11th Hour Rose

by Melissa Lynne Blue

  I want you.

  The words were as thrilling and heady as they were frightening. Feeling wanton, almost brazen, she stood on tiptoe offering him better access to her mouth. Her fingers moved to the buttons of his vest clumsily working them open. Beneath her hands his stomach was flat and taut and oh so very warm through the linen of his lawn shirt.

  * * *

  Oh, God… Davy groaned. This was heaven unlike he’d ever known. When he’d made the comment a few moments ago he hadn’t actually intended to kiss her so thoroughly. He’d just wanted to shock her into silence. But now that he was kissing her, he had no intention of stopping. He allowed her to push the vest from his shoulders, and set to work freeing the stays of her gown. Her fingers tentatively moved to his shirt fastenings, her soft hands brushed his chest, provoking the sweetest sort of torture. The gentle swell of her breasts peaked over the prim cut of her dress, and he had to see them… taste them. Tugging the dress open with near enough force to rip it, he glimpsed the enticing silk and lace camisole beneath. The sight of her through the sheer silk was surely more erotic than seeing her without the barrier. Like a man starved, a vampire just woken to thirst, he dropped his mouth to the lace overlaying her bare flesh, at the same time stroking a thumb over one perfectly taut tip.

  She gasped.

  He liked it. A lot. Too much, and… “Oh, my god.” He jerked back. “What the hell am I doing?” This was the jail for Christ sake! Much as he wanted her right now, on the floor if necessary, the city jail was not the place. He sucked a sobering breath into his lungs.

  Oh, but dear Lord, she looked gorgeous standing before him, her gown open just enough to leave him aching to see more, and her wide expressive eyes clouded with a mixture of passion and confusion. “Damn it, Lilly, don’t you know when to stop pushing a man?”

  * * *

  Misunderstanding the words, Lilly believed he regretted having kissed her. “Why are you doing this?” she spat defensively, crossing her arms. “Is this a game to you?”

  “What?” He appeared dazed and then incredulous. “Of course it’s not a game? Do you think I go around kissing upstanding women at random?”

  “I don’t know?” Lilly sparred. “You’re obviously good at it. For all I know you waltz through Charleston seducing a different woman every night. You are something of a professional widower after all.”

  “A different woman every night… Jesus.” He stalked forward, the movement predatory and suspiciously vulnerable. “You are the first woman I’ve truly kissed since my wife died, Lilly.” In a flash, his eyes grew so burdened with loss she could have cried. Gently he reached out to twist one of her haphazard wavy locks around a finger.

  She quickly stepped away. “I’m sorry, Davy. I’ll go now.” She strode to the cell door, fixing her gown with trembling fingers.

  “Oh, no you don’t.” A brawny arm snared her about the waist, jerking her backward.

  “Whoa!” Lilly cried out, spinning in his hold. “David, this has gone far enough.” She shoved a fist into his chest. “Let me go. You’ve proved your point, I will go home.”

  He scoffed. “I believe that like I need another hole in the head.” He swiftly spun her toward the back corner of the cell and vacated the barred room, closing the doors with a bang before she could mount any further protestations.

  She scooped his vest from the floor and chucked it at the bars. “I am not a child.”

  His gaze slid the length of her in a slow, smoldering perusal that left her skin tingling and hot with desire. “I’m aware.” He lifted the vest and shrugged it back over his broad shoulders.

  Lilly plopped onto the ancient wooden cot, ignoring how his blue lawn shirt stretched over the swell of his muscles. When exactly had the earth flipped on its axis? She felt dizzy. In the space of a week David Langston had gone from infuriating colleague of her father’s to the man she’d fallen in love with.

  Confused, Lilly had to admit she’d unleashed more than she’d bargained for by goading him this afternoon. She cast him a surreptitious glance.

  He noticed.

  “So I’m a good kisser?” Casually he reclined in the wooden chair propping a foot on the desk. He grinned, revealing a full mouth of white teeth, the front two just a tiny bit crooked and lending him the look of a little boy with a secret. The smile hit her with such force she fell in love with him all over again. There was a lighthearted side to Davy that made him Davy as opposed to David or something more formal like Marshal or General—as he’d been in the war—Langston. It was as though a small part of him would forever be sixteen years old. If he had not lost a wife and newborn son at the ripe age of twenty-five, how would his jovial nature shine?

