The Lawman's Surrender: The Calhoun Sisters, Book 2

by Debra Mullins

  “Do you think I’d be able to have a bath?” she asked again, swiping the back of her hand across her grimy cheek. “I feel as if I’ve brought half the road with me.”

  “We can’t take the chance of anyone knowing you’re not what you appear to be,” Jedidiah said. “So unless you want me to be the one to help you with your bath...”

  “I see your point.” Disappointed, she looked around. “Still, it’s a comfortable room. And I can wash up, even if I can’t bathe as completely as I’d like.” She reached up and pulled off the huge sunbonnet. “How far away is your room?”

  “Susannah, this is my room.”

  She hesitated, then smoothed her hair with one hand. “Your room?”

  He took off his hat and hung it on a peg on the wall. “Maybe I should have said our room.”

  “Our room.”

  “Our room.” He walked to the washstand and poured water into the basin. “The room of Mr. and Mrs. John Brown.”

  “John Brown?”

  He picked up the bar of soap and washed his hands over the basin. “Jedidiah is a bit conspicuous. But there are ten John Browns in every town.”

  “I see.” She fingered the ties on her bonnet. “Where are you planning to sleep, Mr. Brown?”

  “Right there in that bed.” He nonchalantly wiped his hands off on a towel.

  “You think so?”

  “I know so.”

  Susannah pressed her lips together. Part of her was outraged that he assumed they were going to share sleeping space for the night. But part of her was excited.

  It made sense for them to share a room since they were masquerading as husband and wife. But there was enough floor space that Jedidiah could certainly stretch out there.

  Her flesh tingled at the thought of his lean form resting beside her in the bed.

  “Absolutely not,” she said, hoping he didn’t notice the slight breathlessness in her voice. “What kind of woman do you take me for, Marshal?”

  “I think after all we’ve been through—and given the fact that I’m a close friend of the family—you can call me Jedidiah.”

  “Trust me, Marshal, we’re not all that close.”

  He cast her a look of amusement. “You think not?”

  “We are mere acquaintances, Marshal. And that is precisely the reason you cannot sleep in this bed with me.”

  He crossed his arms, his brows arching. “We’ve known each other for over a year, Susannah. And given the circumstances, I think we can safely say that you and I are more than acquaintances.”

  “What would you call it? Certainly not friends.”

  “No, not exactly friends.” He unfolded his arms and started toward her, his steps slow and measured as if he expected her to bolt. And if she had any sense, she would, Susannah thought with near panic as he stopped in front of her.

  “There’s fire between us,” he said. “You can’t deny that. I still remember how you tasted when we kissed.”

  Her cheeks flamed even as her heart started to pound. “All right, I do agree with you that there is some sort of attraction between us. But acknowledging it is a bad idea.”

  “Doesn’t seem such a bad idea from where I’m standing.” Before she could move or even blink, he was there, bending down and kissing her.

  A soft sound escaped her as his mouth claimed hers. Dear Lord, his lips were so soft, and so skilled. He cupped the back of her head in his large hand and claimed her mouth with a single-minded purpose that swept the defenses right out from under her.

  Something vulnerable had been trapped inside her for so many years, and now it sprang free at the touch of this man. The walls around her heart melted away, and warmth suffused her limbs. She let herself go, surrendered herself to Jedidiah’s care.

  His tongue touched hers, and with a hungry little sound, she dove into the kiss, reaching her hands up to encircle his neck and pull him closer. The floodgates were open, her blood pounded in her ears, and for the first time in a long, long while, she felt what it was to want a man.

  All she could think was yes. Whatever he wanted of her, whatever he asked, the answer was yes.

  He groaned and slipped an arm around her, pulling her to her feet. But his intention to draw her into his embrace was foiled by her disguise. With a jolt of surprise, he broke the kiss. Both of them stared down at her swelling belly, which jutted between them like a reminder of possible consequences should they continue in this manner.

