The Drifter

by Lisa Plumley

  “I do need to protect you. I need to protect you,” she insisted seriously, “from me.”

  His sidelong glance examined her. Slowly, his grin faded. “We’ll go to my room,” Graham said, “and have this solved, once and for all.”

  ’Twas bridal jitters, Graham figured, watching Julia pace up and down the narrow T-shaped strip of boardinghouse floor between his bed, the bureau and the window. It had to be ordinary wedding-day fears that had brought her to him now, especially at such an unfashionable hour. But why? Did Julia wish to hurry up their sham wedding?

  Or call it off, altogether?

  Against all reason, Graham found himself hoping she wanted him sooner, rather than never. ’Twas probably for the best that their brief marriage would be a false one, though. He knew nothing of settling down, of making a wife happy.

  After so many years, it seemed likely to him that he simply did not possess whatever it took to be a staying kind of man—however much he found himself wanting to be, lately. The woman before him deserved better. Much better.

  Near the window, Julia whirled. “Where were you tonight?” she asked suddenly.

  “Working at the library,” Graham said. He rested his forearms on his thighs, uncaring of his mudsplattered pants, and looked up at her. “And then riding. My poor horse has gone soft and unhappy, left in the stables day after day.”

  She gave a distressed sound, as though his answer pained her. He didn’t understand it. ’Twas true he probably looked disheveled, exactly like a man who’d ridden hard though a Territorial spring night and back again. But surely his windblown hair, dusty boots and pants, and partly unbuttoned shirt weren’t so offensive as that. Were they?

  Julia drew in a deep breath. “He wants to be free,” she said softly.

  Graham frowned. “My horse? He’s been stabled before. He’ll survive.”

  At that, she looked on the verge of tears! Confused, Graham stood, intending to go to her. When he moved, though, Julia did, too—all the way to the window. She stood there with her back to him, and he didn’t know how to respond. Acting on the notion he’d had before, he went to the basin and poured in some water for washing.

  “It’s a difficult thing, that I have to say to you,” he heard Julia explain as he ran the wet soapy cloth over his face and neck. Her voice continued, haltingly, as Graham lathered his hands and forearms. “I know this is a poor time, so if—if you’re busy with something else, I could try to—”

  “No.” He splashed fresh water on his face to rinse, and straightened. “I’m busy with nothing but this. Go on.”

  Blinking, he groped for a towel, and began scrubbing himself dry. There. Maybe now she wouldn’t be so allfired offended by the—

  Soft hands covered his, grasping the towel. Lace from a drooping sleeve tickled his damp neck.

  —sight of a man as nature had made him.

  “Here, let me help you,” Julia said, suddenly there. Ducking her head, she took the towel from his hands and began blotting the water that had wet the ends of his hair.

  Dumbfounded, Graham let her. With gentle motions, she captured the moisture from his hair, a drip from his jaw. She began working downward, toward the opened neck of his shirt, intent on tending to the bare skin his washing had revealed.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said as she worked. “I never meant for things to happen this way. And now you—you—”

  Her voice choked on the words. He could see nothing but the crown of her head, and so could not gauge what had caused this new upset. He was most definitely dried by now, but Julia went on patting him with the towel, nonetheless.

  “I’m fine,” Graham assured her, at a loss for what else to do.

  “No, you’re sad!” she cried. “Like your horse.”

  “Like my what?”

  “Oh, mostly you hide it,” Julia said, waving her arm. The towel flung to and fro with her efforts, nearly taking some of his evening’s whiskers with it. He ducked to avoid it. “With jests and surprises and good humor. But I can see it in your eyes, an underlying sorrow. And it…oh, Graham. I’m so sorry for it.”

  She quit waving the towel, and wrung it despondently in her hands instead. She raised her gaze from it, and looked to him for a reply.

  Whatever sadness you see is because I’m soon to lose you, Graham thought. But he could not say as much, and burden her with that. Especially along with whatever misery had brought her here tonight, to strangle the life from his poor towel.