  “Don’t let it go to your head.” She promptly gave him her back so he wouldn’t see her blushing to the tips of her ears and hid the key she’d plucked from his person in her skirts.

  * * *

  “You locked my daughter in the jail!”

  Davy tensed and ground to an immediate halt on the street corner. He’d known a confrontation with George wouldn’t be pretty. Turning, he made no passing attempts at civility as George Hudson stormed across the street. “Yes, sir.”

  “Damn!” The sheriff slapped his knee, face splitting into a huge grin. “I’m sorry I missed it.”

  Davy snorted in disbelief. “Y-you’re not mad, sir?”

  “Mad? Hell no. Just wish I’d have thought of it sooner. I tell you, Davy, she is more than I can handle. Over the years I’ve given her a bit more lead than I should have. She is a smart little thing and I never could tell her no. Suppose I’m paying the price now, because now that she’s grown she doesn’t listen to a thing I say.” He shrugged, his expression growing sad and wistful. “Don’t suppose I could convince you to marry her?”

  “Whoa, George, I-uh…”

  The older man chuckled, a twinkle lighting his kind gray eyes. “No need to panic. Just think on it. Any man that can stand up to her has a leg up on us all. Besides… she’d be good for you.” He remained silent for a long moment, his expression growing serious. “Don’t make the mistake I did and spend your younger years alone. I know what it is to lose your wife, Davy. Don’t let it define the rest of your life.”

  Davy gulped, shocked into silence. He and George were friends, but such personal subjects rarely came up.

  “In any case,” George continued, tactfully ignoring Davy’s discomfort, “she is trying to dismantle the bars from the inside out so you may want to steer clear for a while.”

  “I’ll take that under advisement.” He couldn’t help but smile at the mental picture. “Is Whitfield still with her?”

  George nodded, backing away. “Think on what I said, Davy.” He turned away with a casual one-armed wave.

  Davy merely grunted in response. Marry Lilly? Lost in thought he paced the streets leading toward his house. Where had the sheriff come upon such a daft notion? Never mind that David had entertained at least twenty-five lurid visions of her naked in his bed since leaving the jailhouse. Heaven help him, he could still taste Lilly on his lips… the heat of her in his arms… the bittersweet bite of her words when she’d verbally flayed him to the bone. He sighed, turning up the walk of his lonely two-story house. She kept him on his toes to be sure, but—

  “Marshal Langston! Marshal!”

  Davy spun to find Deputy Winston and Deputy Whitfield barreling toward him.

  “Marshal!” The men skidded to halt before him, breathing heavily. “Miss Hudson. Sh-she’s…”

  Davy’s heart sank. He knew without being told what the gasping deputies meant to say. “She escaped? When? How?” He turned on Whitfield. “You were supposed to be guarding her.”

  “I’m sorry, sir.” Whitfield continued breathing raggedly. “I went out to take a piss and when I came back the door was hangin’ open and she was gone.”

  * * *

  Dusk draped the city in a curtain of gray, drawing long shadows over the streets. Lilly shivered, cool even
ing air seeping through the thin fabric of her gown as she briskly rushed home.

  She cast a quick glance over her shoulder, hugging her arms about herself, unable to shake the eerie sense of being followed. The sensation probably stemmed from nothing more than having spent the better part of the day locked in the city jail, but the hair at her nape tingled and her skin fairly crawled. Once she arrived home all would be well, and then—much as she hated to admit it—she would heed David’s advice and stay there. Guards and all.

  She darted across a mostly deserted street behind a livery wagon, making the snap decision to take a shortcut home past one of the old munitions plants. It would cut at least five minutes off the walk. The tap of her heeled shoes echoed off the cobblestones and along the brick walls. She gulped, convinced that a second set of footsteps were audible as well. Lilly whirled.

  Nothing. Completely alone.

  Weak with relief, she turned to continue home.

