Riley kissed the tip of her nose and chuckled. “It might hurt.”
Glory opened her eyes and poked out her bottom lip. “It hurts now. Do something.”
Riley laughed out loud. Glory felt his belly laugh against her own abdomen. His muscles contracted and rippled over her softness. “Yes, ma’am. I aim to please.”
With that, he began sliding himself inside her. Glory gasped, tensing. Riley stopped, looked deep into her eyes. “This is what you want, honey. This is what you’re asking me to do. It’ll make the hurt go away.”
Glory blinked, felt dangerously close to tears, even closer to telling him no. She shook her head. Riley again soothed and aroused her with his whispered words in her ear, with his hot and trailing kisses down her neck. The tingling sensations he produced in her … so much lower down caused her to buck against him and tighten her muscles. Riley groaned, tensed … and slid in a little more. “You’re so tight, baby. So wet inside.”
Glory sucked in a breath—and Riley buried himself inside her. Glory went rigid, her eyes wide open, staring at the clear blue sky above them. It hurt. It hurt a lot. But she refused to whimper, to cry out. Instead, she bit down on her lip, felt certain she tasted her own blood. Riley looked down at her, seemed to understand. “It will never hurt again, sweetheart. Only good things now. You’ll feel only the good things. I swear it.”
Bravely, tearfully, Glory nodded, willed her chin to stop quivering. Riley placed a tender kiss there, rubbed his thumb over the dimpling flesh. “Don’t cry. Just love me.”
Glory wrapped her arms around his neck, mimicking her legs around his hips. “I do, Riley. Show me how.”
And then Riley showed her. He rocked his hips against hers, using long, slow strokes that seemed to have a clutching end, a spur of hot, hot intensity at the end of each one, before retreating … only to do it again. After only a moment of this, Glory could take no more. She answered him in kind, moving under him, arching into him, until he made a guttural sound and picked up the pace to an excruciatingly agonizing one that wound Glory tighter and tighter, until she felt certain she would burst with wanting him.
And then, she broke, flowering into a shudder of ripples that paralyzed her in position, that threw her head back, and brought forth a sound from her that she’d never made before, a sound driven from her soul to echo in the cool November air all about them. Riley drove relentlessly into her, only increasing her pleasure, only killing her more and more … until he too went rigid over her. Until he too cried out and froze, poised above her. For an eternity.
Slowly, the shuddering ripples between them subsided. Brought them back to earth. Finally, Riley released himself from his position and collapsed atop her. Glory welcomed his sheltering weight, reveled in the feel of his warm, slick body atop hers. Knew then that she was on this Earth to love this man. She loosened her grip on his neck and his hips, felt limp with pleasure, fulfilled with his loving. “I never … knew, Riley. Never.”
He dragged himself up on an elbow and grinned down at her. Glory’s heart tripped over itself at the picture of male satiation he made. His face a heightened color, his teeth so white in his grin, a lock of black hair trailing over his forehead, his dark eyes dancing. “I know,” he said.
Suddenly overwhelmed with the enormity of what she—they—had just done, with what had passed between them, the terrible intimacy, Glory turned her face away from his.
But Riley would have none of that. He gently tugged on her chin until she was forced to look up into his face. “Hey, you, I love you. What we did is good and right. Don’t you go being ashamed.”
“I’m not. I just—We’re not—Oh, Riley, I’m getting cold.”
The look he gave her told her plainly enough that he knew there was more to her feelings than what she’d admit. But he didn’t press her. “All right.”
With that, he slipped out of her and then off her. The sudden rush of cold air between their bodies brought home to Glory, more than anything else, the finality of their act. She was no longer an innocent. She’d just been initiated into womanhood. There was no going back. Only forward.
Riley stood up, perfectly at ease with his nudity. Glory’s breath caught in her throat, her cheeks burned. He was … such a man. A glorious man, from his broad shoulders and tapering waist, to his muscled hips and down his long legs. And he was hers. A sudden stab of ownership, of possessiveness, entered Glory’s heart. Riley Thorne was hers.
