by Cate Masters
“He turned me down because he’s too crazy in love with you.”
“He paid you to say that.”
“Honey, the only thing he bought was the whiskey. And he took that with him, too.” Her worn face softened. “Don’t let a good man like Jeb get away, or you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. Take it from someone who knows.”
She searched the woman’s face and found no trace of cynicism, only earnestness. “Where did he go?”
“I believe he went to the barn.”
The door stood open, but Winona’s feet were anchored to the floor.
“I’d hurry, if I were you.”
If she were me. Winona wanted to laugh, but the look in the woman’s face when she’d added, “Take it from someone who knows” stopped it cold. Winona grasped the woman’s shoulders, and was surprised how small and limp they felt. “Thank you.”
She fled down the steps, out into the night, not caring how foolish she appeared.
In the dark street, lights shone through more buildings to light her way. She kept to the walkway, with no idea where to look for the stable. Maybe the same hotel they’d stayed earlier? After locating it, the sound of a horse’s nicker drew her down a small lane. She was foolish, risking her neck out here looking for Jeb. He could be anywhere.
A man’s off-key tune echoed from beyond a large open door. “Oh, my darlin’,” he sang.
She hesitated in the doorway. A lantern hung outside a stall. She had no desire to find herself in the wrong place with the wrong man.
“You’re the only female I can depend on, Clem,” he muttered.
Jeb! “Maybe the only one you want to depend on.”
A disheveled version of the man she’d almost dined with leaned backward into the aisle. “Who’s there?’ He squinted past the lantern.
“Winona.”
He tilted his head as if getting a bead on her. “I’m just saddling up. Trying to.” He muttered to the horse, something about uncooperative females.
She stepped across a suspicious-looking pile in the aisleway. “Could you stop a minute so we can talk?”
“Well now, Miz Winona, I would if I thought it would do a lick of good. But you and I speak different languages. And I have no interpreter.”
She moved to the door of the stall and touched the prickly wood. “I believe you had one earlier.”
He looked up, his brows knit.
“And so did I.” Strange they needed a third party to mediate between them, to reveal what each should have. From now on, she would speak for herself and speak her full mind.
Jeb let the girth drop and widened his stance. “I apologize for that. She had no right.”
Of course he misinterpreted her meaning again. It would take time for them to learn to speak so the other understood. “I’m grateful she did. Otherwise, I might have bought passage back to Philadelphia and not known.”
He halted, and heaved a breath as he smoothed the mare’s mane. “Not known what?”
“The way you felt about me.” She couldn’t make it any clearer.
He studied her, and a lopsided smile crossed his face. “And now you can go home and tell all your society friends about the lovesick fool named Jebediah Greene. Is that it?”
“No, Jeb.” Shuffling footsteps drew her attention to the barn door.
Francis Mahoney entered with the stealth of a beast, snarling like one too. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Jeb eased beside her, power radiating from his tense muscles. “You have no cause to speak to her that way.”
“Mr. Greene was my guide to San Francisco. If it weren’t for him, I’d be dead on that stagecoach.”
Mahoney stomped nearer. “So you paid him?”
“No,” Winona blurted. Oh, how would she get out of this? “I intended to, but my valuables vanished with the stagecoach.”
Jeb scowled. “What business is it of yours whether she paid me or not?”
Mahoney pointed at Winona. “I bought her passage West. She’s either going to marry me, or repay the fare.”
She stepped toward Mahoney to argue.
Jeb’s arm shot out protectively. “How much?”
The man’s face blanked, and then a sly smile appeared. “I see. You two planned this all along.”
Jeb whispered, “Tell me now, Winona. Do you want to marry him?”
“No!” A shudder passed through her at the horror of having to face Mr. Mahoney every day. Every night.
Mahoney grunted. “Then you owe me fifty dollars.” He shoved his coat aside and laid a hand near his revolver.
“Fifty! It can’t possibly—”
Jeb nudged her behind him. “You’ll have it tomorrow.”
“Maybe I can’t wait till tomorrow.”
“That’s the soonest I can get it.”
“Then the little lady stays with me tonight.”
“No,” she whimpered. She’d claw his eyes out if he touched her.
“Not part of the deal,” Jeb said.
“You’re not either,” Mahoney sneered. “It’s my right.”
Jeb turned to her. “Did you accept his proposal?”
“No, I came here to meet him. If it didn’t work out, I was going to repay him.” Movement drew her attention to the man, who advanced with blood in his eyes.
“She’s mine. Get out of my way.” Meaty hands grabbed Jeb’s shoulders and hurled him against the wall.
Clementine whinnied and threw her head back.
“Jeb!” She reached for him, but Mahoney’s thick arm caught her around her waist.
“Maybe a night with me will convince you.” He dragged her toward the door.
A click sounded. “Stop or I’ll plug you.”
Mahoney’s gruff laugh terrified Winona, and he said, “My ass.”
“Your choice,” Jeb said.
