Smolder on a Slow Burn

by Lynda J. Cox

  Allison didn’t answer. She sat in one of the chairs near Harrison’s desk. A.J. leaned his hip against the desk and held his hand down to her. She took it, drawing strength from his smile and the firm grip of his warm fingers around hers.

  Drake sank into Taylor’s chair and propped his feet on the Marshal’s desk. Allison felt a smile cross her face when A.J. shook his head in bemusement at his younger brother’s behavior.

  Harrison casually rolled a cigarette, struck a match and lit the cigarette. He took a long drag before he moved to close the distance to the cell. “Here’s what we’re going to do, Oakten. I want you to think hard on this offer because it has a very short window of opportunity. I will also caution you to be careful what you say, as Drake is our prosecuting attorney. He is ready to ask for a change of venue, for your benefit, to guarantee a fair trial for you here in Albany County in the Wyoming Territory. In return, you exonerate Allison of the charges falsely leveled against her in Colton County.”

  Oakten laughed. “A fair trial here, Marshal? In a county that it is very apparent you own? I think I’ll take my chances in Kentucky, where the crimes I’m alleged to have committed happened.”

  “If you want to do that, we can oblige you. I have no problem putting you into wrist and ankle shackles and taking you to Straight Creek for trial. But I’d think you’d rather be tried here.”

  A.J. turned to look out the front window of the marshal’s office. His hold on Allison’s hand tightened.

  “And, why is that?”

  Harrison propped one arm above his head and leaned onto the bars. “Because Straight Creek is in Trapman County, a county that was Confederate. During the War, there were sixty-two families there. Sixty of them had boys in gray. The other two families only have daughters. Forty-eight of them lost either a son, father, or brother. I sent a long letter to the newspapers there, telling them exactly what A.J. sacrificed for his country.”

  A.J.’s shoulders rose with a deep inhalation.

  “That letter told those newspapers in minute detail what he suffered while at Infernum, under your command of the camp.” Harrison pulled another drag off the cigarette and exhaled. “So, if you really want to be tried in Straight Creek, I’ll be more than willing to oblige you. But, I’d really consider the option of having your trial here.”

  Drake leaned back in Taylor’s chair so he could look into the cell. “The option for a change of venue is on the table for the next thirty seconds. And, if you exonerate Allison, I’ll take the death penalty off the table.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  O lente, lente currite noctis equi.

  (O run slowly, slowly, horses of the night.)

  ~Christopher Marlowe

  He’d retreated deep into himself. Allison hated the ghosts that haunted the depths of A.J.’s eyes as they rode in a private railcar to the county seat of Cheyenne County, Nebraska. More than once, A.J. stared down at the shackles on his wrists and she saw the effort it took to quell his shudder.

  Harrison sat on the other side of the car, as silent as A.J. That he was uncomfortable putting shackles on A.J. had been more than apparent. She tried to soften what was a painful blow by pointing out Harrison was right, it was protocol. A.J. merely retreated deeper into himself.

  Drake sat reading a legal tome and on occasion he lifted his head and sent an encouraging smile in her direction. Every time he did, she was shocked at how much like his brother he looked—a much less care-worn version.

  When the train pulled into the station, the sheriff met them. He had a jail wagon waiting. A.J. recoiled, stepping back into Allison. The sheriff said, “I’ll take him from here, marshal. Jury’s all been called and got a carpenter—”

  Allison slid her hand into the pocket of the cloak Rachel had loaned her, and curled her fingers over the butt of the small derringer. She shifted enough to stand at A.J.’s side, instead of behind him, and had a clear shot into the sheriff’s stomach.

  Harrison shook his head, cutting the sheriff off. “No. Major Adams will stay in my custody until his trial is over.”

  “Not sure—”

  “I don’t care what you’re sure or not sure about. As a federal marshal, he’s in my custody and he’ll stay that way until the trial is over.” Harrison stepped into the sheriff’s way when the man attempted to bull past him. “Unless you want me to slap a pair of shackles on you for interfering with a federal marshal in the execution of his duty, you’ll get the hell away from Major Adams and go to the livery and rent a carriage and then give me directions to the best hotel in town.”

