Luke sighed. “Brian played cards with him one night in East Texas and was impressed by Murphy’s skills at sleight-of-hand.”
“He was a cardsharp?”
“The best for his age that Brian had ever seen. He brought him home to teach me. By that time, Brian had abandoned his attempt to stay straight.”
“Really? What did your mother say about that?”
Luke’s lips twisted in a sad smile. “My mother died in childbirth with Rory. I was nine, Janna, fourteen. We figured Brian would run off, but he stuck. Janna mothered Rory and tried to manage me. Brian taught us magic tricks, and he had a grand scheme going for taking our show on the road.”
Luke paused, absently stroking Mari’s shoulder as he thought back to those days, his mood wistful. All in all, life had been good back then. Brian had been a good man, big and bold and boisterous. He’d truly cared about his family. He simply had a different set of values when it came to matters involving money.
“My hands were the problem. They were too big. Too slow.” He flexed his fingers in front of her. “I had a devil of a time learning to pick pockets.”
He had learned, though. Eventually. Even all these years later, he still had the talent. A touch light enough to slip a row of bodice buttons with nary a notice. “Murphy taught me. He had the hands of a phantom, and, to my everlasting regret, the charm of the devil. Janna fell for him like a flour sack off the back of a wagon.”
“He took advantage of your sister?”
“Worse than that. He married her.”
Mari sat up straight. The front placket of her gown gaped open, giving Luke a tantalizing view of her breasts. “Wait a minute. Are you telling me that Finn Murphy is your brother-in-law?”
“’Fraid so,” he replied, distracted. Her nipples were the size of quarters, a sweet, rosy pink.
“Finn Murphy is your brother-in-law and Rory Callahan is your brother.”
“Uh huh.” Luke’s fingers itched to touch her. His mouth craved her taste.
“And I thought the McBride family had its share of black sheep. Y’all are an entire herd. So, are there any more surprises I need to know about? Any other family skeletons I might wander into on the trail?”
Oh, yeah. Definitely. Without a doubt.
But damned if he’d answer that question. Not now. Luke was tired of talking about his family. He was tired of talking, period. He sat up, turned toward her and ticked his dry lips.
He had something much more enticing in mind.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“WELL?” MARI PRESSED AS she watched Luke’s eyes narrow.
“Well what?” he asked, his voice low and thick like hot caramel atop cold ice cream.
Unease shimmered up Mari’s spine. He was in a strange mood this morning, one she couldn’t quite read. She didn’t know what to think of him. She couldn’t decide how much of his story she believed. “Do you have any more unpleasant surprises for me, Luke? Any more skeletons in the closet?”
“I have surprises. Oh, yeah. Not unpleasant, though. Never that. I’m better than that.” His gaze drifted over her sheet-clad body. “Maribeth?”
She cleared her throat. “Yes?”
He looked up, stared into her eyes. “Did you have a good night’s sleep?”
“Yes. Until I was rudely awakened.” What did the way she slept have to do with anything, anyhow? They were talking about his family. A family where nobody had the same last name. A family of sinners with one saint. If she believed Luke’s story, that is. Did she believe him?
He traced his index finger across the knuckles of her fist.
“You’re right. I was rude. Let’s do it over, shall we?”
“Do what…” Mari’s words trailed off as Luke reached up and gently shut her eyes.
“Go to sleep, sugar, and let’s do it right.”
Sleep? She couldn’t go to sleep now. She was wide-awake. He was drawing spirals on her shoulder and every nerve in her body had bristled to attention.
Then, she felt it. His breath danced over her skin. His lips, as soft as a butterfly’s wings, made a gentle, lazy journey across her face. He kissed her closed eyelids, her temples, her cheekbones. “Sleeping beauty,” he murmured. “Wake up, beautiful.”
Heart hammering, her lashes fluttered open. His dark eyes stared into her very soul and turned her bones to butter. “What are you doing?”
His slow, knowing smile exposed his roguish dimple. “Saying good-morning.”
Then he slowly, deliberately, brought his mouth back to hers.
