McCrory's Lady

by Henke, Shirl Henke

  Then he could wait no longer. Crossing the floor in a couple of swift, silent strides, he gently took the cloth from her hand. “Allow me.” His voice was low and husky as he squeezed the water from the rag, letting it trickle across her back.

  Her eyes flew open and she gasped softly. “I didn't expect you back so soon,” she whispered.

  “The hell you didn't,” he replied, his voice rough but his hands gentle as he ran the cloth over her back. His fingertips followed in its wake, gliding across the wet slippery flesh, caressing the delicate bones of her spine, grazing her soft, rounded buttocks.

  He moved around to lave the front of her. His hands spanned her waist, glided over the slight swell of her belly. Irresistibly drawn, they moved higher, cupping her breasts until she let out a low moan. He could feel her nipples hardening into even tighter points. Her whole body trembled, yet she stood very still as if waiting to see what he would do next.

  “Undress me, Maggie. I need a bath, too.” His voice murmured low, softening the command seductively.

  Taking a ragged breath, she complied, unfastening his heavy cartridge belt with clumsy fingers. He took it from her hand and tossed it onto a chair as she began to unbutton his shirt and pull it from him. He shrugged out of it, his breathing labored now as her small soft fingers buried themselves in the pelt of dark hair on his chest. Her hands moved lower, slowly inching their way past the hard flat plain of his belly to tug at his belt.

  Colin pulled it free and tossed it onto the growing pile of clothes as she worked the buttons of his fly. When his straining phallus was free and he could feel her cool soft hands gliding over its heat, he pulled her against him, burying his face against her throat with muttered curses that sounded more like words of love.

  Maggie could feel his tongue, hot and slick as it caught the beads of water pooled at the hollow of her throat. His whiskers, in contrast, scraped roughly as his head moved lower. Then, he took one nipple between his lips and rolled it around. She clutched his shoulders and clung to him as his tongue circled the wet hard point with velvety persistence, sending jolts of raw pleasure throbbing through her.

  Colin took the other breast in his mouth and heard her moan his name. Her hands were sliding down his chest and tugging at his denims, pulling them open. He picked her up in his arms and strode to the bed before her busy hands could touch him again and send him spiraling over the edge.

  “I'll get the blankets wet,” she whispered as he set her on the bed.

  “We'll generate enough heat to dry them,” he said with a rough laugh. “We always do.” He yanked off his boots and slid the tight pants over his hips, kicking them away.

  “I haven't bathed you,” she said, looking at his hard, sweaty body. The tangy smell of honest male perspiration and heady male musk overpowered her senses. At that moment, Maggie knew she would have licked every inch of him clean—and loved doing it. Her eyes traveled up the muscles of his legs, pausing speculatively at his pulsing sex, then following the thin vee of dark hair that widened out across his chest.

  When their eyes met at last, he swallowed hard and rasped out, “Then come do it.”

  She scooted off the bed and seized the rag from the basin where he had flung it. Soaping it up, she approached him and began by wiping his face, tracing the strong, clean lines of his brow, cheekbones and jaw, now dark with an evening shadow of whiskers. Those whiskey eyes watched her like a hawk studying a plump rabbit, ready to swoop down and carry it off. But he held himself still, fists clenched at his sides as she rinsed his face and began to suds his chest.

  “Hold out your arms,” she said, and her voice broke as he complied. Her hands applied the wet rag to the swells and curves of his biceps, then down the lightly furred length of his forearms to those clever hands with their long sensitive fingers. Every inch of him was hard with muscles made taut by his closely leashed desire. At least we have this in common, don't we, Colin?

  He willed himself to stand still as the cloth moved down his torso toward the core of his heat, the throbbing shaft that trembled with eagerness. His eyes closed and his lips pulled across his teeth in a feral grimace of concentration. She surprised him, slipping past his sex and kneeling to wash his legs, first one, then the other.

  When she stood up and walked to the basin, taking her time to pour fresh water and wash out the cloth, his eyes flew open and he studied her. “You're enjoying this,” he accused.

