As uncertain now as she was aroused, Mariah gave him a tentative nod. This time when Cain eased himself back between her thighs, he slid down along the damp grooves of her body, carefully slipping back and forth, but making no attempt to penetrate her. Mariah's fingernails dug into his buttocks as her fervor grew, and she spurred him on, her previous doubts forgotten. Higher and higher he urged her to some unnamed peak, until at last her spine arched and she tumbled over the precipice, bucking and twisting against Cain's groin.
As the surprising spasms shooting through her body began to subside, Mariah sucked in her breath and let it out in a long, satisfied sigh. Chuckling softly to herself, she glanced into Cain's eyes, gauging his reaction to her uncivilized responses. She saw no hint of censure in his eyes, but instead, a crooked grin. Returning that grin, though hers was more shy than sensual, Mariah whispered, "I don't know why I was so, you know, nervous. That was absolutely the most wonderful thing that's ever happened to me."
"That," he pointed out, "was just the beginning."
It was then Mariah noticed that other than the crooked grin, Cain's features were rigid and intense, reflecting none of her newfound feelings of satisfaction and contentment. She moved her hands along his body, discovering that everywhere she touched, he was rock-hard; not just the part of him that remained sandwiched between her legs, but hard from his shoulders, to his arms, to his thighs and buttocks. Every square inch of Cain seemed to be made of steel.
Before she knew what he was up to, he took her bottom into his hands, shifted his hips, and gently pushed against her. Mariah stiffened against the onslaught, but Cain continued to work his way inside of her, murmuring words of encouragement against her hair, angling himself one, two, three different ways in each new attempt to break down the walls that stood between him and complete, utter possession of her.
Finally, when she thought she could no longer stand it, with one resolute thrust the final barrier suddenly gave way. Cain drove deep inside of her, filling her so completely, Mariah wasn't sure she would survive. She was trapped beneath a prison of solid muscle, a willing captive perhaps, but a captive, nonetheless.
Firmly embedded in Mariah, Cain forced himself to remain still, shuddering slightly as he said in a voice gritty with emotion, "You feel so, so—" Again he shuddered. "You're mine now," he said, nostrils flaring, breathing rapid. "Do you understand what that means? You're mine."
Before she could answer, he came down on her mouth, the kiss more a primal branding than anything else. And then Cain began to move again, slowly at first, thrusting his hips against hers, driving in and out of her with that rigid, steel-like shaft; yet incredibly enough, instead of pain, she felt herself responding all over again.
He was flame and she was fuel, made to be swept up, engulfed, and then consumed by this man's passion. He drove her upward and onward, climbing those same high peaks again, and then, incredibly enough, beyond them to newer, more rewarding heights. Pleasure mushroomed inside of her, radiating an exquisite satisfaction throughout her entire body as Cain's thrusts grew in intensity and speed. Then she was lost, incinerated in a mad rush of passion, her cries merging with his groans into one grand proclamation.
Later, as Mariah swam through the maze of pulsating pleasure, she discovered that she was truly lost, profoundly affected by what she'd given up of herself—and even more by what she'd gained. She'd never thought of human copulation as anything but an act, a mere meeting of bodies seeking gratification, but now she knew it to be a much deeper experience than mere physical pleasure. She felt inexorably tied to Cain, and knew without question that she would feel that way for the rest of her life.
They were still joined below the waist, his arms wrapped protectively around her, his head buried in the pillow beside her. His breathing was labored and uneven, his skin damp to the touch, and all because of her. Because of what Cain Law felt for her.
Would Morgan Slater feel the same way? she suddenly wondered, her thoughts returning to the reason she'd come to his room in the first place. How could she possibly risk giving all this up now by even hinting at his true identity? He might became so angry at the way she'd used and tricked him that his anger couldn't be cooled, and God help her then.