  A wraithlike shadow grazed the corner of her vision. Senses heightened, she sucked a deep breath into her lungs and let loose a shrill scream.

  “You little bitch,” a man’s deep voice grumbled as vice-like arms wound around her.

  “Help!” Lilly shrieked once more, wrestling the powerful hold with everything she had. She swung her leg back, making sharp contact with her attackers shin.

  He grunted but refused to relinquish her.

  “Hel—” Her desperate cry was squelched by a sour smelling rag clasped over her mouth and nose. She strained against the man’s brutal grasp, but without air her struggles proved more futile by the second. Blackness billowed around her vision, closing in on her as sights and sounds became disjointed. Fleetingly David flashed through her mind. Would he ever know her last thoughts were of him? Regret and despair pooled as rapidly as the darkness within her. She’d never told him she loved him. Now she would never have the chance.

  * * *

  “Please, God, no. Not Lilly.”

  David plunged through the twilight. Blood pounded in his ears, and his gut twisted miserably. Never in his life had he felt more powerless. Four women, four broken battered bodies, and now Lilly? He’d done everything in his power to keep her safe. He never should have left her earlier. He should have stayed at the jail.

  The brick skeleton of the munitions plant loomed on the dim horizon. As he approached, a horde of near riotous citizens had become a living fire breathing beast of its own. Horse’s hooves clattered as a wagon rattled to a halt at the back of the crowd. Several lanterns waved, casting erratic paths of light in the darkness, and hysterical shouts rose up over the din.

  He had to see her, discern once and for all what cruel joke the Lord saw fit to play on him. “Let me pass!” He shoved through the crush, using his formidable size to his advantage.

  “It’s Marshal Langston!”

  “Marshal, what are you doing about this serial murderer?”

  Ignoring the cries, Davy plowed desperately through the throng. He towered over most of the crowd and spied a shock of pale tresses spilling over the hard packed dirt long before the whole of the scene became clear. The hair gleamed like apple butter and red-tinged corn silk in the lantern light.

  “Lilly,” he choked out, breaking past the last ranks of onlookers. “Oh, God, no.” He staggered to a halt, breathing ragged as her still form materialized before him. He crashed to his knees, swallowed by despair. Mere hours ago he’d held her willing and fiery in his arms. The memory of her mouth still burned against his lips. And now… now she lay lifeless, sprawled in an alley, taken from him forever.

  Blood rushed in his ears, lending the entire situation a surreal sense. All around him men rushed about, barking orders—he could discern none of them. Davy’s brother, Craig, knelt at her head. Moving her.

  Something within David snapped. “Leave her, Craig. Don’t touch her.” Davy staggered back to his feet, stumbling through the dreamlike haze toward Lilly’s side. Miserable black rage welled up within him, taking hold of his soul.

  The face of Marcus Brady materialized a few feet away. “You son of a bitch,” Davy growled, lunging at the other man. “You did this to her. I’ll kill you! So help me God I’ll march you to Hell myself for hurting her!”

  Marcus stumbled backward, his face ashen as David drove through the onlookers toward him.

  “Davy!” Craig’s voice bounced off the haze surrounding his mind. “Davy, wait!”

  Wait? Like Hell. Vengeance waited for no man. Deep in his gut—his heart—he knew Brady was the killer. He was going to throttle him for it. Marcus’s bum leg landed in a pothole and he tripped, falling heavily to the unforgiving ground. Davy closed in on him, wrapping big hands around the other man’s neck.

  “Langston,” Brady gasped, eyes wide and nostrils flared with panic.

  Davy ignored his pathetic plea, closing his palms and beginning to squeeze Brady’s flimsy neck.

  “A little help, Curtis.” Again Craig’s voice pounded at the red-hot haze surrounding David’s mind.

  A set of burly arms, which could only belong to his bear of a brother Curtis, seized him, dragging him away from Marcus. Brady stumbled to his feet, gasping for air. “Crazy bastard!”

  “He killed her.” Davy fought against the bear hold Curtis held on him. “He killed Lilly!”

  “Davy,” Curtis shouted. “Davy, she’s not dead!”

