by Caroline Lee
“Finnie?” Cinco was looking worried. “You’re going to say yes, right? If you marry Quint, like for real, then we could be a real family.”
She couldn’t help her smile, her heart was so full. “A real family? Is that what you want?”
He nodded solemnly. “More than anything in the whole wide world. It’s what I prayed for on Christmas, you know.”
It was such a simple prayer, but so perfect.
“I love you, Cinco,” she whispered.
“Love you too, Finnie,” he replied. Then he shifted his gaze to Quint. “I love you too.”
His whisper was rough. “And I love you, son.”
Son.
He’d been calling Cinco that for weeks, but for the first time, it was a very real possibility. Finnie felt as if she were soaring, so light did she feel. Or maybe it was the exhaustion. Either way, she knew her giggle wasn’t called for, but couldn’t seem to stop it.
Quint smiled in return. “So what do you say, Finnie? Wanna make Cinco’s prayer come true? Will you marry me?”
She nodded and tightened her hold on Cinco’s shoulders. “I’d like nothing more. Three of a kind?”
Cinco nodded eagerly. “Three of a kind! That’s us!”
Quint pulled them both closer, his grin full of joy as he agreed. “Three of a kind.”
Epilogue
Breathless, Finnie watched Quint lock the door to her—their—bedroom. The wedding that morning had been a simple affair, but the luncheon after had been raucous and fun. And now, they had hours before she had to open the saloon for business, and she had some clear ideas how to spend that time.
She’d been thinking of little else since he'd proposed after all.
Quint turned, but leaned against the door as he unbuttoned his fancy black waistcoat. Her eyes hungrily watched, thinking how fine he looked.
But his fingers stilled, and she dragged her eyes back up to his face to find him grinning mischievously.
“Well, Mrs. Diamon?”
Mrs. Diamon.
She wasn’t Miss Finnie anymore; she was married to a US Marshal. Her breath escaped in a whoosh, and she had to chuckle.
“I like the way it sounds,” she admitted.
His grin grew. “Me too.” When he straightened, he began to remove his jacket.
She swallowed, her eyes following each move as he took the time to hang up his jacket and waistcoat, until he was standing there in just his pristine white shirt.
Nervous now, she shook out her hands, which suddenly seemed a bit sweaty, and watched him raise a brow in challenge.
“Do you want to take it slow, Finnie?” he asked in that deliciously low voice of his.
“No!” she blurted, then flushed. “No, I don’t.” Her chin went out and her shoulders went back. “In fact…” Determined to prove what she meant, she reached for the buttons at the neck of her blouse.
He burst into chuckles and crossed the room. With his help, soon her blouse—a frilly, feminine affair she never thought she’d own—was hanging loose around her shoulders, and her skin blazed from his kisses.
“Quint,” she moaned, tilting her head to one side, her eyes closed.
He hummed against her skin and planted another kiss below her ear.
“Quint,” she gasped more forcefully, wriggling a little to try to alleviate the ache between her legs. “Please.”
Her new husband straightened, which pressed his body against hers. Her eyes flew open when she realized, since they were of the same height, the most intimate part of herself cupped something intriguingly masculine.
His eyes were always dark, but this afternoon, the pupils were dilated with passion. Despite her own yearning, Finnie felt strangely proud she’d been able to bring a man to this point. Her hand lifted to rest against his cheek, marveling at this good, honorable, lovable man who somehow desired her.
“I don’t know how I got so lucky.”
His lips twitched. “You were the only one who’d offer me a room, as I recall. Then you lost sleep, caring for me when I was shot.”
“From the moment I saw you, I knew I wanted you. I was standing in the crowd with Regina, and you’d just ridden into town on that fine horse of yours and were meeting McNelis’ hatred with such dignity…” She shook her head a little. “I knew then and there you were a remarkable man I wanted to know.”
“Oh, is that why you offered me the room next to yours?” A teasing light glittered in his eyes.
“I kept hoping something like this would happen,” she confessed.
His brows went up. “You wanted me to marry you?”
“No! I mean, yes, of course.” Her hand dropped to his neck as she giggled nervously. “I mean, I didn’t want to marry you, not back then. But I wouldn’t have minded if you’d locked yourself in my room—with me in it—and taken off your jacket and kissed me senseless.”
His expression melted into a lazy grin. “Senseless, huh? Well then, I suppose I should tell you I’ve been looking forward to kissing you senseless all day.”
A little self-conscious now, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve never felt as pretty as I did this morning. I need to thank Abigail for—”
“We need to thank her for keeping Cinco until tomorrow, is what we need to do,” Quint interrupted and corrected her, reaching for the pins in the fancy coiffure the schoolteacher had arranged. “Because, yeah, you’re beautiful today, but it’s not the prettiest you’ve ever been.”
Finnie was well aware she was not beautiful. She was large and ungainly, and had spent the last months masquerading as a man, for goodness’ sake!
But at that moment, with Quint’s large fingers running through each strand of hair as he loosened and draped them down her back, she felt pretty.
“What—what do you mean?” she stammered, distracted by the sensual movements of his hands.
“I mean, dear wife, that you are beautiful right now, but it’s not Abigail’s doing. You were just as pretty on Christmas Eve, when we played cards with Cinco. Just as pretty the morning we taught him how to shoot.”
“I was wearing your boots then,” she whispered. “And my pa’s old coat. And my back was sore from shoveling.”
“And you were still grinning and laughing and teasing. That’s what made you beautiful, Finnie.”
Then he leaned forward and placed another kiss on her neck. “Hmm. And the rosewater. That’s how I’ll think of you now, you know. No matter what you’re wearing, I’m going to remember the scent of rosewater on your skin.”
