The Lady and the Lawman (16 page)

When
she’d finished her recount, he couldn’t help but pull her into
his arms, holding her close. And she’d let him. He'd felt every
plush curve of her body, the silkiness of her hair as he ran his palm
from the nape of her neck and down her back. Maggie was so small, so
fragile in comparison to his large frame. It made every protective
instinct he had jump up and stand at attention. The fact that he
couldn’t have saved her from such a horrendous event made his gut
churn. Now, though, he was there to protect her, watch over her, and
he’d risk his life doing so.

After
their scrutiny of the crime scene, they remounted and let their
horses have their heads for the gallop into town. The mountains were
backlit by the brilliant sun, the heat out in the open expanse of
prairie thick and inescapable. All he could think of was Maggie.
His
Maggie. Not Tom's. No way in hell would Tom have her.

When
they slowed, he watched as she raised an arm and lifted damp curls
stuck to her neck. The effect lifted her breasts to press against the
confines of her white blouse, which clung to her...everywhere. With
the warm sun, a slight sheen of perspiration wet her skin, making it
all
but
glisten. He shifted uncomfortably in the saddle. What was this woman
trying to do, kill him?

A
man could only handle so much. After touching and seeing her body at
Croft’s the week before, and then reliving the sight of her
luscious breasts with those tight pink tips in his mind as he laid in
bed day after day, his desire for her was painful. Grant moved again
to relieve the ache in his groin. It didn’t work. Nothing would
work until he'd buried himself in
her
and made her his.

The
horses needed water, and he needed a distraction before he did
something he so desperately wanted, but knew he’d regret. She
needed a man to help her, not maul her. He turned his horse toward a
creek meandering through the flat prairie. Thick, old Cottonwood
trees dotted the sunken creek bed. He climbed off his horse and
dropped the reins, letting his mount roam free. He helped her down as
he tried to make as minimal contact with her as possible. His control
was as thin as ice in spring and one touch, no matter how innocent,
would shatter it.

“
It’s
beautiful here. I didn’t have much time to think about the scenery
before now. So different,” she commented.

“
Hot,
too.” He
wiped
his brow with his shirtsleeve.

“
It’s
stifling.” She mimicked him and did the same thing with her own
arm, which naturally lifted the fabric tight across her breasts.
Again. Was she doing it on purpose? Did all women know how to seduce
from birth?

He
gulped as
he saw
the outline of her tight nipples. He knew exactly what shade of pink
they were. “Come on, let’s find some shade,” he told her, his
voice rough with need. He dropped the reins of her horse, letting
both animals graze, then walked away, forcing her to chase after him.

“
Why
are you in such a rush?” she asked, winded.

“
I
need to cool off.” He unbuttoned the front of his shirt as he
spoke. He didn’t care if she had womanly sensibilities or not. The
urge to rip the buttons off of her shirt was like a spreading prairie
fire. He needed to douse it, and fast. If he didn't, he'd either come
in his pants or press her up against one of those tall trees, lift
her skirts and plunge deep.

She
stopped in her tracks at his actions and turned her back. “Um,
Sheriff, what on earth do you think you’re doing?”

He
grinned at her attempt at modesty. Already in the creek, he splashed
cool water over his face and hair. “Like I said, cooling off. And
damn it, can’t you call me Grant?” He waded out into the deeper
water and dropped down, dunking under. The icy water did only little
to cool his desire. It was like a fire that could only be quenched by
her, and then he wasn’t sure if she’d be able to smother the
flames of his desire, his need for her in just one night. Would this
lustful pain ever go away?

“
You
don’t think you can do that with your shirt on?”

He
loved seeing her cheeks flush with embarrassment.

He
could hear the squeak in her voice. “Don’t worry, your innocence
isn’t tarnished. I still have my pants on.” He noticed her
peeking over her shoulder to verify his words. He smiled, finding her
blushes refreshing. When she noticed he was looking at her, she
quickly averted her gaze. But she wasn't an innocent. She'd said
she'd been with a man. But her actions, her every move screamed the
contrary. Either she was lying, or the man she'd been with didn't
know his way around a woman.

“
Want
to join me?” He knew her answer, but it was fun goading her
nonetheless.

“
At
least we’ll get a break from the sun soon,” she said as she
looked up at the sky, her face shielded by a hand against her
forehead.

He
smirked when she changed the subject. He’d play along, for now. He
wasn’t too sure how much heat he could stand, radiating either from
the sun or from her.

“
Those
are storm clouds coming in, aren’t they?” She pointed toward the
green and blue horizon. “They’re moving awfully quickly.”

He
splashed his way out of the creek and looked in the direction of her
hand. They were storm clouds, all right. Black ones. Blowing in
quickly. The wind started to pick up as he assessed the sky further.
An eerie yellow color tinted the land.

“
We
need to hurry.” He shoved his arms through his shirt sleeves,
difficult with his wet skin, not bothering to button it. He shoved
into his boots and grabbed her arm, hurrying toward the horses, his
shirt tails flapping against his back.

She
stumbled in his wake and he tightened his grasp on her arm. “Ouch!”

“
Sorry,”
he replied, lessening his grip, but still keeping a hold of her. “If
we don’t get out of this creek bed and to higher ground, we’ll be
in big trouble.”

