Lane gathered her against him. Pressed her breasts against his heart and sighed. She held him tight. The moment was too sweet to hurry, but their need too great to tarry long.
He drew back, held her at arm's length and watched her blush as he reached out to cup a breast in his hand. Her breath caught in her throat. She closed her eyes.
"Breathe, Rachel."
She smiled. "I suppose I'll have to get used to you seeing me naked," she said, with more hope than certainty.
"Day and night," he said, and her smile grew.
He lowered his head and took her nipple between his teeth, gently tugged and then suckled. Pleasure-pain sensations radiated through her, heated her blood to boiling. She wanted to melt into him, to feel him slip inside her, open her fully, fill her with his desire, his love, his seed.
She grasped his shoulders and arched into him, brushed her mound against his erection as his mouth feasted at her breast. He took hold of her hips, steadied her, willed her to stand alone as he dropped to his knees, and as he went, he slowly kissed his way between her breasts, then nipped at the soft skin around her navel. His breath stirred the tight nest of dark curls that covered her mound.
Rachel moaned, shoved her fingers through his hair and hung on for dear life as he kissed her intimately. The first climax came upon her without warning. She cried out his name and slipped mindlessly into a world of color and light and mad pulsation. When she came to earth again, she realized that if Lane had not cupped his hands beneath her hips she would have melted into the puddle of burgundy and white silk at her feet.
She smiled down at him, traced the outline of his lips with a fingertip and shook her head in wonder.
"I never knew," she whispered.
He smiled. "I'm glad I could teach you."
He pulled her down until, like him, she was on her knees. They didn't stop there. He lowered himself to the carpet. She went with him and let him draw her up along the length of him as he extricated her from the nest of fabric.
It wasn't enough to stretch out along his full length. It wasn't enough to feel him hard and hot, throbbing with need, pulsing with life against her. Rachel slowly, provocatively, opened her thighs and drew herself, slick and wet, to the throbbing tip of his erection. A sound of pleasure escaped her as he raised his hips, drove upward and sheathed himself entirely inside her.
His control was gone. She was ready, more than ready, to fly again. Rachel moved as she had learned to move the day of her first lesson, a day that seemed so long ago. She rode him hard and fast and wild until she heard him cry her name and arch, forcing himself up against the mouth of her womb, where his seed spilled into her as he shuddered again and again.
Stars burst and became comets inside her. She collapsed against his chest and clung to him, breathing hard. Despite the falling snow that piled silently upon the window ledge outside, they were sweat-sheened, gilded by the firelight and the glow of gas lamps.
Lane held her close. Rachel pressed her ear to his heart and listened to it settle into a steady, even rhythm.
"Boyd told me I was meeting an old client who needed my special talents," he said with a laugh.
She shifted so that she could look up at him and saw that he was smiling. "I definitely needed your 'special talents.' I think the last few minutes proved that." They shared a laugh as she propped herself on her elbow, then Rachel frowned when a new thought struck her. "What if you had refused the assignment?"
"I don't think Boyd would have let it go that far. He's always claimed to be a hopeless romantic."
"Boyd Johnson?"
Lane shrugged. "The first thing he taught me to read was a love poem."
"Maybe that's what I should have tried," she mused.
"There's still plenty we can teach each other. Years of lessons." He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her up so that their lips met. For a man who was not willing to make promises, the kiss they exchanged spoke a silent vow of years of sharing and loving yet to come.
Rachel sighed when the kiss ended and nestled down against him again.
"We should dress," he said, breaking the spell.
"We have a little more time," she said, unwilling to end the moment.
"Rachel?"
"Hmmm?"
"What about Ty's inheritance? I know you well enough to know that you put up with the McKennas as long as you did because Ty deserves his father's share of—"
She put her fingers over his lips. "After what they did, after finding out the kind of man Robert was, and already knowing the man Stuart was, I was more determined than ever not to let the McKennas influence his life."
"I can't say as I blame you, but how will Ty feel when he finds out he's lost a fortune?"
"Mary Margaret has disappeared. As the McKennas' only living heir, he may not lose any of it. I plan to let him write to them, to stay in contact. Perhaps someday I'll allow a visit. If Stuart chooses to cut him out of his will because I took Ty away from them, or simply because he is my son, so be it. I'll just have to hope Ty will understand when he is old enough for me to explain things to him."
"He's lucky to have you, Rachel," Lane whispered against her temple. "And so am I."
She reached up and ran her fingertips over the rough stubble on his cheek. "I love you, Lane." It was easier to say the words than she'd thought it would be. "I think I've loved you since the day your uncle left you at the schoolhouse, only I didn't know it then. I do know I was always captivated by your eyes. You always seemed so much older than sixteen. Now I know that was because you were robbed of your childhood."
"Thinking impure thoughts about one of your students—who would have guessed?"
"I didn't say I was thinking impure thoughts. I said I think I loved you then. I should have realized it when I saw you cross that dance floor on the Fourth of July, or when you kissed me on the porch, or that night after dinner… in the parlor. But, even then, I didn't realize I loved you. Maybe I was afraid to admit it, afraid to look into my heart."
"When did you know?"
"That day beside the stream, when you told me you loved me. I knew you meant it—that you would never say it lightly. Those three words opened my heart."
"I brought you a present, Rachel."
