Wanton in the West

by Lisa Plumley

  “Thank you, sir.” Now Adeline was the one grinning, especially as she sashayed over the threshold and felt Clayton’s gaze pinned on her—admittedly droopy—bustle. “Follow me.”

  She might not be getting that bridal-style escort over the threshold just now, she decided, but the night wasn’t over yet.

  “I swear, I don’t need anything fancy, Adeline,” Clayton told his adored girl later that evening. “Just a pair of britches and maybe a shirt. Are you sure my duds aren’t dry?”

  “Not yet!” she called sweetly. “Are you warm enough?”

  “It’s not warmth I’m concerned with.” Self-consciously, Clayton adjusted the soft folds of the much-too-small “quilt” Adeline had given him after divesting him of his wet clothes—right down to his boots and skivvies. He felt much too aware of his own bare skin. Acres of him were exposed by the limitations of that doll-size quilt. He clutched it to his privates anyway, a decision that left most of his legs and all of his torso on display for his innocent Adeline’s perusal. “It’s decency. Are you sure this isn’t a pillowcase? Or a handkerchief?”

  “Handkerchiefs aren’t quilted, silly.” Adeline appeared in the doorway, toting a tray of food. “Neither are pillowcases.”

  She seemed beyond pleased to see him there in her parlor, stripped as a jaybird and entirely at her mercy. Just like she’d done on her front porch a while ago, she delivered him a delectable smile.

  That smile reminded him of everything he loved about his Adeline. She was caring, thoughtful, gentle and sweet. She was intelligent, funny and handy with numbers. She knew how to cook and how to shoot a gun. She even knew—apparently—how to flirt. She’d been doing it, to his surprise, all damn evening.

  “Your father must have something I could borrow to wear.”

  “Mmm.” She appeared to consider it…exceedingly briefly. “Nope. I don’t believe so. All of Papa’s clothing would be much too small for a big, strong, strapping man like you.”

  Her interested, bold and gratifying gaze told him all he needed to know about her appreciation for his “strapping” body.

  Caught by surprise yet again, Clayton had the undeniable sensation he’d somehow stepped from the frying pan into the fire. If he stayed here, he might not wind up in the hoosegow, but he’d be in trouble, all the same. There was no denying it.

  Catching a flicker of movement, Clayton glanced downward. From beneath her flowing, freshly changed skirts, Adeline’s toes peeped out at him. The sight galvanized him. Even as she busied herself with setting out whatever edibles she’d fixed, Clayton kept on staring at her bare toes. And, occasionally, her ankles.

  That could mean only one thing. One intriguing thing.

  He cleared his throat. “You didn’t put on new stockings?”

  “Oh, no need for that.” Casually Adeline went on working. She glanced at him, unperturbed by his near nudity. “Before too long, I’ll be taking off everything to go to bed anyway.”

  Oh. He couldn’t help picturing the sight. Adeline…naked. Adeline, sliding between the sheets. Adeline, welcoming him in between those sheets with her, exactly where he wanted to be.

  She was only a heartbeat away. Her legs were bare; soon the rest of her would be, too. She was warm and willing and sweet. She was Adeline. She was his. She was within reach right now, close enough for him to slide his hand beneath her skirts, up her bare thigh, all the way to her most feminine places.

  Clayton couldn’t help imagining doing exactly that…and more. Tonight, they could be together, at long last….

  If he wanted to wreck her good name, right along with his.

  Admonishing himself for his reckless thoughts, Clayton leaped from his chair. “I’ll go check if my boots are dry yet.”

  “Nonsense. I’ll do it.” With an indulgent smile, Adeline gave him a push. “You just relax and have a bite to eat.”

  Teetering, Clayton clutched his quilt. It was either land in his chair again or run away like a fool. Since he wasn’t a fool, he sat. But he arranged his quilted coverings just so.

  It wasn’t easy. He was—as they’d already discussed—a big, strong, strapping man. But he had to do it. He didn’t think Adeline was ready for the sight of him in his masculine…altogethers.

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Davis.” Adeline grinned as she offered him a sandwich. “You don’t need to be so careful about covering yourself up. I won’t impugn your honor.” A pause, while she watched him take a bite. “That is…not unless you want me to.”

