To Desire a Scoundrel: A Christmas Seduction (Southern Heat Book 2)

by Tracy Sumner

  Colors burst in a shower of brilliance behind his eyelids; his skin tingled, tightened, surely too small to contain him. The scent of sex crowded the air and coated their skin. Tangling his fingers in her hair, he took command of her lips. Not long, he thought. Not long for either of us.

  With a final kiss, he pulled back enough to see her face. Cheeks flushed, eyelids fluttering, lips parted on a sigh, she was the most exquisite woman he’d ever seen. He would never let her go again.

  “Open your eyes, Princess,” he said, the words fraying at the edges.

  She blinked, her gaze unfocused. Below, his fingers found the sensitive bud of skin he knew would drive her wild. His thrusts slowed to long, creeping strokes. Resolute, he ignored her efforts to reverse his decision.

  “You’re mine, Princess. Mine. There won’t be marriage to anyone but me. I’ll die before another man knows you this way.” As his lips brushed her ear, he buried himself in her, then withdrew to the tip. “No one could love you as much as I do. I promise. I’ll promise every day for the rest of your life if you let me.”

  Her eyes widened, lost a little of their befuddlement. Tanner refocused his efforts, concentrated on making her peak with his words ringing in her ears. A bit Machiavellian, perhaps, but desperate men took desperate measures.

  She opened her mouth to speak, emitting a tortured groan instead.

  Hammering in the final nail, he dipped his head and mouthed next to her ear, “No one, Princess. Remember that while you clench tight. While you give yourself to me, flood us both with—” She arched in response, crushing his hand between their bodies.

  A skillful manipulation, but one that signaled the end for him.

  He had never been able to watch Kat peak, watch an orgasm crest and overtake her, without plunging headfirst into one himself. She threw her head back, neck muscles taut, lips parted, swollen. He felt her passionate cry, in his chest, in his soul, as if she’d plunged it in with a sharp blade. Whimpering, she tucked her head into the nook between his neck and shoulder, and shivered in his arms.

  He thrust deeply and her leg tightened around him. His heart pounded, pounding out thought, pounding out everything except his Princess. His vision faded, dimmed to black, flashes of gold sparking the edges. A roar filled his ears as the air thickened like dense summer heat. Straining, he grasped pleasure with both hands, teeth bared, arms clutching, binding her to him, attaining a pinnacle he’d never thought to reach again.

  Moments later, coming down, Tanner slumped against her, chest hitching. A bead of sweat rolled off his chin, slid to her brow. Kate tried to swab it off, but missed because her hand trembled. Seeing this, she clenched her fingers into a fist.

  Gazes locking, they stared. Faintly, he realized his arm throbbed and his trousers hung around his ankles. His knees ached from banging against the desk.

  Equally bewildered, she blinked and brushed a limp strand of hair from her face. Of course, she looked beautiful, but he experienced no pleasure looking at her. Her cautious expression made it painfully obvious she still didn’t trust him.

  Fury nearly lifted his head from his shoulders.

  Tugging his hand through his hair, he brushed sweat from his cheek and smelled her on his skin. Disengaging—but not wanting to—he yanked his trousers to his waist. “You’re going to marry that bastard, aren’t you? I can see the message, written all over your face. After this” —he fastened buttons, his fingers still wet from her— “you still don’t believe me. My heart ripped from my chest isn’t enough for you? How long, Kat, how long would you make me suffer before I earned the right to love you again? Two years, four? An eternity?” He grabbed his shirt from the floor and shoved his arms in the sleeves, wincing when his stitches stretched. “Well, I’m finished begging. Finished.”

  Covering his face with his hands, he drew a breath of tainted air, fighting his love for her.

  “Love? What in the world would you know about love, Tanner? Like a bauble you’re denied, you covet me. Covet, lust, not love.” Clothing rustled, her slippers shuffled. “You destroyed me once. Maybe I even let you. Assisted. Enthusiastically at times. But I won’t—I can’t risk that again. I cannot risk loving you again.”

  He tipped his head and stared at a cobweb spanning an entire corner of the ceiling. “Kat, I’ve loved you since the first day I met you. Truthfully, I don’t know what I can do to make you believe that. Fine, you’re scared. God, do you think I’m not?” He laughed, amazed by how thin and ragged it sounded. “You assume you were the only one hurt? Well, you have no idea.”