Just then, he leaned over her, held a hand out to her. Glory took it without hesitation, allowing him to bring her to her feet. He pulled her into his arms, holding her as close to his warmth as he could. Glory held him full-length to her, felt fulfilled by how perfectly they fit together in each other’s arms. She closed her eyes. If only they could stay like this forever. But in only moments, the coldness of the afternoon skies forced her away from the comfort of Riley’s arms. He looked down at her. “We better get dressed. You’re a long way from home yet.”
Feeling strangely out of place, out of time, Glory nodded and stepped away. Turning, flinching in surprise at the soreness in her muscles, she sought her underthings. Spying them tangled at the foot of their bed of clothing, Glory squatted down to retrieve them. And gave a startled gasp at what she saw smeared on her thigh. “Riley, there’s blood. I think we did something wrong.”
Just then skinning into his combination suit, Riley stopped and stared at her. A slow grin spread over his face. “No, darling, we did everything right. There’s always a little blood the first time.”
“There is?” Then, Glory tilted her head questioningly at him. “How come you know so much about … these things? Who—? I mean, where did you—?”
Riley cleared his throat, looked everywhere but at her, and hurriedly stretched into his underdrawers, buttoning the one-piece suit up as he went. “Let’s just say I misspent my trips up into the Kansas cattle towns—and leave it at that, shall we?”
Glory jerked her head down, stared at her coarse brown skirt and white blouse atop Riley’s saddle coat, blinking through the white-hot tears of absolute embarrassment that reminded her she was squatting there as naked as the day she was born. Riley’s done this with other women. That knowledge hurt to the bone, made her angry. Quickly she gathered up her clothes, donning her chemise and blouse and skirt with more ferocity than was called for.
Riley didn’t say anything else. And it was just as well, she decided. Only when she was fully dressed, down to her stockings, lace-up boots, and the sheepskin coat, did she look over at him. He was dressed too, and reaching for his duster. That same streak of possessiveness fisted Glory’s hands. “I don’t want you doing that ever again.”
Riley froze, but then straightened up slowly, shooting her a look of wariness. His knuckles, clutched around his coat, were white. “Do what?”
“This.” Glory pointed to the ground where they’d just lain together. “With any other woman but me. Ever. Promise me.”
Riley’s mouth worked—Glory suspected around a grin. And she knew he’d better not. Lucky for him, he didn’t. Getting appropriately sober, he nodded. “I promise. I’ll only make love with you.”
Make love. Glory liked the sound of that, but she wasn’t through with him. “For the rest of your life.”
Riley darned near lost his battle with that grin. “For the rest of my life. Or how about just yours, in case you die before me?”
Glory stiffened. Then with a shriek, she launched herself at him. But he caught her handily under her arms and spun her around and around. This time, Glory’s shriek was one of dizzy laughter. Finally Riley lowered her to her feet and held her against him. With her cheek pressed against his shirt’s button, with her arms around his broad back, and warmed by his love, Glory felt all things were possible. Even a Lawless loving a Thorne.
* * *
Riley watched Glory ride away from him. Well, he’d lost that argument. Here he stood while she rode for home. He still felt the need to accompany her as far as
shouting distance of the Lawless main house, just so he could know she was safe. But no, she’d shown him her pocket pistol and said she’d be fine—after all, she was on Lawless land. The pointed look she’d given him with those words made her position clear. So here he stood, alone with his horse and his guilt.
Guilt was a terrible thing. Weighed a man down. Again, he saw her as she’d looked only moments ago. Her sobering expression as she sat mounted on Daisy and looking down at him. The consequences were beginning to set in, he could tell. Second thoughts. Maybe even regret. Doubt, probably.
Riley slumped, shaking his head. Why in the hell had he allowed their lovemaking to happen? Before this afternoon, before he’d ever tasted her sweetness, he might have been able to keep his distance, to live his life without her. In the long run, that’s what she wanted. She hated that she loved him. She’d as much as said it—today and every other day.
But now? Well, for one thing, he wanted to kick his own butt for thinking with the wrong head. But beyond that, now that he’d known her, had claimed her as his own, his life was going to be pure hell. Because he’d never let her go. Riley quirked a grin. He couldn’t let her go—he’d promised not to make love to any other woman except her ever again. And he wasn’t about to give up lovemaking.