Mari’s lips parted at his first touch. His gentleness lulled her, his tenderness seduced her. As he increased the pressure against her mouth, bit by delicious bit, her hands reached up to grip his arms.
Her head started to spin.
Luke’s tongue teased her lips, seeking entrance. Exhaling a breathy sigh, Mari went pliant and allowed him in. He played with her, darting, licking, exploring. He captured her upper lip, then her lower. With lazy seduction, he made love to her mouth. Outside, raindrops thudded against the roof, providing music for lyrics of sighs and gasps and soft, silken moans.
This was more than a simple good morning, and part of Mari, her self-protective side, tried to assert some control.
Luke Garrett might be a Texas Ranger, but he is definitely no saint.
Then his fingers slipped buttons free, pushed the nightgown from her shoulders and grazed the swell of her naked breasts. Undeniable desire overtook reason, and she banished the last fragment of doubt. Mari arched her body toward him.
She wanted this. She wanted him. She’d been good for so long, and she’d be good again. But right now, here in the middle of nowhere, where nobody knew her to judge her or to damage her reputation, she wanted to be bad.
She wanted her former fiancé’s ugly accusation put to bed, so to speak, once and for all, if only for herself. No woman who willingly gave her virginity to an outlaw could possibly be labeled frigid!
Besides, Luke Garrett was an adventure she simply didn’t want to miss.
Mari tangled her fingers in his thick, silken hair, subtly yielding, silently urging him on.
Luke was quick to take her hint. He deepened the kiss, the thrusts of his tongue growing demanding. His hand cupped the fullness of her breast, caressing, fondling. “Mmm…” he said, flicking his thumb across her rigid nipple. Arousal zinged straight to her core, and she let out a little groan.
“Like that, hmm?” he asked. His teeth scraped against her neck as his hand continued to move, caressing each breast in turn.
“Yes…” she breathed.
Wickedness danced in his eyes as he glanced at her and declared. “Then you’re gonna love this.”
He dipped his head and took her nipple into his mouth.
Mari’s arms fell to her sides, her hands flexing and gripping the sheet as sensation flooded her. His hot breath fanned her skin as he laved the sensitive peak with his tongue. He teased and nibbled, using the tip of his tongue to torture the tight bud. When he settled down to suckle, she surrendered to his need for fulfillment. “Luke. Oh, Luke.”
Writhing upward, she held his dark head in her arms while her body pulsed with delicious sensation. He tormented, teased, tasted. She begged, cried, prayed. It went on for minutes—or maybe days—and left her weak and trembling. Aching. Hot.
She let out a sigh of loss when he released her, rolled back on his knees. Breathing hard, his eyes dark with need, Luke stripped off his shirt. Mari’s gaze trailed over his muscular, masculine beauty and a hollow, achy yearning filled her. This man. This moment. She’d remember it all her life. She licked her lips and said, “I want to touch you.”
Wordlessly, he lifted her hand to his chest.
Mari trailed her fingertips across the dusting of dark hair, the intriguing ripple of muscle. When she scraped a nail across his nipple, he sucked in an audible breath. Encouraged, she stroked the hard, rippled muscles of his stomach until she reached the sprinkling of hair dusting his navel.
“I don’t want to stop.”
His hot, molten eyes captured hers. “You sure?”
She nodded.
“Thank God.”
He climbed from the bed and slipped off his trousers. At the first sight of his jutting erection, Mari recalled the previous day’s events and experienced a quick flash of panic.
Firmly, she willed it away, determined to forget yesterday’s trauma. She trusted Luke. Being with him was good. It was right. This was what she wanted. He was who she wanted.
Her throat worked convulsively and, noting it, Luke paused. He gently stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “It’s all right, sugar. I promise.”
“I trust you, Luke.”
“I know, and I won’t betray that trust.”
“Remember, it’s my first time.”
“I remember.” Satisfaction gleamed in his warm brown eyes. “I’m honored by your gift, Mari, and I’ll treat it with the respect it deserves. I want to make it good for you. I won’t hurt you.”
No. No, he wouldn’t. He wasn’t anything like Finn Murphy. Looking at that man had made her want to run screaming. Looking at Luke made her want to…touch.
