The hallway on the second floor was lit by flickering kerosene lamps set on the wall at intervals, and she bent to slide the room key into the lock, turning the handle and stepping into the darkness. She closed the door and leaned against it for a moment. With a sigh, she pushed away from the firm support and made her way to the bedside table where a candle was provided for light. A box of matches lay beside it, and she fumbled as she struck one and held it to the candle wick. The flare of light made her blink and she turned from the flickering candle, only to see a dark form rise from the chair in the corner of the room.
“Hello, Lily.”
It was to her credit that she didn’t faint or scream and stumble toward the door. The truth was, she decided wearily, nothing Morgan ever did had the power to surprise her. Even appearing in this room at midnight, when she’d been dead certain he had no notion of her whereabouts.
She refused to cringe, ignored the escape offered by the nearby door, and only lifted her chin as if she would face head-on whatever the man had in mind. “What are you doing here?” she asked quietly, barely able to speak over the staccato beat of her heart. Her voice trembled a bit, yet that was to be expected after the long evening she’d spent, sitting in a closet-size room, as far from the smoke-filled saloon as she could get in between shows.
Tired didn’t begin to describe her condition, but she fought the yearning to lie down on the bed and seek solace in sleep. With Morgan so close, she didn’t stand a chance of peaceful slumber, at least not until he’d gotten his pound of flesh and walked away.
He was angry. She focused on his face, on the taut line of his mouth, the flaring of his nostrils and the dark, silvered glow of gray eyes gone pale and dangerous. His hands were fisted against his hips, and a holstered gun hung low against his right thigh. No, she decided with a small shake of her head, he wasn’t about to shoot her. But Morgan could inflict hurt just by opening his mouth and speaking harsh words that would flay her heart wide open.
He was silent, refusing to answer her, as if it were beneath his dignity to reply to so foolish a query. Instead he attacked, turning her words against her. “I think that’s a question you’d better answer,” he told her.
She lifted her narrow shoulders in a shrug, trying for nonchalance, knowing she failed miserably. Not at her best in a quarrel, Lily was even more at a disadvantage when up against a formidable foe such as Gage Morgan. “What does it matter?” she whispered, slumping finally to the edge of the bed, too bone weary to remain upright. “Just go away, Morgan,” she said. “You made yourself clear a couple of days ago, and I saved you the trouble of toting me home.”
“I told you to stay put,” he reminded her harshly. “You skinned out that window and took off like a scared rabbit. What’s the matter, Lily? Couldn’t you play the game to the end?”
She looked down at her hands, noting the trembling of fingers and aware of the chill that had penetrated her whole body. The lure of her pillow seemed almost too great to ignore and she turned her head, lifting her hand to halt his words. “Stop it,” she said softly. “You needn’t feel any responsibility for me. Just go away and let me be.”
The door opened with a squeak of its hinges and May stepped inside. It was to her credit that she halted there just beyond the threshold, and even more telling that she didn’t appear surprised by the appearance of the man who’d invaded the privacy of her room.
“Well, as I live and breathe,” she said in lilting tones. “If it isn’t Gage Morgan, come to collect his bride.” She cocked her head and looked him over in an assessing manner. “She is your bride, isn’t she, Morgan? You married her, didn’t you?”
“You know I did, May.” As if his patience did not extend to include her, he glared in May’s direction and waved his hand at the door behind her. “Now, get yourself into the room next door.” He drew the key from his pocket and tossed it to her.
With a knowing look in his direction and a quick movement of her hand she caught it midair and tossed it on her palm. “We’re neighbors?” she asked. “How long you been there?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said dismissively. “Long enough to find my wife.” He turned the shimmering glare on her in full force. “Leave us alone, May.”
“If you hurt her…” The pause was long as May’s eyes flared with promise. “She’s not ready for your anger, Morgan. She’s—” her voice softened and she spoke a single word that he accepted with a nod of agreement “—fragile.”