  And so he only moved nearer, and said instead: “There’s nothing for you to be sorry for. My life is my own. I hold no one else responsible for the parts of it.”

  Julia sighed. “I might have known you would say that. Your chivalry may have been buried, but it is deep.”

  “What?” he asked, teasingly horrified. “’Tis not fair to mock your knight in shining armor. Especially when he’s about to make an honest woman of you, two days hence.”

  She sniffled, and tried to smile. Tears threatened, though, he could tell. Alarmed by the notion, Graham took the towel from her hands and flung it beside the pitcher and basin. Then he led Julia to his bedside and urged her onto the coverlet.

  “Here, sit down. Whatever you have to say, it cannot be so bad as all that.”

  “It is.” She nodded vehemently, and accepted the handkerchief he salvaged from his discarded duster coat pocket. “It is so bad as all that, and I find myself horribly unwilling to come out with it. I’m sorry.”

  He’d never seen her like this. Scratching his head, Graham searched his memory for a similar experience. He couldn’t find one. He had never stayed with a woman long enough to encounter so many moods as Julia confronted him with.

  “No more apologies,” he demanded.

  “I’ll—I’ll try.”

  “Good.” That was progress. Encouraged, Graham straightened, and tried a new tactic. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “I can’t! I should leave. I shouldn’t have come here to begin with. Your boardinghouse room, of all places! My goodness, I—”

  Still chattering, Julia bolted for the door in a flurry of skirts. Graham beat her there, more befuddled than ever, and slapped his hand over the knob.

  “Tell me what’s wrong,” he repeated, more sternly.

  “I…oh, I suppose I must. It would be cowardly not to. And you deserve better than that.”

  With visible reluctance, she returned to the bed and settled in. She lay aside her handkerchief and reticule and smoothed her skirts. When Julia pulled off her gloves and set them aside as well, he knew he was in trouble. Serious trouble.

  “I’d better sit down, too,” he said, and did. The mattress dipped between them, then righted again.

  She spared him a curious glance. Breathing deeply, she seemed to gather her courage.

  “I’ll tell you. But before I do…” Julia paused, blinking at him through hopeful blue eyes. “Please, may I kiss you one more time?”

  She bit her lip. It seemed as though she believed he might not want to kiss her again, once she’d delivered her news. To Graham’s mind, there couldn’t have been a dafter notion.

  “Yes,” he said simply, for there wasn’t a time when he did not want her. With him. Beside him. Even—for a man could dream—beneath him, as he loved her.

  “You might think of this as a goodbye kiss,” she murmured. Nearer now, she slipped her hand to his jaw to hold him steady, and dropped her gaze to his lips. “A goodbye to remember, I hope.”

  “But I’m not leaving until—mmmmm.”

  The rest of his words dissolved on the moan wrung from him when her mouth met his. Tenderly, slowly, Julia brushed her lips against his own, ’til Graham was nearly mad with wanting her. Then she touched her tongue to the seam of his lips and, delicately, swept inside.

  Heat rushed through him with the force of the Territorial sun he’d ridden beneath to come here. Groaning with it, Graham brought his hands to her face and cradled her closer, losing himself in the wonder that was joi
ning with Julia. Her confusing words, her inexplicable apologies, her bewildering troubles…all vanished beneath the sensations rioting through him.

  The wanting he’d felt for weeks culminated in this moment, this kiss. ’Twas more than likely true that a drifter like him could not be a good husband to her, Graham knew. Not even for so short a time together as they would share. But he could give her this, a little pleasure to remember him by. And so he kissed Julia back with all the fervency his heart demanded, and then kissed her once more for good measure.

  His blood pounded through him. His mind cleared of all but the sweetness of her lips on his, her hands against his skin, her body so near and so soft. Groaning, he surrendered to everything Julia seemed so willing to give, and did it gladly.

  She splayed her hands against his chest, her fingers flexing against his shirt. Angling her head, Julia whispered something about, “Just one more last kiss,” and then brought her mouth to his again. They rocked together, Graham thinking only too late to brace his feet against the floorboards lest they lose balance.

