by Lisa Plumley
She came willingly, letting her legs and feet dangle against the bedstead while she wrapped her arms around his middle and hugged him. The feel of her bare breasts against his chest, of her thighs snugged close between his and her belly pressed against his shaft, was nearly Gabriel’s undoing.
He buried his hands in the glorious length of Megan’s dark hair, tilted her face up to meet him. Their kiss swept him to a place where only sensation existed. Tongue-sweet and unbelievably erotic, it was a joining he craved—and a homecoming he hadn’t realized he needed. Humbled by the depth of feeling Megan aroused in him, Gabriel drew her even closer and deepened their kiss.
Her feminine cries, her little moans of pleasure, all combined to make him want her still more. She felt perfectly right in his arms…tasted wonderfully delicious on his lips. Shaking with need, Gabriel whispered words of love and praise, wanting to share all his good feelings with her…wanting them to go on and on.
“Oh, Gabriel!” Megan arched her neck, letting her hair spill in a silky tumble over his arm, and trembled against him. “I feel…I feel so marvelous and aching, all at once.”
“It’s all right,” he murmured, lowering his head to the lush curves of her breasts once more. “I feel the same.”
He kissed her slowly, tongued her sweet pink nipples and drew their velvety softness into his mouth. Megan’s throaty cries urged him on, made him yearn to lengthen their pleasure for her sake.
The moments slid past, filled with the heat of their bodies pushed close together, with the erotic sounds of her whimpers and the luxurious feel of her nipples budding against his tongue as he sucked her. There never could be enough of this. Never could be enough loving between them. Gabriel savored it all, fighting against his growing need to claim her. For Megan, he could go slowly. For Megan, he could shape a love that would last.
Blood soared through his veins, urgent and hot. Megan gasped beneath him, clutching his arms to pull him onto the bed. Her legs twisted beneath him, moving as she pressed her thighs together in a rhythm as old as time. The knowledge that she needed him, desired him, as much as he did her, weakened his knees and unwound the last of Gabriel’s patience.
With one swift movement, he lifted Megan in his arms and settled her onto the bed. He wasted no time in following, fairly vaulting onto the lofty four-poster’s mattress beside her.
Looking half-giddy, she smiled. Likely, It was over his exuberance, Gabriel thought, and didn’t care. Instead, he returned her gleeful expression and then kissed her.
“You look beautiful,” he said, and meant it from the depths of his soul. “More beautiful than I’d ever imagined could be true.”
She squeezed him close, and spoke against his shoulder. “That’s because I feel beautiful. You make me feel that way.”
His heart turned over, making room for a sense of indescribable tenderness. Gabriel spread her hair over the coverlet, then paused to enjoy the contrast of rich brown against unspoiled white. He delighted in her tremulous smile. He took in the wondrous curves and hollows of her naked body, seeing them first with his eyes…and then with his hands. He touched each part of her. He kissed each freckle on her smooth skin, proclaiming them all delicious, and adorable.
Megan laughed softly, holding his head in her hands. It was as though they were made to be together, in every way. As though time stood still for the two of them this night, and an eternity of love endured, just waiting to be sampled.
Breath held, Gabriel smoothed his hands over her breasts, her belly, and lower to the darkened curls that shielded her woman’s mound. Delicately, he urged her thighs wider, then cupped her in his palm.
She quaked at his touch, thrusting upward against his hand. Megan gazed at him while he stroked her, watching him through eyes gone wide with wonder.
In their depths, he glimpsed trust. Need.
Love.
And he was lost.
“Ahhhh, Meg,” Gabriel gasped. “Mmmm, you feel good.”
Her incoherent cries urged him onward. Savage with need, he made himself gentle his hands, made himself go slowly…so slowly. His fingers danced and teased over her slick heat, calling forth a secret, shivering response. Again and again he fondled her, pleasured her, readied her for the new lovemaking they’d soon share.
“Ooooh, Gabriel! I feel…oh, my!” Her words melted into a moan, and beneath his hands, she trembled sweetly. With instinctive thrusts, Megan rose to meet his stroking fingers.