It was an apt description, Lily decided. For she felt that she might shatter like a crystal glass if Morgan touched her now, that she might break into a million pieces if her heart didn’t stop the irregular cadence it had assumed in her breast.
She closed her eyes tightly, shutting out the sight of May abandoning her, hearing the click of the latch as the door closed and then the sound of Morgan’s feet as he crossed to the door and set the lock. Behind her eyelids, red and silver lightning bolts flashed, and tears threatened to escape.
She would not cry, would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her fear and sorrow, for they were indeed both parts of her at this moment. Fear of what tomorrow might bring, and sorrow at the mess she’d made of her life and his, making that foolish demand of him. The next time I run off with a man, he’ll have to marry me first….
“Stand up, Lily,” he said, lifting her hands from her lap and pulling her to her feet. He frowned. “Your fingers are like ice. What’s wrong?” He held her hands in one of his, and she felt the heat radiate from his flesh to hers and was tempted to curl her whole body against his even as her fingers sought the refuge he offered within the depths of his palm.
“I can’t cope with you tonight, Morgan,” she said wearily. “I just can’t.”
He turned her from him, and she felt the familiar touch of his hands as he undid the buttons that ran down her spine. “You don’t have to cope with me, Lily. You only have to lie down on that bed and let me remind you that you’re my wife.” Her dress fell to the floor and he reached in front of her waist to undo the ties of her petticoat. It followed the dress, circling her feet and she was left in the scant covering of her shift and the stockings that were held up above her knees by blue satin garters.
“Pretty spiffy,” he said, angling a look at the slender length of her legs. “May’s?”
She nodded, aware of the chill that pebbled her flesh, bringing her breasts to a state of readiness for his touch. And how she could yearn for this man’s hands on her skin was something she found foreign to her nature. She’d spent months shrinking from masculine admiration, knowing it was bent on her with an intent that had nothing to do with love, only that of a man’s need to subdue and conquer her body.
Now the warmth of this man’s gaze, even cloaked in anger as it was, had the power to make her tremble. She looked up at him, saw herself reflected in his eyes, and hated what she had become.
Morgan’s woman. A woman he’d bought with a five-dollar gold piece from Ham Scott, and then legally made his wife with another handed to the young preacher who’d had them repeat their vows.
“Take that wig off,” he said. “Why you thought you should cover up your hair with that monstrosity is beyond me.” His look scorned the golden curls and waves and she felt a flare of anger. Nothing to match his, but a shred of rebellion that fought his decree.
“I like it,” she said. “I hid behind it, and forgot how much standing up in front of an audience scares me.”
“You don’t need to hide behind anything, Lily.” He reached for the hairpiece as she shrank from his touch.
“No, I’ll do it,” she said hastily. “May paid a pretty penny for this thing. I won’t let you ruin it.”
“All right,” he agreed, impatient as she carefully removed the golden cap and placed it on the table.
“I need to unpin my hair. It needs to be brushed,” she said in an attempt to gain time, to turn his anger aside. But he would not have it.
His hands touched her shou
lders, his fingers tightened and he shook her, just once, but with the strength of a man fueled by a fury he barely held in check. “Damn you, Lily.” He lifted her from the circle of clothing and placed her roughly on the bed, then bent to pick up the blue satin and tossed it across the room.
“Don’t, Morgan. It’ll be wrinkled,” she whispered, watching as the fabric sailed through the air and then settled into a crumpled mass near the door.
“You won’t be wearing it again,” he muttered, his hands busy at his belt, undoing it and then dropping the holstered gun he wore to the floor. His shirt was stripped from him, and then he sat on the edge of the bed to remove his boots and stockings. When he rose, she saw the opened front of his trousers and the unmistakable bulge that spoke of a desire he obviously had no intention of denying.
“Don’t do this to me,” she said, turning her head away, as if she could make his jutting manhood disappear by denying its existence.