At a loud bang, Mahoney buckled. Releasing Winona, he grabbed his rear, yowling. “You son of a—”
“I said it was your choice.” When Mahoney reached for his gun, Jeb aimed again. “Best you leave now while you can still walk.”
Hobbling backward, Mahoney muttered, “Best you not turn your back, or you’ll get a bullet. Through your heart.”
Winona rushed to Jeb, unable to breathe until Mahoney faded into the darkness. “Oh, Jeb.” Fear and gratitude jumbled together so she couldn’t speak.
“We better go before he rounds up his friends. If he has any.”
With expert efficiency, Jeb saddled Clementine, led her outside and mounted. He extended his arm.
Hitching her skirt, she grasped it and swung up behind him.
“Hold tight.”
Gladly. She didn’t think she’d ever get to hold him again. When the mare galloped at his command, her body melded against his, aware of his muscles straining ahead, rippling with every movement.
The moon shifted across the sky, and finally they slowed. “We’ll have to make camp soon,” Jeb said over his shoulder.
“I guess it’s not likely he’ll ride after us with a bullet in his rump.” She might laugh if the prospect didn’t frighten her.
“No. But he will want his money.”
“I have a little saved. Half of what he’s asking.”
“He’ll get the money he spent on the fare. Not a nickel more.”
Would that satisfy Mahoney? Heal his wounded pride? She hadn’t intended to hurt him, but wouldn’t sacrifice herself either.
Jeb pulled the horse to a halt beneath a wide tree. “Looks as good a place as any.”
Winona abandoned any attempt at grace in dismounting, but Jeb helped lower her to the ground. After he climbed off, she said, “Thank you.”
Tending Clem, he looked up and held her gaze, surprise changing to stern resignation. With a curt nod, he went back to his work.
Don’t turn away again. “I mean, thank you for everything. I had no idea he’d followed me. I wouldn’t have endangered you.”
“No need to thank me.” He un
fastened the bedroll and tossed it on the ground.
One bedroll. Two people. Her blood heated, her body yearning to feel his. “Of course there is. You put yourself at risk.”
“Just doing what’s right.”
Oh, so he’d do the same for anyone? “I was surprised to see you at the saloon.”
He chuckled. “I was surprised to see you at the saloon. Any saloon. City life must have changed you.” He brushed past her.
She followed, and helped him gather kindling. “It did not. I accompanied Mr. Mahoney at his request.”
“Oh, I see.” He threw sticks into a pile, crouched and struck a match.
He most certainly did not see. “You don’t understand. I intended to strike much the same deal with Mr. Mahoney. Without resorting to gunplay.” Though it added a finality to the deal she couldn’t otherwise have.
“Gunplay?” He blew too hard on the smoldering twigs, and extinguished the few embers. “Damn.”
While he relit the fire, she explained, “I had no intention of marrying him. Maybe not anyone.”
“’Course not. You can brag you kept your purity intact, despite the efforts of a lunatic mountain man.”
She crossed her arms. “Or maybe because of the lack of effort.”
“Lack of effort?” He shot up and stepped in her direction. “Exactly what more do you want from me? Shall I lie down in horseshit so you can step on me, grind my face in it?”
Firelight playing across his features softened his angry expression. She caught him by his shirt. “No. That’s not why I came looking for you.”
“Why did you? Wait, to tell me I didn’t saddle up old Clem right? Must be something like that.” Rattled as he appeared, he didn’t move away.
“Stop putting words in my mouth. Why do you do that?” She released him. Talking to Jeb was like trying to catch a firefly—the minute she thought she might have him in her palm, he flitted away.
His soft voice made her pause. “Because I’m afraid that’s what you’re thinking.”
She whirled to face him. “You’re not even close.”
“Why did you come looking for me, Winona?”
Maybe actions could say more. She cupped her hands around his face. “To ask you to bring me with you.”
He hung his head. “I won’t be your guide back home, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“It’s not what I’m asking, Jeb. ‘Go to your bosom, knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know.’” She couldn’t bring herself to say more. If Shakespeare’s words couldn’t reach him, nothing could, and if he couldn’t read the need on her face now, no hope existed he ever would.
He grabbed her wrists hard. “Winona Young, if you go back to Philadelphia, I will follow you there. And I won’t let you marry someone you don’t love.” His grip tightened.
She eased closer and tilted up her head. “Then take me with you. Wherever you go, I want to go.”
He let go of her wrists, and his hands moved around her waist and across her back, but made no other move. He looked at her hard, disbelief in his eyes.
She didn’t want the kind of relationship her mother endured. No kindness, no tender words shared in the night. She caressed his cheek. “I want to be wherever you are. Away from that awful city, preferably. I love you, Jeb.” Misinterpret that.
* * * *
Never one to be called slow, Jeb nonetheless stared at Winona, searching for some sign he’d misunderstood. Misheard. Mistaken her meaning.
All he saw in her face, softly lit by firelight, was love shining in her eyes, her lips parting like an invitation.
