Ace's Wild (Hqn)

by Sarah McCarty

  It wasn’t often he spoke to God. It wasn’t like they weren’t on speaking terms, it was just he never felt the need to reach out too often. Today was a reaching day. “You picked a hell of a way to make your point.”

  Petunia sat in his arms, stiffer than before, and her hands weren’t making those restless movements but they did kind of drift about as if she didn’t know what to do with them. He leaned against the high back of the tub. He wished it were bigger. His knees poking out looked silly as hell.

  “You can put your hands on my knees if you want.”

  She didn’t move.

  “It’s a pretty unthreatening place to touch a man, in case you didn’t know.”

  It was a lie. Anywhere she touched him was going to burn like fire but well, if this was the lie he was going to hell for, God just didn’t have a heart. He needed her cooperation before he could build her trust. And he only knew one way to do that. Working from the bottom up.

  Taking her left hand, he pressed a kiss into the palm before settling it on his left knee. The little catch in her breathing gave him pause. But when she left her hand there, it gave him hope.

  “See? That’s how we’ll do it. Nice and easy.”

  He gave her a moment to protest. When she didn’t, he scooped up her right hand and repeated the procedure. The test came when he took away his support. She left her hands where they were. When he leaned back, she followed. Soft, sweet and trusting.

  He sighed, releasing the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “One step at a time.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ONE STEP AT A TIME.

  Her battle cry reflected back to her in this moment of peace. Petunia sat in the warm water, feeling the soothing rhythm of Ace’s steady breath, and the persistent pressure of his arousal, and wavered between calm and panic. Peace and turmoil. Ace summed up in one poignant moment. Frowning softly to herself, she drew her middle finger up his hand. He had to be exhausted—she knew she was—but instead of curling up with one of his lady friends in the saloon, he was here with her, coaxing her to where she didn’t want to go with the same sleight of hand he manipulated the cards with.

  A woman had to admire a man like that. Probably as much as she should be scandalized by her own behavior at being with him so, but after the past twenty-four hours, she truly had nothing to lose. Her reputation was forever ruined. At least here where it was known. She could run naked through the streets and all it would do was refer people back to the bigger scandal of her abduction. For the rest of her days, she’d be the schoolteacher with whom the Comanche had had their way. Nothing she could ever do on her own would top that.

  Ace hummed in his throat and turned his hand. She stroked her finger over his palm as she mulled that reality over. It was oddly...freeing.

  Ace’s grip shifted. “What are you thinking?”

  “That I’m forever ruined now.”

  His growl was rich in her ear. “The hell you are.”

  She added two more fingers to her stroking. “However do you manage to be so successful in gambling when your emotions are so easily provoked?”

  He snugged her up a little tighter. “The rest of the world doesn’t provoke me.”

  She sighed and accepted the truth no one else likely would. “It’s all right, you know. I don’t mind.”

  “Damn it, woman.”

  She twisted and leaned back just far enough so she could see his expression. It was tight and about as stubborn as she felt inside. “I don’t. Having nothing to protect means I also have nothing to lose.”

  With a slight shake of his head, he asked, “Is that what you’ve been...quiet about all night?”

  “A little.”

  The hiss of his breath tickled her ear. “You need to stew some more if that’s the fool notion you came to.”

  “There were other things.”

  His hand moved against hers, and when they aligned, he wove his fingers through hers, anchoring her. “Like what?”

  She thought she’d known all there was to know about the violence in the world, seen all there was to see, prepared herself for the increased frequency in the West, but she hadn’t realized there was no preparing oneself for the raw reality. It was scary, terrifying, actually, to know that you could be plucked from your life at any random moment into a world where you had no control and then just as quickly plucked out of the evil and dropped back into your life as if that transition hadn’t happened. The past twenty-four hours felt like a nightmare she’d dreamed, and if she just opened her eyes, she’d be in her bed with all her possessions and she’d know nothing had changed. But she knew if she opened her eyes that wasn’t going to be the case. She’d be stuck in that nightmare she was calling a dream. And it would become truth. But dreams were flexible. They could be anything the person dreaming them wanted. The thought lingered, settled into the rhythm of their breathing, oddly in sync and yet different.

  She studied the pattern because it gave her something to focus on rather than the reality that was getting stronger and stronger. Ace’s breaths were deeper than hers so he started first, then her, then him, then her. Him, her, him, her, in a slow, even rhythm. Safe.

  “Hey, you still down there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Want to share?”

  “No.”

  His chest puffed out in what could be a chuckle. Or exasperation. Without seeing his face or hearing his voice she couldn’t be sure. His fingers opened on her abdomen, moving in lazy, small circles. She liked where she was, surrounded by his arms, surrounded by warmth with the sounds from the street muted. It made it easy to believe there was nothing more in the world than this moment, this time with this man.

  “You realize, my Pet, this water is going to cool soon, and I’m not so fond of procrastination that I’m going to stay in it until my balls turn blue.”

