TheSurrenderofLacyMorgan (13 page)

Another rap sounded on the door before the boy entered
again, this time carrying a large kettle with a towel wrapped around the
handle, steam drifting up from the spout.

“My ma says you can just let her know when you want that
food,” he said as he poured the water into the tub. “She’s got fried chicken
and mashed potatoes today. Best this side of Denver.”

“You tell your mama I will and that I said thanks, son.”
Quinn handed him a half-dollar before closing the door behind him and turning
the key in the lock. He leaned back against the door and stared hard at her.
“Take off your clothes.”

“Why?” Lacy grasped the front of his shirt she was wearing,
as if his words could make the material open at his command.

“Because I said so.”

“I’d rather stay dressed while you bathe.”

A slow smile spread over his lips and he pushed himself away
from the door. He crooked one finger at her. “Come here, Lacy.”

She stood, and her gaze drifted for a moment to where he’d
left his holster. With only one captor, the gun would even her odds for escape.
If she could get her hands on it, she could force him to let her go.

“Don’t even think about it.”

At the command in his voice her gaze jerked back to his.

“Why not? I’ve got nothing to lose. I’m as good as dead if I
step one foot back in Devil’s valley.” She clamped her lips shut tight. Please
God, don’t let him notice what she’d said.

“You’re not going to go for the gun because you don’t want
to shoot me. One dead marshal on your conscience is enough.” He stepped
forward.

She inched back.

“You also don’t know that Devil would kill you, especially
with Dakota and me there to protect you.”

Another step forward.

Another step back.

Two dancers in a macabre dance. Hunter and prey.

“You don’t want to force me to subdue you physically.”

“I don’t?”

He moved closer.

Her legs hit the edge of the bed. Nowhere to go. Trapped
between it and his lean hard body.

“If you lunge for the gun, I’d have to grab you.” He slid
one hand up her uninjured arm. “Then we might open your wounds Dakota took such
good care of.”

“I’m not afraid of a little pain and blood.” She trembled at
the touch of his hands running over the shirt to the naked skin of her
collarbone. The sense of vulnerability mingled with the excitement of having
such a strong man’s attention focused on her.

“You might not, but I don’t intend to feel the wrath of one
very angry Irish-Indian.” His lips lifted in a half-smile as he slid his hand
down to the buttons of the shirt. “Now, if you have no more objections, let’s
get you out of these clothes and into the tub before the water cools.”

She blinked, disarmed as much by his words as his
tenderness. “The bath is for me?”

With one finger under her chin, he lifted her face until
their gazes met. “You get to go first.”

Cool air flowed over her chest as he opened the shirt one
button at a time until she stood half exposed to him once more. With an
appreciative male growl, he parted the material and cupped her breasts, lifting
and kneading them.

“You have magnificent breasts, darlin’. Enough to fill my
hands, but not too much for me to enjoy.”

She should hate him for treating her like a toy, but giving
her pleasure seemed to be his favorite game. And oh God, it felt so good.

He slid his thumbs and forefingers down to her nipples,
gently twisting and pulling them until soft whimpering moans escaped her.

“And so responsive to lovin’,” he said.

Too quickly he released them and pushed his shirt off her
shoulders to land at her feet. Then he went to work on her skirt fasteners.
Soon she stood naked in front of him, except for her wounds, which were covered
by the strips of cloth Dakota had wrapped around them that morning.

A week ago she would’ve died of embarrassment to be so
exposed to any man, let alone one she hardly knew. But after four days on the
trail with Quinn and Dakota, she’d become accustomed to them wanting her
clothes off and her body ready for them to explore at their leisure.

She didn’t want to think about how much she enjoyed it. To
do so meant she was nothing more than the whore Devil said.

“Let’s get you clean.” Quinn grasped her by the elbow and
steadied her as she climbed into the tub.

“Oh, mmmm.” Eyes closed, she couldn’t help but sigh in
contentment as she lowered her aching body into the warm water. With a flip of
her braid to the side, she sank down until the water reached her bandages.
“This feels heavenly.”

“You might like these.”