An invitation he accepted. He brought his lips down on hers like he was a drowning man and she was oxygen. When her arms tightened around his neck, desire half-buckled his knees. His muscles shook with the effort of restraining himself, but he nuzzled into her shoulder to regain his balance and then murmured into her ear, “I love you, Winnie.”
Though her thin arms drew him tight, reason returned. He couldn’t let this go further without knowing for sure. “But I can’t live in a city. Any city.”
Her dark eyes shone. “Then let’s live like the Osage. With the Osage. Or out here, with the stars as our roof.”
He couldn’t love anyone more. “Winona Young, I have wanted you since the day you stepped off the Tipton stage.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “But know this. With my superior tracking skills, you’ll never escape me now.”
“Jebediah Greene, I’m going to hold you to that.”
His firm embrace tightened. “I hope so.” He chanced the final leap. “In my heart, you’ve always been mine. So let’s seal the promise now.” His heart thudded to a stop, awaiting her answer. When she inched her arms up and linked them around his neck, a thrill shot through him, and coursed through every vein.
“I’m yours, Jeb.”
The words ignited his desire like wildfire across dry brush. His mouth crushed against hers, tongue probing. Her knees buckled, but he held her tight, hands roving everywhere. Excitement stole his breath.
He trailed kisses down her neck as he eased her down, pinned her against the ground, his contours fitting against hers. “If I can’t have you tonight, I’ll spend the night howling at the moon.”
“We can’t have that. Some coyote might answer the call instead.”
His own words thrown back at him, but teasingly. “Winona.” His erection nudged between her thighs, aching for relief.
She erased any doubt by threading her fingers in his hair, eyes bright in the glow of firelight. Yielding to him, parting her legs. His chest pressed against her ribs, and his lips found hers. He intended to claim her in the most primal way. Mark her heart with his touch, so deep she’d never be able to erase it. Nor want to.
His need grew with each touch, and each arch of her back and breathy moan told him her need matched his. “Winona,” he whispered, again and again, imprinting the feel of her skin, her bony hips where his settled in so snug.
“Oh, Jeb,” she whispered, trembling beneath his hands. When she hooked her legs behind his, he slid his hand up her thigh, and her whimper drove him wild. With forced slowness, he rolled to the side and unfastened each button of her dress. She surprised him by sitting upright and dragging the dress over her head. Waves of chestnut hair cascaded past her shoulders. He tugged at the shift beneath, and she more gingerly drew it over her head, revealing ample, perfect breasts. He leaned in to capture a hard rosette in his mouth, and she clutched his head. When he slid his hand between her folded legs, her breath hitched. Clutching him, she lay back. He needed no encouragement to follow.
She held his shoulders. “This isn’t going to work.”
Dumbstruck, his mouth gaped. There was no going back now. With her or without her, he needed relief.
A sly smile lit her face. “You’re supposed to be naked, too, aren’t you?” She reached for his belt.
“At least partially.” He leaned up to give her hands room to work. With quick fingering, she had his trousers open. His erection sprang free. She caught it between her palms, causing a shudder to erupt head to toe. “If you keep that up, your virginity will stay intact. This time.” His grin faded at her frightened look. Hands atop hers, he guided himself inside.
Her face screwed up with pain.
“Are you all right?” He should have been more careful, knowing he took her virginity.
“Yes.” Biting her lip, she rocked her hips to match his thrusts.
He knew it wouldn’t take long. The pressure burst, and he pinned her to the straw in the final throes. The trembling calmed, and he relaxed against her, though she remained tense. “It’s only painful the first time or two. I swear.”
“I trust you.” Her warm lips touched his.
“I’ll prove it. Very soon.” He rolled her atop him so he could touch every part of her. “I’ll make sure you enjoy it as much as I do.” That was one promise he knew he could keep. It would be easy with Winona. He wanted her to know the inte
nse pleasure only he could give her, and make her want it as bad as he wanted it. He couldn’t wait to begin this new journey with her, bound by love.
He wouldn’t chance losing her again. “Winona Young, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”
Tears filled her eyes. “Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow.” She feathered kisses across his cheek.
His lips found hers, sweeter than wine and more intoxicating.
Shakespeare had it right. The course of true love never did run smooth, but with Winona, every night would bring a new kind of magic.
THE END
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Cate Masters loves romance with a dash of magic and mayhem! Multipublished in contemporary to historical, sweet to erotic, fantasy/dark fantasy to speculative, she sometimes mashes genres.
Reviewers have described her stories as “so compelling, I did not want to put it down,” and “such romantic tales that really touch your soul.”
When not spending time with her family, she can be found in her lair, concocting a magical brew of contemporary, historical, and fantasy/paranormal stories with her cat Chairman Maiow and dog Lily as company. Look for her at http://catemasters.blogspot.com and in strange nooks and far-flung corners of the Web.
Cate loves to hear from readers! If you’re too shy to post here, friend her on Facebook or Goodreads, or e-mail her at [email protected].
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