  With a little moan, Julia deepened their kiss. The force of it sent them both tumbling backward, onto the bed. The pale coverlet billowed around them, then settled. Graham stiffened, expecting at any moment that Julia would rear up, alarmed to find herself—most improperly—sprawled atop her pretend fiancé.

  To his amazement, she did not. Instead, her breath panted past his ear as she broadened her explorations to his neck and began kissing there. ’Twas as though some fever had taken hold of her, and only loving him could be the cure of it.

  Grinning, Graham accepted his good fortune.

  For all of five seconds.

  And then his conscience asserted itself, and demanded that he take action. With an inner grumble, he captured Julia’s head in his hands—noticing as he did that her hair had already tumbled into dark waves around her shoulders, lending her the look of a wild, innocent temptress. Gently he angled her face until their gazes met.

  “Julia, I can’t stand much more of this.”

  She blew a hank of hair from her eyes, and looked concerned. “You don’t like it? I’m so very—”

  Graham covered her mouth with his fingertips to forestall the apology that was surely on its way. “I love it.” She frowned doubtfully, and he spoke again. “Love it. But if this goes much further, I won’t want to stop. And you know what that means.”

  She did. He saw the knowledge in her eyes. And the curiosity, the heated interest, that followed. Damnation, but Julia’s openness would be his undoing.

  “You want an annulment, after our sham wedding,” Graham went on, ignoring the way the truth pricked him. “So you’ll be able to go to New York as a free woman. If we continue, tonight, that won’t be possible.”

  Grudgingly, Julia rolled onto her back. She stared at the ceiling for a long, thoughtful moment, watching the shadows cast by the low lamplight. And then she smiled, with an impishness he never would have credited her with.

  “Only if we…er, continue after we’re married,” she pointed out. “Then such…activities…would be grounds to deny an annulment. But now, well, we’re free.”

  Graham boggled. Was she saying what he thought she was saying? His body leapt with eagerness at the very notion—even as his mind warned that hers was a dangerous idea, indeed.

  ’Tis merely your birthday wish, come true, the loudest part of him argued. You wished for Julia. And now, here she is.

  A man couldn’t argue with that, Graham decided.

  But to be sure… “So now,” he said, “you want—”

  “A wedding night,” Julia announced. She looked pleased with her startling idea. Pleased, intrigued and eager to discover where it would lead her. She sat up on the bed. “Please, Graham. Tonight, while we still have the chance…please, love me.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Levering upward beside Julia, her bounty hunter hesitated but a moment. Cradling her face in his broad hands, he tilted her head upward so their gazes met. His was intent. Serious. And oh, so very heated it made her skin fairly tingle with warmth.

  “Are you certain?” he asked.

  Her future hung on her answer, Julia knew. Ahead stretched days without Graham, lonesome days during which she’d have nothing but remembrances for company and missed chances for regrets. Here, now, she had the man she loved…close and caring and tempting as the devil with his roguish ways and slow hands.

  It was hardly a choice at all. She’d choose the devil, and have as a consequence a night to remember for always.

  This was not what she’d come here to do. She’d come, Julia recalled, to release Graham from their bargain. To set him free, to the drifter’s life he loved. But faced with the overwhelming longing she’d been fighting for weeks, and with the means to satisfy it thoroughly within reach…Julia found she did not have the strength to turn Graham away. Not now.

  Later, she promised herself. After I’ve given him something of myself to take away with him. And so she mustered a smile from the hidden part of her that loved him, and nodded her head.

  “I’m certain,” Julia said.

  He remained still, searching her face. “This goes beyond our bargain,” Graham said, lowering his hands. “We did not promise—”

  “I’m certain,” she repeated. With trembling fingers, she reached for the bodice of her dress, and unfastened the first button. The second. “Please, love me. Everything else can wait.”

  At least until after this…my goodbye.

  His gaze followed the course of her fingers, his attention captured by their movement and by—Julia hoped—the glimpses of her body she revealed. She undid the third button. The next. And as she went, her trembling ceased, and her surety grew.