She opened one eye to see him holding her bar of lavender
soap and a small cloth for washing. She held out her hand for the items but he
remained as still as a great oak.

His face had hardened with the look of lust she’d come to
recognize in him, eyes fixed on her body. And damn if her body didn’t respond.
Both nipples tightened even more, peaking out of the water into the cold air.
Heat spread down to the pit of her stomach, then even lower to settle between
her thighs.

With a groan he laid the items in her hand and stepped away.
“Better get busy. Dakota will want to look at your wounds when he gets back.”

Biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling at his
discomfort, Lacy took the soap and cloth and began washing. A thud sounded by
the door. She turned to see Quinn remove the leather scabbard from his belt and
set it next to the holster and gun. Then he sat with his back against the hall
door, his arms crossed over his chest and his gaze fixed on her.

“You don’t think I’d try to escape all naked and wet, do
you?” She lifted one leg and soaped it from heel to thigh.

“Just making sure no one interrupts your bath.” His voice
sounded a bit strangled.

She lifted her other leg, soaping it and sliding the cloth
over the length of it. “You think the owner’s son would barge in on us? He
seemed more impressed with you and your gun than anything I might have to
offer.”

This got her a grunt. Or rather a harsh clearing of his
throat mixed with a grunt. He sounded like a grumpy bear. A randy grumpy bear.

Good. It served him right. The two scoundrels had teased and
played with her to the point she’d obeyed any sexual command they gave her. It
was her turn to tease them.

Closing her eyes, she sighed deeply as she bent her knees
and parted her thighs. She lathered up the soap and rolled it over both
breasts, then trailed it over her belly to the dark curls at the top of her
mound, finally slipping it down over her pussy to stroke the tender folds.

Quinn sucked in air like a man diving into water. Knowing he
watched her every move, that it affected him in such a primal way, that she
controlled the sensuality of the moment, gave her a sense of power.

She slid the cloth up and down her nether lips, moaning with
the pleasure of it. With her other hand, she slipped the bar of soap over her
breasts, round and round, coating the globes with the lavender suds, arching
her back then lifting her hips.

Her gaze met Quinn’s intense one. Never in her life had she
teased herself for a man, but doing it for this one thrilled her as much as the
stroking of her flesh.

“Yes, darlin’, do it.” Quinn’s deep whisper flowed over her
like the warm soapy water.

Her finger found the nub of desire nestled in her folds. She
circled it slowly, letting the tingle build. Heat spread throughout her.

“That’s it. Show me how you like to be pleasured.”

The tension started at the nub. She stroked it. Letting it
spiral out and tighter at the same time. Hot. Tight.

“Ohh…unh…” she moaned as the need for release grew.

“Yes! Come for me.” Quinn’s voice, thick with lust, urged
her to stroke and rub faster.

Suddenly her body tensed, tremors of passion coursing from
head to toe, the core of each shock coming from the nub. “Ooohh God….” The
spasms shook her hard, leaving her limp and panting in the water.

Before she could catch her breath, Quinn’s hands slid under
her arms and lifted her out to stand beside the tub. He wrapped his arms around
her, pressing her to his body.

The hairs on his naked chest tickled her nipples in the cool
air. His cock pressed against her soft belly.

When had he gotten undressed?

Then he claimed her lips with his. She parted beneath his
invasion, surrendering to the taste and feel of him. Her mind lost in his kiss.

Hot.

Searing.

Claiming.

“God, woman, what you do to me,” he muttered as he released
his hold on her.

Her legs wobbled but he held her up with one arm, the other
dragging a towel over her body. The scratchy material stimulated her
already-sensitive skin everywhere he rubbed. Then he scooped her up in his arms
and carried her to the bed.

“What…”

He dipped his head and kissed her again. Hard. Her question
died with the intensity of his lips on hers.

Before the kiss could turn into more, he deposited her in
the bed and went back to the tub. Suddenly feeling very shy—which was
ridiculous considering how many times she’d been naked or nearly naked in front
of Dakota and him—she scrambled under the quilt and sheets, then watched him
step into the tub.

