Endless Heart: Heart, Book 3

by Emma Lang

  Each suck of his mouth, each thrust of his cock, made the coil inside her tighten. More. More. More.

  Lettie exploded in a whirl of colors and stars. She threw back her head and howled as the most exquisite pleasure she’d ever experienced consumed her. Her body shook with spasms, and she knew nothing more than the man in her arms and the ecstasy their joining had brought her.

  He called her name and thrust deep, deep within her, his own body shuddering. Lettie felt warm tears on her cheeks, and she was glad of the water splashing at her that hid them. She’d never known what a man and woman could share.

  She’d never known.

  His chest heaved as he caught his breath, almost in unison with her gasps. It had been incredible, more than she had ever dreamed.

  “I’m sorry. It’s been so long, I didn’t know I would lose control so fast.”

  He was apologizing?

  “Ain’t a thing to be sorry for, Shane. It felt real good.” That was an understatement, but it was the best her befuddled brain could do.

  “I lost control.”

  “Me too.” If she wasn’t careful, she might ask him to do it again. Hell, she’d already forgotten about the pain in her legs. There was so much of her feeling good, she didn’t care about her injuries at all.

  “Next time I’ll make it better. I want to kiss you all over, especially the mole on your back and the birthmark on your shoulder.” He grinned.

  She stared at him, her breath caught somewhere between shock and scared witless. “What did you say?”

  “Next time. I know maybe this is the only time but—”

  “No, not that part.” She pushed at his shoulders until she drifted backwards. His still-hard cock left her warm pussy, and she nearly wept from the loss. However she couldn’t focus on that.

  She had to focus on what he’d said.

  “How do you know about the mole? And the birthmark?” Her heart jammed into her throat. Now she truly was frightened. “I don’t understand.”

  His face fell as he realized what he’d said. Shane’s gaze skittered away, and she knew he was trying to think of a lie. Lettie had given herself to a man, and he had likely been peeping at her, watching her undress. She felt unclean and dirty, a far cry from the satisfied woman from two minutes earlier.

  “Don’t ever touch me again.” She managed to get to the edge of the stream and crawl out, her legs protesting each movement she made.

  “Lettie, please wait.”

  “No, I ain’t waiting. You’re lucky the knife got left on the bank or I might have cut out your heart for that.” Her voice was raw, full of anger and pain, a living breathing thing. “You ain’t nothing to me.”

  “I know it doesn’t make sense, but I can explain.”

  She heard him scramble out of the water and knew he was right behind her. Lettie tried to get to the knife lying on the rock beside her skirt, but her legs wouldn’t cooperate. He dropped beside her and reached for her face. She slapped at his hands, unwilling to let him touch her, but he was too strong.

  He leaned down until their faces were inches apart. She wanted to bite him, hit him and kick him until he let her go, but she couldn’t do anything but hold up her body with shaking arms.

  “I dreamed of you. I dreamed of touching you, pleasuring you, tasting you and being with you.” His voice was jagged. “I fell in love with you in my dreams.”

  Lettie’s heart skipped a beat. “Dreams?”

  Chapter Six

  Shane wanted to snatch the words back out of the air and cram them down his throat. Lettie stared at him as if she’d skin him alive then burn his dead body. Dreams! What a fool to think she would believe him. If he were a woman, he would think someone had been peeping too. There was no chance he should know about moles or birthmarks. No chance. Exactly what their future held—no chance.

  His damn legs shook from the sex they’d had in the stream. In the stream, for God’s sake. He’d never have thought of it, but damn it was by far the most erotic, satisfying sex he’d ever had. Now it would never be repeated thanks to his big mouth and foolish dreams.

  She stared at him, her hair hanging down like a dark veil around her pale face. The wet cotton material of her underclothes clung to her, outlining her breasts, her stomach, her pussy. Unbelievably his damn dick jumped at the sight. She got off her knees, the wet sleeves still tied to her wounds, and sat on her behind.

