Colorado Captive

by Charlotte Hubbard

  Her mouth closed over his, and loving her became a simple, basic celebration again. She’d saved him from his own fumblings, and Matt was humble enough to realize that it probably wouldn’t be the last time Emily came to his rescue. He rested on his elbows, lying between her legs as he gazed at a golden face dappled with firelight. “How long have you known?”

  “Oh, ever since you came to the mine,” she answered softly. Relief pounded through her, and she reached up to stroke the shadowy stubble on his face.

  “You sound awfully sure of yourself. And as I recall, you were dressed in overalls and—”

  “You saw through my story about being Silas’s niece that night at the Rose, didn’t you?”

  Matt thought back to the skittish girl in the maid’s uniform who’d nearly unmanned him with her innocence. “I suspected something wasn’t quite right about Eliza, but I wasn’t sure what, till you were pointing that pistol at me a few nights later. That’s when I realized you were different, Emily. You might be the death of me, but you’ll never, never bore me.”

  Emily laughed and shifted beneath his warm weight. “Pretty brash, wasn’t I?”

  “No. Just being your own inimitable self.” McClanahan stroked her cheek as a droplet dribbled toward her ear. “Why the tears? Aren’t you glad we’ve finally figured out how we feel about each other?”

  Nodding, she looked toward the fire. “I…I didn’t know I could love anybody so much. Especially after Papa…”

  “Oh, rosebud.” He gathered her into his arms and kissed her tenderly before brushing his lips against the damp streaks on her face. Following in E.R.’s footsteps would be a formidable challenge and responsibility, yet he was certain now that he was up to it.

  “Sorry I’m such a crybaby lately. It’s not like me to—”

  “Don’t be sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Riding with a dolt like me couldn’t have been as much fun is you’d hoped for. You were hoping we’d have fun today, weren’t you?”

  Emily nodded, grinning despite her tears.

  “And I wanted to be the first to confess how much loved you.” Matt tweaked her nose, chuckling. You’re supposed to let the man take the lead, Miss Burnham.”

  She shrugged and felt terribly mischievous, now that she was sure her handsome lover’s heart was hers for the taking. “Sometimes I jump the gun,” she replied coyly.

  “I should know that by now. But I love you anyway.” Still holding her, he turned them onto their ides so he could caress her more freely. When Emily’s lips sought his, McClanahan was secretly pleased that she was more aggressive than was fashionable. She moved provocatively in his arms, moaning softly as their kiss deepened.

  “You claim we think alike,” she murmured against his ear, “so what’s going through my mind right now?”

  Matt chuckled. “Thoughts so improper I shouldn’t discuss them in mixed company.”

  “Will you marry me anyway?”

  He gaped and caught his breath. “Don’t you listen? I just said you should let me—”

  “Sometimes I like you better when you don’t talk, McClanahan.” Emily kissed him again, deftly unbuttoning his shirt to comb the coarse curls on his chest with her fingers. His body fascinated her, and as she ran her hand over the curved muscles and flatness of his stomach, her desire burned hotter them the campfire behind them.

  “Maybe we should leave our shirts on,” he breathed. “Even though it’s warm for this time of—”

  “No.”

  Her throaty command sent him over the edge. Matt could barely restrain himself as he unfastened her clothes, pressing his mouth to hers with an abandon fueled by her eager response. How many times had he made love in his life? How many times with Emily? Yet he felt his customary control slipping into the starry night, along with his reservations about reviving his past sorrows and memories. She was his—wanted to be his—and all that mattered was trying to please this woman so she’d love him forever.

  McClanahan’s urgency didn’t go unnoticed. Emily rolled and raised herself as he removed her under-things, amazed at the wonder she saw in his crystal blue eyes. Had declaring their love made such a difference? His hands refused to let her go as she struggled with his pants. He kept pulling her close, rubbing against her, with skin and hair and denim until she whimpered with frustration. “If you won’t let me undress you, then do it yourself, dammit.”

  “Do what? To whom?” He gave her a teasing grin as he sat up to yank his boots off.

  “Everything—to yourself, unless you start playing air.”

  “You couldn’t keep your hands off me. You’d go crazy just watching, Emily.”