Standing there in all his naked glory, he washed the trail
grime off his magnificent body—every muscle sculpted like the statues she’d
seen as a child in New Orleans. He moved with rolling grace as he slid the soap
and water over his strong shoulders and arms, down over his stomach, tracing
the narrow line of hair to where his cock jutted out in its erect glory.

Entranced, she watched him soap and stroke it from base to
tip, back and forth, then glanced up to see him watching her watch him.

He planned to fuck her when he joined her in the bed. No
doubt in her mind about that.

“I’ve never done this before,” she said, breaking the
connection by lowering her eyes to the quilt and studying the pattern of the
intricately stitched pieces of calico materials.

“Never watched a man wash?”

“No. Never slept with a man like normal people…in a bed.”
That sounded silly even to her, but it was true. Despite losing her virginity
to that bastard Santos, she’d been in the hay in a barn stall at the gang’s
camp.

“Don’t worry, darlin’. It’ll be good. Trust me.”

And for some reason, she did.

Finished soaping the grime off, he scooped up water and
rinsed his body. Gathering the towel he’d used on her earlier, he rubbed it
over his body as he walked to the bed.

The sun had finally set. The fire cast a warm glow about the
room and formed shadows along the long planes of Quinn’s body. He pulled back
the covers and stared down at her. A more modest woman would’ve tried to cover
her nakedness, wouldn’t she?

He slid his fingers over the gold chains encasing her
throat, the only thing adorning her body besides the cloth dressings around her
shoulders, back and left arm.

“You’re beautiful,” he said as he slid in beside her, his
warm body grazing hers. “And I’m going to sample every inch of you. From your
lips.” He kissed her softly. “To your nipples.” He pinched each just enough to
elicit a moan from her. “To your pussy.” He slid his hand between her thighs
and stroked her nether lips and wet slit, igniting her need for more.

Chapter Seven

Sitting among the shadows in the corner of the saloon,
Dakota sipped the swill that passed for whiskey this far out in the territory.
Before he’d become a marshal and traveled to cities like Denver and Chicago,
saloon whiskey had been his favorite drink. After tasting expensive imported
scotch, he preferred it to the liquid currently in his glass.

The saloon sat directly across the street from the hotel.
Looking out the grimy window from his seat, he could view anyone approaching
the hotel’s entrance, keeping trouble away from Quinn and Lacy.

Not his favorite way to spend a night in town. What he
really wanted was to crawl into a soft, comfortable bed, preferably between
Lacy’s spread thighs.

Doubt that was happening tonight.

Despite her apparent willingness to please both Quinn and
him orally at the river the other day, he doubted she’d take them both as
easily into her bed. No, she’d need to be coaxed into it.

And since Quinn, whether he admitted it or not, had staked
his claim on their buxom captive, he’d have to be the one to decide how far to
push her sexual limits. So here he sat, drinking bad whiskey, watching for any
sign of trouble, while Quinn, presumably, was finally sinking his cock into
Lacy’s luscious folds.

Damn. With a shift in his seat he adjusted the fit of his
pants. Whenever they’d shared a woman, he’d hated being the one to wait. Of
course, Quinn was worse at it.

Why wait?

For a moment he studied the two whores making time flirting
with the patrons and sipping drinks at the bar. Their clothes were tattered
around the edges where their breasts threatened to spill out of low-cut
bodices. Even in the saloon’s dim lighting he could see the face paint they’d
slapped on to hide the ravages of too many late nights with too many men.

Used. Abused. Rode hard and put to bed wet.

Things Lacy was not.

Fresh and almost naïve. You could smell it on her. A
cleanliness of spirit despite years living among Devil’s men. And he’d bet if
she wasn’t a virgin when they’d found her, she’d been close to it.

That’s why he’d wait.

He’d wait to have his time alone with her or share her with
Quinn. If he missed his guess he’d be surprised, but he had a feeling Lacy was
different than all those other women, at least for Quinn. And damn wasn’t that
going to be a bitch of a problem for his blood brother when it came time to
take her to trial in Laramie.