by Piper, Marie
Maybe she had found something new.
That it had only been five days since she’d met Bill among the trees seemed impossible. Somehow the days had stretched an eternity, as if they’d known each other forever. Emma shook the silly notion away. It was the sort of thought a schoolgirl would have after reading too much poetry. The real world, where people were flawed and made bad choices, didn’t work the way it did in fairy tales.
The howl of a coyote off in the distance made her jump.
Bill would come soon, she hoped. She’d seen the look in his eyes when she’d touched him earlier. That kind of desire ate away at a person, and it would drive them mad without resolution. He would come to her that night, away from the drive. The entire reason she had gone off from camp was to allow them privacy.
When she heard someone approaching, she got up and moved away from the light of the fire and into the shadows in case it was anyone other than Bill.
Her handsome cowboy stepped into the circle cast by the firelight and looked around. He gave Maggie a quick stroke and stepped closer. Emma slipped around Bill in the dark, and came up behind him. Taking his hand, she pulled him out of the firelight and into the darkness where they couldn’t be seen back at camp. She wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, laying her hands against his taut midsection. As he took hold of her arms, she whispered into his ear. “Were you looking for me?”
“Thought you might have run off at last.”
“Where would I go?”
“With you, who the hell knows?”
“Do you think me a devil?” Emma moved her fingers down until they brushed the buckle of his belt.
“That, I can’t seem to make up my mind about. I can’t tell if you’re an angel dropped from Heaven, or a devil sent to tempt me.”
“Why can’t I be both?”
Bill laughed out loud. Emma felt her skin grow warm as she rested her cheek against his back. Damn the cowboy. Damn him and his crinkled kind smile, and the sparkle of his eyes when he was happy. Happy. He seemed happy there in the dark with her, in a way he didn’t seem to be in his day to day. Sure, he loved driving cattle and the drive, but the endless wrangling of his brothers and crew ate at him. It surprised Emma greatly to realize she liked when he was happy, that she wanted him to continue feeling that way. She could make him happy.
“Bill…” she whispered his name in his ear, and let her hand brush over the front of his pants.
Impulsively, he turned his body in her arms and took her face in his hands, planting his mouth on hers. She didn’t back away one bit. His lips felt wonderful against hers, and his beard and mustache tickled. After only a moment, she kissed him back.
“I’m sorry,” he pulled away a little.
“Don’t be,” she answered. “There should be a law against kissing a woman the way you do. It’s enough to make my head spin.”
Bill chuckled. “I’m flattered.”
Tilting her pretty face toward his, she licked her lip slightly. “Kiss me again, Bill. I know you want to.”
His rough thumb brushed her cheek. “There’s a long list of things I want to do. Don’t mean they’re the right things.”
Emma raised herself up on her toes, finding an angle that fit them together perfectly. Hungrily, she tasted him and nibbled his lower lip, teasing a bit before she released him. “Let me be the one to decide if they’re the right things, would you?”
He wound his hands in her hair. With no thoughts in her head apart from the searing desire she felt for him, she grabbed his shirt with clasping fingers and kissed him.
Emma was not a virgin. She’d known a few men, and saw nothing wrong in it. The first had been an eager young grocer who she’d fumbled awkwardly with in a barn one evening, only to grow impatient with his ineptitude. The second man had been a good-looking bank clerk who’d been taken by her red hair and frequently brought her wildflowers. She’d gone to his bed a few times, flattered by his attention. But those men hadn’t given her a sense of what physical love could truly be like. Until she’d met the man who’d changed every bit of her life, she hadn’t known that a woman could enjoy lovemaking the same way a man could. He’d been a skilled lover, as well as a skilled cheater, and had introduced her to the ways a man and woman could make each other feel. Handsome and charming and elegant, the man had seemed a dream in many ways. In the darkness with Emma with his hands on her body, he’d been more real than she’d ever expected. How she’d thought she’d loved him.
And how he’d left her. And taken her money.