  “You think so?” With a snort, she rolled away from him. But the sudden coldness of grass beneath her back made her shiver, and when Matt stood to remove his pants, she realized how right he was. The flames highlighted his rugged body, giving his dark hair and skin a glow she couldn’t resist. He stood a few feet away, magnificent and masculine against the indigo sky as he gazed at her.

  When McClanahan drew his hands slowly up his highs, she sucked in her breath. His thumbs grazed his stiffening manhood and then continued up until they were circling his nipples…they’d be as rigid s her own, and her fingers itched to touch them…her tongue longed to seek out their tiny indentations. The moment he went into a crouch, Emily scrambled back onto the blanket.

  “Cold?” he teased as he stretched out beside her.

  “Hot as hell. What do you plan to do about it?”

  With a moan he rolled onto her, his lips wandering across her chest until they left each of the little pink buds harder than when he’d found them. She was already aroused and squirming, but Matt was determined to wait until neither of them could stand it before he gave in to his need. He kissed every velvety inch of her stomach, tickling her navel and then laughing with her. When his tongue slid into her warm, sweet cleft she nearly suffocated him with her trusting.

  “Matt, please,” she breathed. Fire was racing through her veins, rushing along tiny fuses to the ore of her womanhood, and she couldn’t lie still, Emily kneaded his shoulders, then coaxed him away from making her explode just yet. “Kiss me,” she whispered. “Take me now. I want to—”

  “Don’t move.”

  Her eyes flew open and Matt was suspended above her, his lips parted as he gazed hungrily at her.

  “I want you to lie absolutely still. No response—not a wiggle. Understand?”

  “But I—”

  “Just try it.”

  McClanahan braced his muscled arms on either side of her shoulders and entered her so slowly she thought she’d die. His face was tight with concentration. He moved in a hypnotic rhythm, his inner caress so controlled it was all Emily could do not to writhe up to meet him each time. Her hands tightened on his forearms, but otherwise she strained to match his challenge. Primal fingers coiled and uncoiled within her, tighter and tighter, until she realized she wasn’t even breathing. Just when she thought she’d lose consciousness, a low moan welled up from the depths of her and came out as a scream that shattered the night silence.

  Matt let go, flooding her with his love until he had nothing left of himself to give. Then he fell into her arms, thrusting and rolling with her until he knew that Emily, too, was drained of desire and strength.

  As she lay in his embrace, she was certain her instincts hadn’t failed her. Even though he was the only man who’d ever touched her, physically or emotionally, Matt McClanahan was also the only man who could possess her. Emily snuggled against him, smiling as he drew the blankets around their sated bodies.

  With a deep sigh he cradled her head on his elbow, weaving his fingers through the silky, golden strands that spilled over her shoulders. “You were beautiful last night in your lace and finery,” he murmured, “but you were never meant to be any man’s parlor decoration, Emily. Promise me you’ll stay a little bit wild, like the golden roses that only grow on the prairie, and I’ll love you forever.”

  E
mily hugged him hard, speechless at his eloquence. When his lips met hers, she tasted the sweetness of a surrender she never realized was possible. “I love you, too, Matt.”

  He smiled, puzzled yet oddly content about the sense of domesticity that overtook him. “The answer’s yes.”

  “Hmm?”

  “I’ll marry you, rosebud,” he said as he saw his mile reflected in her tawny eyes. “And I don’t care whether you dress in gowns or overalls or just frilly little underthings, but I intend to wear the pants in his family.”

  Emily nipped her lip playfully, and before he could catch her, she was rolling away and grabbing his rousers from the pile of clothing beside them. “Fine. But you’ll have to take them away from me first.”

  “What the—” As he sat up, she was already scurrying toward the tethered horses, and Matt knew all too well that she’d delight in dumping his only pair of pants miles from the campfire. He bolted from the blankets, ignoring the sudden chill to chase after her.

  Her laughter ringing out, Emily grabbed Sundance’s reins and swung onto his bare back. The full noon shone so brightly she could see the despair on McClanahan’s face. Draping his trousers in front of her, she circled him, staying just beyond his reach. Who’s got the pants now, McClanahan?” she teased. Gonna let your woman show you up this way?”