  Making love with Graham was right, regardless of what propriety said. He held a piece of her heart already. It could not be wrong to give him more.

  “Julia.” He released a pent-up breath, his face harsh with the effort of restraint, and looked away from her gaping dress. “I cannot promise to stay. Understand that.”

  “Be with me now,” she murmured, catching hold of his hand.

  Feeling its work-roughened strength beneath her fingertips, Julia gently tugged him closer. She brought his hand to her bosom and slipped it inside her dress. The thin fabric of her chemise was all that separated his warm palm from her skin, and her heart thudded with the thrill of his intimate touch. Still holding his hand beneath hers, Julia settled him firmly atop her breast, and bravely gazed upward.

  “Please,” she said. “Tomorrow will care for itself.”

  He groaned, making the slightest upward movement with his hand, as though savoring the feel of her in his palm. His expression was one of intent wonder. It eased her to see it. If he found her pleasing, if he…no. Graham had stayed with her all these weeks already because he saw something in her that others did not. She would not spoil the magic of this moment with wonderings about his thoughts.

  Graham raised an eyebrow, and his familiar grin was back. “You do nothing halfway,” he avowed. “’Tis a quality in you I admire. Especially now.”

  Julia smiled, too, and felt her worries melt still further. If he could jest with her, then Graham had accepted her wish to be with him. From here, there would be no turning back.

  “I’ve never had trouble knowing what I want,” Julia agreed teasingly. “It’s the getting of it that’s been a problem.”

  “’Twill be no problem tonight,” he assured her. “I have all that you want, and more. ’Tis yours.”

  And with that, he set out to make it so. He kissed her again, and a million times more, now holding her close, now nuzzling her neck, now nudging aside her hair to cup her breasts. He stroked her slowly, without restraint. Before long, Julia lay beside him on the softness of the coverlet, writhing with the wondrous feelings he aroused in her. She ached to have still more of her dress unbuttoned. But when she reached upward with her hands to accomplish the task, Graham stopped her.


  “Let me,” he murmured, raising her hands to kiss them. His mouth trailed from her wrist to her forearm, raising goose bumps in his wake. He brought her arms to the mattress and settled them there, then rolled upward beside her and regarded her tenderly.

  “I have dreamed of you so many times,” Graham said, his voice husky. “At first, I didn’t know it was you. Only that I wanted this closeness, this union. Now that I’ve found you, Julia…ahhh, but this is sweeter than any dream.”

  He tended to her buttons, slipping them deftly from their places. All the while, he murmured wonderful things, things Julia ached to believe, and vowed to hold close to her heart. That he found her beautiful. That he loved the feel of her, the scent of her, the way she smiled. His tender words slipped ’round her, cradling her in a warmth that had only partly to do with his hands on her body and his breath against her skin. It was the nearest thing to true love that Julia knew she’d ever find, and knowing she would have to set it free only made it twice as poignant.

  “I love…this,” she whispered back, stopped in the last moment by the knowledge that declaring herself to Graham would only be a burden to him in the end. “I wish we could be together forever.”

  He missed her meaning, and nipped her collarbone playfully. “If I’m as successful as I hope, ’twill feel like forever.”

  Julia cradled his head against her, burrowing her fingers in the thick softness of his hair. All at once, she was glad he hadn’t cut short those long dark strands. Their rugged wildness was utterly Graham, as beyond boundaries as the man himself. He needed taming by no one. Least of all her.

  Moments later, he’d proved it anew. She lay clad in her underclothes alone, her dress and corset cast aside to the bureau top and her shoes and stockings fallen to the floor. As though Graham had known the sudden shyness she would feel, he’d left the last, thin barrier of her chemise between them. Smoothing its delicate fabric with her hands, Julia tried to quiet her thundering heart, and turned toward him again.

  “I find this most unfair,” she said to shield her nervousness. “Here I am, nearly bared to you. And there you are—” she plucked at his shirt with a saucy gesture “—all covered from me.”