  Maggie glanced from his tense arousal to her own damp glistening flesh, soft and pale next to his sun-bronzed hardness. “And you aren't?” Her voice was teasing and breathless at the same time. She walked slowly back to him and wrapped the cool cloth around the heat of his flesh. All breath left his body in a sudden gasp.

  “Aaah, Maggie,” he groaned as she plied the rag with deft thoroughness, stroking the length of his phallus, then gently cupping him and letting the water trickle down his legs.

  “Now, turn around so I can wash your back.” She tried to sound calm but her own breathing was becoming ragged. He turned away from her, exposing the broad expanse of his back. He was so big, so tall, she had to stand on her tiptoes and hold onto his shoulder for balance as she plied the cloth.

  Finishing that, she knelt. His buttocks were small and hard. Like the rest of his body, his back was marked by a number of scars. One long ugly slash snaked around his side and ended on his left hip. She traced it with her fingertips and her lips grazed it, tasting him.

  “Enough of this,” he growled, turning and pulling her up into his arms.

  Their wet flesh melded wickedly as her breasts slid across his chest and his staff pressed into her belly. Their arms enfolded, their hands gliding, caressing. The moisture added an incredible sensuality to simple touches.

  “I never thought lye soap could be an aphrodisiac,” Colin whispered raggedly as his mouth came down to claim hers in a fierce hard kiss.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “There is nothing quite like good, clean fun.” Maggie chuckled against his chest as he swept her into his arms again and rolled them onto the bed.

  After that she could speak no more, for his hands found her, slick and wet. His fingers opened her petals, caressing, probing, withdrawing, then resuming the magic until she tossed her head back and forth against the mattress.

  She lay with her hair spread like dark fire across the faded blue blanket. Her eyes were closed and her face was flushed with passion as she writhed beneath his touch. The flickering lantern light bathed her skin pale gold. His hands glided across her soft, silky hips and her legs fell open, inviting him to bury himself in the dark burnished curls at the apex of her thighs.

  How many men had gazed on the splendid beauty of her nakedness? Countless others, he knew, and bitterness filled him. Yet had any of them been given the gift of her passion? Maggie was an excellent poker player and a cool woman in a dangerous situation, but she was not this kind of an actress. He had known his share of whores and they always responded with rote monotony, merely play-acting pleasure, seldom with the slightest conviction. He felt in his bones that her response was genuine.

  Maggie gradually became aware of his troubled eyes studying her while his caresses, so swift and frenzied a moment ago, grew slow and languorous. Her eyes opened and she looked up into his face as he lowered his head to kiss her, covering her body with his. Before their lips met she read his tender expression and her heart nearly burst with joy. Perhaps there was hope, she dared to believe as she returned his kiss, softly tasting, exploring.

  He rimmed her lips with the tip of his tongue, then took her lower lip into his mouth, tugging gently on it. When he released it, his tongue invaded her mouth in swift thrusts. She captured it with her own, twining them around, following his retreat, tasting of him until he finally pulled away, trailing wet licks and bites over her jaw and throat. He raised up over her with his arms extended and slowly thrust into her, holding very still for a moment.

  They stared into each other's eyes, both letting
down their guard, mirroring the powerful emotions they felt, emotions that went far beyond the joining of their bodies. Maggie felt the pressure of his hardness invading her, filling her even as he had invaded her life and filled it. She could never again imagine existing without him. He gave her pain, but he also gave her joy. And she knew she would always love her husband.

  Colin was enveloped by her heat, sweetly pulling him down into a whirlpool of feelings he had believed long dead. In truth, these were feelings he had never in his life experienced. Was this love? Afraid to answer the question, he relinquished his control and began to move deeply within her.

  Her hips arched in response and her arms reached up, pulling him down as she placed his head between her hands, cradling his face tenderly. How Maggie longed to cry out her love, but some instinct held her back. Instead, she showed him with her body. She wrapped her legs around his hips and drew her thighs tightly closed, urging his thrusts deeper inside her. Her lips parted, inviting his kiss as she guided his mouth toward hers.