A sober voice in his head reminded him that there was nothing funny about this situation. Riley’s grin faded with his next thought. As much as he loved Glory, as soul-satisfying as the experience had been, why had he made love to her? Afraid of the real answer, afraid he’d hear that voice saying it was for all the wrong reasons, that it only made things worse—which he already knew, even if Glory, in her innocence—didn’t, Riley turned his back on his conscience and sought out Pride. May as well get home myself. I can’t set her world to rights, but I can deal with my own kin.
Feeling the tug of two worlds, of two loyalties, and thinking if he was smart, he’d ride away from them both, Riley spied his horse grazing in the shallow ditch, the same one where Glory had tossed his father’s sign. Shaking his head, Riley whistled, caught the gray gelding’s attention. Pride raised his head, ears pricked forward, and stared. Riley put his hands to his waist and called out, “Just come here. I don’t need any looks from you.”
Pride bared his big teeth and neighed his opinion of that, even as he plodded toward Riley, who felt compelled to mutter, “Yeah, I know. What else can I do to you—I’ve already gelded you. And the more Glory thinks about what just happened here, the more likely I am to join you.”
* * *
Later that afternoon, with her home in sight, Glory reined in Daisy atop the very hill from which she’d last seen Jacey. Sitting there, aching from the unaccustomed activity with Riley and then this bruising ride home, she stared down on the Lawless stronghold. So, this is what Jacey saw right before she rode away. Glory swept her gaze across the bustling expanse of her family’s home. Men going in and out of the barn, some leading horses, some toting their saddles. A stray kitten and a strutting rooster roamed the dirt-packed yard.
Fearing her heart would burst with the rush of love and with the compelling sense of ownership for all that she saw, Glory took a deep breath in and exhaled, feeling gripped suddenly by the fear that she was losing it all. The big, two-storied main house, the wagon yard, the barns, the grazing lands, the cattle. The family cemetery out back.
It seemed to her, sitting there astride Daisy, that time rushed forward, leaving her facedown in its path. As if all this land, these people she loved, were beyond her grasp. How could she ever keep it all together? Surely, loving Riley Thorne was a betrayal of all that Mama and Papa had built here, all that they stood for. No one need tell her there would be consequences.
Raising a hand to cover her mouth, Glory closed her eyes, squeezing them shut against the images of herself moving against Riley, against the images of the land spread out now below her, against the images of her sisters’ faces as they’d made their blood pact to avenge their parents’ murders. Feeling suddenly ill, she opened her eyes and moved her hand to her stomach as she took another deep breath to calm herself.
She was feeling these things today, she tried to convince herself, because of making love with Riley. Making love. What gave her the right to be out making love—with Riley Thorne, no less? Well, it was too late for that. She was changed now. Forever. A woman like she’d never been before. And of course she shouldn’t be surprised that such a life-changing event would make a mishmash of her thoughts and her tummy.
It was that, and nothing else. But she didn’t believe it, even as she thought it. Even as she urged Daisy down the hill’s slope, even as she saw the men posted at the gate come to attention when they spotted her. Even as she felt the tears spilling over her lashes and running down her cheeks. She’d betrayed her family. And her inheritance.
Glory just didn’t see how anything worse, in the whole rest of her life, could ever happen to her. Nothing she could ever do or learn or experience could be worse than this sense of betrayal of her family. She loved a Thorne—Papa’s worst enemy. Glory hung her head. She didn’t deserve to bear the name of Lawless.
Chapter 14
It’s been two days now since Glory’s taken to her bed, Biddy reflected as she grabbed up her shawl, knotted it over her bosom, and headed for the door at the back of the kitchen, Enough is enough. Taking the porch’s wooden steps one at a time, tempering her determination with her bulk, she looked this way and that about the dirt-brown, wind-gusted yard. No Smiley Rankin.