She heard the rustle of trousers as they fell from his body, felt the giving of the mattress as he sank onto the edge of the bed, and then knew the weight of his arm as it circled her waist and turned her to face him. “I’ve chased you over hell’s half acre, Lily. Do you think I’ll let you get away from me tonight?”
“We decided—”
He hushed her by the simple expedient of placing his palm over her mouth. “You decided,” he said harshly. “You took it on yourself to run off instead of staying and sorting things out between us. You’re a coward, Lily Morgan. I know I said I shouldn’t have married you, and I still feel the same way. But the truth is, we did get married, and I won’t walk away from it until I’ve done everything I promised.”
She was silent, her mind desperately searching, seeking out the promises he spoke of. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, and then she recalled. If that’s what you want, Lily. If you still feel the same way when this is over, I’ll take you home.
She spoke the words of his parole aloud. “If you’re talking about taking me home, I don’t need you for that. I can get there under my own steam.”
“For now, it doesn’t matter,” he told her, dismissing the issue as he bent to her lips and claimed them in a rough kiss that took her breath. His lips were firm against hers, and then they opened a bit and she felt the damp touch of his tongue against her mouth.
“Don’t.” Lily squirmed against him and turned her face away. “I don’t want you to do this,” she said, knowing the words for a lie. And yet, if she gave in to his seduction, she would not have gained anything by her flight. She’d be back in the same mess, with a man who represented the greatest danger of her life.
“Right this minute, I don’t care what you want, Lily,” he told her, his voice a low growl that made her shiver. His lips took hers again and he allowed no escape, one hand holding her head, his fingers entwined in her curls, his palm firm against her nape.
Chapter Thirteen
It wasn’t true. He did care, but not for one moment could Morgan remove himself and walk away from her. Not now while his blood ran hot in his veins and his need for the woman he held within his grasp was so urgent. If she fought him—that was a different thing altogether, he decided. He would not force any woman. Certainly Lily deserved more than that from him.
But persuasion might influence her, and on that thought, he pinned his hopes. His mouth plundered where it would, first her lips, those lush, tender morsels of flesh that lured him, and then to the pure, clean line of her throat, where her heart pounded in an erratic drumming that pleased him.
She was soft, sweet, her skin resilient beneath his mouth, and he tasted her, knowing she was willing for this moment to be submissive to his touch. Her shift provided little cover for her breasts and he slid it over one shoulder, exposing the feminine lines he craved to explore. Lily’s gaze was fixed on his face, her mouth swollen from his kiss as a whisper from her lips spoke his name.
In the grip of a need he refused to deny, he ripped the garment from her body, lifting himself as he tore it asunder and watched as the fabric shredded at his touch.
“Gage?” That whisper was bewildered now, and she pressed her hands against his chest for a moment, then brought her arms up to cover the breasts he had revealed to his sight. “Gage? What are you doing?” Her dark eyes held a mixture of surprise and fear, and he felt primal satisfaction flood him.
Good. She should be in awe of him, of the anger he held in check. Yet he yearned to see passion light her gaze, knew a moment of regret that he had frightened her.
“I like to hear you speak my name,” he murmured, his gaze touching her hands and arms, shaking his head, and rejecting those pitiful attempts she’d made to hide the curves of her breasts from his sight. He grasped her wrists, holding them both in one palm and lifting them from her bosom, only to carry them over her head, where he pinned them to her pillow.
“Say it again, Lily,” he told her, aware that his voice rasped the words, making them a command.
“Gage. Please,” she whispered again. And still she did not resist, only blushed as he looked down at the lush curves he’d revealed.
“Yes, please,” he said, repeating her plea, allowing a smile to touch his lips. “I’m going to please us both tonight, Lily. You won’t call out or let May know, will you? You’re too much a lady to upset the whole hotel, aren’t you?” He focused on her throat, on the curls that drooped from loosened pins, and she shot him a look from eyes that defied his words—and then relented as she acknowledged the truth he spoke.