  They moved slowly toward the crest, letting every sigh and caress say what words did not. She loved him. He was afraid to love her. Ghosts from the past still hovered between them until their physical needs overrode all thoughts, all fears, and their joining became swift and frantic. After such delay it was all the stronger.

  Maggie's nails dug into his shoulders, pulling him to her. The now familiar waves of ecstasy swept away all else; and she was answered by his fierce shudders as he swelled inside of her, spilling his seed deeply into her womb.

  Colin collapsed on top of her, gasping for breath. He buried his face in the cloud of her hair, smelling the subtle essence of lilies of the valley, permeated by the musky scent of satiated flesh.

  He turned onto his side, reaching over to the table beside the bed to lower the lantern wick until the room was cast in darkness. Then, he rolled back to pull her against him as he covered them with the blanket.

  They fell asleep in silence with no words spoken between them in the quiet of the night.

  * * * *

  The next morning Maggie awakened when she felt the loss of Colin's heat. He had slid silently from the bed. Her eyes still closed, she could hear the soft rustling as he dressed. She sensed his eyes on her. He's troubled about what he revealed last night. More than just desiring her, now he needed her; and Maggie knew that did not sit easily on Colin McCrory's shoulders. She vowed to be patient and let him find his way. Perhaps with time, he could love her as much as she did him.

  When the door closed quietly, she sat up in bed and swung her feet over the side. Immediately, she lowered her head between her knees until the sudden nausea subsided. Then, she rose on shaky legs, performed a brief morning toilette and donned the same dusty riding clothes she had worn the day before.

  Colin was nowhere to be seen when she entered the main room of the post. Hearing Eden's voice from the kitchen, she headed in that direction. “Good morning. I trust you did get some sleep?” she said, giving her stepdaughter a light hug.

  Eden looked at Maggie's pale face and smudged eyes. “Better than you did, by the looks of you. Here, have some breakfast. Caleb's cook has shown us that he had a cache of good food in a private pantry.” Eden also had her suspicions about Caleb's relationship with the pretty young Apache girl, whom he had most probably forced to be his mistress.

  “No Arkansas strawberries?” Maggie said with a smile at the cook.

  “For sure not beans,” Eden replied. “Good hickory-smoked bacon and even white-flour bread with tinned butter and chokecherry preserves.” Eden smiled as the young Coyotero girl served up a rasher of crisp bacon strips on a plate, then sliced a thick wedge of bread.

  Maggie poured herself a cup of steaming coffee and sipped it slowly, letting her rebellious stomach settle. She did not want to worry Eden with her mysterious ailment, but perhaps the doctor might have some suggestions. “Is Dr. Torres around? I know he's gotten little or no rest, but there's something I'd like to ask him.”

  “I think he's ridden to one of the outlying villages to check on possible contagion. He should be back soon unless the epidemic has spread. Father and Ed are down at the corral getting ready for the ride to Tucson,” Eden added, looking expectantly at Maggie. “Have you asked him if you can go along?”

  “I haven't told him yet. But I will.”

  The cook, who understood English well enough, grinned as she placed the plate before Maggie. “You eat?” she asked shyly.

  Rather than offend the girl or upset Eden, Maggie sat down at the simple pine table and took a bite of the thick fluffy bread, then nibbled on a strip of bacon. By eating slowly she was able to finish most of the bread and half of the bacon before Eden was summoned into the infirmary to see to a patient.

  Thanking the young Apache woman for the meal, Maggie slipped from the kitchen, intent on talking with Colin about the journey to Tucson. She stepped into the hot morning sun and felt the heat beating down on her bare head. Willing the roiling in her stomach to abate, she rounded the corner of the post and looked out toward the corral just as Aaron Torres rode up and dismounted.

  He, Colin and Ed were engaged in conversation as she drew nearer, but before reaching the halfway point, her stomach rebelled. Not wanting to disgrace herself, Maggie quickly stepped behind a juniper bush and doubled over, losing her carefully eaten breakfast in several loud, undignified heaves. She was busily mopping her brow and wiping her mouth when the doctor's voice interrupted.

