Capturing The Marshal's Heart (Escape From Texas)

by Carroll-Bradd, Linda

  She smiled and held up her arms. “Take me, my warrior.”

  With his knee, he nudged her legs apart and eased close to her opening. The head of his shaft probed her cleft and entered slowly. Seeing his length disappearing into her muff of wet brown curls excited him further. He wanted to savor the experience of their bodies coming together, but the sensations were too strong.

  A single, deep stroke and he was home. “Ah, my princess.” He felt warmth spread from the inside of his body to the edges of his skin. A warmth that ran deeper than the action on this mattress. Being one with this woman felt so right.

  Then he flexed his hips to withdraw to her opening and then thrust inside again. Deep and hard.

  “Yes!” Jazzy arched and the points of her tits brushed his chest. Her legs wrapped around him, and she moved her hips from side to side against his groin, increasing the friction.

  They moved in rhythm, caressing bare skin, nibbling at hot flesh and racing the other to the finish. Slade heard only a pounding in his ears and thrust deeper and faster, straining to stay in control until Jazzy caught up. But when she raised her head close to his chest and licked his nipple, he lost it.

  One hand clamped onto her hip, he pushed himself as deep as he could go and thrust once more, exhaling a loud groan as his seed pumped inside Jazzy.

  From deep within, her body clamped him tightly, milking his rigid dick, and her cry of pleasure echoed his.

  He slumped over her body, breathing heavily onto her neck, waiting for his blood to slow its racing.

  Within moments, he felt her fingers making lazy trails up and down his back. He grunted and tried to lean some of his weight on an elbow, barely able to lift his head high enough to look into her face.

  Her eyes flashed and a wicked smile covered her saucy lips. “That was wonderful. What shall we pretend now?”

  Chapter Four

  Jazzy fought against the sting building behind her eyes. Never had a man paid attention to her intimate needs. She’d always been the one to worry about the customers getting their money’s worth. Movements she used had always been one of several routines. Even the words she’d spoken just now sounded rehearsed to her own ears.

  But not tonight. This was exciting and unusual, and she aimed to enjoy it while it lasted. She aligned her body alongside his hip and ran her fingers up his thigh, leaving a trail of twitching muscle. This big, strong man was reacting to her simple touch, and he wasn’t even paying for the privilege of being naked together in the bed. “Now, you just relax. My turn for a little fun.”

  She slid from the sheets, grabbed the coverlet from the foot of the bed, and swathed her body. The cloth covered her from breasts to toes, cinched in place by her arms held close to her side. When she turned back to Slade, she dipped her chin and only looked at him through downcast lashes.

  “I present myself to you, sir. My name is Aileana and I was sent here by my father, Laird of McShane.” Slade’s black hair and dark brown eyes reminded her of a fierce Scottish hero she’d read about in The Young Ladies Journal. Reading adventure stories in the dime novels had been a favorite way to pass an idle afternoon at Miss Veronica’s before the place opened for business.

  Slade raised his head and looked at her with wrinkled brows. “Jazzy, what are you…”

  A fluttering settled in her stomach. Would he think this playacting was too silly? Or would he play along like before?

  “Who’s Jazzy?” She tossed her hair over her shoulder and smiled. “Sir, my name is Aileana.” Taking small steps, she paced along the length of the bed, turned, pulled the swath of fabric away from her feet, and dipped a shallow curtsy. “I believe my father’s steward delivered the bride price earlier today. The contract has been struck.” She’d read this once in a novel and thought the situation sounded romantic. Two strangers forced into an intimacy that neither sought, but one which must be lived…sometimes with a happy ending.

  “Bride price? What the devil—” A light flashed in his eyes and he nodded. “Ah, the steward from Castle McShane. Now I remember.” A slow grin spread across his lips and he rubbed his jaw with a cupped hand. “Didn’t I negotiate for horses as well?”

  Jazzy thrilled at his acceptance of the role. She kept her chin lowered, making short glances from the sides of her eyes. “I am doing as I was bade. I know nothing of the financial arrangements, sir. How may I address you? As Laird MacCallum or by your given name, Logan?”