A sudden memory of the woman pictured in his watchcase flashed into Mariah's mind. How convenient of her, she thought, berating herself, to have forgotten that woman until now; especially should she turn out to be Slater's wife as Zack had suggested. Mariah shuddered at the thought, and at the prospect of how Cain would react if that were the case. As Morgan Slater he would never forgive her for tricking him, or for the intimacies they'd just shared. She'd lose him forever. Mariah's lip quivered, and in spite of her struggles against them, the tears began to fall.
It was a long time before Cain recognized those faraway sounds for what they were: weeping. He was in a fog of passion, basking in a new and utterly satisfying realization. He had no actual memory of love- making in the past, even though he knew instinctively that he'd done this before at least several times over, and probably with many different women. But he needed no clear memories of the past to realize that he'd never made love with such savage abandon before, or with such intense pleasure.
Mariah was without question the perfect complement to him. In spite of the fact that nothing had changed where his memory was concerned, he felt whole again for the first time since he'd awakened on that muddy road with no recollection of who he was.
When Mariah's soft sobs finally did reach his ears, Cain lifted his head from the pillow and gazed down on her. "Oh, princess," he whispered, his heart breaking. "I never meant to hurt you. You have to believe that I didn't want to hurt you, but I only did what had to be done. If there had been any other way, if I could have—"
"It's not that," she said. "Honest, it isn't. It did hurt at first, and it was more... violent than I thought it'd be, but I'm all right now."
He licked the moisture from her cheeks. "If you're all right, then why the tears?"
Both happy and sad, enraptured but frightened, Mariah's throat ached, making it difficult for her to speak. "I—I guess because everything is so surprising, so new, and so... Is it always like this between a man and a woman? So intense and, well, wonderful?"
Cain considered the question a moment, and then shook his head. "I honestly don't know, princess. I just know that it's never been like that for me before."
"But how can you know for sure when you can't even remember your life past two months ago?"
"I just know." He traced the curve of her cheek with his fingertip. "You'll have to trust me on this, but I know."
Suddenly feeling shy, and on the verge of tears again, Mariah turned away from Cain and rolled onto her side. He immediately fit himself against her body, from the nape of her neck to her bottom and down to her toes, and then wrapped his arms around her and laid his head upon the thick blanket of her hair. As she snuggled deeper into his embrace, Mariah glanced over to the doorway and saw that Daisy was curled on her pillow, sound asleep. The soft rhythm of the little dog's snoring suddenly filled the otherwise quiet room.
Chuckling to herself, Mariah said, "I think Daisy has just run out of questions for you."
Cain lifted his head enough to see into the corner. "It's just lucky for her she's cute as the dickens and of some use to the show, or I'd run her out of this room."
For Mariah, Daisy's worth was the unconditional love she offered. Whether she ever "danced" along with Princess Tanacoa again was inconsequential.
Frowning, she said, '"Lucky for her? Some use to the show? What do you mean by that?"
Shrugging, Cain ran his fingers through her hair, loving the feel of it, the smell. "Just that all animals should be of some practical use. I always wanted a dog when I was a kid, but my old man wouldn't let me have one, no matter how hard I begged." Mariah stiffened in his embrace, but Cain went on, unaware that he was speaking of a past they both had thought was lost to him. "My mother died when I was born, and
I guess my old man thought he had to raise me twice as hard to make up for the loss. He had a rule about the kind of animals we were allowed to have on the farm. Every animal had to be productive in some way and capable of earning its keep. In other words, if it could plow a field, pull a wagon, or fill our bellies at night, we could own it. Otherwise..."
The words drifted off with his thoughts as Cain's memory suddenly filled with images of his father. The first impression that came to him was a face vague and watery, with no identifying features. The man's name didn't accompany this memory, nor was the background of a barn with its surrounding fields distinct enough to identify, but he was sure that he'd lived on this farm during some period of his life, with the man whose face was slowly coming into focus.
His features were bold, this nameless father of his, the general shape of his face oblong, but the remarkable thing about him was the absence of curves. All his features seemed chiseled in straight lines and sharp angles. Even his hair, bright orange in color, grew straight up from the top of his forehead, broomlike in appearance. His father. And beside him, Cain was begging for the privilege of owning a dog, a useless plea to a man who had no use for anything frivolous or intangible. Not even love.