  “What dreams?” Her voice was even, but with an undertone of something else he couldn’t identify. He hadn’t heard it from her before.

  Shane scrambled for something to say that didn’t sound as dumb as he felt. In the end he decided being honest was the only option. What the hell? It certainly couldn’t get any worse.

  “I’ve had dreams about us, me and you together. It started a few days after I got here. Each dream gets clearer, and I see things like the room, the lantern, even your hairbrush on the chest of drawers.” He tried not to get caught up in exactly how arousing the dreams had been and focused on the facts. “We, uh, pleasure each other in different ways. Almost like we’re married or something.”

  That part always bothered him. He’d been married once, and he’d lost her because of his own failings as a man. The dreams were only conjurings of his imagination. He would never marry again and risk losing a woman he loved. It wasn’t in the cards.

  She stared at him in silence without flinching. He finally decided enough was enough and got to his feet. Lettie could think what she wanted. He’d been truthful, and there wasn’t anything else he could say.

  He glanced down and noted his drawers were as see-through as her chemise, but it wasn’t as though she hadn’t seen him naked before. Hell the woman had undressed him before they had a how-do-you-do. He walked toward his clothes, which were lying beside her dress, when she whispered something.

  Shane turned to look at her. He couldn’t possibly have heard her right.

  “What did you say?”

  She glanced down at her hands, her face hidden. “I had dreams too.”

  His stomach flipped once then again. He dropped to the grass beside her, his trousers clutched in his hands.

  “That can’t be.”

  “I know it can’t, but it is.” She shook her head. “You have a strawberry birthmark at the back of your hair, hidden beneath the curls. You’re ticklish on the bottom of your feet, and you love it when I tease you by undressing real slow.”

  Shane couldn’t find one word to say. He felt like he’d been punched in the head. A thirst for a shot of whiskey roared through him. God he needed a drink in the worst way.

  “That’s not possible. We can’t have had the same dreams.”

  “I reckon it is possible because it happened.” She finally turned to look at him, her eyes wide. “I don’t know what it means, but it scares me deep down, enough to make my bones rattle. We’re strangers, Shane. We barely know each other. But I know how much you like your earlobes nibbled.”

  He sucked in a breath as his blood pounded through his head. Just not possible.

  “The last dream you had, where were we? What did it look like?”

  “In my bedroom at the house. Small with one window facing south. There were candles on the chest of drawers and on the table in the corner.” She recited the scene, and it came back to him in a rush. “I was wearing a new nightdress, and it was silky soft.”

  “Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.” He wondered if he were dreaming right then, but the breeze on his wet skin told him different. “What else?”

  She shook her head. “It was the first time I rode you.”

  Shane shot to his feet and left her sitting there as he walked out into the meadow toward the wreckage of the wagon. He could hardly catch his breath, and his thoughts were jumping like frogs in his head. Leaving Lettie by the stream was cruel considering she couldn’t really walk. But right about then, he would go completely loco if he didn’t get a moment away from her.

  He sank to his knees, shaking
and gulping in air. He didn’t understand what was going on. Somehow they’d had the same dreams, down to the last detail. The dream of her climbing on him, putting his cock inside her, was vivid enough to be a memory.

  But it never happened.

  Shane sat there for a while until his body and his drawers dried. He pulled his trousers back on and fastened the suspenders. His shoes were back at the stream along with his dream lover, the woman who had already turned his life inside out and upside down. Now he had to figure out how to sort out the real from the imagined without hitting the bottle in the process.

  He stood and walked toward the wagon, the soft meadow tickling his feet. She’d been completely right about him, everything was correct. His feet were ticklish.

  Shane circled the wagon, giving the horse’s body a wide berth. He gathered up the supplies and materials he could use. It gave his hands something to do and kept his thoughts at bay. He found a blanket underneath the wagon along with the basket that used to hold the food from the restaurant. Earlier he’d salvaged the edible food for them. The basket might be repaired by someone who was handy with them.