An answering excitement surged through him. Loving the feel of her, Gabriel teased and explored. He bent to bring his mouth to hers, pressed a tender, faint bite to her shoulder, drank in her cries and moans. New tremors shook her. They brought an answering response in him. Never had he known pleasuring a woman could bring such intense satisfaction for him as well.
Never…until now.
“Oooh, oooh!” Still moaning, she reached for him.
He gathered her close with one arm, and went on loving her. Soon—too soon—he felt Megan shudder as fulfillment gripped her. With a fierce sense of love and pride, Gabriel eased her back against the coverlet, safe in his arms. Christ, but he yearned to possess her.
No. For her sake, he would go slowly.
He rose on his elbows, then kissed her forehead. Her lips parted…he kissed them, as well. At the first gentle touch of her tongue against his, renewed, undeniable need rose within him.
“I thought I could wait,” Gabriel said, the tempo of his stroking increasing as he touched her arms, her belly, her thighs. “I can’t. I can’t.”
His shaft nudged at the heat he’d coaxed from her, and all his senses clamored for the pleasure to come. He made himself stop, brushed back the hair from her face, and said, “With you, I can’t wait any longer.”
Above her flushed cheeks, Megan’s eyes fluttered open. “You mean there’s more?”
“Oh, yes.”
Her open-mouthed expression made him smile. The eagerness in her eyes left him twice as needing…twice as urgent.
With torturous slowness, Gabriel eased himself closer. Megan gasped beneath him, opening herself still wider for him. Her welcoming felt every bit as wondrous as the feel of their bodies gliding sensuously together. She wanted him, really wanted him, he thought. And he—he wanted her just as much.
His shaft pulsed, urging him to thrust harder, faster. Gabriel made himself move slowly, watching for signs that he’d hurt her. He saw none. Instead, Megan cradled him. She stroked his arms, his back…and when her hands cupped his buttocks, pulling him ardently to her, Gabriel lost what control still remained to him.
He’d been made for this. Made for loving Megan. Each thrust drove the truth of their need for each other deeper within him. He loved her. Loved her. Rejoicing in it, Gabriel loved the woman in his arms as long and as well as he could.
Completion burst upon him in a shattering arc of pleasure. Gasping her name, he possessed her again and again. And when it was over, he sank into her loving arms…and prayed nothing would take him from them.
The following day dawned brighter than any in Megan’s memory—a phenomenon that owed itself, she felt sure, to having awakened in Gabriel’s arms. The hours spun themselves forth in similar fashion, beginning with a loving tumble between the sheets and coverlet of their shared bed and a hot, soapy bath. After a rapidly devoured breakfast, eaten late enough to pass for luncheon, she and Gabriel had set out again into the sun-splashed streets of Tucson in search of Joseph Kearney.
There seemed to be a tacit agreement between them this day, Megan thought as she felt Gabriel’s hand clasp hers. An agreement to work in unison, rather than at odds. In that spirit, she squeezed the work-roughened hand he offered, her heart brimming with gladness at the unexpected love they’d found, and accompanied Gabriel into the plaza.
Soon, she would tell him she loved him, Megan decided.
She grew more sure of it with each moment that passed. Remarkable as it was, she felt herself thoroughly besotted with the big, dark-hatte
d man beside her…and felt her feelings returned with every adoring glance he sent her way. Surely there could be no reason to hold back the most important truth of her life.
They skirted a crowd gathered ‘round a Sonoran puppet show, then continued their progress toward the combined postal and express office at the far end of the street. Fairly humming with happiness, Megan watched the building’s adobe face come into view.
“Do you think McMarlin will have learned anything yet?” she asked, lifting her skirt hems above the dusty streets. “Perhaps my papa has already returned to the station with his winnings, and has set everything straight with your Pinkerton men already.”
Gabriel’s face drew taut. “Perhaps.”
“You’ll know, when you receive his report, won’t you?”
“I’ll know.” He quickened his stride, pulling her along in his wake. “One way or the other. It’s possible McMarlin himself will be on this afternoon’s express, bringing me the news.”
