Marshal of Hel Dorado (41 page)

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Authors: Heather Long

BOOK: Marshal of Hel Dorado
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flanks and sent them into a rocking canter.
The horses must have scented the water because her sweet mare stretched her
neck out, breaking into a gallop and Scarlett leaned down, holding onto the
reins and moving with the horse’s pace. Her hat flew off, only to be caught by
the strap around her throat and her hair pulled loose, to stream behind her in
the wind.

 
    
It was a lot like how she imagined flying
to be.

 
    
Sam’s mare kept close pace to hers,
paralleling her race towards the bluff. They slowed only to find the path and
then let the horses pick their way up, the sweet scent of green grass, cedar,
pine and water providing a powerful lure.

 
    
They crested the trail and shade burst over
them like a storm cloud, cool air washing over their heated skin and even the
horses seemed to sigh. Scarlett nudged her mare forward eagerly, but Sam cut
her off with a patient look. “Let me go first.”

 
    
She rolled her eyes, too pleased with the
promise of water and a bath to argue, much.

 
    
“Well then hurry.”

 
    
He laughed, a soft, sweet sound that went
straight to the pit of her belly and made her skin tingle. The bluff top seemed
to be home to the edge of a forest, below, the desert spread out like some
great, barren sea. Sam dismounted and stepped deeper into the shadows, beneath
the trees.

 
    
Her mare’s ears twitched forward and back,
but then seemed to focus forward and Scarlett let her walk, snuffling. She
could hear water splashing over rocks.

 
    
“Come on, we’re clear, I don’t see signs of
any recent encampment.” It was still early for the third day’s camp, but Sam
didn’t seem to mind and Scarlett wasn’t going to complain. She slid off the
horse and loosened her girth before following Sam and his horse into the
patchwork grotto surrounding a merry little stream. A sliver of silver splashed
up to the surface and then down again.

 
    
“Fish.” She murmured and her stomach
growled in approval.

 
    
“I saw. Let’s get these ladies stripped
down and staked out for grazing, then I’ll see about catching us some dinner.”

 
    
Her itchy skin argued with her grumbling
stomach, but in the end, she decided she could dive into the water as soon as
Sam caught dinner. Despite their mutual hurry, they were both methodical about
the tasks and she shooed Sam off to fish while she currycombed his horse for
him. It was a measure of how comfortable they’d grown that he’d left her to it.

 
    
Once the horses were cared for, she went
over the saddles, unpacking the bedrolls, digging out what remained of a bar of
soap, some towels and clean clothes. The saddle blankets she hung on a low
branch to dry and she made sure to check the tack as Sam required, noting a
loosened tie on one and taking the time to repair it.

 
    
By the time Sam returned with a string of
six fish, Scarlett was starving, but they still needed wood. He hung the fish
on a stake and helped her gather it together and then took a step back to watch
her coax flame from the damp wood. It smoked more than she cared for, but soon
the flames were popping.

 
    
Sam nudged her out of the way and set about
gutting the fish, taking the pan she handed him, the only one they’d packed and
setting it carefully on the fire to start heating. He was wrapping the fish in
leaves, but she trusted he knew what he was doing.

 
    
He certainly knew more about cooking fish
than she did. She checked their makeshift camp once more, to be certain that
all the set up chores were done. Satisfied, she toed off her boots and stripped
down, abandoning every piece of her sand filled, itchy clothes. The bandage was
still tight against her side, but she would peel it off after she swam.

 
    
It wasn’t until she bent to pick up the
towels and soap that she heard a choked sound from Sam. Glancing at him, she
lifted both of her eyebrows. The cool air felt delicious on her parboiled skin,
the desert heat and sand having left her raw and irritated.

 
    
“What are you doing?” He managed to squeeze
out, standing absolutely still next to the fire, fish in one hand, and leaves
in the other.

 
    
“Taking a bath.” She paused, considering what
Micah had told her and remembering the way Sam’s eyes followed her every other
time she’d been swimming. Her nudity was probably wildly inappropriate, but she
found that despite the flush creeping over her, she just didn’t care.

 
    
She curved her lips into a smile. “You can
join me if you like.”

 
    
She left him tending the fire and marched
down to the water before her courage could abandon her. She dropped the towels
on a rock just within reach and waded out into the stream, startled by just how
brisk the water was. Her nipples stiffened to hard peaks as her skin rippled
with goose bumps. She gasped and then ducked herself under the water, the cold
a blessed relief.

 
    
Rising from the water, she dared a look
back to the shore and grinned at Sam. He was standing exactly where she left
him. She laughed and ducked back into the water, luxuriating in the swift cool
down. Despite her penchant for fire, she was not fond of sweat or the desert
now that she’d truly experienced it.

 
    
She swam, stroking out from the shore a
ways until the bottom fell away forcing her to wade or turn back to the
shallower waters. The bandage was soaked through, but she was pleased to see no
sign of redness against the white cloth. Maybe she could take it off for good
after her bath. She settled into the shallow water and worked the soap into her
air, careful to pull the strands apart and clean it thoroughly. It felt like
weeks, not days since she’d been able to wash. A splash from the shore dragged
her gaze around. A lean, nude Sam strode into the water, his brown gaze riveted
on her.