  It took a moment for the words to set in as he sagged to the ground. She’s not dead? Well, she sure as hell looked dead, was still as death. Turning, he became cognizant of Craig kneeling beside Lilly’s unmoving figure, assessing what injuries he could.

  “Lilly.” Davy scrambled back to her side lifting her hand, so limp and frail it broke his heart. “Come on, Lil, you’re stronger than this, fight.” His gaze took in the pale of her skin and the scrapes marring her smooth forehead. A circular bruise like that of a hand print encompassed her right wrist, and she was so still.

  “We need to get her to my office.” Craig’s eyes lifted and locked on his. “I can’t properly examine her in the dark with this damn crowd hovering.”

  Gently Davy slid his arms beneath her, cradling her against his chest. For the first time he realized just how tiny she was. She always exuded such an air of confidence and capability. He’d never considered her in any way fragile until this very moment. He kissed her brow, suppressing the crushing pain squeezing his chest. No words could describe the misery encompassing him because he should have been there to protect her, prevent this, but he had failed yet again. Why could he not keep harm from finding his women?

  “Davy?” his name slipped from her lips, the word barely audible.

  “I’m here, love.” Hope and relief flooded him as he curled her more securely in his arms.

  “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I was going home… Only home.”

  “Shh… Lilly, it’s fine.”

  “I love you,” she murmured.

  Davy’s heart clinched with surprise, but it was not an unpleasant surprise. No, the words were rather… welcome. Like a warm salve pouring over his heart. “I—” He didn’t know what to say. Love? His head had courted the issue ever since she’d mentioned it at the jailhouse. Love… that magical—forbidden—word trickled down from his heart, into his veins, and resonated in his bones. “Lilly…” He glanced down, mind grappling for the right response, but one wasn’t necessary. Her head lulled back and her eyes closed as she lost consciousness once more.

  “Lilly?” He repeated more forcefully.

  No response.

  With baited breath he leaned close, assuring himself of the gentle rush of her breathing. He hefted her up, holding her as though to ensure she did not slip away.

  Craig led the way to his physician’s office and then around to the back door of his clinic. He jogged up the short wooden staircase. “Marissa should already be here. I sent her ahead to prepare when I was called to the attack.” He held the door open and Davy carried Lilly into the examination room. Curtis follo
wed close behind.

  Several lamps glowed within the tidy room. Fresh folded linen lined a row of shelves, porcelain basins of varying size sat atop a wooden table, and a locked glass cabinet housed an eclectic array of bottles and medicines.

  “Lay her on the table,” Craig instructed, shutting the office door. “Gently.”

  “Craig, is that you?” Marissa Langston, Craig’s wife entered from the inner door, the length of her blonde hair pulled efficiently back, an apron tied neatly about her waist.

  “Marissa, Miss Hudson has been attacked.” Craig shucked his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves. “We will need to examine her injuries immediately.”

  “Everything is ready,” Marissa replied, bustling to the side table organized with medical supplies. She opened Craig’s black leather bag.

  Davy shifted his attention back to Lilly and laid her gently onto the examination table. He smoothed a hand over her forehead, fervently wishing she’d open her eyes again.

  She moaned, but nothing more.

  “I found this lying beside her.” Curtis waved a yellowed rag and handed it to Craig.

  Craig turned the rag over in his palm. “Probably laced with chloroform or ether.”

  Marissa shuddered. “Barbaric stuff.”

  Craig shot his wife a wary glance. “Both are perfectly adequate anesthetics if used appropriately.”

  Marissa shrugged off her husband’s irritated glare as though to say, I’m right, you’ll see…

  Craig just rolled his eyes and scrubbed his hands in a water basin waiting beside the exam table.

  Davy and Curtis exchanged a quick, confused look. Their sister-in-law was a bit of an enigma. She’d been assisting in Craig’s medical practice since the war, and Craig often deferred to her expertise though no one knew where she came by it. Davy had also witnessed Marissa and Craig clash on medical subjects on multiple occasions.

  “Has the sheriff been notified?” Craig asked officiously.

  “Uh, yes. I sent Deputy Winston to find him as soon as I learned of the attack.”