Marshal of Hel Dorado (23 page)

 
    
Sam frowned. The Army was getting pushy
with a lot of the empty land in the western reaches. Established ranchers, like
his father, preferred the open land, the freedom to use it when pasture grew
sparse as Texas summers could bring drought.

 
    
There were even rumors of train rails being
laid to Fort Worth and then dipping south.

 
    
The train lines coupled with the rumors
that the state would relinquish more than ten million acres to the U.S.
government were both tasks that had Jason traveling between Washington D.C. and
Austin.

 
    
What a mess.

 
    
“How much gold will you need to purchase
the land if the Compromise is pushed through?”

 
    
Scarlett shook her head. She tucked his
Marshal’s star into the pocket of her britches. Her fingers worked her braids
free and he forgot the question as she combed her hands through the mass of
red. It was such a true red, the firelight enhanced the color, but she really
didn’t need it.

 
    
“I don’t know. I’ve heard them talking
about it, but to be honest, I was never that good with figures. Basic values,
the worth of a bushel of wheat or a pound of flour, I understand. The cost of a
mountain?” She lifted her shoulders in a helpless gesture. “How does one put
value on the land when it should belong to no one person but to all peoples?”

 
    
“You’re talking thousands of dollars. The
average acre sells for fifty cents on the dollar, sometimes a little less if
the terrain is unfriendly. The mountains are cool, rich in water, minerals and
grazing plateaus. That’s going to increase the value.” And make her case even
harder to plead. The judge wouldn’t forgive the gold theft regardless of the
reasons and telling him it was to buy coveted land would speed the noose around
her neck, not prevent it.

 
    
His father amassed a great deal of wealth
over the years with shipping interests in the East and along the gulf to
support his ranch and family. That wouldn’t be enough though.

 
    
Political and social influence could only
help her case so far.

 
    
“Your brothers can’t rob anymore banks. No
matter the reason.” He blew out a breath.

 
    
“You can’t make them return the gold.”

 
    
“The talking heads in Washington aside,
Scarlett, the Army needs that gold to pay their men. They’ll go after it if
your brothers keep taking it.”

 
    
“So what should we do then? Leave our home?
Let them take it? The land belongs to Quanto’s people, it has for centuries
before the whites pushed west before the Spanish pushed north. The mountain is
Quanto’s if it is anyone’s…it’s my
home.
”
The plaintive note struck a chord within him.

 
    
“Scarlett, I didn’t say it was lost and I
didn’t say you should give up your home. I would never walk away from the
Flying K and I wouldn’t let the government sell it out from under us.

 
    
But you have to fight this battle
differently.”

 
    
“How?”

 
    
Sam shrugged. “We talk to my father. We
talk to Jason. They understand the politics of the thing. They’ll know ways to
make this happen that won’t get you and your brothers hung.”

 
    
Damn her brothers for dragging her into it.
Sam kicked a stray rock and watched it skip over the lip of the cave and out
into the rain. The sheeting effect was tapering off, leaving a soaking rain to
fall. The land needed it, but it had the feel of settling in for the night.

 
    
Trapping the pair of them in the cave.

 
    
Sam’s gaze flickered over Scarlett’s
slighter frame and sighed. “You should try to get some sleep. It might be
nightfall before we get a break in the rain and can ride back.”

 
    
Something in her gaze warned him of the
incoming kick. “I can’t go back.”

 
    
“Scarlett…”

 
    
“Sam.” His name sounded heavenly in her
husky voice. “I can’t go back.”

 
    
He clenched his fists. She’d already asked
him once if he could let her go and he’d avoided answering her. Avoided
committing himself.

 
    
She turned, leaning back against the cave
wall, opposite him. Her green eyes a riot of swiftly changing emotions. “My
brothers are coming for me. They will tear the Flying K apart to get to me and
you—your family—could be hurt.”

 
    
The protectiveness of a brother, the need
to rescue family, Sam understood that. If it were Kid in a similar position, he
would take the landscape apart until his baby brother was safe. He could only
imagine how much worse it would be if it were a sister in danger.

 
    
“Kid found your brothers once. I’ll send
him back to them.”

 
    
“No!” Scarlett pushed away from the wall.
“Sam, listen to me. Secrecy is how we have survived. My brothers are more
likely to silence Kid if they think he is a threat than to listen to him.”

 
    
“I don’t think so Minx. Kid is the one that
talked them into handing over the gold. So they were willing to listen once. If
he tells them we are going to get the charges against you dismissed and help
with the mountain, they might listen.”

 
    
“If you are willing to do all that, then
why aren’t you willing to let me go?”

 
    
It was a damn fine question. One Sam didn’t
want to examine too closely. The thought of her leaving was a mule-kick to the
gut. A slippery panic that chilled his veins and left him sweating ice. He
didn’t like it.

 
    
“Because you’re still my prisoner.” He fell
back on the lie of it, the weak link he was desperate to forge.