 
    
Her smile grew at the determined look on
his face and she held out the soap to him in wordless invitation.

Chapter
Twenty-Eight

 
    
S
am
still couldn’t believe that he’d glanced up from the fish to find Scarlett
dropping her britches into a pile with the rest of her clothes. She was all
creamy flesh from her narrow tapered waist to her sweet, freckled shoulders.
The waterfall of rich, red hair cascaded over her shoulders and brushed the
curve of her back where dipped into the luscious curve of her bottom.

 
    
His mouth went dry and he had to fumble
with the pan to catch it. The sassy little minx didn’t even grace him with a
shy or embarrassed smile. Instead she’d just grinned at him, a welcoming, warm,
teasing grin, invited him to join her and marched her tight little ass right
down to the water.

 
    
What the hell were her brothers teaching
her? Didn’t she understand modesty? He watched her sink under the water and
then burst upwards, hair flying back in a thick mass as water droplets caught
the sunshine speckling through the trees stretched wide overhead.

 
    
She was utterly captivating. She splashed
out from the shore, swimming with easy, confident strokes. A flash of white on
her side as she twisted in the water and dove down only to splash back up
reminded him of her injury. She was supposed to be taking it easy. But in one
unguarded moment, her expression of bliss as she splashed through the stream,
Sam realized he had long since lost this battle.

 
    
Days of being close, but not daring to
touch beyond a few stolen kisses. Basking in the warmth of her smile and facing
down the wrath of her temper. Meeting the challenge of every single one of her
brothers, one after the other until each stood aside. He’d chased her halfway
across the territory, not to satisfy the law or some moral obligation, but
because he wanted this.

 
    
The pure and absolute abandon that he’d had
the pleasure to glimpse in the swimming hole at the Flying K. The pure,
unspoiled and unabashed beauty that he’d shared a stolen intimacy with in a
cave. He knelt by the fire and wrapped the last fish, stuffing it in with the
rest and burying it at the edge of the fire.

 
    
They would slow cook.

 
    
Or they could burn.

 
    
He watched her cavort in the water,
splashing out into the deeper portion of the stream and then returning to the
shallow waters kissing the shore. He unbuckled his gun belt and shucked his own
clothes, letting them drop into a pile, forgotten next to his boots.

 
    
Somewhere, his father was sighing to the
heavens for his manners, but Sam ignored that.

 
    
He embraced every crazy moment of the last
four weeks since she’d been deposited into his life.

 
    
His body was one, hard solid length of
need. He watched her play and when she finally settled into the shallow end to
wash, he forced himself into the cold water.

 
    
Awareness fired along his nerves as the
summer green of her eyes came to rest on his.

 
    
Her creamy skin was pink from her exertions
and Sam dove into the bracing water, letting it sluice the sweat and dust from
him. He’d managed to stay shaven all week until they’d broken away to ride
across the desert. He scratched at the stubble thoughtfully as he surfaced,
aware that the water was lapping at his thighs.

 
    
Even more aware when her gaze darted to his
waist and then lower still. Sam forced himself to remain where he was. He’d
spent the last week getting her used to him, touching her hand or her cheek
often, until it was casual and natural for her to accept it. He’d enjoyed the
teasing kisses, the quick brush of his lips to her forehead, the gentle caress
of her lips on his cheek and the deeper, sweeter kisses.

 
    
He held up his hand when she started to
rise in the water. Her nipples were hard peaks, straining against the cool air
and colder water. His groin ached at the sight, but he waved her back to her
wash.

 
    
Uneasiness crept across her expression,
stabbing him with her innocence at the perceived rejection.

 
    
“Not everything has to be a rush, minx.” He
teased her, gentling his tone and forcing his own body to accept that it, too
was going to have to wait for satisfaction. He stretched back, dipping lower in
the water. The coldness stung his skin and cleared the haze of desire that
flushed his vision since he’d first gotten a look at her.

 
    
“I suppose,” Scarlett’s voice was quiet,
but it carried over the rushing water.

 
    
“But?”

 
    
“But I thought men and women, well that
they…you know.”

 
    
He suppressed a laugh and widened his eyes
in mock surprise. “Men and women what?”

 
    
Her forehead squinted together in an
irritated frown. “I have seen animals mate before, Marshal.”

 
    
“Sam.” He reminded her, wading forward with
a playful lunge that had her skittering backwards until her bottom brushed the
stream edge. He laughed and threw himself backwards, desperate for the
distraction from the raging need pulsing in his cock.

 
    
Time, he reminded himself. She needed time.

 
    
Time and proper care.

 
    
He swam deeper into the water, reciting the
first fifteen Psalms, but they proved no match for fiery haired minxes who
waded out to meet him. He tread water, fighting the gentle lure of the stream’s
current. Scarlett dipped into the water and rinsed her hair.

 
    
Sam tested fate and dared a little closer,
his gaze scanning the shoreline. The horses munched on the grass peacefully,
their banked fire smoked cheerfully and even the birds overhead seemed to have
settled in for the late afternoon respite. It was idyllic.

 
    
Scarlett’s green eyes clashed with his.

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