Cain sighed, gaining just a bit of insight into himself, understanding better why he had so much difficulty naming the emotions burgeoning in his chest for Mariah, and even why he had such mixed feelings for little Daisy. The dog had been the first to worm her way into his heart after the accident, yet he'd been reluctant to so much as touch her in the beginning. Now he knew why.
"Did you hear what I just said?" He was in shock, struck by the significance of the revelations. "I remembered something from my childhood, and I know what my father looks like."
Mariah had heard all right. Her heart hadn't beat once since he'd first uttered the words "my old man." She was just glad that he couldn't see the fear in her eyes as she swallowed hard and said, "I heard you. It made me kind of feel sad. A dog shouldn't be lumped in with farm animals. A dog is someone to love, and someone who'll love you back..." She paused a moment, thinking of the depth of her deception where Cain was concerned, and then quickly added, "No matter what you do or how you may have wronged them."
He shrugged. "I wouldn't know about that. I never was able to persuade my father to let me have a pet."
"I've always had a dog to love. Daisy's been with me for seven years now. Before her, I had a big yellow Labrador mix who used to drag me around by the diapers. He was a hell-raising dog, always into something or tearing something to shreds, so we named him—" She cut herself off before she said the name, Cain, and began to laugh. Once she started, she couldn't seem to stop.
Cain, who couldn't see Mariah's face or even begin to fathom what had set her off, tapped her shoulder. "What's so damn funny?"
She doubled over at his words, her laughter nearly hysterical, and inadvertently rubbed her bottom against Cain's groin. Suddenly, memories, dogs, and the past were of no concern to either of them. Mariah's chuckles faded and quickly turned to sighs as she became aware of an insistent pressure prodding her from behind. Those sighs became moans when Cain's hands slid down her belly to the apex of her thighs. By the time he rolled her over onto her back and fit himself between her legs, Mariah's past was as blank as his. And Cain was a name that belonged only to her man.
After that they dozed off, sleeping in each other's arms for nearly two hours, and as he awakened, Cain's vague memories of his red-haired, practical father prompted thoughts of Zack and a few of the things Mariah had said in haste down at the river. He shook her lightly to awaken her, and asked, "When you first came here tonight you only mentioned Oda. Did the other thing you wanted to talk about have something to do with your father?"
Mariah yawned, stretching languidly against the warm flannel sheet as she said, "Things are fine with me and Zack. He's the only father I've ever had, or wanted."
Cain kissed her forehead, and then because he couldn't resist them, her swollen lips. "And it doesn't bother you that you don't know your real father?"
Clinging to his beard, Mariah took the time to kiss him back, responding with an amount of vigor equal to his before she answered him. "A 'real' father need only meet two requirements as far as I'm concerned. He must love me, and be there to protect me. Zack has never failed me in either way."
Although he was deeply touched by Mariah's declaration, Cain felt a disturbance deep in his gut, a definite rumbling from that malignant dragon within. Something in her words, something about fathers and their children, about love and being there for them, collided inside him, filling him with dread and more than a little twinge of sadness. Of all the things his father taught him, he knew instinctively that loving wasn't one of them. Perhaps that was the memory which prompted these uneasy feelings. Cain held Mariah tighter, closer.
Far too immersed in the pleasures of the present to allow the past to burden him further this night, he shook all those troublesome sensations aside and cupped one of Mariah's breasts in his hand. "What do you think Zack, and even Oda, are going to think about this?" He squeezed, pinching her nipple lightly. "If you recall, they did go out of their way to make sure this sort of thing wouldn't happen, by lying to me about our 'blood' relationship."
