To Kiss a Texan

TWENTY-FOUR

WES TOOK THE BLOWS, TRYING TO CATCH HER FLYing fists and guard his eyes at the same time. He rolled with her, bumping into the chair and sending it flying backward into the wardrobe. Kicking the footstool out of the way, he rolled again, slamming into the corner of the bed and making the headboard pound several times against the wall.

He tried to stand, but she threw him off balance, sending them both tumbling once more. She continued to swing from every direction, hailing fists upon him.

Frustrated beyond patience, Wes rolled atop her and pinned her suddenly to the floor.

‘‘Enough!’’ he shouted as she twisted beneath him.

Her hair was wild around her, her eyes filled with fight. She was not afraid, but angry. There was a zest for life in her blue depths he’d never seen before-not just survival, but the courage to fight for what she wanted in this world.

‘‘Enough,’’ he said more calmly as he pressed his body against her. He loved the way her eyes sparked with fire when she was mad. He’d never seen her look more beautiful.

She still fought, trying to jerk free so she could land another blow. There were no words in her; her actions spoke her feelings.

‘‘Enough,’’ he whispered as he lowered his mouth over hers, unable to resist drawing closer to the fire. Her body twisted beneath him, allowing him the pleasure of feeling every part of her.

For a moment she fought, trying to move away, then she stilled and suddenly returned his kiss with the same zeal she’d used to fight.

She’d won the argument without a word, but he was too busy to notice.

Wes released her wrists and filled his hands with her hair as the kiss deepened. Her body softened beneath him, as she became aware of how he moved above her.

Allie sighed as the wall of his chest pressed her against the wooden floor. His tongue parted her lips in hurried demand. He tasted deeply as he molded against her, making every part of her alive.

He shifted, lessening his weight over her and allowing room for his hands to stroke her. The need to touch her pounded through him, driving all thought away as the fresh smell of her filled his senses.

When he felt her breasts covered in layers of material, his kiss grew wilder, and the longing to capture her flesh in his hand outweighed even breathing.

Frantically, he pulled the buttons free and shoved her dress open enough for his fingers to enter her blouse. The soft mound filled his hand in welcome. Her breathing came in gasps as he pressed his palm slightly. Her heart pounded beneath the intoxicating velvet of her flesh.

Then, she surrendered all struggle. She was his, moving to his every wish. Her fire had turned to passion and his anger to desire. He could lie to her no more, the need to hold her was too great.

He turned her away from him, enjoying how she cried out softly for more as he broke the kiss. But she molded as his hands twisted her until her back rested against him.

He pulled her close. His fingers moved beneath the material of her blouse and coveried her breast once more. ‘‘Lay your head on my arm,’’ he whispered as his hands slid low over her dress and pulled her to him, allowing her to feel him fully.

She melted against him, taking in his nearness like a long needed drink of water.

‘‘Pull your hair away from your throat, Allie.’’

Following his orders, she moved her hands above her so that he had full rein to gently stroke her, drawing her closer against him with each passing. She was a creature made for loving and hadn’t learned the subtleties of holding back the pleasures she felt. She wanted his touch and had no idea how she made him feel when she responded so willingly.

Shoving her blouse from her shoulder, he kissed the long line of her throat. The flesh was warm and inviting, tasting slightly salty on his tongue.

She curled like a kitten against him. He pushed the material lower, revealing her back. Thin scars crossed over her flesh beneath his fingers as he stroked her gently, washing away painful memories with his caress.

‘‘This is what you want when you say you want me to lie beneath your robes?’’ Wes whispered against her ear. ‘‘This is what you need, don’t you, Allie? You want me to hold you like this.’’

‘‘Yes,’’ she answered breathlessly as he tightened his grip on one breast then moved low over the front of her dress to pull her hips against him once more.

‘‘You need my touch, Allie, don’t you? You need to feel your blood rushing. You need to feel the fire.’’

‘‘Yes.’’ She saw no reason to lie. ‘‘More, please.’’

He rolled her to face him. With one quick tug, the front of her blouse opened wide.

Allie stretched, loving the warm, wonderful way he made her feel. She knew once she was alone, she’d never have the fire spread through her again. He was her one blaze of pure pleasure. He made her feel beautiful and treasured. His hands were rough, yet his touch gentle.