  His anger increased with her silence. Stalking forward, he grasped the doorknob and gave it a furious twist. The door whacked against the wall, hinges snapping.

  Kate followed, plucking at his sleeve. He flinched, tugging the material from her fingers. “Tanner, please. Please try to understand.”

  He turned, chest rising and falling. “You love me, you goddamned fool,” he said, waiting, again, for some change in her expression.

  No such luck.

  So he walked away: from her eyes, glowing from their lovemaking, from her skin, glistening from his touch. “What we share isn’t ordinary, Kat. With most, sex is just that: sex. Nothing special about it. Distasteful actually, somewhat embarrassing, when all is said and done. A necessary, fleeting pleasure. And one of life’s extreme ironies. There is nothing in this world lonelier than waking next to someone, after warming them with your body, and wishing like hell you’d never met them.” He swallowed, throat clicking. “It makes you think you’re the only person in the world just then.”

  “I wouldn’t know about that.”

  He tilted his head, slid a tight glance her way. “You said you’d had legions of lovers. So many you couldn’t accurately recall.”

  “Well, yes, I mean, I haven’t...that is, I loved them...loved them all. This loneliness you speak of” —she waved her hand, almost able to hide the shaking— “is not an emotion I can identify with.”

  Jamming his hands in his pockets, Tanner vowed to keep them to himself. Unless, of course, she begged him, goddamn begged him, to touch her. On her knees. He opened his mouth, not sure what to say to crack her stone-faced facade. “Really, Kat? I can tell you the first time I experienced that kind of love. It was the first night you spent in my apartment. I woke with the sun, excited, as eager as a pup. Wanting to wake you and” —he laughed and shook his head— “and talk. Talk about your day, what you wanted to eat for breakfast, what you’d read in the newspaper the day before.” He coughed, shrugged. “Maybe you don’t understand, maybe I’m the only one who felt that way. Or maybe what I did ruined us. You know, it’s funny, really. I’ve never had much patience for mistakes, and yet, I’ve made so many with you.”

  Arm throbbing, head pounding, chest aching, Tanner stalked to the desk. His coat lay in a crumple on the floor, reminding him of Kate’s urgent desire. He slipped it on with jerky movements, finally noticing the noise outside.

  An elemental warning had him running to the window. Flames danced in each window of the Four Leaf Clover as billows of smoke poured into the sky.

  The damned town was burning down around them.

  6

  Tanner raced outside and glanced across the street. A few wobbly-footed bystanders milled about the Four Leaf Clover. Other than that, the town appeared deserted, most at home preparing for the holiday.

  A distraught scream, shrill and feminine, hit his ears. “Great.” He snatched his gloves from his pocket and jammed them on his hands. “Just great.”

  Kate caught him as he stepped off the boardwalk, gripping his sleeve in her fist. “Don’t go. Don’t do it,” she said, voice breaking. In the fire’s reddish glow, her skin shimmered, her eyes gleamed. She looked charmingly ravished. Enchanting.

  Enchanting and determined to marry another man.

  Tanner ripped his sleeve from her grasp and shoved her away. “Stay here. Out of trouble,” he threw over his shoulder and dashed toward the crowd swarm
ing in front of the saloon.

  Plunging into the throng of men, he grabbed the first person he encountered, and turned him by a ragged cuff. “The fire rig? Is it coming?” He had to shout above the roar of flames consuming parched wood.

  The man he’d chosen—ninety if he was a day—cupped his hand around his mouth and shouted, “No fire rig! Town’s been saving for one. Cake sales, miscellany auctions, nigh on two years. About there, I reckon. Got a water wagon, though.” A whiskey-scented cloud floated from his lips, tangling in the dense whiskers dotting his face.

  Stunned, Tanner slapped his gloved palm against his head. “About goddamn there.” He jerked his gaze to the window, watched orange fingers dance around the shattered frame. A feeling of dread knotted his stomach. Still controllable, the fire hadn’t spread to the roof or the other rooms. Yet.

  Sweet Jesus, Edgemont didn’t have a fire rig. How in the hell could they extinguish a fire on the second floor without one? To make matters worse, the crowd surrounding the burning building obviously drank copious amounts of whisky on a regular basis. He couldn’t send them inside. They would burst into flames in the first minute.