So she did.
Heedless of the nightgown that pooled at her waist, Mari sat up and reached for him. Velvet steel, she thought as she trailed a trembling fingertip along his rigid length. His body twitched at her untutored exploration, until she reached the satin tip of him. With a low, growling noise from deep in his throat, Luke thrust against her hand and shuddered. “Jesus, Maribeth.”
As he shifted her hand away, she felt a warm glow of feminine triumph at the glazed, desperate look in his eyes. She’d done that to him. Her. Mari McBride, frigid virgin. Ha!
The mattress sagged beneath his weight as he settled beside her. “Lookin’ mighty pleased with yourself, there, sugar.”
“I made you twitch.”
He let out a strangled laugh. “Honey, you’ve been making me twitch for months, since the first time I laid eyes on you.”
“Really?”
“You looked at me all sassy and proud, challenging me to resist your—” he grabbed hold of the nightgown pillowed at her hips and with one great yank, tugged it loose “—kisses.”
His lips returned to hers and his tongue plunged inside her, taking and tasting and savoring. Then he drew back. “Temptations,” he breathed, his smoldering gaze slowly scorching a trail across her naked skin, her breasts, her navel, her womanhood.
Mari shuddered with need.
Then he reached out and touched her, his practiced hands skimming lightly over her sensitive skin, stroking and teasing and exploring. Luke stared deeply into her eyes, into her soul, and whispered, “Sinfuls.”
Mari gasped as he slipped a finger inside her, stretching her, sending her mindlessly into a storm of sensation.
His fingers conjured a magic from deep within her. The air seemed too thick to breathe. She writhed beneath his touch, her hands gripping the bedsheet. His hands, his mouth were everywhere, pushing her forward, driving her up, until she felt as if she teetered on a high, narrow ledge. “Luke,” she groaned, thrashing upon the bed, pleading for relief.
His cheek, bristly with a day’s growth of whiskers, scraped against the sensitive skin of her belly as he kissed his way toward the juncture of her thighs. His hands gripped her hips, stimulating, steadying. Anticipation sharpened to anxiety as his goal became clear, and she attempted to pull away. “No.”
Luke lifted his head, his eyes hot with passion. “Don’t be afraid, Mari.”
“It’s too…too—” she all but sobbed the last word “—much.”
“Shush, Mari-mine,” he soothed. “All right. I’ll wait. We’ll save it for next time.” He braced himself above her, kissed her lips, stroked her hair, her cheek, her breasts until she lost herself in the maelstrom once again.
His hand skimmed down her stomach, leaving shudders of pleasure in its wake before delving into the folds of her womanhood with slow, gentle strokes. “So hot. So wet. So beautiful.”
She tried to think, tried to find words to describe the sensations swirling inside her. Physical and emotional reactions gave rise to feelings Mari had never experienced before, feelings she’d never known were even possible. “Luke, I…”
Then two of his fingers rubbed a slow, sensual circle around the bead of nerves at the apex of her sex. Ribbons of pleasure fluttered outward from the spot, and instinctively, Mari rose against his hand. “Luke!”
“That’s my girl,” he urged, his voice a low, coaxing rumble. “Go up. I want to watch you go over.”
Mari’s tension spiraled higher as he worked his magic between her legs. She was back on that ledge again, swaying once more on the edge. She fought for breath, tried to find her balance. It was too much. He was too much.
“Don’t fight it. Let it happen.”
As if sensing her need, he slipped one, then unbearably a second, finger into her slick wet sheath and pressed the pad of his thumb against her core. She climbed higher, tighter, tenser. Reaching toward…
“Go,” Luke said against her lips. “Let go, Mari.”
He kissed her as she climaxed, as she tumbled off the ledge into a free fall of sensation. She grabbed his shoulders, holding on for dear life, flying through a world of bold and brilliant pleasure.
Then, before her feet touched the ground, he rose above her. Need tightened his expression into sharp angles and hard planes. His breathing was harsh, his voice raspy with desire as his hands skimmed her thighs, lifting her, spreading her open. “Again, Maribeth.” His hot, hard length probed at her entrance. “This time, with me.”