The bad news, his expression said. Frowning over his suddenly darkened mood, Megan released Gabriel’s hand and skipped a few paces in front of him. Some levity was clearly needed here. Unfortunately, bringing comfort and laughter to folks was not her strong suit. What would Addie have done?
“When we’re finished,” she suggested, “let’s go on to the marketplace and buy ourselves something nice. I promised Addie a cone of sugar and some of the Mexican vanilla beans she favors, and I do believe I could find a card of buttons to replace the ones you…ah, lost last night.”
He grinned, doubtless picturing the same thing she did—nearly a dozen men’s dress shirt buttons raining down from their balcony in the moonlight. Vividly, Megan recalled the moment when Gabriel had ripped open his shirt so passionately, and then taken her into his arms. She wanted to sigh aloud at the remembrance.
Instead, she fell into step beside him and hugged his arm against her once more. “Well? Would you fancy a bit of shopping on the way to finding tonight’s secret Faro game? Buying something pretty always works miracles on my disposition.”
Only a few paces from the express office’s ramada and porch, Gabriel stopped. From his greater height, he stared down at her, his expression inscrutable. Then his hand caressed her cheek.
“I believe I’ve already had all the miracles I’ve got coming to me,” he said. Briefly, his grin flashed. “And if you got any prettier, I’d be fair loaded down with too much pride to walk beside you.”
Her heart squeezed with happiness. Beneath that gruff demeanor of his, Gabriel really did have a kind of deep-rooted kindness that was exactly what she’d always craved. He made her feel as warm as a cup of chocolate on a frosty December morning.
“I had you pegged from the start for a flannel-mouthed Irishman,” she teased. “If you keep up that kind of fancy talk, I’ll not be able to walk beside you, either.”
“Why not?”
“My head will be plumb swelled up too big to carry.”
Grinning, Megan threw herself into his arms and hugged tight. Heat and resilient muscles met her grasp, and the familiar, beloved scent of Gabriel’s body wafted upward to tease her nose. Their combined investigation could wait a few minutes longer, she decided. Right now, being next to Gabriel was more important.
Thank heavens she’d decided to confide in him! Trusting him with the truth about herself last night had been risky, but she’d been rewarded many times over for her bravery. Surely it could only be equally right to entrust Gabriel with helping her find her papa. To take a chance on accepting help for the first time in more years than she remembered.
Feeling happier than she could ever recall, Megan hugged his middle and rested her cheek against Gabriel’s chest.
Inside his suit coat, something crackled.
Puzzled, she raised her head. “I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t squash something important.”
“I think it’s salvageable.”
Gabriel slid his hand inside his suit coat. The gesture reminded her of the way he’d reached inside the coat he’d loaned her for warmth at Hop Kee’s Celestial Kitchen, and of the way his fingers had brushed gently over her bodice when he’d retrieved a handkerchief for her.
This time, it was not a fine monogrammed piece of linen that he withdrew from his pocket. This time, it was a rolled piece of paper.
A familiar piece of paper.
Megan watched Gabriel as, with the same fingers that had loved her so finely and well last night, he unfurled the wanted poster. Sunlight bleached the paper, momentarily obscuring the image. Frowning, Gabriel tilted it. Her father’s likeness lurched into Megan’s view.
At the sight, a sudden, sickening sense of foreboding rushed through her. She stared at the poster, then dragged her gaze to Gabriel’s face.
“Why do you still have that?” she asked.
Drat it! Why had her voice chosen this moment to turn weak and shivery, when she most needed to be strong?
“Why?” His eyebrows raised. Absently, Gabriel traced the picture’s pencil-drawn beard. “Because he’s still a wanted man, Meg. You can’t expect me to turn my back on that.”
Disbelief swamped her. “But I—I thought that you…that we…that after last night, surely we—”
“That we would forget the rest of our lives?”
Numbly, she stared at him. At the hated wanted poster. At the crowds of rebozo-wearing women and ranchers and off-duty soldiers surrounding them. The passing moments provided her with no more answers than she’d begun with.
Gabriel’s hand grasped her chin, turned her face to his. “Meg, I need more than belief in this. More than wishing. My livelihood is at stake. My reputation.” Stark anguish turned his features bold and uncompromising. “My honor. Winter brings in the right man at the right time.”