Her marriage, like everything else, had not worked out according to her plans. Bill’s strong arms crushed her tighter against him. Now was not the time to think about anyone other than him. His kisses exceeded all those Emma had known before. She felt breathless, excited, and nervous. A prickle of her skin raced from the tip of her toes to the secret places a good woman was supposed to keep guarded.
She’d never been a particularly good woman.
Emma pulled them so they both dropped to the ground on their knees. His lips never left hers, and his hands held her tighter, as if she’d take off running the moment he let go.
Bill was a man who spent his life around cows, but he kissed like someone out of a dream, and that floored her. Being with him made the cold earth feel as right beneath her as silk sheets on a featherbed; she couldn’t understand why. Bill lay her down beneath him. Over his shoulder, she saw the wide open sky. Stars emerged, and the moon was taking its rightful place in the night sky, just as Emma felt she was taking her own rightful place in the order of things.
It was just supposed to be a harmless flirtation with a man she found attractive.
So why did she feel as if she was floating?
Bill made quick work of the buttons on her shirt. When he had the final button undone, and spread open the shirt to reveal her breasts in the moonlight, he let a low moan and fell forward onto her. “Tell me now if you want me to go,” Bill whispered into her neck, his voice lower than usual. He was burning with desire, and the realization made her grow warmer.
“I don’t want you go anywhere.” She pushed her hips off the ground, and slipped out of her pants, causing him to exhale loudly.
As he sat up and took in the sight of her nakedness, he put his hands on her bare waist. She heard his voice turn ragged. “If I don’t go right now—”
She silenced him by reaching up and unbuttoning one of his bottom shirt buttons. “Lord. Bill, shut up.”
She undid a second button. He watched her hands. She did the other buttons until his shirt was undone, and he pulled himself free of it.
Emma looked down at her naked body, lying beneath him as he knelt straddling her legs. “Don’t you think that if I didn’t want you, you’d know it by now?”
Thankfully, he stopped arguing. Bending down slowly, he left a lingering, slow kiss in the space between her breasts. He rested his forehead in the same place, and took hold of her waist in his strong hands as if to claim her. When he rose again, he dragged his lips up to her neck. The softness of his mouth grazing over her exposed collarbone gave her full-body shivers. Emma closed her eyes, eager to discover where the two of them would go. His lips traveled down her chest. When he finally found her breasts, she couldn’t stop herself from exclaiming. She’d worried he’d be too careful with her, due to his damned good manners and protective nature. Yet, his touches grew more urgent with every moment that passed.
Emma brought her hands up to twist her fingers in his rumpled hair. He smelled of dust and the river and coffee and man.
“Bill, please,” she pleaded as her body responded to his every movement. She took hold of one of his hands and moved it down her body, to where the ache was most pressing.
“Yes, ma’am.” Bill took her hint. His hand parted her thighs, and confident fingers brushed against her most private of places. Delicate teasing followed. All Emma’s thoughts flew up into the stars. All that mattered in the world was Bill, loving on her. His
rough beard prickled the skin of her stomach, and his hair brushed soft against her fingers. Each kiss felt as if he was branding her as his own.
He shifted his body, and filled her with his manhood with one forceful, but thrilling push. Emma let a laugh of pleasure escape her lips.
Bill’s eyes sparkled as he feigned concern. “A man might get his feelings hurt at a woman laughing during something like this.”
“A man should take it as a compliment. It means I’m enjoying myself.”
“I should hope so.” As he plunged in her, his fingers kept toying, and she soon felt her body racing to the edge of desire. The way he used her, as if he were claiming every bit of her being, thrilled her. His imploring brown eyes watched as she moved in reaction to the feelings he stirred. At last, it was all too much. With a weakened yelp, she came up off the ground and fell back against the dirt, but his hand moved behind her head to catch her before she landed.