  “I prefer Mac.” He rolled to his side and supported his head with his hand, the movement pulling the sheet below his waist. Tanned skin and taut muscle rippled above the white cotton.

  Her chin came up and she couldn’t tear away her gaze from his muscled abdomen with its sprinkling of wiry, black hair. The memories of his hard body rubbing against hers were too fresh. Anticipation grew, flushing her skin and making her tingle all over. Sudden heat bloomed between her thighs and she pressed them together.

  “Ah, the maiden likes what she sees?” A husky chuckle sounded. “I appreciate that in a woman.”

  Caught! She closed her eyes for a moment to help clear her thoughts. Staring was not the proper action of a blushing maiden. How should she act? Too many nights had passed since she’d first come untouched to a man’s bed for her to remember. But that might not be the way of this playacting. Her memories of her first time were not pleasant.

  With renewed resolve, she stepped next to the bed and relaxed her arms, letting the cloth unwind. “Does the laird wish to inspect the goods offered in the contract?” Without anchoring, the coverlet’s weight slowly dipped lower and teased him with a glimpse of her rounded charms.

  “I contracted for a blushing bride, but you seem too sure of your actions to still be a maiden.”

  He is right! Especially since he’d just seen her naked—a rare privilege. She stilled and tilted her head and let her long hair slide along her cheek, partially obscuring her face. “Aye, my la—Mac. Some may see it that way.” She shrugged and the sheet slipped another inch, one nipple peeking over the edge. “Father spent most of his time with my older brothers and let Nanny Erskina raise my sisters and me as she wished. My nanny trained us all to the ways of the marriage bed.”

  “She did?” Slade’s hungry gaze followed the coverlet’s descent and a muscle jumped in his jaw. “From the steward’s description, I thought you’d be taller.”

  She sucked in a breath, resisting the urge to stop the playacting. He’d better be kidding because she hated being called short. “I assure you, sir, my height is quite adequate.” A wriggle of her shoulders dumped the coverlet in a heap at her feet. She slid a knee onto the mattress and leaned forward on her hands, being sure her breasts plumped between her arms. Too many minutes had passed in the talking part. Her hands itched to get to the doing and touching.

  But that wasn’t what a maiden would do. “I must rely on you to tell me what you like.”

  His expression stiffened, his eyes dark and smoldering, then he flashed her a slow grin. “I like your hands on me.”

  That would be easy. She cupped her hands in front of her mouth and blew short breaths on them, then rubbed them briskly until they warmed. With slow movements, she ran her fingers along his shoulder and down his arm to the crook of his elbow. Blocked by the odd angle of his body, she pressed against his shoulder until he dropped back on the mattress.

  She liked the way he was going along with her game. “My sisters at the castle have instructed me in many ways to provide pleasure. I have been told my hands are quite skillful.” She massaged a firm shoulder and worked the muscles of his bicep, alternating between deep pushes and gentle caresses.

  “Can’t deny that.” A groan rumbled in the back of his throat. “Your touch does amazing things.”

  At the sound, her hands stilled. She was giving pleasure to a man without her hands being anywhere close to his groin. This was another first, and Jazzy fought to keep hold on her heart. Too easily, Slade’s words or deeds brought out tender feelings, ones she
couldn’t hope to have returned by an honest businessman like him.

  A finger ran along her jaw. “Hey, pretty lady, why’d you stop?”

  “Thinking of what I’ll do next.” She dipped her chin so he couldn’t read anything in her expression. She could not let on how important this night was. “Would you like me to rub your back?”

  “I’d rather you put your hands somewhere else.”

  At the roguish look in his eye, she glanced toward his waist and saw the sheet was raised several inches off his lower body. Playacting or not, she was impressed. “Um, Mac…” She had to bite her lip to hold in a sigh. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Miss Aileana.” He grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand down to his body. “This is where I want your hands.” He angled his hips and rubbed his stiff wand against her hand.

  The moment of decision. In her head, Jazzy wanted to keep this coy game going. To feel again the excitement of gentle glances and virginal touches. To forget all the men from her past who’d crossed the threshold of Room 9 at Miss Veronica’s. To pretend they’d gained more from their time spent with her, more than the use of her body in exchange for a few coins.