  Jedidiah broke the silence first.

  “We can’t do this,” he said.

  “You’re right.” But she couldn’t move, didn’t want to leave his embrace.

  “If we give into this thing, we’ll never get to Denver, and you’ll never clear your name.”

  “You’re right,” she said again.

  He took a deep, shuddering breath and took one shaky step back from her. “Wash up,” he said, avoiding eye contact. “Get yourself comfortable. I’ll send someone up with your bag.”

  “Where are you going?” she asked as he lifted his hat from the peg on the wall.

  “To get a drink. I’ll be back in a while. I think it’s better if you stay out of sight as much as possible, so I’ll have them bring supper up here for you. I’ll tell them you’re ailing. Since you’re supposed to be expecting, they’ll believe it. And lock the door behind me.”

  “Wait!” she cried as he opened the door. “When you come back, how will I know it’s you? I don’t want to open up the door when someone knocks and find Caldwell out there.”

  He met her gaze then, his still simmering with a heat that made her ache to be back in his arms. She licked her lips, still able to taste him. His eyes narrowed, and tension settled heavily over the room.

  “You’ll know it’s me,” he said, and she knew he was right. She could always sense when Jedidiah was around. No one else stole her reason and sped up her pulse like he did. It was as if there was some invisible connection between them.

  “But just in case,” he continued, looking away from her, “I’ll knock like this.” He demonstrated on the doorjamb. “Unless you hear that, don’t open up the door. I’ll have them leave your supper in the hall.”

  “All right.”

  He started to leave, then glanced back at her. “I expect to see you in this room when I get back, Susannah. You have a nasty habit of disappearing on me.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” she replied, responding to more than his verbal remark. “I’ll be here when you get back. I need you, Jedidiah. You’re the only hope I have of getting out of this alive.”

  “I think we’d both better remember that.” Then he was gone, closing the door behind him.

  Susannah wasted no time. She locked the door as his footsteps faded down the hall, then quickly shed the huge dress and wadding. She hurried to the washstand and squealed with alarm when she caught sight of her grimy face in the mirror.

  It was amazing Jedidiah had even noticed she was a woman when she looked like this!

  But he had definitely noticed, and he had acted on that knowledge with a devastating thoroughness that had her still trembling. His kiss had sapped the strength from her knees until they all but collapsed from under her. What was it about the man that melted her entire body like butter on a hot biscuit?

  With trembling fingers, she touched her slightly swollen lips. He made her want to give him everything, but he’d made it clear that once his job was through, he would be moving on. Moving on to the next job, the next town, maybe even the next woman.

  She refused to be a fool about this. She wasn’t going to let this attraction between them get out of hand. When Jedidiah returned, she would inform him that he was sleeping on the floor. And that was that.

  Because if he slept in that bed with her, she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to keep her distance as she should. And that would be more dangerous than facing Caldwell and a hundred of his lynch mob.

  Pushing the disturbing feelings from her mind, she set about repairing h
er appearance.

  “Damn that woman.” Jedidiah leaned on the bar in the Lucky Lady Saloon and contemplated his glass of whiskey. Kissing Susannah had not been in his plans. In fact, it was the dumbest thing he had ever done in his life.

  He had made it a life-long policy not to let anyone get too close. He hadn’t even been twenty years old when he had fought for the Confederate Army in the War Between the States and lost everything he had ever held dear: his home, most of his family, and his intended, Mary Louise. All he had left was his sister Lottie, mercifully spared due to her husband’s position as a badly needed physician for the opposing forces when they had come through the area.

  His family home had been destroyed. His father had died as a casualty of war, and his mother later of typhoid. His fiancée, Mary Louise, had been killed by a band of renegade Union soldiers who had been looking for food. Someone had shot her over a loaf of bread.

  Jedidiah had come home at the end of the war to nothing.