With one hard thrust, he took her. The pain was brief and minimal, all but overlooked by Mari in the wonder of the moment. He filled her. Completed her. It was…amazing.
Luke looked down at her, his expression achingly tender. Slowly, he smiled. Gently, he kissed her. Sweetly, he murmured her name. Mari-mine.
Then he started to move. He drew out, then thrust in, his strokes painstakingly slow and sweet. His mouth brushed hers in sweet challenge, provoking her to respond. Taking his face in her hands, Mari kissed him fully, exploring his mouth with utter abandon. She wanted more than sweet. She wanted raw. She wanted him.
Lifting her hips, she met his next languid thrust and caught his surprised moan. Riding the surge of feminine power once again, she daringly slid one foot up the back of his thigh.
Luke’s mouth crushed down on hers as his pace quickened. His hands supported his weight above her as his hips pumped harder, taking her in primitive impatient drives that made Mari whimper against his plundering mouth.
She scaled the wondrous height once more. Flesh slapped against flesh as instinct took control. The earthy sounds of their lovemaking blended with the rhythm of the rain. Wrapping her arms and legs around him, Mari climbed the last few steps to bliss. Their skin grew slick, their bodies melted into one. They rolled on the bed, thrashed across the sheets. Her nails pressed into his bare back and he shuddered, driving harder. He nipped her neck and angled his hips to spread her further. It wasn’t gentle anymore, but hard and greedy and ruthless. Primal. Male and female.
“Look at me,” he demanded.
Her eyes fluttered open, focused. His skin was flushed, his jaw hard. His eyes hot, burning, branding her as his. Her outlaw. Her bodyguard. Her lover. She whispered his name. “Luke.”
Without taking his eyes from hers, Luke reached down and stroked her where their bodies were joined.
The second climax hit Mari without warning and she cried out. Luke grasped her hips and plunged once, twice, three more times, then he stiffened, groaned, and Mari welcomed the hot wet gush of his seed.
Her outlaw. Her bodyguard.
Her first true love.
LUKE HAD always been good at morning-afters. He knew just the ri
ght note to strike to charm his women, soothe any insecurities, and make them feel special while avoiding any noose they might be dragging.
With Mari, his tongue knotted up like a bowline. He didn’t know what to say or how to say it, or why his heart continued to pound like a smithy’s hammer even after he summoned the strength to scoot out of bed and climb into his britches. He couldn’t believe he had trouble meeting her eyes or shaping his mouth into a smile that wouldn’t come across as fake. Lovemaking with Mari had left Luke as confused as a woodpecker in a petrified forest. Mari, on the other hand, didn’t appear to be suffering in any way at all.
For a recently deflowered virgin, the woman was way too perky. She sat up, clutched the sheet to her naked breasts and chattered on about women and men and her preconceived notions about sex. She confessed to allowing minor liberties with a few of her previous beaux. When she got to the part where she praised Luke’s talents, he tuned in a little closer.
“…from the time I learned who you were,” Mari was saying. “I guess there is something about wickedness in a man that appeals to a woman. At least, for purposes of a dalliance.”
Dalliance? Is that what this was? Luke considered it, then decided he didn’t like the term. And what was this business about wickedness? Luke didn’t much like that, either. “Hold on just one minute. Are you trying to say that I’m wicked, Maribeth?”
She gave him a look both patient and pitying. “You’re an outlaw, Luke. By definition, outlaws are wicked.”
“Outlaw! Excuse me, but I thought we settled this. You know I’m a Texas Ranger.”
Her expression turned indulgent. “Whatever you say, Luke.”
Luke’s jaw gaped, then hardened. “You still don’t believe me?” When she smiled and shrugged, his world went red. “I poured my guts out to you, gave you all the gory details about my relations, and you don’t believe a word I said?”
“Look,” she said in a placating tone, “let’s not bother with all that right now.”
“No.” He braced his hands on his hips. “I say let’s do.”
“But there’s really no need. What does it matter what I believe?”
Her Bodyguard Page 17