  “Nope.” Gauging the palomino’s gentle trot, Matt leaped, planted his hands on the horse’s rump, and carefully cushioned his landing against Emily’s back. He reached around her for the reins, chuckling at her amazed expression.

  “Where’d you pick that trick up?” she gasped between laughs.

  “Ever heard of Arizona Charley, the stunt rider?” He settled against her, easing Sundance into a gentle canter as they made a wide arc around the camp area.

  “Sure, he rides in all the rodeos around here.”

  “And he buys his horses from me. Gives me a few pointers when he comes to pick them up.”

  Emily smiled wryly over her shoulder. “I suppose you’ve sold some to Buffalo Bill Cody, too?”

  “Yep. Offered me a fringed jacket and a spot in his Wild West show, but I turned him down.” He nuzzled her hair and tightened his hold around her waist. “I couldn’t see going from town to town, unable to honor all the requests from the adoring women in the audience.”

  She suspected he was bluffing—about Buffalo Bill’s offer, anyway—but it really didn’t matter. The night was drenched in gold. Open pasture glowed in the moonlight for miles around them, and she was intensely aware of so many new sensations…the flowing warmth of Sundance’s hide beneath her bare thighs, the night air caressing her body, and a sense of freedom she’d never known. Matt was molded against her backside, his legs hard beneath hers as they gripped the palomino’s ribs. The gentle canter caused a delicious friction between their bodies, which was every bit as suggestive as the sound of Sundance’s breathing.

  Emily chuckled and leaned back. “If you’re such a hotshot horseman, Mr. McClanahan, why don’t you make love to me?”

  “What? Honey, you don’t—”

  “Come on,” she teased softly. “We’re both good riders, and Sundance’ll do most of the work.”

  Matt stifled a groan, yet he couldn’t help smiling at her adventurous naiveté. “It’s not a matter of horsemanship, sweetheart. A man can’t just do it again and again, even if he wants to.”

  Feeling a distinct ridge growing against her back, Emily smiled. “You’re fibbing. You want to try it as badly as I do.”

  With an exasperated laugh, McClanahan clutched her to keep his balance. Her suggestion was outrageous, and yet…the palomino’s steady gait and he breasts bobbing gently against his arm made him reconsider. A familiar lightning streaked through his loins, and as he thought fleetingly about the possible dangers of her idea, the novelty became a necessity. “Hold on tight and take it slowly. If we fall off, it’ll be the last time we’ll ever make love.”

  Emily nodded, her pulse racing ahead of the horse’s hoofbeats.

  “Lean forward…balance against his neck.”

  She grasped Sundance’s pale mane with one hand and steadied herself against his powerful, flowing shoulders. Matt loosened his grip on her, hardly daring to look at her as he wondered how she’d talked him into such a stunt. “All right,” he murmured, “point your bottom at me. Hold on with your knees, like you were jumping a creek.”

  Emily focused on the fistful of coarse ivory hair he was gripping. She raised up, creating a draft between herself and McClanahan until the broad hand panning her stomach guided her slowly down. At the first moment of contact, she sucked in and forced herself to stay poised above him. The ground below hem was going by at an alarming rate, and she couldn’t let herself imagine the consequences of the lightest loss of concentration.

  “Ready?” he breathed. Thank God she nodded, because his pulse was pounding so loudly in his ears he wouldn’t have heard her response. Matt tugged lightly on the reins, and when the horse slowed to a gentler lope he lowered Emily onto his lap. “Relax with it…tell me if I’m hurting you.”

  Emily could no more speak than she could let go of Sundance’s neck. The earthy smell of her warm horse, coupled with the new sensations as she slid up and down Matt’s swollen shaft, had her reeling in a world of intense pleasure. She arched, instinctively finding the best angle for both of them. The giddiness of accomplishment overtook her, followed by the gradual spiraling of fire in the pit of her stomach.

  McClanahan leaned his head lightly on Emily’s back, allowing her rhythm to seduce him into a frenzy beyond words. He couldn’t move—couldn’t let his legs slip for fear he’d be singing soprano for the rest of his life—so he clutched the horse and his lover and the reins until he strained against the need for release. “Whoa, boy,” he rasped. “Whoa, Sundance. Hang on, sweetheart.”