  His bite of cheese and bread stuck halfway down. Clayton swallowed hard. He couldn’t possibly have heard her correctly.

  Most likely, he was dreaming—dreaming that Adeline wanted him in all the same intimate, scandalous, sensual ways he wanted her…in all the ways they couldn’t be together. Not until he saved up enough scratch to give her the life she deserved.

  For Adeline, a hasty wedding and a hardscrabble existence on a sawer’s salary weren’t good enough. Clayton wanted to give her more. He’d been saving. He’d been working extra hours for Marcus Copeland. He’d been taking odd jobs. He’d amassed a sizable nest egg, but for Adeline, he wanted luxury and ease.

  He wanted to give her everything. He couldn’t. Not yet.

  “We’re practically married already,” Adeline went on blithely, offering him a cup of water. She eyed him from beside her serving tray. “I suppose this is what it would be like to be married, isn’t it? The two of us here, together.” She paused, sliding a speculative glance over his quilt. “Alone. All night.”

  At the thought of spending a whole night alone with Adeline, Clayton suppressed a groan. He couldn’t help aiming a hungry gaze upstairs. Adeline’s bedroom lay in that direction. He’d never entered it, of course. But he’d envisioned it plenty of times. He’d imagined himself pulling Adeline into his arms, kissing her softly and deeply, undressing her, loving her….

  As though she’d been reading his mind somehow, Adeline heaved a wistful sigh. “We could experience all that happiness, too. If only you would finagle a way to ask a certain question.”

  Clayton knew which question she meant. She wanted him to propose marriage. He wanted to propose marriage. But until he had more to offer her… “It’s coming. I promise it is. Soon.”

  “What are you waiting for, Clayton?” Adeline’s desolate gaze met his. “Is it because you’re not sure? I know I want you, but if you don’t feel the same way about me, then maybe we—”

  “Of course I’m sure about you!” Again, he rose. Hastily he clapped one hand atop his miniature quilt. With the other hand, he nudged Adeline’s chin until she looked up at him. “Of course I want you. So much! But I have to clear my name and save up—”

  “I don’t care about saving up! And even if you were the worst thief in the whole territory, I would still love you!”

  It rankled him that she found him a credible hypothetical thief. “I’m not a thief,” Clayton said carefully. “And I care about saving up. What else do I have to offer you, except—”

  “You.” Adeline grabbed his shoulders for balance. Then she levered upward and kissed him. “You are what you have to offer. You’re all I want and all I’ll ever need.”

  He fervently wished things were that simple. “Be careful, Adeline. If you keep on kissing me like that—”

  “Like this?” Defiantly she kissed him again. Her eyes sparkled. Her cheeks bloomed pink. Her lips…well, her lips seemed pleased with themselves for having delivered such a nice—if chaste—kiss.

  “—I don’t know if I can remain a gentleman.”

  “You seem to be managing admirably so far.”

  If she only knew. His whole body felt rigid, taut with the need to pull Adeline close and kiss her properly. Maybe more.

  Even now, when Clayton was doing his best to behave respectfully, his body insisted on betraying him. His eyes kept wandering to Adeline’s naked ankles, causing him to envision her long, bare legs. His hand kept stroking her shoulder, inciting him to want to
touch her elsewhere…all over. His nose kept on catching hints of her feminine fragrance, reminding him of all the wonderful ways they were different from one another.

  And his mind… Well, his blasted mind was worst of all. Because his mind kept on offering up reminders of the happy times he and Adeline had spent together, talking and picnicking and laughing and reading and joking and holding hands. His mind wanted him to know that Adeline was the woman for him, body and soul and—with no irony at all—mind, too. Beset, Clayton sighed.

  “I’m ‘managing’ because I care for you,” he said honestly. “I respect you. I want to be good to you.” Good just might rightly include making Adeline moan with pleasure, his wickeder instincts volunteered. Clayton had to clench his jaw to keep from giving her a deeper kiss. “This isn’t a game between us. It’s forever. That means I aim to do things right.”