When he pulled away suddenly, she opened her eyes in surprise. He was doing exactly what she wanted him to. There was no need to stop.

Wes sat up and wiped his lips slowly. His gaze moved over her like a caress but the words he mumbled were a curse. He raised one knee and locked his arm around it with both hands white-knuckled in fists.

Confused, she rose, kneeling in front of him. She wanted him to continue and had no idea what could have made him stop the pleasure. ‘‘Thank you.’’ She wouldn’t beg, even though her body ached for him to hold her longer.

Wes winked then looked away suddenly. ‘‘You want more of the same?’’

‘‘Yes, please.’’ She didn’t cover herself. He could look at what he’d already caressed. ‘‘If you are not too tired, I would like more before we have to go back downstairs.’’

Wes sat staring at the windows for a while, then he slowly tugged his shirttail free.

She leaned forward, pressing her lips to his, but he gently pushed her away. Watching as he unbuttoned his shirt, she felt the coldness of the room against her bare flesh. But she didn’t move. The fire would come again when he touched her.

Staying perfectly still, she studied him closely, knowing that he was aware of every rise and fall of her breasts. He would pleasure her again. She would not have to fight this time.

He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath before looking straight at her. For a long moment, he stared, then reached toward her. ‘‘Give me your hand, Allie.’’

Hesitantly, she lay her fingers in his. He turned her hand palm up and brought it to his lips. Allie fought for control as he kissed first her fingers, then lowered his lips to her palm. His open mouth drew her very soul as her hand throbbed from the pressure of his kiss.

Allie shivered with pleasure. She felt as if she’d captured the fire of his nearness in her fist.

He lowered her hand slowly, smiling at her reaction. ‘‘Now, the other.’’

She quickly offered him her palm. He repeated the action, making the nerves in her fingers come alive to the slightest touch.

Only, this time when he’d finished, he didn’t turn loose of her. Instead, he spread her fingers out over his heart. The hair of his chest tickled across her hand as he moved her fingers over his skin, feeling the deep rhythm of his heart beneath her hand. There was no softness in the feel of him, only a wall of warmth.

‘‘Allie. Open your eyes. See me as you touch me. See only me.’’

She looked up as he guided her hand over his chest, teaching her to touch. She could see the fire in his eyes grow with her action.

He kissed her then so tenderly it brought tears to her eyes. When she pulled away, he whispered as his hand fell away from hers, ‘‘Touch me, Allie. Keep your hand over my heart.’’

Timidly, she felt of him once more, and his kiss continued. Slowly, the feel of him became less frightening. She liked the way his muscles tightened slightly as she caressed them. She liked the pounding beneath her fingers.

He allowed her time, to feel, to explore. And again and again he rewarded her with warm kisses.

Finally Wes leaned against the bed, stretching his long legs in front of him and holding her against his side.

‘‘You’re one strange lady, Allie McLain. One minute you’re kicking me out of our room, and the next you’re fighting because I won’t ‘lie beneath the robes with you.’ ’’

‘‘McLain,’’ she whispered. ‘‘Is that my last name?’’

Wes kissed her forehead. ‘‘That’s it. Whether Victoria claims you or not, your last name is McLain.’’

‘‘And I will ride out with you tomorrow?’’

Wes looked down into her blue eyes. All the reasons why she shouldn’t come with him came to mind, but his mouth mutinied and he heard himself saying, ‘‘We leave at dawn.’’

An hour later, he’d just finished explaining his plans to Sheriff Hardy when Gideon rushed into the room with Colonel Attenbury and Jason on his heels.

‘‘We got problems.’’ Gideon shouted, feeling the need to announce Attenbury.

The old colonel shoved past the doorman and crossed straight to Wes. ‘‘He’s right.’’ Attenbury’s body might be aging, but his eyes stared crystal clear. ‘‘I can feel it, son, and I’ve been around long enough to trust those feelings.’’

Wes stood, noticing Hardy pulling himself up with interest and patting the covers for his guns. ‘‘What kind of problems?’’ There was no doubt the sheriff had been expecting something to happen. Maybe he was like the old colonel, he could feel it in his blood.