“
But...but
those clouds are still far away,” she replied.

He
could hear the growing concern in her voice. He knew he was being
blunt, but if they didn’t move, they could be stuck in a flash
flood. They reached their mounts, which were a bit skittish, telling
him the storm was even worse than it looked. He tossed her her reins.

“
You’ll
need to ride like you did when Dalton was after us, all right?” He
mounted as he spoke, his bullet wound smarting on him. He turned in
his saddle to look at her. He saw fear in her eyes as she nodded.

“
Good
girl. Let’s move.” He tapped his heels into his horse’s flanks
and set off at a sprint, Maggie right beside him.

***

Margaret
didn’t know what to think. One minute she'd been staring at Grant’s
solid expanse of chest, watching the water droplets work their way
down his skin, caught in the tangle of curls matting his chest. The
next, her arm was almost ripped from its socket to escape a storm
that appeared to be hours away. She couldn’t understand the dire
urgency he put in the approaching clouds.

He
hadn’t given her much choice but to listen and follow. From the
seriousness of his tone and the grave look on his face, she believed
him. There was no protection from a storm where they were, in the
open grassland. She had no idea how far from town they were, so where
could they seek shelter? For both their sakes, she hoped Grant knew
where he was going. With additional determination, she let her horse
have his head and they were off, trailing behind him by inches.

The
wind blustered and she turned her head to let it blow her tangled
hair from her eyes. They made progress across the prairie. In the
distance, she saw some small hills dotted with trees. But the clouds
were even closer. They’d moved in with amazing speed, unlike
anything she'd ever seen back home. An eerie darkness descended, then
all at once, the sky opened up. Sheets of rain pummeled them. She
shouted at his back. “Where are we going?” She wasn’t sure if
he’d heard her over the whipping wind and downpour.

He
slowed his horse enough for her to catch up and ride alongside. He
turned to her and yelled, “There’s a line shack up ahead where we
can seek shelter.”

She
could barely see where she was going with the rain in her eyes. Goose
bumps covered her drenched skin, though the air was warm. Soon
enough, he slowed his horse as they approached a glen. She let him
take the lead and she followed close behind. She could barely make
out a small cabin, dark on dark among the trees.

Grant
slid from his horse and quickly undid the cinches on the saddle and
headgear. He slapped its backside, setting the animal in motion. She
followed suit, jumping down unassisted, and started to remove her
animal's saddle as well. He rammed his shoulder against the worn wood
of the shack door. It swung open and slammed against the wall. He
placed his gear inside and returned to finish unsaddling her horse.
When done, he gave her horse a smack on his flank as well, letting
him run free.

“
In
here,” he shouted against the drumming of the rain. He stomped
inside and placed the second saddle next to the first in the corner.
Shaking water from his hair, he sent droplets aloft like a wet dog.

She
gladly followed him into the shack and stomped the mud from her
shoes. She shook her arms then wiped the rain from her face. He lit a
brass lantern on the table. She looked around as he grabbed some wood
from a bin and started a fire in the stove, water pooling at his
feet.

Several
shelves holding tinned food ran along one wall. A table and two
chairs filled the cramped space on one side of the stove and a bed
was positioned in the corner, close enough to the stove to enjoy its
warmth. The room was clean and appeared well stocked. Above all, it
was dry. She looked up at the beams running along the tin roof and
listened to the rain beat down. She was thankful for the shelter.

Thunder
boomed loudly, startling her from her inspection. “What is this
place?” she wondered aloud.

“
It’s
a line shack. There are several along the border of Tom’s land for
the men to use when they’re far from the bunk house.”

“
We’re
on Tom’s land now?” She was amazed as they were far from the main
house. Tom owned a very substantial swath of land. Probably more than
the entire city of Philadelphia.

The
pounding became louder, almost overwhelming enough that she feared
the roof would cave. She once again looked up at the ceiling and
listened. Was that hail? She ran her hands over her arms and
shivered. “I’ve never seen a storm come in so quickly before.”

“
Colorado’s
a lot different than back east.” Grant closed the door on the stove
with a loud metallic clink, after setting fire to small kindling. He
turned to her and his gaze lowered from her face. It was impossible
to miss how his eyes darkened and his jaw tightened as he took in her
drenched clothing. “You should get out of those wet things.”

She
looked down. She gasped. She looked a fright, but she hadn’t
considered what she wore. Her cotton blouse had become transparent
from the rain and her thin chemise was no barrier to his eyes. Her
pink nipples were tight and outlined clearly, the round shape of her
breasts contoured by the clinging fabric. She quickly crossed her
arms over her chest as she felt her cheeks heat, even as chilled as
she was. “I...I don’t have anything else to wear.”

He
began to strip off his wet clothes, his shirt making a loud smack on
the floor where it dropped. She wasn’t sure what to do. He was
undressing right in front of her! There was nowhere for her to go,
nowhere for her eyes to look besides at his solid, progressively
naked form. She tried to avert her gaze by looking at the wood floor,
but it didn’t ease her discomfort. Another feeling, one far
different than embarrassment, heated her from the inside out.

“
Take
a blanket from the bed and wrap it around yourself. We’ll lay the
clothes out to dry in front of the stove once the fire gets hot,”
he directed. He unbuttoned the front of his pants as he spoke.