“Bill…”
He put his lips on hers for a long moment, easing his fingers away from her. Bill kept close watch on her face as he sped up his thrusts. He pushed her legs up so her knees nearly touched her shoulders, and he came at her like a raging bull. The weight of him nearly crushed her until he reared back and groaned before he jolted and spurted his seed onto the grass beneath them, with a primal sound. His body pressed to hers for each eruption. Emma’s hands gripped the dirt at her sides as she bounced against him. His big hands held her hips in a tight grip as Emma watched his release follow his pleasure and the features of his face return to rest.
For a rough cowboy, he’d proved a damned attentive lover.
In the aftermath, Bill seemed to crumble. He lay beside her on the bedroll, closing his eyes and pulling her tight. He held her as if he’d protect her, even in sleep.
“Why, Mr. McKenzie, that was downright reckless of you.”
“Don’t remind me.” The stubble on his jaw brushed her shoulder. “Been a long time since I did anything like that.”
“I wouldn’t have known,” Emma answered.
The grass tickled her bare skin, the cool blades a bed beneath their two bodies.
“You ever feel like telling that story of yours, I’m eager to hear it.” Bill traced a finger down her side.
“It’s a simple story, really. Once I thought there was no way a man would lie about love. Come to find out, its rarer to find one who doesn’t.”
“I don’t.”
“I know.”
“Emma—”
The sound of her name, spoken with his rough-edged voice, made her interrupt. “Don’t, Bill. Don’t you dare say things you don’t mean and ruin everything.”
They fell silent then. Emma stroked the hair on his chest as she listened to his breathing, which slowed, then became calm before it turned rhythmic and deep. He slept quickly, and she studied his face and his skin.
How in the world had she come to this?
Just over a year earlier, she’d been singing in a saloon in Fort Worth. The crowds had been receptive, and the money had been good. So good, she’d had a new dress made. It had been red as blood, which was a striking color against her hair. Designed to please, the dress had been cut to show arms and shoulders and cleavage and leg. The moment she’d slipped into it, she’d heard the sound of gold coins jangling.
Give them what they want, sweetness.
The green eyes of the man she chased came to mind. Once, she’d thought his eyes were beyond beautiful. They’d held promises and dreams of mansions and wealth, which Emma could use to flee the sometimes dreary reality of life out west. For anyone at all, it was risky. If the criminals didn’t rob you and the fever didn’t get you and you managed not to starve to death, you just might survive. For a woman, it was extra dangerous. Grossly outnumbered by men, women often found themselves on the wrong end of attention they didn’t want, and came to bad ends. There were bad men in the world, and it was often hard to tell who the good ones were. Emma had dealt with the good, the bad, and the ones who were somewhere in between, but she’d survived.
The green eyes, along with the man who possessed them, had vanished.
Along with them had gone her money, that magnificent red dress, and the only piece of jewelry she had from her mother—a pin with small stones in the shape of a sparrow.
The sparrow she had worn, so The Sparrow she had been called.
What would the man lying next to her think if he knew her story? Would he flee from her, or would he stay by her side and hold her against his broad chest in the comfortable way he did right then, like they were made to lie together?
Bill sighed in his sleep, and a little smile came to his mouth.
Emma nuzzled herself into his shoulder and figured she’d think about those things later. For now, she wanted to breathe him in, to feel the warmth of him against her skin, along with the heat of the popping fire in contrast to the cool night air.
CHAPTER TEN
Bill
“You keep whistling like that, and I might have to shoot you,” Andrew grumbled as Bill made his way to the horses in the morning. “Too damn early.”
Not even Andrew’s complaining could ruin Bill’s mood. He’d made love to a beautiful woman he was crazy about, then lain with her for hours before sneaking back to camp and sliding into his own bedroll so as to not raise suspicion. He’d slept tight against her, skin-on-skin, feeling the softness of her body. There, he’d slept the sweet sleep of satisfaction.
Emma the Sparrow, from Virginia.