  Again, Slade pressed his stiff member against her hand. His throaty rumble sounded low and needy.

  Heat radiated on her palm. Every cell in her body cried out for what she knew this virile man could give her. Had given her. Her hand inched under the sheet and closed around his engorged shaft, one finger at a time. Old habits almost moved her hand into a quick, pumping action. Instead, she released her grip and ran feathery strokes along the impressive length.

  Tonight was different and new. Tonight was to be of her choosing.

  “I’m sorry I did not ask for a bath to be prepared, my laird. Nanny Erskina taught us the simple pleasures the act of bathing can produce.”

  “No water here,” he spoke through gritted teeth.

  From under lowered eyelids, she watched a muscle in his jaw jerk and shifted her weight on the bed. “I could run down to the kitchen and fetch some.”

  With narrowed gaze, he clamped a hand on her wrist and held tight. “The woman who is to be my wife does not fetch.”

  Wife? Even in playacting, the word struck a chord in her heart. At his possessive touch, she felt a thrill run through her body and bead her nipples. A twinge low in her abdomen distracted her for a moment, and she felt compelled to gaze directly into his eyes. A flush heated her skin at the hunger in his gaze. “I wish to please you, Mac. Simply tell me how.”

  “Touch me. Anywhere.”

  She was helpless not to obey his command. Her core throbbed in expectation and she squirmed. How long could she deny what her body ached for?

  Starting at his knees, she ran her hands up the outside of his legs, and then drew them to the inside of his thighs before tracing a path to his knees.

  “Ah, Aileana, your hands are so soft.”

  Had his voice trembled a bit? She ran her hands up his legs, enjoyed the rough texture of crisp hair, and anchored them on his hips. “With your permission, I must get closer.”

  He cleared his throat. “Please do, miss.”

  Like mounting a horse, she slung her leg over and straddled both his legs. She lowered her bottom to lightly rest on his thighs, but kept most of her weight on her knees. Her hands moved along his stomach and over his chest, caressing with small circles and long strokes. The sensation of her sensitive palms gliding over his firm skin made her aware of every inch of his body. The roughness of the hair on his chest, the leathery skin of his shoulders that had seen too much sun, and the puckered skin along his ribs on his left side. Her fingers gently explored and she leaned closer to get a better look. “Is this a scar from a gunshot?”

  “Uh-huh.” His muscles tightened. “Part of the job.”

  Businessmen get shot? A terseness in his tone drew her gaze. She glanced at the blank expression he’d retreated behind—pinched nostrils, tense jaw, and narrowed gaze. “Did it hurt?”

  “Mostly, it burned. Jazzy—”

  “Aileana.” Her questing finger ran one last circle around the scar.

  “Right…Aileana. I don’t want to talk about this now.”

  “I know.” With one last glance at his glare, she leaned forward and kissed the uneven skin on his side, then dragged the tips of her hair along his belly. Planting kisses on his stomach and chest, she scooted up his legs until her nether lips pressed against his erection.

  Strong hands clamped onto her hips and pulled her closer against him. “I don’t want to talk at all.”

  Unable to hide her smile, she straightened her back. Her hands trailed along his sides, across his abdomen, and played with the springy curls in his groin. “I see that.”

  Slowly, one hand closed around his shaft, tugging gently, and the other rubbed a circle around the ridge of its knob.

  His hips surged and pushed against her movements. “That’s how I want to be touched.”

  For an instant, she heard the echoes of many other voices and her movements faltered. This had to be different. She had to make this time unique. She didn’t know exactly why, but she knew her heart would break if this turned out to be just another routine encounter. “And that’s how I want to touch you, Mac.”

  “I want to be inside you.”

  Oooh, the man was direct. She laid her thumb at the base of his erection and pressed with short half-circles.

  A low groan sounded and his hips flexed in response. “Um, I like that.”

  With alternating hands, she stroked his length until it pointed almost straight up, its head becoming a deep red. A drop of pearly liquid oozed, and she rubbed it with a circling thumb.