  He had later found Lottie in Charleston, and the reunion had been bittersweet. Even with the profound relief he had felt at finding Lottie alive, he still couldn’t seem to break through the ice barrier that had formed around his heart. His distant manner had hurt his sister, but he couldn’t seem to change it. If he let himself care, he would get hurt—so he’d locked his mind and emotions against anyone getting through.

  To spare his sister further pain, he had left Charleston for the West, a place with wide open spaces where a man could go for days without seeing another soul. With skills learned in the war, he had eventually become a U.S. Marshal.

  He enjoyed his job. He rode in when an emergency arose, helped people who were in trouble, and then left again before anyone could become attached. The life of U.S. Marshal was perfect for him—and Susannah did not fit with that kind of life.

  Sweet Susannah. The taste of her lingered on his tongue, and he sipped his whiskey to get rid of it. She was an incredible woman—gutsy, smart, compassionate. Most beautiful women were too aware of their good looks, and ended up being vain, envious and self-serving. Susannah wasn’t like that, though she matter-of-factly accepted the effect of her stunning appearance on others.

  Even he was affected, despite his better judgment. The attraction he felt for her was stronger than anything he had ever felt for a woman before. But he couldn’t afford to let his own hunger get the better of him.

  Under the best of circumstances, a woman could muddle a man’s mind until all he could think about was getting inside her. In a situation like this, where death waited at every crossroad, lust could steal a man’s concentration, make him a little lazy, lower his defenses. With Caldwell on their trail, Jedidiah needed to keep sharp. He needed to be ready to defend Susannah with his life if need be to see justice done.

  There was no way he was going to let her hang.

  He tossed back the last of his whiskey and set the empty glass on the bar. His mind was made up, and his resolve was firm. He would do his job despite temptation, maintain a professional courtesy that was one step back from friendship and keep his wits about him at all times.

  There was no other choice. If he failed in this, Susannah would be convicted and hanged.

  Chapter Nine

  Susannah awoke to a tantalizing view of Jedidiah, naked from the waist up, shaving his jaw. For a moment, she thought he was the figment of a glorious dream.

  Morning sunlight streamed in through the fluttering curtains, bathing his muscular form in golden light. Each stroke of the razor was accompanied by the enticing ripple of his sinewy biceps. He had tied back his long hair, and she caught a glimpse of the strong column of his throat and his lathered face as he turned his head this way and that.

  No doubt about it—Jedidiah Brown was one beautiful man to behold.

  She admired the long, muscular length of his back, the solid breadth of his shoulders, the way his golden hair curled over his vulnerable nape.

  Then her gaze met his in the mirror. He had been watching her admire him, and his dark eyes simmered with quiet intensity. Awareness thrummed between them, and for a moment she wished circumstances were different, that she dared hold out her hand to him in invitation.

  Her longing must have shown on her face. His features tightened, and his eyes narrowed to focus on her mouth for a long, breathtaking instant.

  Then he closed his eyes, breaking the contact. Sucking in a deep breath, he looked down and rinsed the razor in the basin.

  She swallowed and turned away. He was right. If they gave in to this attraction, they’d never get to Denver. And she’d never get her good name back.

  Listening desperately for any sounds that might indicate he was getting dressed, her gaze slid over the other side of the bed. As she stared at the neatly tucked sheets, it registered suddenly that there was no sign of anyone having slept there. No rumpled covers. No impression of a head on the pillow. She turned back to face Jedidiah again.

  “I slept on the floor last night,” he said, answering the unspoken question.

  “You did?” She glanced over the side of the mattress and saw his bedding neatly rolled up and waiting to be packed into the wagon. For some reason, the fact that he had resisted the temptation of sharing her bed annoyed her, though she knew she should be grateful. “So you did. I am impressed, Marshal. Your manners are improving.”

  He ignored her snide comment and wiped the last of the lather from his cheeks. His neat mustache and clean-shaven jawline made him look as civilized as he always claimed to be, but the heated awareness in his eyes told another story.