  “Me, too. But I’m tired of waiting.” Adeline shook her head. She aimed a roving glance at his mostly nude form. “Do you have any idea what you do to me? Just knowing you’re bare naked under that tiny quilt has me feeling all kinds of fluttery inside. But do you care about that? No!” Indignantly she jutted her chin upward. “You’re not the only one with feelings, you know.”

  Shocked, Clayton stared at her. “You…want me? Like that?”

  “Yes! I’m not made of castile soap and sunflowers. I’m a woman! A woman who’s been kissing you, and touching you, and seeing entirely more of your body than I ever have before—”

  Clayton blinked, feeling ridiculously proud and unutterably tender toward her, all at once. To know that Adeline sometimes had wicked notions, too—to know that she trusted him enough to tell him so… Well, the realization felt downright liberating.

  “—like your chest, for instance, which is a mighty fine example of a masculine chest, I would say,” Adeline was rambling on, all huffy and flustered, “even though I don’t have much to compare it with, and I keep wanting to touch it—”

  Clayton took her hand. He put her palm on his chest.

  Her mouth made an O. Her eyes widened to twin dark circles.

  Beneath her hand, his skin felt hot. His heartbeat galloped. Feeling breathless and eager, Clayton kissed her.

  “Then touch me,” he said as his mouth came down on hers. Bliss coursed through him as Adeline’s lips met his, as her startled exclamation burst forth, as her fingers flexed against his chest with what seemed to be wholly naive pleasure. “Touch me there. Anywhere. Oh, Adeline! I’m yours. I am.”

  All he’d ever wanted was her. And now, as Adeline opened her mouth to him—as she took his tongue against hers and moaned with the pure enjoyment of that intimate act—Clayton needed her, too. He needed to feel Adeline beside him the same way he needed air to breathe and britches to wear and the earth to hold him upright. If he’d died in that moment, he’d have been happy to meet his Maker…if only to tell the Almighty about his girl.

  His Adeline.

  She made him feel powerful and brave and welcome, and as Clayton brought his mouth to hers again, as he savored the slow, slippery glide of their mouths and tongues, he knew there was nothing more he could ask for…until Adeline started caressing his shoulder with soft, feathery, wonderful feminine touches.

  With a moan, Clayton pressed his next kiss to her neck. She smelled so good. She felt so…good. Insensible and needful, he kissed her again, daring to try the smallest nibble of her earlobe. She gasped and clutched him harder. He did it again.

  “Oh, Clay! You’re wonderful. And you feel so…so nice.”

  Eyes shining, Adeline gazed up at him. Her face was filled with revelation; her cheeks were rosy with heat and vigor and maidenly virtue. As daft as it seemed to him, she looked as though she’d never glimpsed a sight as magical as his bare chest. Only Adeline could have made him feel so necessary to her. So admired. In that instant, Clayton vowed that no matter what happened between them that night, he would do everything he could to make Adeline happy. He would love her in every sense.

  “Kiss me again,” she breathed. “Please. I want you to.”

  Happily he obliged. He gave Adeline everything he could, telling her with his kiss that she was beautiful, that she was special, that she was his, forever after, and that he was beyond lucky because of it. He pressed his cheek against hers, enjoying the mingling of their breath and dreams and futures, then leaned back to gaze into her eyes again. “You’re wondrous. I could kiss you all night, Adeline. But if we don’t stop soon, I—”

  “I want you to love me, Clayton.” Misty-eyed, Adeline looked right back at him. She roamed her hands over his chest, undoubtedly not realizing how enthusiastically she caressed him. “Do you understand what I mean? I want to be with you.”

  At the notion, Clayton felt his body give a passionate leap. There wasn’t a single part of him that didn’t want to be with Adeline—except his well-intentioned, straitlaced mind. It rapidly was being overruled by the rugged, wanton rest of him.

  “I want that, too,” he confessed. Eyes closed, he tried to summon the wherewithal to resist…and failed. “I’ve dreamed of you so many times, Adeline. And now, with you so close—”

  “You’ve dreamed of me?” She appeared delighted.

  “Of course.” He kissed her again…and nearly lost himself in the enthralling union of their mouths. Eventually he came up for breath. “I think of you all the time. I imagine us together. I wonder how you’re doing. I consider what you’re wearing.”