  Drake took a step forward. “I have a stay here from Judge Horner in Denver, certifying that Major Adams is to remain in Marshal Taylor’s custody and only to be incarcerated if he is found guilty.” He handed a piece of vellum folded in thirds to the sheriff. “You’ll find that the paperwork is in order. While you may have convened a jury, this trial will not be starting in the morning. I have the right—which I fully intend to exercise—to question those jurors and discard up to six of them, if I feel they cannot be impartial to the testimony given.”

  The whole time, Allison watched color creep up the sheriff’s neck and into his face until he appeared to be taken with a spell of apoplexy. He snapped open the order from Horner, read it, and muttered, “Don’t know what this world is coming to…damn Rebs getting treated like royalty.”

  Harrison grabbed the sheriff’s coat lapels and shoved him backwards. “The war’s over. And, before you say another word about that ‘Reb’, you might want to check on what he did to save the lives of several thousand men and to assist in the recovery of stolen Federal gold.” Harrison shoved him again. “Go get that damn carriage.”

  A few hours later, once they were all ensconced in a large suite, in the very same hotel she and A.J. had escaped two weeks before through the window, Harrison took the shackles off. A.J. wandered over to a chair and slowly sank into it, staring at a spot on the floor. Allison knew he really wasn’t looking at that spot.

  Drake broke the uncomfortable silence. “A.J., I think before the preliminary maneuvering for this trial starts in the morning, I’m going to go find you a suit—something other than your overcoat.”

  He glared across the distance. “What’s wrong with my overcoat?”

  “Nothing. But, let’s not antagonize the jurors I’m going to be recusing.”

  A.J. jumped to his feet. “Harrison, I need to talk to you. Alone. Drake, take Alli with you to get that suit. She’s going to need something proper.”

  “I’m not leaving you,” Allison said. “And, Rachel’s already sent several day dresses with me, so I’m not leaving.”

  Drake caught her arm, gently pulling her to the door. “Come with me, please…”

  She hesitated. A.J. met her gaze across the room. “Allison, please, go with Drake.”

  As they walked out, Drake spoke softly. “I’ve seen this before. He just wants to make sure all his affairs are in order, just in case.”

  “You’re not going to lose this case.” Allison shuddered in the cold night.

  “We’ve a strong case. I don’t intend to lose it. But, as I said, I’ve seen this before. Let him talk to Harrison.” Drake abruptly changed the subject. “If you’re anything like Jessie, you’ve a good idea of fashion sense.”

  Allison didn’t let go. “Don’t try to change the subject and don’t give me a lawyer’s answer. Are you going to win this case?”

  He stopped in the middle of the street and turned to look at her. In the sulfurous yellow light of the gas-lights, Drake’s expression softened. “I will not lose.”

  “Good. Because if you do, I’ll just let them hang me. Without him, I won’t want to keep living. Tell me why you’re insisting on interviewing jurors tomorrow.”

  “It’s part of the strategy. I can request a jury of twelve men. That means the county should call twenty-four men, because I can ask that six be recused. The prosecutor can recuse up to six, and there have to be alternates. T
hat’s going to be hard to do in this county.” Drake tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “Now, let’s go find a suit for my big brother. I’m thinking something in Federal blue.”

  In spite of her worry, Allison laughed. “He would have your hide. And, you’re not a good attorney. You’re a damn good attorney.” She clamped her hand over her mouth and mumbled an apology for her language.

  Drake didn’t seem to take any offense. Instead, he smiled and said, “Little sister, wait until you see me in action.”

  When they returned to the hotel, Brad Schaffer looked up. He nodded at Allison. “Your husband and the marshal convinced Helga to send supper to your rooms. Would you also tell Mr. VanBuren that Danny is sending a couple more bottles of bourbon down from the saloon?”

  “I will do that, Mr. Schaffer. Thank you.” Allison saw Drake’s brow shoot up.