Lord, she was the kind of woman who made a man have to whistle. He’d been whistling “Susannah” since he’d woken up to find Emma next to him, her red waves of hair askew, and her face relaxed. He’d watched her breathe, the soft way her chest rose and fell, and traced his fingers along the delicate strength of her arms. It was obvious to Bill that she belonged in a big brass bed in a fine room instead of on a worn bedroll. Still, he wouldn’t feel sorry that she’d found her way to him, regardless of the crazy circumstances.
Though he’d lived each day of his life, he began to think maybe he’d never been truly alive until Emma had come out of the woods in his arms.
“You’re taking her to Cricket Bend, I suppose.”
Andrew’s question stopped him for a moment.
“That’s right. We discussed it while you were off cheating men out of their money.” Why the plight of the Sparrow was of any interest to his brother, Bill didn’t know, but it raised his hackles. “She’s my responsibility. Besides, any of the rest of you show up in Cricket Bend, Sheriff Anderson will hang you before you can say Hello. And I wouldn’t blame him.”
Andrew scoffed. “Well, he might not get the chance. Thinking I’ll head over to Greeley instead. Hear they’ve got a lively gambling parlor.”
Bill turned to leave. “You leave the drive one more time, you’re done. You know the rules.” He’d been ready to fire his brother for so long, the words came easily.
“Curse the rules. I’ll leave, and come back, whenever I choose.”
The arrogance in Andrew’s tone infuriated Bill.
“Not as long as you’re on payroll.”
“Pa won’t fire me, and he’ll be mad at you if you do.”
“He’ll back me.”
Andrew waited a moment. “Your precious Sparrow is up to something.”
“Watch your tongue.” Bill tightened the cinch on Orion a little too roughly, and the gelding jumped. Realizing he’d hurt his horse, Bill hurried to undo the cinch. Getting rattled by Andrew would do him no good. Bill’s strength was keeping his head in all situations, and that was why he’d been put in charge.
“I know a thing or two about con artists.”
“I won’t have you talking like that. She’s just a woman who’s trying to get somewhere. That’s all.”
“She’s using you to get there.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Maybe I’m not the one who needs to be rescued. You’re so caug
ht up, you don’t even realize she’s got you tied where she wants you.”
“And, apart from travel to Cricket Bend, what would she want from me?”
Andrew raised an eyebrow at Bill’s defensive tone. “Maybe she already got it.”
Bill couldn’t stop his fists from clenching at Andrew’s words. “I didn’t wake up this morning planning on beating you into a pulp, but that don’t mean I won’t.”
Andrew stepped forward. “Hit me. You’ve been wanting to for years.”
It nearly happened. Bill could have slugged him as they stood there, but what would it have gained? Nothing—just more ill-sentiment and distrust. He’d keep his head, and hold back his anger. “You go to Greeley, you’re done.”
“I will remember that.”
“We’re setting off shortly. Be in your place.”
“Yes, boss. Right away, boss. Not whistling now, are you?”
Time moved on, as it tended to. The sun set, the moon rose, the sun rose, over and over. Three days went by, calm and quiet. The drive continued north toward Abilene. As they crossed the grasses which grew less green as they made their way farther into the plains, Bill rode in front of the herd. When he wasn’t talking to Jess about routes and the fear of a storm coming upon them, he let his mind return to the woman who was at the forefront of nearly all his thoughts.
He had loved a woman once before. Not that he loved Emma. Yet. But the beginnings of something resembling love stirred in his gut. He’d felt them the day she’d told him her name, and they grew little by little, like a flower, as she revealed more of herself. She was from Virginia, she was an eager lover, she felt comfortable enough with him to share her body and sleep beside him, she made good pies, and he’d never tasted anything as delicious as her lips.
What more was there? When she was near him, he was happier than when she wasn’t.
No one knew, but he’d felt that way before. Four years earlier, a bright-eyed woman from a nearby town, which neighbored the ranch, had caught his attention, and they’d become friends. Greta. Lovely Greta and her sweet smile and her delicate silliness. She’d loved romantic novels and ribbons and lace, and had been well-regarded for both her kind nature and her needlepoint.