  He plucked his shirt from the peg on the wall and donned it, turning to face her as he did up the buttons.

  “We need supplies,” he said. “After you’re dressed, we’ll head over to the mercantile to pick up a few things. Do you need anything?”

  “Yes. Soap,” she replied. “At some point I do intend to take a bath.”

  He shoved his shirttails into his pants and grabbed his hat from the wall. “As soon as it’s safe, you’ll have your bath, Susannah,” he replied. “I’ll wait for you downstairs.”

  “You do that,” she muttered, but found herself speaking to a closed door as he quit the room.

  Susannah took her time with her morning toilette, entertaining herself with images of an impatient Jedidiah pacing the hotel lobby. An hour after he had left the room, she finally descended the staircase, garbed in her dreaded disguise as a farmer’s pregnant wife.

  Jedidiah looked up as she leisurely came down the stairs, impatience in every rigid line of his body. But his tone gave away nothing as he said, “I checked on the horses while you were upstairs. One of them threw a shoe, so I need to go see the blacksmith.”

  “Will that delay our departure?”

  “Not if you take this list and go over to the mercantile.” He passed her a scrap of paper with the necessary supplies written on it. She noted soap at the very bottom and felt a layer of her annoyance melt away. He’d remembered.

  “How am I to pay for this?”

  He handed her some folded bills. “This should cover it. Wait for me there, and I’ll come fetch you. Can you handle that?”

  Arching her brow, she took the money and tucked it into her drawstring purse. “I can handle anything.”

  “You don’t have to tell me that.” With a hand at the small of her back, he guided her out of the hotel.

  The mercantile was owned by a hulking ruddy-faced fellow named Martin Kracke. When Susannah first handed him the list, he was somewhat surly until he saw that she would be paying cash money. Then he went about assembling her order with a smile on his thin lips.

  While Mr. Kracke put together a box of coffee, beans and sugar, Susannah wandered over to where two young women were giggling over bolts of fabric. A pretty blue and white dimity caught her eye, and she fingered it wistfully. Less than a week ago, she would have purchased the material and had it made into a stylish day dress designed to turn men’s heads. But those days were behi
nd her now, and heaven only knew what lay before her.

  She moved away from the piles of cloth and wandered the aisles of the cramped store. If Jedidiah had his way, they would intercept Mrs. Hawkins before she boarded the train in Colorado Springs and convince her to testify to Susannah’s innocence at the trial. However, there was every chance that Mrs. Hawkins was the murderer, in which case it would be more difficult. But when it came to law and order, Susannah would put her money on Jedidiah Brown every time.

  Yes, Jedidiah was surely as reliable as the sunrise when it came to official matters. But in matters of the heart, he was as capricious as a Chinook. One moment passion ran hot between them, and he kissed her as if his life depended on it. The next moment he held himself cool and distant as if she meant nothing more than the completion of another assignment.

  And she was no better, she thought with a snort of disgust. One moment she couldn’t stand to be around the man, but the next moment she couldn’t get close enough to him. She needed to keep her head clear. Falling in love with Jedidiah Brown was out of the question.

  She paused before a selection of scented soaps, staring blankly at a jar of small, heart-shaped ones. Falling in love with Jedidiah? Where had that come from? She couldn’t be in love with him—wouldn’t be in love with him.

  She took one of the little soaps from the jar, closing her fingers tightly around it as the scent of roses drifted to her. Loving Jedidiah Brown was like trying to catch the moon in a bucket, and Susannah was not one to chase the impossible. What they had here was a case of strong attraction under dangerous circumstances, nothing more.

  There had been something simmering between them when they had first met last year in Wyoming Territory, but his abrupt departure from her life had surely cured her of any tender feelings. And now they were together again, sharing an adventure out of some dime novel. It was no wonder she was starting to weave these ridiculous fantasies about him.