  “Mr. VanBuren? And what is so unusual about having supper sent to our rooms?”

  She shook her head. “Your brother’s idea of an alias from the last time we were here. As to supper in our rooms, you haven’t met Helga yet.”

  Drake opened the door to their suite, allowing Allison to enter first. She came to a halt just a few steps inside the room. Something drastic had changed between the two men while she and Drake were gone. Harrison lounged in a chair by the hearth, a tumbler of what she assumed to be bourbon carelessly dangling from his fingers. A.J. leaned against the fireplace mantel, tracing the rim of a tumbler with one finger.

  But on closer inspection, Harrison had a bruise beginning to form along his jawline and even though A.J. still wore his threadbare greatcoat, three of the buttons near the collar were missing. One of those buttons winked up from the floor, reflecting the flames on the hearth.

  “What in the name of heaven happened in here?” Allison took a step closer to the two men, looking from one to the other when neither man offered up an answer. “A.J., what happened?”

  “We came to terms,” A.J. said, not elaborating.

  “The hell we did,” Harrison protested. “If you think—”

  “You promised me, and by God, you will keep that promise.”

  Drake made his way to the table, sat down, and pulled a covered plate to himself. “Might want to eat before you try to solve this riddle, Allison. If my brother is anything like me, it might take a while.”

  Allison turned to Harrison. “What did you promise him?”

  “Nothing you need to worry about right now,” A.J. said, levering himself from the mantel and cutting off anything Harrison might have said. “Drake’s right. You need to eat.”

  Allison shot a glance at the plates on the table. Apparently Drake was the only one interested in supper. “I’m not hungry. I’ll eat when you do, unless you’re planning on having a liquid supper.”

  “She’s angry, A.J.,” Harrison said with a huge grin. He tilted his drink back and drained the glass. “How is it we both ended up with such bull-headed women?”

  “I don’t know about you, but I got lucky.” He coupled his words with his crooked half smile that usually melted her, but Allison was having none it.

  “Oh, no…flattery is not going to get you out of this conversation, Adrean James Adams. What did he promise you?”

  Drake snorted. “Damn, big brother, even I know when the full name is trotted out, it’s time to petition for peace, offer a complete surrender, and pray for clemency.”

  A.J. shifted his gaze from Allison to his brother and back again. “I give you my word that I will tell you, when the time is right.”

  Allison made her way over to him. “And, I’m supposed to just accept that?”

  He caught a length of her hair and drew it through his fingers. She forced herself not to soften. “For now, yes, you have to accept it.”

  She turned on her heel with an angry huffing breath and stormed across the floor to the bedroom but paused in the open doorway. “Accept this, Mr. Adams. There are only two couches in this suite. You can argue with your brother and the marshal about which of you gets a couch and who is making a bed on the floor. Good night!” She walked into the bedroom and slammed the door shut.

  More angry than she could ever recall being in her life, Allison sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off her short boots. She stood, unbuttoned her blouse and pulled it off too. She wadded the white fabric and flung it across the room in a fit of temper. Deciding that small outburst made her feel a little better, she removed her skirt. It joined her blouse on the other side of the room, and very shortly, so did her chemise and underdrawers. Temper slightly cooled, she pulled her night-rail on, pulled the blankets on the bed back, and stared at the empty expanse.

  In the short weeks that she had spent with A.J., she had become accustomed to falling asleep snuggled up to him, his arm around her. The prospect of sleeping alone reignited her temper.

  She flung herself onto the bed and gave in to the tears of fear, and worry, and even exhaustion she had been holding back for the past days. When her tears finally stopped and she was reduced to hiccoughing cries, she heard the door open.

  Allison sat up in the bed. A.J. stood silhouetted in the doorway. He had shed his gray coat and boots. His shirt was partially opened, and the silk tie he had been wearing dangled on either side of the opened neck. She flung a pillow that he avoided with a single step to one side. “Get out,” she said. “I meant it. You can sleep on the floor for all I care.”