Jason moved behind Hardy so he wouldn’t miss anything being said. A boy’s excitement blended with a man’s worry in his face.

‘‘One of the men thought he saw a lone rider at sunset coming up the south side. He said he watched the rider approaching for ten minutes, then the guard blinked, and both horse and man disappeared.

‘‘That alone is simply noteworthy. The light can play tricks on a man at sunset. But Cutler reports a horse in the corral that wasn’t there last night. Now, other men I might think to be mistaken, but not Cutler. I took a look at the animal. He’d been rode hard today. Not a man claimed him as mount.’’

Wes glanced at Hardy, but the man offered no comment. ‘‘Are you saying, Colonel Attenbury, that we have an extra man in our midst?’’

‘‘Not among my men, but somewhere in the compound,’’ Attenbury answered.

‘‘Any other news to report?’’ Wes watched the colonel carefully, sensing there was more.

‘‘When I made my rounds at ten, the gate just behind the kitchen and the one by the well had been unlocked. It was as if someone had walked just ahead of me. Every man on guard swore they’d seen no one.’’

‘‘Gideon, have your people search the house. Attenbury, take five men and comb the barn and quarters. Order double guards tonight and lanterns placed around the courtyard. I want no one being able to walk across the yard without being seen. We’ll meet by the fountain in thirty minutes. If there’s an extra man in this place, we’ll find him.’’

As both men left, Wes glanced at Jason. The boy stood bravely, awaiting assignment like the others, but his eyes were wide and his face pale with fright.

‘‘Jason.’’ Wes leaned close. He had to make the boy feel important even though all Wes wanted to do was ensure Jason’s safety. ‘‘I need you to do something quickly. Go upstairs and warn the women. Ask them to join the sheriff here. Between the two of you, the women will be safe.’’

Jason nodded with pride and ran to fulfill his assignment.

Wes returned to his chair beside Hardy’s makeshift bed. ‘‘It makes no sense,’’ Wes mumbled. ‘‘Surely, one man’s not planning to attack this place.’’

‘‘Could be he came in to kill a single person.’’ Worry lines rippled across the old man’s forehead. ‘‘I don’t know about you, but I’ve got a few enemies. Maybe he plans to slit my throat, then get a fresh mount and ride out.’’

Wes shook his head. ‘‘No, if it’s personal, looks like he’d wait until we all split up tomorrow. Why attack when the headquarters is full?’’

The old sheriff leaned back against his pillows, holding his side as though it were an effort to breathe. ‘‘Years ago,’’ he whispered, ‘‘back in the days of the first three hundred who came with Austin, I got to where I could talk with the Karankawas who made their camp around the settlement. They saw the settlers as about as important and pesky as mosquitoes. Austin’s colony thought the Indians were unfriendly, but mostly, the Karankawas just didn’t bother trying to communicate.’’

Though Wes was starting to wonder if this story had a point, he didn’t interrupt.

‘‘One night, I was in the camp and one of the braves gave a report almost identical to Attenbury’s. Seems men had heard a rider coming, but no one broke the trees around the camp. Then they noticed a horse with markings unlike any of them had ever seen.’’

‘‘And?’’ Wes encouraged.

‘‘I’ve heard many names other tribes use, but the best translation is ‘smoke warrior.’ The Karankawas have an old legend that ghosts walk among our midst, unnoticed for the most part. No one can see them most of the time, they float like vapors at sunrise. But once in a while, they get strong enough to take on form solid enough to ride a horse. When that happens, they only have one mission.’’

Wes leaned forward.‘‘What?’’

‘‘To take another soul with them when they cross over to the next life.’’ Hardy’s face left no doubt he was deadly serious. ‘‘Some folks don’t want to cross over to the hereafter alone.’’

‘‘But who?’’ Wes shook his head. ‘‘That makes no sense.’’

Sheriff Hardy swallowed hard and opened his mouth to argue, but before he could form a word, a scream shattered the stale night air.

Wes was on his feet running before the sound died in his ears. ‘‘Watch the entrance!’’ he yelled over his shoulder as he took the stairs three at a time.

Another scream came from above.

‘‘Allie!’’ he shouted as he rammed their bedroom door at full speed.