  He was preparing her for the intrusion of reality. “I understand.”

  She felt the featherlight brush of his lips across her hair.

  “I know you don’t want to think,” Ace continued in that low, tender drawl she could listen to forever. “I know you want to run away. But you can’t stay stuck. You’ve got to take things one step at a time, and the first step you’re going to take is when I say it’s time, you’re going to stand up and you’re going to get out of this tub, brush out your hair, get in your nightgown. And then you’ll lie down and get some sleep.”

  “All that’s going to happen just because you decree it?”

  This time she felt his smile. “Yup.”

  She knew he could. He might not be able to make his words true, but he could make her leave her dream. And when she stood, the nightmare was all going to be there, screaming in her face. She so didn’t want that. She was still in that dream world where anything was possible, and if anything was possible then anything could be changed. This was her dream. She could make it what she wanted.

  The thought lingered, lazying around the quiet, making its presence known with an occasional poke. She pondered it harder, wondered longer, and a little kernel of determination started to blossom.

  This was her dream; she could control it.

  Opening her hands over his knee—he had bony knees—one by one she stretched her fingers, testing her emotional balance. The world didn’t tilt, and the howling stayed muted. She tested further, grazing her hands back down his thighs just a little distance, just to see.

  His breath sucked in. “Pet?”

  “I’m just seeing something.”

  He relaxed his grip; she started to float. When she grabbed his knees, he snugged her up safe. And she realized, as long as he held her, she had balance.

  She controlled the dream.

  And if she controlled the dream, the dream could end the way she wanted. Such a tantalizing deception to
play upon herself, to take this moment in history and rewrite it. How many times had people wished they could do that very thing, and now she had this opportunity to take something ugly and finish it beautiful? All she had to do was dare? That had been the catch her whole life, daring. People thought she was so bold because she did so many things that no one believed should be done but the truth was, it took a lot of anxiety and debate before she steeled herself to do anything. Did she dare?

  It had taken her four years to decide to strike out from her home. To put aside her family money and prestige, the safety of her culture, and go out in the world, determined to make a difference. It was one thing to be the protected, pampered daughter of a wealthy man and do good within those circles. Safe little protests where her father showed up for her in ten minutes to pull her out of jail, or paid off those upset. No real consequences beyond his exasperation and threats of forced marriage and the safety of knowing he loved her. It had been safe but it hadn’t been enough. So she’d left her little feathered nest and had gone into the world knowing that if things got bad, she could always contact her father, not understanding things could go bad with no recourse, and when she could place that telegraph or write that letter, it would all be over, and she’d just be picking up the pieces. He’d told her she didn’t understand the real world, and she hadn’t. Now she did, and she needed to decide what she wanted to do about it.

  “You all right?”

  He kept asking her that. She didn’t have an answer. She needed to find a way to have an answer. Rubbing her thumbs on the insides of his knees, she debated her options. She could feel his cock pressing into her back, feel that subtle hum of tension under his skin.

  She was old enough and experienced enough to know what that pressure meant. He wanted her, but he wasn’t doing anything about it, which just went to show he had to suspect the worst. Lord knows, she would.

  “Ace?” Her voice was barely a sound. She was surprised when he responded.

  “Yeah?”

  She didn’t know how to put what she wanted into words. His hands left her stomach and floated on the water, touched the outsides of her arms, sending little chills up her skin. There was always such a sense of possession in his touch as if he knew something she didn’t, but that wasn’t true. She knew as much as he did, she was just fighting it harder. Not the sexual attraction but the other, the emotional. She didn’t want to be tied down to a man, subject to his rule with no life of her own. She’d seen how that happened. How her suffragette friends started out all full of vigor and conviction and then they married and suddenly became the pillars of community, who couldn’t say boo to a ghost, who tried to push away from the ideas they’d once said were so valued. She didn’t want to be that person, but she didn’t want to be who she was now, either. Somewhere there had to be a middle ground.

  “What is it, Pet?”

  She shook her head; she didn’t have the words for what she wanted and honestly, she thought as his fingers curled around her upper arms and slid upward to her shoulders, maybe it just wasn’t one of those times when words would suit. Maybe it was just one of those times when a woman had to act.

  Water sloshed as she sat up.

  “Ready to get out?”

  She shook her head again and kept her hands on his knees pushing up, trying to turn without too much intimacy, which was stupid considering what she wanted. After a few seconds of fumbling, she came to the conclusion there was no graceful way to do what she wanted to do so she just did it. With a grunt, she turned on her side, feeling the seductive slide of his flesh against hers, the prickle of hair and the culmination of his skin against hers as his cock pressed into her stomach in silent demand. At least he still wanted her. That would make everything so much easier.

  His big hands settled in the hollow of her back, warm and calloused, imbued with that sense of possession she relished. This was Ace. He was...safe.