  Tanner snagged the old man by the wrist. “Water wagon? Where is it?”

  The old man hitched his thumb high. “Big John’s livery! Use it for soaking the roads in the summer. Goddern dust.”

  “Go! Get that damn thing down here. I don’t care how. If you can’t do it, find someone who can. Now.”

  Tanner’s commanding air straightened the man’s spine, brought his heels together with a pop. He lifted a veined hand to his brow in what Tanner assumed was a salute. “I can do it, Colonel. Major Joseph Caventree, at yer service, Colonel. Fought in the Battle of Orleans in ‘15, under Jackson himself. Goddern British bastards.”

  Tanner sighed and gave Major Caventree a shove, propelling him into the crowd. Turning, he seized another sleeve, stared into another bewildered face—not as rheumy as the last, but exceedingly ruddy from drink. “Blankets,” he ordered, searching for comprehension. “Buckets. Water. Sand. Whatever you can find. Anyone you can find.” The man nodded and staggered off.

  A boy—nine, ten at the most—crashed into Tanner’s knees, nearly sent them both tumbling. “I’ll help, mister,” he said, rosy cheeks quivering.

  Tanner almost laughed in relief. Someone sober, even if only a child. “Son, you know where Adam Chase lives?”

  The boy snapped his fingers and nodded, mint-green eyes glittering in a dirty face.

  “Get him. Alert as many men as you can along the way. And a doctor, find a doctor. Just don’t get near this building. Understand?”

  “Yessir!” The boy disappeared in a sea of smoke. Tanner’s most energetic volunteer yet.

  A piercing shatter filled the air. Shards of glass rained down upon Tanner’s shoulders as a wave of scorching fury washed over him. He tilted his head and watched flames engulf another upstairs window. He had to get in there, make sure everyone had gotten out.

  Striding forward, he issued orders: form a bucket brigade, do the best you can with any water coming in, stand watch, keep women and children away. Evacuate the buildings next to the saloon. Hurry.

  As he neared the Four Leaf’s entrance, a viscous crest of smoke and heat spewed forth, smarting his eyes, burning his throat, scorching his skin. He grimaced, sucking bitter air he wished he could do without into his lungs, and started forward.

  Kate watched helplessly as Tanner paused before the saloon’s crimson doors, pressed a palm flat against one, then nodded with apparent relief, and disappeared inside. “Oh, no. No, Tanner.” Her chin bumped her chest, tears making sticky tracks down her face.

  Someone pulled her to the side as a line of men formed a loose brigade and began hurling buckets of water against the Four Leaf’s whitewashed front. “Ma’am, the Colonel tole me to keep woman and children back. Got the water wagon ready, passing pails, just like the Colonel ordered.”

  She laughed and scrubbed her cheeks. “He’s not a colonel. A newspaperman. Tanner’s a...newspaperman.” There. She’d said the word. Out loud. With pride. A newspaperman—she loved a newspaperman. And he had disappeared inside a building with flames chewing through the roof. “I’ve got to go,” she said and shoved hard at the arm circling her.

  The arm around her tightened, a bony elbow digging into her ribs. “Easy, now. I know he ain’t no colonel, but he looks a darn sight like a colonel I once knew. Back in ‘15. Battle of Orleans. Colonel by the name of Perkins. From Baton Rouge. Or was it Natchez?”

  The front window of the saloon exploded in a shower of glass. The men closest to the building jumped back, shielding their faces. One screamed in pain and clutched his hand, blood dripping between his clenched fingers. Kate twisted her head and drilled her keeper with the harshest glare she could summon. “Get your hands off me, right now, or I’m going to break your skinny damned arm. Do you understand?”

  Her keeper’s brows reared. “Ma’am?” His hold loosened.

  “Let...me...go.” She smacked her fist against his shoulder.

  “Goddern crazy woman,” he said as she struggled to break free.

  “Let her go, Jose. I’ll handle this.”

  Adam. Kate sagged, her eyes filling with relieved tears.

  “She hit me, Chase!”

  “I said, I’ll handle it.”

  “Adam! Dear God, Tanner’s in there.” She took a furious step toward the saloon, then Adam wrenched her off her feet. Unlike the old man’s, this hold she could not break even if she tried. Heart pounding, stomach churning, she glanced over her shoulder. “Adam, please.”