  “I thought I heard someone in distress, but I must confess I'm surprised it's you, Maggie. What seems to be the problem? Did you get hold of some tainted meat?” Torres guided her gently over to a large flat rock shaded by a pinyon pine and had her sit down.

  “No. The food was fine. It's just me. I've been having these spells for several weeks...”

  Unaware of the exchange going on between Maggie and Aaron, Colin and Ed continued their discussion of the trip to Tucson.

  “We'll need to ride into town separately,” Ed said. “I don't want anyone connecting me with your battle against Barker and the ring. I think I can use a nom de plume and bluff myself into a job on one of the local newspapers. It would be best if I left directly from here. I took the precaution of packing extra clothing in my saddlebags before I set out.”

  Since he had never seen Ed in anything but a rumpled gray suit, Colin wondered what she might have needed to pack but refrained from saying so. “You seem to have thought of everything.” His shrewd gaze measured her. He could almost hear the gears clicking in her mind. “Why are you abandoning the search for the ring's man in the capital to go to Tucson?”

  “I have my reasons,” Ed replied, raising her pointy chin, which made her overlong neck resemble that of an ostrich.

  “Those reasons wouldn't have anything to do with perusing Win Barker's records, would they? I seem to recall you saying reporters didn't need subpoenas.”

  “Caught out,” she said with a mock sigh. “You have Lamp's records—or at least what he's made available. If I could get my hands on Barker's, we would be able to make comparisons.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I already told you I don't want any illegal—not to mention dangerous—tomfoolery. All we'll do is drive Barker farther underground. Let me confront him with what we know about Rigley and the stolen cattle.”

  She considered. “That might panic him into some untoward action, yes. And I can observe his every move under the guise of being an eccentric society reporter whose interests lie with teas and garden clubs.”

  Ed Phibbs was certainly eccentric enough for a man like Win to underestimate. Hell, Colin had almost done it himself—would have, too, if not for Maggie. Maggie. What would he do about her?

  As if his troubled turn of mind had conjured her, Maggie approached them, a bemused expression on her face. “Good morning, Colin, Ed. Doc Torres tells me you plan to ride to Tucson today. I want to accompany you.”

  “That's ridiculous,” Colin said. “What for? This is
n't a pleasure trip. It could be dangerous.”

  “Then you could use my help again.” Maggie held out the arm that had been grazed in Prescott.

  Colin scowled. “I most certainly do not want you in the line of fire again.”

  “We have some things to discuss, Colin. Very important things that can't wait.” Maggie drew closer to her husband and placed her hand on his arm.

  Ed coughed discreetly. “I might be so bold as to suggest, your wife could provide an excuse for you to spend some time in Tucson—shopping, whatnot, while you see what you can learn before bearding Barker in his lair.”

  “She's right, Colin.”

  His eyes narrowed on his wife. “We're leaving now and you're staying here with Eden. That's my final word. Do you understand me, Maggie?”

  “Yes, I understand you, Colin,” she replied tightly.

  Within the hour Colin and Ed rode away from the post, leaving Maggie and Eden waving farewell.

  “What are you going to do now?” Eden asked quietly, knowing Maggie's plans had gone awry.

  Maggie turned to Eden with a look of grim determination on her face. “Why, I'm riding to Crown Verde to pack. Then, I'll take the stage from Prescott to Tucson tomorrow.”

  “But you told Father you would do as he said.”

  Maggie smiled serenely. “No, I told him I understood what he said.”

  * * * *

  On the long, bumpy stage ride, Maggie had a lot of time to ponder exactly what she was going to tell Colin. So much was at stake. Convincing Colin that Wolf Blake would make a suitable husband for Eden would be a prodigious enough feat. But Maggie had an even more pressing matter to consider. She closed her eyes and hugged herself, still unable to believe Dr. Torres's diagnosis. She was going to have Colin's child!