 
    
Her chin lifted and her eyes blazed. “So it
seems you are still the
Marshal
after
all.”

 
    
Sam didn’t think. He just closed the
distance between them, seizing her arms and pulling her to him. His mouth
slanted over hers in a hard, furious kiss.

 
    
And it was a mistake.

 
    
Her mouth opened, welcoming him in a blaze
of heat so intense, he half-expected his skin to catch fire. She was soft, damp
and angry. Her teeth bit at his lip, but then her tongue swiped out to duel
with his. Tiny hands fisted in his shirt, pushing him away even as she dragged
herself closer.

 
    
It was an angry kiss.

 
    
He angled his head, daring the sharpness of
her teeth as his tongue plunged into her mouth. She tasted of wild flowers, hot
spices and so violently feminine that it shredded his honorable intentions. He
stroked his hands up her arms to cup her face and further up to slide into her
hair.

 
    
The damp tresses were like silk through his
fingers. A groan rolled out of her throat, both protest and surrender. The
sound stung his conscience. Still, he crowded closer, nibbling along her lower
lip before thrusting his tongue against hers, inviting her to do the same. The
soft swell of her breasts flattened against his chest, her arms climbing to
wrap around his neck.

 
    
A surge of purely male satisfaction soared
through him. He abandoned her hair to slide his hands under the tight bottom
he’d smacked earlier. With one lift, he picked her up against him and ground
their hips together.

 
    
His cock swelled painfully inside the
denim. The dull, aching thud of his headache vanished until there was only the
sound of rain, the thud of his heart and the sweet, soft catches of her breath
as Scarlett clung to him.

 
    
Her fingers dug into his neck, nails biting
and he lifted his head, aware of her thighs wrapping his hips, her chest rising
and falling in swift pants. He wanted to push off the jacket and tug her shirt
from the waistband of her pants. He nuzzled the corner of her mouth, opening
his eyes to find hers gazing at him, glassy with desire.

 
    
“Have you ever been with a man?” He asked
the question, not sure what answer he really wanted. He squeezed her bottom
gently, testing the shape of it.

 
    
“I…”

 
    
“Wait.” He fought for breath, rubbing his
forehead gently to hers. Did he really want to know? The thought that she might
say yes stabbed him in the gut. The thought that she would say no filled him
with guilt.

 
    
She was still against him, her pants
measured against his own and Sam closed his eyes, burying his face against her
neck. He took in a lungful of her rich scent. Rain. Horse. Scarlett.

 
    
He wanted to run his tongue along her
throat, taste the sweet flesh as it disappeared under the shirt. Her fingers
were tentative as they left his neck to stroke his hair, the motion thrusting
her against his arousal and shredding the frayed ends of his control.

 
    
“Sam?”

 
    
“Shh.” He pressed his lips to the pulse
leaping in her throat. He shouldn’t have kissed her. Her thighs tightened as
she began to slide and he groaned. He wanted to stretch her out on the bedroll,
peel off her clothes and kiss his way across her pale skin. Need throbbed
through him, burning away common sense.

 
    
“Sam.” His minx repeated his name, fisting
her fingers in his hair and tugging.

 
    
This close he could count the freckles
kissing her nose and her cheeks. Her green eyes were sparkling gems, so hot and
fierce that he could imagine the flames flickering in them.

 
    
“I haven’t.”

 
    
The words mired against the fog of heat
shrouding his brain. He frowned, trying to make sense of them. Realization
penetrated the haze slowly, easing the tension banding his chest. But that
freedom added a boulder to his conscience. She was untouched.

 
    
He didn’t have the right…

 
    
Frustration ballooned in his lungs, his
body’s need rejecting his mind’s common decency.

 
    
Her lower back arched, her lips finding his
and mirroring his nuzzling gesture, tiny nips mingling with flicks of her
tongue, eroding his will.

 
    
 
Put her down.

 
    
 
Take her now.

 
    
The twin needs warred for decisive action.

 
    
Her sweet lips pressed against his and he
fought the urge to open his mouth, to take what she was offering. He dug his
fingers into her bottom, jerking her more firmly against him until all that
separated them were the damn clothes.

 
    
“You should stop.” He told her,
disbelieving the words coming out of his mouth. “
We
should stop.”

 
    
“Why?”

 
    
 
Yes, Sam? Why?
 
The internal voice nagged him. His hands were
shaped around her sweet, curvy bottom. Her legs were wrapped around his hips,
the slight drag of her weight all the sweeter for the way she fit against him.

 
    
Snug.

 
    
Soft.

 
    
Perfect.

 
    
“Because your first time with a man
shouldn’t be in a cave.” It was, he felt, the most reasonable response to the
need roaring through him. It should he firmly believed, be in his bed, where he
could strip her at his leisure, explore every silky curve and take her until
she screamed.