  “Ah. I like that too.” His voice was whisper soft and raspy.

  At the sound, a shiver ran through her. Just watching her hands as they caressed his erection made her wet. No longer could she deny what her body ached for. She rose on her knees and hovered over his groin, waiting for him to look up. Once his gaze met hers, she slowly lowered herself, savoring the heat as she stretched to accommodate his girth.

  “Finally. Damn, that feels good.”

  She anchored her hands on his shoulders and rocked her hips, feeling his thighs below her bottom stiffen. “Is the bride tall enough for your satisfaction now, sir?”

  His eyes widened and a corner of his mouth tilted up. “Aye, and she has all the right parts.”

  Jazzy’s core tightened and her breasts ached to be stroked. Could she keep up the game and ask for what she needed? Or would her heart be put at risk?

  Chapter Five

  From outside the window came the raucous caw of a grackle. Jazzy groaned and inched open an eyelid. Gray light filtered through the dusty window. An unaccustomed weight around her middle had her trapped. She shoved at the tangled bedclothes and her hand touched warm skin.

  Well-muscled skin. With a furring of hair.

  Heart pounding, she yanked back her hand.

  Slade!

  Lordy be, she’d let him stay the night in her room. In her bed…the entire night.

  In all her years of entertaining men, not once had she allowed herself to fall asleep while a customer was still in the room. Although, before last night, not on a single occasion had her body been satisfied enough to fall asleep. Still, Ben’s reminder knock would have come in handy last night. Slade wasn’t exactly a paying customer, but she chose to ignore that itty-bitty fact.

  Her mind raced at how their playacting had disappeared into the hottest coupling she’d ever known. What excuse could she possibly give to explain her behavior? How could she salvage her reputation? At least, everyone’s idea of her good reputation. Could he still look on her kindly if he knew she’d only wanted a bit of fun on her own terms?

  Images of the previous night’s romping entered her mind. Her core tingled with a pleasurable ache and she stifled a grin. Slade as the aggressor. Her straddled across his lap. The time he’d taken her hard, fast, and against the wall. Ha
ving his hand clamped over her mouth to muffle her cries had just added to the excitement. Sure as the morning dew, she’d shot to smithereens any thoughts he had of her as a genteel young lady.

  Anxiety bit at her stomach. Had he taken her for the parlor lady she used to be? Or, judging by her wanton behavior, still was? At that unsettling thought, hot tears bit at the back of her eyes. Why should she care? So, this first attempt at independence hadn’t gone so well. Plenty of adventures awaited her ahead and far beyond this location.

  The bird’s cry came again.

  Slade’s arm around her waist tightened, pulling her against his warm chest.

  The heat of his body invaded hers, as if trying to bend her to his will. A heady thrumming beat along her skin. Lordy, she wanted him again. If she wasn’t careful, she’d turn her body into the warm embrace of his strong arms and beg him to take her. Right here, right now.

  But Slade didn’t fit into her plan. Jessimay Morgan was starting a new life, one where she made all the choices. She inhaled a quick breath, leaned against his hold, and tried to ease toward the edge of the mattress.

  His splayed hand clamped onto her hip. “’Morning, Jessimay.” His raspy words tickled her neck. “Is that the nightingale on yon pomegranate tree?”

  “Yon pome what? What are you talking about?” She stiffened and whispered over a suddenly dry tongue. “Are you even awake? It’s just a plain ole grackle.”

  Slade rolled her flat on her back, gave her a sleepy-eyed grin, and then nuzzled her neck with his warm lips. “I was quoting from Shakespeare.”

  To give him better access to the sensitive skin on her neck, she angled her head. “Huh?”

  “A play. Young lovers argue over a bird call that reveals their time together is nearly over.”

  “Oh.” A play? That meant he was high-brow educated. Regret at not finishing her time in Miss Cavendar’s schoolroom flooded her. “Fancy words from a play won’t stop dawn from comin’.” No doubt about it. They wouldn’t go together any better than burlap and silk. “Best hotfoot over to your own room before anyone catches sight of you sneaking out of mine.”