  When he walked back to the tree line holding the blanket and basket, he was more in control. The crazy notion that they had shared dreams, erotic realistic ones, was something he would have to accept. No matter that it didn’t make sense or that no one would believe them. He’d accepted the strange link between them. What they’d do next was as unknown as how they would get home.

  Home.

  He must have started thinking of Forestville and the Blue Plate as home. If he’d been asked a month ago, Shane would have said he had no home and no plans for one. Now he thought about how worried Marta would be and how fussy Pieter would be since the wagon was not going to make it back today. It would never be back unless they found a way to repair the smashed end and pulled it back to the livery they’d borrowed it from. Shane hoped the Gundersons did not have to pay for the wagon. The wheel had shattered in mid-motion. If anyone was to blame, it was the owner of the livery for renting a wagon that so obviously needed to be taken care of.

  Shane was thinking about what he’d say to the man when the hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention. He dropped into a crouch and looked around, but nothing was amiss. Lettie was still down at the stream. Perhaps the danger he sensed was related to her. He left the blanket and basket and crashed through the woods as fast as he could.

  He skidded to a stop, sliding the last few feet on the wet grass. Three men surrounded Lettie, a ragtag group who didn’t have a clean spot anywhere on their faces or clothes. Memories slammed into him, stealing his ability to think for a moment. God wouldn’t be so cruel as to give him another woman to lose like this. He shook off the dark thoughts with more strength than he thought he had. Now wasn’t the time to get lost in his own stupid mistakes. Lettie was the important one right now. He let anger replace the stark, cold panic.

  Shane growled at them as he got to his feet. He wished he had a gun or any other weapon to protect her. Her knife was gone from the rock, and he hoped like hell she’d been able to grab it before the men showed up. They needed something to use or they risked more than their lives from these three.

  “Who’s this fella, Lettie?” The big one eyeballed him with a cold stare. The fact he knew Lettie’s name sent a chill down Shane’s spine.

  This is not Missouri. She is not Violet and you are not drunk. Steady, Shane, steady.

  “My intended, Shane Murphy. I told you he was coming back.” Her hair was still wet, but she’d at least pulled on her dress. If she’d been just wearing her underclothes, the men might have done worse than threaten her.

  It hit him that she’d called him her intended as though they were going to be hitched. He tried not to think about that since there wasn’t much of a chance of it happening. Hell, they’d be lucky to get back to Forestville or survive the men currently looming over them. He never thought he’d actually be glad not to have whiskey in his veins. His thinking was clearer, and damned if he wasn’t ready to start throwing punches.

  “What do you want?” Shane snapped. “We don’t have anything.”

  “Oh I wouldn’t say that.” The big one’s gaze slid to Lettie.

  Shane growled again, a feral sound from deep inside his gut.

  “I don’t think he likes you, Buster.” The skinny one on the right laughed like a loon. “You’d best be careful.” Another guffaw.

  “He ain’t got nothin’, remember?” The big one, obviously named Buster, was smarter than the rest. He appeared to be sharp and keen, unlike his cohorts. “Besides, he ain’t gonna do a thing against three of us.”

  Shane glanced at Lettie. Instead of being afraid, she appeared to be furious. If she’d had a gun, no doubt she would have shot all of them. He was proud of her. The woman had a backbone worthy of any soldier. She wouldn’t fall to pieces and offer her child to save herself. Shane beat back the memories creeping in on him again.

  Focus.

  “Be on your way then.” Slowly, Shane sidled closer to Lettie, his instincts screaming and on edge. The men were seeing how far they could go.

  “Oh no, I don’t think so. You see, I know Miss Lettie has money from the folks in town. A lot of money.” Buster’s grin was as hideous as it was disturbing. “I want that money.”

  Shane had no inkling that Lettie was carrying a great sum of money. It should have occurred to him that she would have to have funds to pay for the supplies, but the Gundersons could have wired the money too. If she were carrying money, they were in danger. Plenty of it.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Buster. Pieter wouldn’t trust money with me or anyone. He’s too stingy.” Lettie reached her hand up, and Shane grasped it, pulling her to her feet. She wobbled a bit, but she stood straight and tall next to him.