  A violent splinter of wood, the sound of the Four Leaf Clover losing the battle to remain standing if she guessed correctly, halted their conversation.

  “How long?” Adam’s gaze jumped from her face to the saloon.

  “Five minutes. At the most.”

  He nodded. “I’m going in.” With a curse, he halted, reached out and shook her. Hard. “Dammit, Kate, go over by the water wagon. And stay. We need as many people as we can get to work the brigade. Charlie’s rounding up more men. If we can, we’ll keep this blessed town from burning down around our ears. No fire rig, for the love of Christ. I knew I should have bought one and been done with it.”

  After shoving her toward the group bellowing orders and passing buckets, he plunged into the roaring hell that was the saloon.

  The doors swung wildly behind him, then one clattered to the boardwalk.

  Kate lifted her skirts and rushed to the water wagon, merely an oversized barrel on wheels. Glass cracked beneath her slippers, and she grasped the wagon for support. The smell of charred wood and whiskey filled the air, filled her mouth with a sour, biting taste she wondered if she would ever forget. She inserted herself in the line, ignoring the startled looks she received, vowing to do anything to help Tanner get out of there.

  Anything.

  When he did, because he would, she would do all the things she’d promised God as she watched Tanner race into a burning building. Honor her mother, her sister. Have more patience. Attend Mass twice a week. Curse less often.

  Or, had she promised not to curse at all?

  She passed a bucket to the next person in line, water seeping through her skirt and her slippers. The saloon’s roof was now engulfed in flames. As she recorded the destruction, a section at the north edge crumpled in a furious cough of sparks.

  Blinking back tears, she grasped another bucket and hoisted it high.

  Please, please protect him.

  Cowboy-lover went limp in Tanner’s arms, her blond head flopping against his shoulder. Stumbling past a sea of splintered chairs and overturned tables, Tanner collided with another body. He blinked, sending tears down his face and further blurring his vision.

  “Tanner?”

  “Adam?” Tanner tried, but could not speak above a hoarse whisper—not loud enough to be heard above the furor of igniting wood. He swallowed, tasting cinders and hell. “One mor
e in here.” He shook his head—there wasn’t time to do more—and shoved Cowboy-lover into Adam’s arms. Thankfully, his friend relieved him of the burden.

  Tanner plowed into the bar he remembered ran the entire length of one wall. Melted varnish stuck to his fingers, the wood seeming to pulsate. A whiskey bottle exploded, showering him with glass and liquid.

  “Dammit, Tan, we’ve got—” A violent reverberation swallowed the rest of Adam’s words.

  Part of the roof had collapsed, Tanner guessed, and without doubt the stairs to his right. Heat flooded the room and struck his face like a slap.

  One more minute. A man. Here somewhere, alongside the bar. Cowboy-lover had whispered this when Tanner found her near the stairs. He stretched, searching. Broken glass, puddles of liquor, splinters of wood. A cinder popped against his hand, sizzled. Belatedly, his brain registered the pain. Gloves? They must have fallen off.

  “Where are you, goddammit?” He gulped air, coughed, choked. With a burst of agony, he knew he would have to leave the man to die. Already, his thoughts were arriving too slowly, his actions even further behind. Hunkering low, he weaved toward the door, or where he remembered the door being. He stumbled over a chair leg and tumbled to his hands and knees. Reaching, he gave it one last go and finally grasped a man’s boot. “Thank God,” he whispered, and slung the man over his shoulder.

  With a grunt, he heaved to his feet, the stitches in his arm straining in painful protest. Following a shaft of moonlight, he plunged through the Four Leaf’s entrance and promptly collided with Adam.

  “Chrissakes, Tan, where did he come from?” Adam mercifully lifted the weight from Tanner’s shoulders, and shoved him from the boardwalk, where he’d halted, too befuddled to move.

  Blood pounded in his head; his skin throbbed, frozen and blistered all at once. He tilted his face to the sky, snowflakes landing on his cheeks, gentle, absurd comfort. Out of nowhere, the scent of sandalwood drifted to him. Incredible that any scent could battle past the smell of smoke. He leaned heavily on the arm that slipped round his waist, his lids fluttering as his vision dimmed. A voice called to him from a distance.