  He gave a devilish eyebrow waggle. Adeline gasped.

  Then, teasingly, she lifted her skirt hem a few inches. “Did you ever consider me without stockings? Like this?”

  “You’d be shocked at what I’ve imagined you wearing.”

  She seemed intrigued. “Like?”

  “Like your corset. Or your drawers. Or…nothing at all.”

  He waited for her to chastise him. Or smack him. Or scream.

  Instead she smiled like a woman with a delightful secret.

  “Meet me upstairs in ten minutes.” With a final lingering look, Adeline caressed him again. Then she turned and flounced bewitchingly away. “Maybe you’ll see…nothing at all!”

  Perched in her narrow bed wearing nothing but her favorite ribbon in her hair, Adeline waited for Clayton to arrive. After a frantic race upstairs and a frenzied, nearly destructive removal of her clothes, she’d spied that ribbon and decided it was exactly the embellishment she needed…exactly the flourish that would appropriately mark the momentous occasion when she and Clayton finally became one in the truest sense of all.

  A rustle at the doorway alerted her to Clayton’s arrival. Like the gentleman he was, he paused just outside. He gave a tiny cough. Full of appreciation for his thoughtfulness, Adeline smiled. She clutched her blankets high. “Please come in.”

  Clayton did. The sight of him there, in the privacy of her bedroom, lent her an illicit thrill. Heart pounding, Adeline gave him a nod. “You’re right on time. I like that.”

  “Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.” Tenderly he gazed at her. He seemed intrigued by her pile of blankets. “Nice ribbon.”

  She swallowed, then touched her hair, newly reminded of her impromptu adornment. “I intend to press it in my scrapbook.” She couldn’t stop staring at his quilt, wishing it were gone. She felt very curious about what lay beneath. “You know. Afterward.”

  “You can put it next to my heart. That’s already yours to keep.” Clayton took a step nearer. “Are you sure about this?”

  The sincerity in his gaze told her all she needed to know. Clayton would stick by her. He would love her. He would be her champion and her ally and her beloved. Warmed by that knowledge, Adeline nodded. “I’ve never been more sure about anything.”

  His smile made her giddy. It looked warm…and rascally.

  He dropped his quilt. “Are you still sure?”

  Riveted, Adeline stared. He was naked under there. Naked!

  She’d known that, of course. She had. She’d all but planned i
t that way. But the idea and the reality…well, they were vastly different in their impacts. Because while she’d often—naughtily—envisioned Clayton in the altogether, her imaginings had always been vaguely…blurred. Likely owing to the fact that she’d never ever seen a real naked man before in all her life.

  But the real Clayton, the right-here-and-right-now Clayton, wasn’t the least bit blurry. No, he was sharp and strong and entirely present, from his fascinating broad shoulders to his long, toned arms, to his wide, hair-sprinkled chest, to his muscular abdomen, to his… Well, to his… She swallowed hard.

  Rapidly Adeline whipped her gaze sideways. She could not quite bring herself to confront that most masculine part of him just yet. Particularly since it looked a bit intimidating. Instead she let her gaze travel down his lean legs to his feet.

  Her eyes insisted on returning to his manhood. Which was understandable, honestly, given how very…arresting it looked.

  “Does that hurt?” she blurted, feeling suddenly concerned. “You’re so…big. It must be uncomfortable to walk around with all that in front of you.” With effort, she lifted her gaze to his face—which appeared both love-struck and, somehow, uniquely pleased. “However do you fit everything in your trousers?”

  A smile. “I manage. So…are you sure, Addy?”

  Addy. She loved it when he called her that. Drawing in a deep breath, Adeline cast his nether regions another speculative glance. She knew approximately what was meant to happen between them. But the particulars escaped her. “Do you know what to do?”

  “I feel certain inspiration will take hold, the moment I’m in your arms.” His teasing gaze slid over the lumps and bumps of her blankets, then moved to her face. “I want to see you, too.”

  At the thought, a flush suffused her entire body. Her heart pounded. Her palms grew damp against the bedclothes. But Adeline Wilson had never once shirked from her destiny—and that’s what Clayton was to her: her destiny. “That only seems fair.”

  Shakily she lifted her blankets. She slid sideways.