  Her willingness to stand on her painful, bruised legs gave him courage and confidence. He put his arm around her waist and anchored her to him. No reason the men should know she was vulnerable and wounded.

  “That’s not what I heard from Alice.” Buster tsked at her. “That little honey girl told me all about your trip and how folks are counting on those supplies.”

  Alice must be the type who enjoyed sharing secrets, which surprised him because she never spoke to Shane when she brought him food. The girl didn’t seem to be the kind to stir the pot, but perhaps she liked to gossip. It didn’t matter any which way because she had gotten them into a situation they had to get out of, fast.

  “Alice is a pain in the ass,” Lettie snapped. “She does nothing but brag to get men to fall in love with her or at least into her drawers.”

  “She didn’t let me in her drawers.” Buster’s smile faded. “I got what I needed anyway.”

  The big man’s leer told Shane he’d used force, had probably threatened Alice, until she revealed the information about the money Lettie carried. Damn.

  “You got nothing. She lied to you, Buster, like she does every time you, Norman and Myron come into the restaurant. The money is in Benson waiting for us at the bank.” Lettie trembled against him. Her strength was fading, but her courage was still strong.

  “Then we’re going to Benson.” Buster gestured to the other two men, and they both pulled out pistols, pointing them straight at Shane and Lettie. “Let’s go.”

  Shane tightened his grip on Lettie’s waist. “We are not walking to Benson. You saw that wagon. We aren’t going anywhere.”

  “Don’t you worry. We planned on either getting the money or the supplies. I got a wagon east of here.” Buster gestured with his pistol. “Get to walking. Now.”

  Lettie made a small noise, a tiny sound of distress, but it reverberated through him like a shot. Shane hadn’t experienced such white-hot fury in a long time. He wanted to kill all of them for scaring her, for making her walk when she could barely stand. There wasn’t much of a choice to make. He would have to carry her.

  Before she could protest, he picked her up as
gently as he could and settled her against him. With her in his arms, they were vulnerable to attack, but he wasn’t going to let Lettie’s pride dictate the course to follow. She couldn’t walk, but he could.

  “What the hell are you doing, Murphy?” Buster frowned at him.

  “You wanted us to walk. We’re walking.” The piece of shit didn’t deserve an explanation, and Shane wasn’t going to give him one.

  “You can put me down,” she whispered. “I think I can walk.”

  “Stay put and be quiet, Lettie. Keep your eyes open and watch them.” His whisper was more like an order hissed through clenched teeth.

  She didn’t protest again, but she stiffened in his arms. No doubt she would let him know later exactly what she thought of his high-handedness. For now, she let him take the lead, thank God. Lettie wasn’t a big woman, but he had only recently recovered from his near-death beating. Today’s wagon accident should have killed him.

  He was sore and weak, much as he wouldn’t tell her that. She already had a low opinion of him. Sweat beaded on his forehead and back, his muscles screamed, but he refused to slow down even a little. When his breath started coming in painful bursts, he kept walking. Shane gritted his teeth, unwilling to give up or admit defeat.

  It seemed like hours before the wagon came into view. He felt a poke in the back and stumbled. After he righted himself, Lettie frowned at him then turned her gaze to Buster.

  “If you poke him again, I will smack the grin right off your face, Buster Dawson.” Her voice held the promise she would do exactly what she threatened.

  “I’m funning with your man, Lettie. He sounds like a locomotive huffin’ and puffin’.” Buster was likely smirking at him. The son of a bitch was enjoying himself.

  “We had a wagon accident, you fool. Of course he’s huffing and puffing.” Lettie tightened her arm on his shoulder.

  “Maybe it’s your fat ass that’s the problem.”

  This time she tried to hit the man, much to Shane’s satisfaction. “You are a jackass.”

  “And you are a bitch.”