“You know I won’t,” she said quietly after a moment, and twisted her head away again.
“Because you want me, Lily?” His fingers sought out the rest of the metal fastenings and tugged them from the knot she’d formed atop her head. Her hair spilled from its restraints and he spread it across her pillow with his free hand.
“You turn me into someone I don’t even know,” she said, meeting his gaze with a stubborn glare.
His hand spread wide as curls wrapped around his fingers and clung to his skin. “That’s better,” he murmured, intent on the clean fragrance that rose to his nostrils. Part of it was Lily herself, for he recognized her aroma, would have known it if she stood amid a roomful of other women and he was wearing a blindfold.
He’d caught the scent of her that first night, when she’d been beside him at the ship’s rail and his arm had slid possessively around her waist. Invading his senses, it had succeeded over the next days in turning him from a cool, calculating agent into a man who had lied and bullied her into this alliance. And now he must live with what he had become at her hands.
“You are what you are, Lily. I only bring forth in you the passion you’ve held captive for so long.” He felt her fists clenching in his grasp and knew a moment of shame that he bound her so. “If I let your hands free, will you behave yourself?” he asked, bending to nuzzle against her shoulder.
“Behave myself?” Her words were incredulous. “I’m lying beneath a man who seems intent on forcing me to his will, and you think I need to behave myself?”
“Yeah, just long enough for me to talk you into this,” he said, recognizing the slaking of his anger as she softened beneath him.
“I asked you not to do this, Gage,” she said, repeating her plea. “I want you to go away and leave me be, while I can still walk away from you. I can make enough money to get home with from here. I don’t need you.”
And perhaps she didn’t, he thought, lifting his head to look into her dark gaze. “But I need you,” he said. “I need you to stay with me long enough to redeem myself, sweetheart. I told you I’d settle up the account with your Yankee colonel, and I said I’d see to it that you got home. You’re gonna stay with me long enough to see both those things accomplished.”
“And in the meantime…what? You’ll sleep with me?” As he watched, the color rose again in her cheeks and she sighed. “Let my hands go. I won’t fight you.”
“That’s not good enough,” he told
her. “I want you more than just willing, Lily. I want you to meet me halfway.”
“I don’t know how to do that,” she whispered, shaking her head. And even as she denied his need, he released her hands. She caught a deep breath, then left them curled into fists, there where they lay. “I wanted you, Gage. From the beginning, even though I knew what you thought of me. I thought that you might be able to make me feel clean again, rid me of the memories.”
“And did I?” he asked, pleased that she would admit to it. “Did you enjoy what we shared, Lily?”
She nodded and closed her eyes, as if her confession would not allow her to meet his gaze. “You know I did.”
He bent to her and his lips were soft, begging entrance to the sweetness of her mouth and she acquiesced, opening to him. If he’d thought to be a gentleman, that idea vanished with the first touch of her tongue against his. If he’d considered a slow seduction of her senses, it became impossible as she tilted her head, the better to receive his caress.
And when her knees rose to flank his thighs and he felt the heat of her softness against his throbbing flesh, he knew a moment of triumph that seemed almost primitive—his heart leaping within his chest as if it would not be contained.
There would be no cringing from his touch, no crying in protest of his loving. Lily was too honest a woman to deny him that which her body cried out for; and for that inborn integrity that ruled her very life, he was thankful.
His movements were slow, Morgan forcing himself to a pace that would bring Lily the greatest pleasure. Her arousal was all-important to him, he realized, craving the knowledge that she would not regret this time of loving. And in that he succeeded. She clung to him, whispered his name in a trembling voice and moved at his bidding.
Fingers, lips, and the whole of his body accomplished what he’d set out to do, and when he finally took his ease within her, she wrapped her arms around him and once more he heard his voice murmured on a sigh.
The Marriage Agreement Page 20