Why could a man never be about when you needed him? At any other time, he was underfoot. Holding a stray wisp of gray hair out of her eyes, she pursed her lips. Perhaps he’d be in his office. Heading in that direction, her fear for her baby’s state of mind forcing a frown to her face, Biddy fumed anew over Glory’s traipsing over to the Thorne place and them sending her packing. Why, the girl’s will to live threatened to drain right out with her tears. The nanny’s worried thoughts carried her to the foreman’s office door, which she wrenched open.
Inside, Smiley sat bent over some bit of leather he worked with a nasty-looking tool. His head popped up when Biddy breezed in. She barely hid her moment of pleasure at the heightened color that stained the man’s cheeks and at how he jumped up, dropping his work and swallowing hard, when he saw her. Dragging a hand over his balding head, as if to straighten hair no longer residing there, he stammered out, “Miz Biddy. I’m right pleased to see you … ma’am.”
Biddy caught herself already in a girlish simper and put a hand to her fluttering heart. “Mr. Rankin. Am I interruptin’ ye? I’ve a matter of some importance to speak with ye about, if I may.”
“My time is yours.” With that, Smiley rushed around the desk, banging his thigh against an edge, grimacing and limping now, but managing to drag a chair out from under its pile of papers and bridles and over to the desk for her. He ripped his bandanna out of his pocket and dusted the seat, and then gestured for her to be seated. “If you’ve a mind to set a spell, I’d be most pleased.”
As if a grand lady in a ballroom, Biddy ducked her chin in acceptance of his invitation and flounced herself over to the chair. She perched her weight delicately on its edge. After carefully arranging her everyday coarse skirt into attractive folds about herself, she folded her plump, age-spotted hands in her ample lap. And waited for Mr. Rankin to sit again in his chair and give her his attention. Only then did she broach her subject. Taking a deep breath, she delved in. “I’ve come to speak with ye regarding my Glory. Only she’s not really Glory, as we both know. Nor is she a Lawless.”
Smiley stilled, put a big-knuckled hand to his chin, and rubbed it while he eyed her. “That’s a pretty bald statement of affairs, Miss Biddy.”
“I know. ’Tis the way of things, though. We’ll not be able to keep the truth at bay much longer, I’m afraid.”
Smiley shook his head. “You’re right. I was afraid it would come to this. I think I knew the minute Rooster McGinty’s boy rode up with that pac
ket from Jacey.” He firmed his lips together and raised a bushy eyebrow. “You going to tell me what he brought?”
Biddy sighed. “Nothing less than Glory’s real mother’s own letters and her journal. Some Mexican gentleman—”
“Glory’s real mother’s journal?” Smiley’s mouth dropped open to a perfect O. “Great jumping Jehoshaphat.”
Biddy nodded. “Aye. Some Mexican gentleman in Arizona had them all these years. That McGinty boy said J. C. himself asked the man to keep them. But he gave them to Jacey, and either he knew the truth, or Jacey—that one’s smart as a whip—figured it on her own. But not a word of explanation from her to Glory about the what or the why of the packet. I fainted clean away when I saw Laura Parker’s name signed to a letter.”
“You didn’t tell Glory right then?”
Biddy primmed her lips together. “I just said I fainted clean away. When I came to, she was of a mind to leave for the Thorne place. And since she’s gotten back, she’s been in her room and crying. And won’t talk to a soul. So, when was I supposed to tell her?”
Smiley appeared to study this, centering his gaze just to Biddy’s right. After a quiet moment, he focused on her. “Yer right. You never got a chance.” Then he snapped his fingers and pointed at her. “Wait a minute. There’s yer answer. Jacey meant for Glory to figure it out on her own. So let her.”
“Ye suppose? Just let her? Where’s the good in that?”
“Well, think about it, Miz Biddy—if you tell her who that Laura Parker is, and then tell her we’ve known all along that she’s not any blood kin to the Lawlesses, just how do you think she’s liable to feel toward you? And me?”
Biddy bit at her bottom lip as she met Smiley’s serious gaze. Then she sighed. “Yer right—she’d hate us for sure. But she will, anyways, once she figures it out on her own … if she ever does. So what’s the difference if I tell her meself or let her reason it out?”
Looking unsettled, Smiley ran his big-knuckled hand over his beard-stubbled jaw. “I see yer point. Do you want me to help you tell her? I will.”
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