She gave him a suspicious glance and then laid her head down against him again. "How could you bring me a gift when you didn't know I was going to be here?" She slowly traced his rib cage with her fingertips, and smiled when she felt him shiver.
"Help me pull up my pants."
"Excuse me, Mr. Cassidy?"
"Rachel, please." He glanced at the door. "They might be back soon."
"Lane Cassidy, gunfighter extraordinaire, is afraid of getting caught with his pants down?"
"I just don't want a certain five-year-old to catch me with my pants down."
Knowing he was right, she still grumbled as she slipped away from his warmth and got to her knees. As he sat up and began to shift and wriggle his pants up and then to button them, he chuckled as she scrambled over to the pile of clothing and began to slip into her underclothes.
The gown was hopeless. It would have to be repaired before she could wear it again. "I'll get my robe."
While Rachel hurried away clutching a bundle of fabric, he dug deep in one pocket and then another until he wrapped his hand around the token he hoped she would accept without argument.
Rachel was back in minutes, her hair brushed, her cheeks glowing, wearing a long, full dressing gown trimmed with ruffles at the hem and wrists.
"Here." He held his hand out to her. It was closed over her gift.
"What is it?" She walked to his side, slipped beneath his arm and leaned against him, expectant as a child.
"Close your eyes and hold out your hand."
Rachel did as he asked. Lane laid something in her open palm and kissed the tip of her nose.
"Go ahead and look."
Rachel felt a cold, hard, metal object in her palm. She opened her eyes, uncurled her
fingers and discovered a shining tin star. She traced the letters SHERIFF OF ANTELOPE COUNTY engraved on the metal surface.
"Boyd warned me not to wind up in his criminal files. With my 'special talents' it was the only job I could find on the right end of a gun."
Rachel's fist closed over the star, and she closed her eyes against a sudden wash of fear. Because of his name, because of this star, his life would forever be in daily jeopardy.
"Rachel? I know what you're thinking…"
"No you don't."
"You're thinking about the danger involved, not to mention the fact that you were married to a sheriff once already and—"
"Don't ever compare yourself to Stuart," she warned. "Actually, I was just thinking about something you said when you were in jail and I was so afraid you would hang. You told me you could die a happy man because you had loved me, remember?"
"I still feel that way."
She held the star tight in one hand and caressed his cheek with the other. "Life doesn't make promises either, Lane. I said I was willing to take whatever you're willing to give as long as you love me. I have to be willing to take whatever fate has in store for us, too."
"Don't go burying me too soon. I'm pretty good at what I do, you know."
"I do know that, Mr. Cassidy. I certainly do." Rachel wrapped her arms around him and rubbed against him in wordless invitation. "Perhaps you might concentrate on putting one of your special talents to work again soon," she suggested.
A soft, tentative knock sounded on the door. "It'll have to be later." Lane kissed her quickly, scooped up his shirt and duster and headed for Rachel's room.
Rachel waited until he was safely behind the closed door before she turned the key and ushered Delphie and Ty inside.
"Where's Lane?" Ty glanced around the room and then went down on all fours and scrambled beneath the settee. "Here's his hat."
Her son had made no comment on Rachel's change of attire. Delphie merely raised her brows and smiled a knowing smile. Rachel smoothed her hand down the front of her wrapper and tugged the sash tight. Thankfully, Lane opened the door just then and swept into the room, looking as cool and collected as ever. As he bestowed a smile on Ty, no one would have ever guessed that less than five minutes before he'd been lying on the floor with Rachel in his arms and his pants balled around his knees.
"Lane!" Ty raced over to him and handed him his hat. "I got one just like it. Want to see?"
Lane smiled at Rachel over the boy's head. "Sure. That'd be great. How was dessert, Delphie?" Lane couldn't look Rachel's companion in the eye for longer than an instant.
Discreetly headed for her own room, Delphie smiled over her shoulder. "Wonderful. How was yours?"
"Delicious." Lane watched Rachel blush and study her toes.
Ty ran back in the room with his hat in his hand. "May I put it on inside, Mama?"
"Just this once."
Ty shoved his hat on his head. Lane reached down and adjusted the brim until it rode low on Ty's forehead and almost hid his eyes. He tossed his duster over the back of the settee, put his own hat on and adjusted it just so.
"How do we look?" he asked Rachel.
"Yeah, Mama. How do we look?"
"Delicious." Rachel smiled.
Ty turned around and tipped his head way back so that he could see Lane from beneath his hat brim. "Are you stayin', Lane?"
"For a while."
"How long?"
"Long enough to talk your mama into quitting her job." He glanced over at Rachel. "Long enough to help all of you pack up so you can come with me to Idaho… but only if your ma's willing to marry another sheriff."
"Aw, darn," Ty groaned. "I kinda hoped she would marry you, Lane."
Lane reached down, scooped the boy up and whispered, "I am a sheriff now."
The boy smiled and slipped his arm around Lane's neck.
"That's some pumpkins!"
Rachel knew her heart was in her eyes. She didn't care—not when she saw Lane's heart shining back at her.
"Can we marry Lane, Mama?"
"We can," she whispered. Then, louder, in a voice that carried across the room, she smiled at the expectant faces of the two men in her life. "Yes. Yes we can."
The cold metal star had warmed in her hand.
Last Chance Page 30