  His eyebrows rose right along with her hands as she slid them up his hard, muscled chest. He had hair there, too, and it tickled her palms.

  “Why the smile?”

  “The hair on your chest tickles.”

  “It can tickle other places, too.”

  She just smiled, wincing as the cut on her lip stung. He frowned. Touching her fingertips to the furrow between his brow, she smoothed it out. He was such a sexy man, handsome in a harsh sort of way. The only softness on him was the emotion revealed in his eyes right now. He was a maverick, a force to be reckoned with. But so was she. It gave them common ground.

  It was awkward in the tight confines of the tub to move. Her knee jerked up into something soft, and he grimaced and his breath expelled a harsh, “Careful!”

  The seduction wasn’t going so well. Meeting his gaze with hers, she touched her thumb to the corner of his mouth the way he did her, the way that always centered her attention and made her feel special. She surrendered to the inevitable.

  “Help me.”

  His fingers slid down her arm around her elbow and up to her wrist. Holding her hand he pressed a kiss into the palm.

  “You ready to get out of the tub?”

  She shook her head.

  “I don’t think I understand what you’re asking for.”

  “Help me forget.” Forget the loss of control, the loss of self, the terror, the pain.

  His eyes narrowed. The flickering glow of the lamplight sent shadows dancing across his face. “I think it’s probably a bit too soon for that. We need to get you cleaned up. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

  He was turning her down because he thought he knew what was better for her, but he didn’t know. Nobody knew. They didn’t know how she felt inside, and she didn’t know how to explain. She just knew that if she wanted to rewrite the nightmare, she had to do it now.

  “I don’t want to go to bed.”

  He looked at her, his gaze steady, his eyes assessing. It felt like he was looking through to her soul. She hoped so because she didn’t think she could put into words that anybody would understand what she wanted right now.

  “You said there’s no going back,” she reminded him.

  He nodded.

  “Then I only have two choices left. I can stay here, or I can go forward.”

  She wasn’t surprised when he didn’t ask for clarification. Ace seemed to understand her at a level that went beyond the simplicity of words.

  “You’re not thinking straight.”

  But she was. She really was.

  “I know what I’m doing.”

  She rose to her knees and started to unbutton her shirt. She expected him to reach out and stop her, but he didn’t. He just kept watching her with that steady assessment as she fought with the wet fabric. He wasn’t looking at her body, or her breasts, which she knew showed clearly through the material. He just kept staring into her eyes, into her soul. Her fingers fumbled on the second button, and her breath caught in her lungs. This wasn’t going to work.

  “Touch me. Please.”

  Reaching over her shoulders, he lifted the wet rope of her hair, fanned it out over his hands, let the silky mass fall over shoulders. The strands tangled on his fingers. “Tell me why.”

  “What’s happened to me the past day or so might very well be the most life-changing thing I’ll ever endure. I’ll have to live with it the rest of my life. I don’t have a choice in that. But if I have to remember it, then I don’t want it to be because of a bad thing.”

  “You want me to make love with you.”

  It was a statement. “I want you to make me feel good.”

  “It’s been a long time, my Pet, since I’ve simply made love to a woman like you’re talking.”

  Did he think he could scare her more than fourteen screaming Comanche? “Does that mean you can’t?”

  This time it was his hand that t
ouched her face and his fingers that stroked and his thumb that centered her.

  “It’s just been a long time.”

  She had the defeating urge to ask him if she was pretty enough. Water lapped against the side of the tub making little metallic sloshes. “I want this, Ace.”

  “I know, but you’re not thinking straight and come morning, you’re probably going to have a whole different take on this situation, and I don’t want to be the man who took advantage of you.”

  “You’re sitting naked in a tub with me!”

  His lips quirked in a smile. “I’d have gotten in dressed but Luke’s been harping on me about taking better care of my clothes.”

  He wanted to make her laugh. That was sweet. The chuckle was painful, rasping out of her disquiet. His thumb stroked across her lips from middle to side. His finger kept that subtle pressure on the nape of her neck. Maybe she should have been scared; it was the touch of a conqueror, but she’d never feared Ace. Not that way.

  “Can’t you make it beautiful?”

  With the honesty that he always gave her he said, “I can make it intense, but beautiful...” He brushed her hair out of her face. “Beautiful hasn’t been in my repertoire for a very long time.”

  But it was. When he kissed her in the street that day it had been wild and crazy and scary and wonderful and very, very beautiful.

  And when he touched her the next time feeling his hands come around her it had been like coming home. And there wasn’t anything more beautiful than that. She realized that now more than ever. Many people had touched her in her life; very few of them had felt like home. “Maybe we have different definitions of beautiful.”

  He was back to studying her. She didn’t even try to hide. What was the point? He saw through it anyway. “Would it be less stressful for you if I settled for you making it good?”

  His laugh jostled them both. Water sloshed, caressing the sides of her breasts. “You’re killing me, my Pet. You’re just flat out killing me.”