That delightful ache was building again in the center of her. She wanted to surge forward, to press against him. Instead, she shifted her weight and swallowed a moan. “No matter what I’m…”
“Wearing,” he supplied helpfully, switching his attention to the other side of her neck. He murmured against her skin, “That’s how I knew it was you, that night the Black Ace fell into my arms. Rosewater.”
Then he let her go so fast, she would’ve stumbled, but all within a few quick seconds, he’d reached for the tail of his shirt, pulled it over his head, and had her in his arms once more. She sucked in a breath, both from surprise and sheer delight.
Had she thought he was gorgeous before, with that urbane grin and confident poise? Well, he was downright delectable now, with his smooth expanse of chest shining in the afternoon sun.
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, delighting in the warm feel of his skin against her palms as she caressed his back.
He made a noise which might’ve been a groan, and pulled her in for another kiss.
They were both panting when they finally pulled apart, but his eyes were surprisingly serious.
“This is it, Finnie. After this, you’ll be my wife in every way.”
She nodded enthusiastically, desperate to show him how proud she was to call herself that. “And you’re my husband.”
“And Cinco is ours, both of ours. We’ll raise him right.”
God, it was
so hard not to press herself against him, to demand he make love to her right away. “And maybe…more babies?”
His grin was slow and perfect, showing off his even white teeth. “A full house, eh? We’ll have to work extra hard on that.”
They’d talked a lot about their future over the last week. With McNelis dead, Quint was acting as the law in Black Aces, and his loyalty would not be to Augustus King. To everyone’s surprise, King hadn’t packed up and moved on yet, but no one knew what his plan was. He still owned part of the land the town was built on, but was it worth it since the mine had dried up?
Some people, like Mr. Gomez, were talking about offering to buy their lots direct, so King could take the money and leave, but it hadn’t happened yet.
And no one knew if Mr. King would even take the offer.
Millard was still alive, but barely, since shots to the stomach were so hard to fix. Mr. Blake had survived one a few years back, thanks to Doc Vickers, and the old man was doing what he could for Millard as well.
And most relevant to Finnie and Quint’s future, the mysterious Black Ace hadn’t been seen again.
King’s control over the town had lessened significantly since so many of his goons had been killed, and rent wasn’t due for another few weeks. It’d be interesting to see what would happen then. All Finnie knew was, the people of Black Aces had risen up together, exactly as she’d always prayed for. They were supporting one another, so her time as the Black Ace was done.
But sometimes, when she closed her eyes, she could still see that other man—whirling and ducking and slashing so gracefully—and prayed their town would have no need for him again.
“Finnie,” Quint said, dragging her back to the present with very little effort. “I love you, and I’m looking forward to this new start, whatever the future will bring.”
Her gaze flicked to the bed. “I can think of something I want it to bring.
”He nodded solemnly, though he couldn’t quite hide the teasing glint in his dark eyes. “Singing Christmas carols together. Teaching Cinco to play chess. Working to ensure the saloon’s success. I’m thinking about learning to cook, so we can expand our supper menu.”
All of that sounded magnificent. But she leaned down and tasted the intriguing spot where his shoulders met his neck. “I was thinking something a little more…intimate.”
In case he hadn’t gotten the hint, she wriggled against him just a little, and was gratified when he sucked in a breath.
He was grinning when he wrapped his arms around her, and in a show of strength, lifted her. They both landed on the bed, laughing and entangled and ready to begin their lives together.
“I love you, Quint,” she gasped out.
He dropped another kiss on her lips, and then, while his hands were busy with the buttons on her skirt, winked. “Happy New Year!”
Okay, Caroline, we know Hart’s days of being the Black Ace are over (re-read Ante Up if you need a refresher!), and Finnie has just officially retired. So who was the caped stranger with the sword? Find out in Wild Card, the conclusion to the Black Aces trilogy!
If you’re looking for some backstory into the town of Black Aces, Montana,
pick up Lucas’s Lady, Verrick’s Vixen and Abigail’s Adventure to find out what you’ve missed…
If you’ve enjoyed Finnie and Quint’s romance, I urge you to friend me on Facebook or follow me on Bookbub. I frequently post fun stories, links to great books, and cute animal pictures.
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As always, big thanks to Alyssa, Sonya and Merry Farmer, to my beta readers and Cohort members, and to my editor CM Wright.
About the Author
Caroline Lee has been reading romance for so long that her fourth-grade teacher used to make her cover her books with paper jackets. But it wasn't until she (mostly) grew up that she realized she could write it too. So she did.
Caroline is living her own little Happily Ever After in NC with her husband, sons, and brand-new daughter, Princess Wiggles. And while she doesn't so much "suffer" from Pittakionophobia as think that all you people who enjoy touching Band-Aids and stickers are the real weirdos, she does adore rodents, and never met a wine she didn't like. Caroline was named Time Magazine's Person of the Year in 2006 (just like everyone else) and is really quite funny in person. Promise.
You can find her at www.CarolineLeeRomance.com.
Other historical westerns by Caroline Lee
Sunset Valley
(Black Aces prequel)
Lucas’s Lady
Verrick’s Vixen
Abigail’s Adventure
Everland Ever After:
A fairy-tale town set in the wilds of the old west!
Little Red (free on all retailers)
Ella
Beauty
The Stepmother
Rapunzelle
Briar Rose
Rose Red
The Mermaid
The Prince’s Pea
The Sweet Cheyenne Quartet:
Love for all seasons in nineteenth-century Wyoming.
A Cheyenne Christmas
A Cheyenne Celebration
A Cheyenne Thanksgiving
A Cheyenne Christmas Homecoming
The Mothers of Sweet Cheyenne
Where They Belong
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