  As the horse slowed to a halt, Emily lowered herself onto his firm, tawny neck and clenched her teeth. Matt was rocking furiously, battering against her with little animal cries that carried her over a mind-shattering threshold of delight. She yelped, and then steadied Sundance as McClanahan shuddered against her with a final groan.

  For several moments there was only the whisper of a breeze and the horse’s shifting steps. As Matt regained his senses, he was aware of Emily’s sweet-smelling hair and her heavenly warmth—and a triumphant, heady sense of power he thought he’d left behind with a cockier youth. “We didn’t really do that, did we?” he said with a chuckle.

  Emily let go of the breath she was holding and relaxed against Sundance. “We did, and something tells me we’ll feel muscles we forgot we had, come morning.”

  Patting her bare thigh, Matt gave his heart a chance to stop hammering and then sat up. He eased away from Emily’s damp bottom, still feeling rubbery and weak from their heart-stopping embrace. “Makes you wonder what we’ll try next. But give me a night’s sleep first, all right?”

  Her body shook with a giggle. She rose from her horse’s neck, surprised she could notice the silkiness of Matt’s arms against her stomach, after all she’d experienced these past few minutes. Turning to meet his mouth, Emily kissed him with all the passion she had left, certain the well of her affection for him would never run dry.

  Chapter Twenty

  Everything’s so perfect, Emily thought as she slowed Sundance from a gallop to a walk. A hundred head or so of Herefords bearing the Flaming B brand grazed along the stream that cut through the bottom of the foothills. The rich grassland rolled and quivered in the morning breeze for miles around, and only the sound of her horse’s heavy breathing broke the pastoral stillness. She patted the palomino’s damp neck, grinning. “Good boy, Sundance. You miss these runs when we’re in Cripple Creek, don’t you? And you could’ve beaten Arapaho hands down if I’d given you your head.”

  Matt trotted his bay up beside her, adjusting his windblown hat. “Just remember where that mount came from, young lady. I could’ve made a nice profit on him, had your buddy Longbaug
h not procured him for you.”

  “Still perturbed about that?”

  “Nope. I got him back, in a manner of speaking—not to mention the little filly who rides him.” He leaned toward her for another coffee-flavored kiss, wondering how she could look so fresh and vibrant. He tried to tell himself it was because he wasn’t used to sleeping on the ground, but the lithe little body in his arms was what kept him awake long after she was breathing deeply. “You’re wearing me out,” he murmured when her lips became more insistent.

  “Maybe I spoke too soon,” Emily teased. “Should I put you out to pasture, or sell you to the slaughterhouse with my other worn-out bulls?”

  He chortled. “You’ll learn fast enough how hard it is to sleep alone again. I bet we won’t be back in Cripple a day before you’re slipping into my hotel room.”

  “We’ll see about that, Mr. McClanahan.”

  She clucked at Sundance, and as they headed north, she tried not to think about returning to the guest room at Silas’s. In a few days she’d be dealing with Nigel Grath again, doing all she could to wrap up Papa’s murder and see that justice was done. Now that she knew the handsome man beside her wouldn’t ride into the sunset once he collected his pay, Emily was confident she could start a new chapter in her life. Matt had kissed away her doubts about being a wife, and she anticipated a marriage that would be anything but ordinary.

  As they approached a distant barbed-wire fence, Emily scanned the horizon. “We should stay alert along this boundary. Wickersham’s men tend to be trigger-happy.”

  Matt gave her a mischievous smile. “I don’t anticipate any problems. They know better than to aim at me.”

  Scowling, she urged Sundance into a canter behind Arapaho. Surely McClanahan wasn’t planning to cross the Wickersham ranch to reach his own spread—wherever it was. Bert Wickersham had died in the blizzard of ‘86, but his foreman, Gus Veatch, still lived by the surly cattle baron’s motto of “shoot first and ask questions later.” Anyone familiar with the ranches around Colorado Springs—which Matt apparently was—would know that. When he dismounted beside the fence and took wire cutters from his saddlebag, her mouth dropped open. “Matt, that’s trespassing! People have been hung for less than that!”