  Wordless he picked up the pillow and tossed it back to her. He shut the door before he closed the distance between them. When he sat on the edge of the mattress, Allison scrambled from the bed. “If you don’t tell me what you made him promise, you can sleep out there. Or I will. I’m sure Drake and Harrison will both be perfect gentlemen.”

  She took a step closer to the door but A.J. pushed up from the mattress and grabbed her arm. She spun around into him, and tried to brace her forearms against his chest but couldn’t as they were pinned between them.

  “Damn it, Alli, don’t do this.” He fitted the contours of her body rapidly against his as he wound his arms about her.

  The flight of fancy she’d kept of him as a dragon reared its head, only this time the mythical beast wasn’t protective. The dragon was furious. Unfortunately, so was his maiden, Allison thought. She shoved the image of A.J. as a snarling dragon from her head and allowed her own anger to take voice. “Don’t do what? Don’t question you? Don’t ask what you made him promise because it’s obviously so wrong you can’t tell me? Don’t do what?”

  “Don’t turn me out,” he said, his voice sounding like a pained growl, before his mouth slanted down over hers in fierce, demanding possession.

  Allison literally felt the breath leave her with that possessive, oddly tender kiss A.J. slanted over her mouth. He forced her head back into the palm of one hand, his fingers digging into her scalp, his other hand gripping her bottom, pressing her against him. Allison parted her mouth under the hungry, insistent pressure of his lips, feeling a molten heat pooling low in her stomach, spreading throughout her whole being. The moment she parted her lips for him, his tongue forcefully invaded her mouth, demanding total obeisance. Allison tried to meet his demanding thrusts. He sought her submission which she finally allowed with a tiny cry of capitulation.

  A.J. pulled her more tightly into his embrace, lifting her to himself, dragging her hips over his. She tried to push him away, but of their own volition, her arms wrapped around his neck. His fingers twisted in her hair and he pulled her head back even as he pushed her to the wall. He caught her nightgown, bunching it and pulling it over her head. She didn’t know which of them was breathing the heavier and it didn’t matter. She clung to him, trembling and aching with need. In the circle of her arms, Allison felt him trembling with his own needs.

  A.J. pulled his head away from her, his voice sounding in the darkened room, harsh and rasping. “I’ll not have you out there and you’re not turning me out.”

  His words struck a primal chord in her. The wor
ds of a man laying claim to the woman he wanted as his. The fierceness and total surrender demanded in his kisses drove a tiny shiver up her spine. Yet, at the same time, her capitulation had never been at issue. “No, I won’t.”

  His groan sounded with triumph as he drew his hands up her sides, following the curve of her ribs, before cupping her breasts. His thumbs flickered over her nipples, teasing until they had become taut, aching nubs and Allison’s trembling increased.

  She fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, finally able to push the linen off his shoulders and down his arms. Her palms explored the length of his arms, relearning every ridge and bulge. A.J. reclaimed her mouth and a moment later lifted her with an arm under her bottom until her legs wrapped around his waist. He caught her hair and pulled her head back, leaving her face and neck vulnerable to his kisses.

  Allison winced a little with the tugging hand wrapped in her hair and she arched her back to relieve the pressure on her scalp. Doing so brought her sensitized breasts into direct contact with his bare chest, sending shock waves rippling throughout her body. Her gasp sounded in the room, before a low murmuring rippled from A.J.’s throat.

  He left a trail of heated kisses down the length of her throat, pausing to nip lightly at the pulse throbbing frantically just behind her ear.

  She slid her hands onto his head, running her fingers through his hair, down the back of his neck, and in roving circles over his muscled back. He was so solid under her hands, heat radiating from his skin. She knew with barely conscious thought, this was no dragon holding her. This was a man who wanted her as much as she wanted him.

  Still holding her hair gripped loosely in one hand, he slid his other hand down Allison’s back. He pegged the soft, rounded flesh of her bottom, this time slowly, deliberately and repeatedly thrusting his hips against hers. He left no doubt in Allison’s mind about the state of his arousal.