Mariah smiled up at him, so in love at that moment, she thought her heart would burst. "I think it'd be best if we didn't tell Zack and Oda about us just now." Feeling bolder than she ever imagined she would, Mariah reached down beneath the sheets. Finding what she sought, and finding it firm and throbbing, she filled her palm with it, and said in a low voice, "A thing like this belongs between us and no one else."
Cain sucked in his breath, unable to speak for a moment, and then let it out through a groan. "A thing like that belongs between something all right. Would you like me to show you where?"
Chapter 12
The following night at about eleven, with Daisy tucked into her arms, Mariah crept down the hallway to Cain's room. Everything had been going smoothly. Her plan to keep Cain in the dark about his real identity was working, up to and including keeping him away from the newspaper article about the Doolittle Gang.
Earlier that evening, Mariah had given Artemis the nineteen dollars Cain had returned to her, and then her "partner in crime," as she'd come to think of the young man, bought every copy of the Durango Herald the minute they arrived back at the hotel. After that, he fled into the night to dispose of them down in poverty flats. Cain, apparently not too disappointed he'd missed buying his nightly copy, decided to go to his room to rest rather than search any farther than the lobby for a newspaper.
Smiling as she realized how much she had to do with his state of exhaustion, Mariah knocked softly at Cain's door. When it opened, she said, "It's Daisy again. She misses you, and thought of a few more things she'd like to talk to you about."
With a husky chuckle, Cain swung the door wide. "Do come in. I was just thinking about how much I miss her."
At just after ten the next night, Mariah hurried down the hallway again, this time sans dog. As she reached up to knock on Cain's door, it suddenly opened. He stood in the entryway, nude from the waist up.
"What took you so long?" he asked thickly.
Her eyes twinkling with mirth, Mariah batted her lashes and said, "I only stopped by to say good night. I've decided to stay in my own room this evening and maybe get a little rest. I've been kind of tired lately, and—"
"Get in here." Cain took her by the hand and pulled her into his room. Then he kicked the door shut behind them.
Down the hall a few feet, the door to room 223 softly clicked to a close at almost the exact same moment.
* * *
The Penny family prided themselves on the manner in which they manufactured their medicines, taking special care to always use the freshest, most authentic ingredients available. Even their own brand of wizard oil was made largely from its working properties: camphor, ammonia, chloroform, sassafras, cloves, and turpentine. Many of th
eir contemporaries made wizard oil with up to seventy percent alcohol as its main ingredient, but the Pennys added just enough for preservation. As for the other medicines, nothing but pure mineral water would do as the base liquid for these recipes.
Although their travels took them to almost every corner of the Southwest, no matter which route they chose to follow each year the Pennys always began their show season in the town of Pagosa Springs. There the family not only manufactured as much medicine as they could carry, but filled two large barrels from the geysers which bubbled over near the bathhouses in the little town. They occasionally sold this mineral water as is, but more often than not, they kept it in reserve to use in replenishing their supply of elixirs.
Now that their stay in Durango was almost at an end, one barrel of mineral water was empty, and the second was just over half-full. This afternoon, two days before they would board the train to Silverton, was not a show day, but a time to refill the water barrels at Trimble Springs, a fashionable hot springs resort some nine miles north of town.
Mariah, in particular, was looking forward to a visit to Trimble Springs, for the family usually stopped in long enough for each of them to take a soothing hot mineral bath. After three consecutive nights in Cain's bed, parts of her felt almost raw, while others ached from her unusual exertions. Smiling to herself as she recalled the events that had given her such an assortment of aches and pains, Mariah tightened the rope which secured the water barrels in the supply cart and then walked to the back of the medicine wagon.
"Need any help in there?" she said.
Zack appeared at the back door, and then carefully made his way down the stairs. "Got her all buttoned up, baby. Is the supply cart ready to go?"
Mariah nodded, watching as Oda stepped from the back of the wagon and plodded down the stairs after her husband. Then she said, "All that's left is hitching up the mules. Where's Cain? I thought that was supposed to be his job."
Tin-Stars and Troublemakers Box Set (Four Complete Historical Western Romance Novels in One) Page 85