
she thought. Hunt Tylo still fit the bill as far as she was concerned. He did threaten her father, and Ramsey telling her he never carried out his threats didn't change things. He'd protect his father the same as she would if her father were still alive. "I don't blame you for defending your father, Ramsey," she said softly,

"I'm not just defending him, Cass. I know my father didn
’t kill your family," he said.

Cass didn't answer. She'd taken her shot at questioning
him about the murders. She'd accomplished nothing.

Ramsey watched her face in the
moonlight. She’d grown into such a beautiful woman. The thought of having sex with her made his manhood begin to throb.

"Perhaps we could talk about something else for a
while?" he asked.

Cass looked up. "I suppose," she said curiously.

He pulled on the reins, stopping the buggy. “I'd like to go on seeing you, Cass," he began. "I know how you feel about my father, but someday you'll learn how wrong you were about him. I don't want this . . . misunderstanding to keep us apart."

Cass glanced around them in the dark. He
’d stopped the buggy at a turn in the road, just next to a bluff, giving them the feeling of privacy. “It won't keep us apart…" she began to explain.

"I'm so glad," he interrupted, inching closer. "We could
be so good together."

Cass frowned at his misinterpretation of her words.
"That's not what I mean, Ramsey. The way I feel about your father has nothing to do with the way I feel about you."

"Good." He slid his
arm across the back of the buggy seat behind her.

"No. You're not letting me finish." She didn't want to
deliberately hurt his feelings, but she added, "I don't feel we should keep seeing each other, Ramsey."

He low
ered one eyebrow as he looked at her. "And why is that? Is there someone else?" he questioned. If he wasn't able to seduce her, he would have to kill her as his father had originally wanted.

Cass shook her head, "There's no one else," she answered
hurriedly. She wouldn't acknowledge Brett's claim on her.

Ra
msey studied her face. She'd answered so quickly that he tended to believe her. "I'm glad to hear you say that. I was beginning to think you had an eye for that marshal."

"Brett?" she asked, the memory of his kiss under the
trees causing her to blush.

"The way you let him tag along with us today had me
wondering."

"I told you, we had to be polite to the man. He is a
stranger to our area."

"Right you are. But I dislike the fellow."

"Why?" she asked"

"Because he's so obviously smitten with you,
my dear. I'm not too ashamed to say that I'm jealous." He leaned a little closer to her.

"You barely know
me. Ramsey," she said, beginning to feel very alone with him in the dark.

"A circumstance I intend to change." Leaning forward,
he took her upper arms in his hands and drew her forward. Lowering his lips until they hovered a fraction of an inch above hers, he stared into her eyes. "'We're going to try another kiss, and we'll see if we can do better than we did this afternoon." Before Cass could protest, Ramsey’s mouth came down on hers hard, the pressure forcing her lips to part. He used his tongue to find hers, pushing against it in a rhythmic pattern.

Cass was immediately repu
lsed by Ramsey's kiss. His mouth was hard and demanding; his tongue gagged her as he attempted to be sexual. Trying to turn her head, she struggled against his embrace. Wishing she'd listened to Brett, she raised her arms to push against Ramsey's chest.

Ramsey fought to control her, pinning her arms behind
her and securing them there with one of his own. She was going to be his. She had to be. As he struggled with her, he felt himself becoming more and more excited. Cass was one of the most beautiful women he'd ever been with. "Cass," he groaned, raising a hand to grip her breast.

Cass
inhaled a shocked breath as his hand closed over her breast. He began to knead it roughly, hurting her in his haste. "No!" she protested, only to have his lips crush hers again.

Ramsey continued to stroke her despite her struggles. The
fullness of her breast, the weight of it in his palm, had him groaning deep within his chest. He knew he needed to be touched also. Releasing her breast, he reached behind her and took one of her hands in his own. Pulling it forward, he placed it firmly over the bulge in his trousers and tried to make her stroke him through the fabric.

Cass jerked her hand back violently, horribly revolted by
touching his erection. This was the opportunity she'd been hoping for. She was surprised to see a nearly drugged look in his eyes. "Ramsey, let go of me and take me home!" she demanded.

Ramsey was startled by the way she'd managed to pull
her hand from his, but the few seconds he'd felt the pressure of her hand over his erection had his head spinning. Grappling for her hand again, he tried to place it over the front of his trousers once again. "Just a little bit more, Cass. Just a little…"

"No!" she nea
rly screamed, jerking her hand away once more, and this time bracing her feet against the footboards of the buggy and using leverage to heave her body upward. "Let go of me!"

Ramsey
lunged against her, pinning her to the back of the buggy. "But I'm not finished yet." He gripped her breast tightly in his hand once more and turned his body so his manhood pressed against her thigh.

“
No, Ramsey! No!" She pushed roughly against him. Fighting as hard as she could, she managed to put a little space between them. Bringing up one hand, she slapped him as hard as she could across the face, her palm throbbing from the stinging blow.