“He’s not the right man!” Megan wrenched free. “I thought you believed me.”
He lowered his head. When Gabriel gazed upward again, he seemed more determined than ever. “Our future depends on finishing this case,” he said, his voice harsh and deep. He shook the wanted poster. “How can we be together, when this remains between us?”
That he wanted to be with her filled Megan with gladness. That he would choose this means to do so flooded her with despair.
“There must be another way,” she whispered.
“There is not.”
The rattle of the incoming afternoon stage drowned out all else he might have said. In annoyance, Megan looked toward the express office and saw the familiar Kearney Station driver pull his team to a stop in front of it. Grit spewed toward her and Gabriel, then settled. In its wake, the driver jumped from his seat and opened the stagecoach’s passenger door—a courtesy Megan insisted of all their station hands.
Autumn sunlight gleamed from the lacquered wood as it swung ajar. She squinted beyond it, and glimpsed a tall, broad-shouldered man clattering down the iron steps. A man too tall and too youthful to be the Pinkerton agent they’d expected to meet.
Beside her, Gabriel’s body tensed. “McMarlin’s grown some,” he observed. “After that time he spent at your station, he looks powerfully like—”
“—an awful lot like—”
“Mose.”
Blast it! What was Mose doing here, of all people? Intent on finding out for herself, Megan raised her skirts once more and hurried toward him. She saw his face, shadowed beneath his hat, as he strode away from the stagecoach. Saw, too, the thing he held close in his beefy hands.
The Kearney Station strongbox. But why?
“Mose!” Hastening her steps, she followed him toward the plaza. “Mose, wait!”
Still walking, he looked over his shoulder. His eyes widened. She’d be darned if he didn’t walk even faster—away from her! Growing more curious by the minute, Megan followed.
Faintly, she heard Gabriel Winter give chase, too. She broke into as best a run as she could manage, feeling her corset squeeze her ribs painfully with every footfall. Up ahead, Mose stepped past two cowboys and a sombrer
o-wearing farmer, then ducked down the street leading to San Agustín church.
By the time Megan emerged into the plaza in front of the ornate, white-faced mission church, she was panting for breath. When I open my dressmaker’s shop, she vowed, one of the first things I’ll make is a blasted comfortable corset. Holding her aching sides, she sucked in dust-tinged air and looked around for Mose.
She found him. Right beside Gabriel.
With a resigned air, her station hand was giving over the strongbox he held. “… so I figured I’d better keep it away from Miss Megan,” Mose was saying when she caught up with the two men. “Seein’ as how she’s so powerful attached to the station, and all. I knew she’d try to stop me.”
“You’re right, I would!” Megan stopped before them, staring up into their hardened faces by turns. Gabriel’s looked pale. Mose’s looked guilty. She decided to address the most easily reckoned with first, and turned her gaze on her station hand. “What’s this all about, Mose?”
He whipped off his hat and clutched it to his chest. “I’m sorry, Miss Megan, ma’am. I promised your papa I wouldn’t tell you about this. You gave him a fright, turning up at Levin’s Park like you did last night. He’s doubly careful about you now.”
“I gave him a fright? What nonsense is this?”
A glance at Gabriel’s face told her he knew—and wasn’t saying. Mose shuffled from foot to foot, and finally came out with an explanation.
“He knows you’re after your nest-egg money,” the big man explained. “I s’pose he ain’t coming home till he wins big. Otherwise, you’ll strip off his hide piece by piece with wrathy words and such.”
“Did my father tell you that?”
Miserably, Mose nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
Strip off his hide, indeed! With annoyance, Megan noticed the Pinkerton man trying to conceal a grin. Well, Gabriel could just laugh himself silly, for all she cared. There were greater things at stake here—like the fact that her papa knew she was looking for him…and had run from her anyway.
Wasn’t it bad enough he kept himself gone from the station as much as he could? Now papa had to keep himself specially away from her, as well? With a heavy heart, Megan looked from the strongbox in Gabriel’s hands to Mose’s familiar, caring face. Confusion and despair battled inside her. Pushing away those feelings, she tried to focus on the problems at hand.