by Jenna Kernan
She lowered her hand. “I let a man have me. It was a mistake, but I’m still ruined.”
“No. You’re not.”
His adamant tone made Laurie’s breath catch. Boon looked angry, but to her astonishment he was not angry with her.
“Laurie, lying with a man does not mark you. Any man who chooses a woman for her purity is a fool and not worthy of you.”
She pulled back to stare at him, wanting to believe him. Knowing that Boon didn’t think like other men. A gentleman wanted a pure wife who had only known his touch.
“That’s not true,” she whispered, wishing it were. Wishing she could find a man who really believed such nonsense.
“It is, because innocence is temporary. You can’t hold on to it any more than you can keep your baby teeth. Any man worth his salt knows to choose a woman for who she is inside. Not for the color of her hair or a silly hat or even for her pretty face. Those things don’t last.”
“Most men would disagree with you.”
“Laurie, you’re tough enough to survive Hammer’s camp and riding all night and day. That tells me you are tough enough to get through this, and you’re kind. You haven’t judged me like everyone else I’ve ever met. I’m telling you that you don’t need your innocence. You don’t. Any man would still want you.”
“Any man?” she asked.
He hesitated, his answer filled with both caution and conviction. “Yes.”
“Then prove it.”
“What?”
“Prove that I’m still desirable even though I’ve been used by another man. Prove to me that you can overlook it.” She angled her chin and threw him a challenge with her eyes. “Kiss me again.”
* * *
George Hammer led his men up the box canyon. Furlong and Freet had found the tracks of his quarry, but it had taken too damned long. The rabbits had a few hours’ head start. Still, he was riding with a woman, a white woman who was unaccustomed to rough travel. He’d be surprised if Laurie Bender had ever sat a horse before. Most ladies didn’t.
It had been Freet who recognized the tracks, even in the dark, because one of the horses had thrown a shoe and Freet had seen it glinting by moonlight.
George hoped the canyon led nowhere. He’d love to trap Boon against a cliff and use him for target practice. Bastard, sneaking into camp and stealing from him.
“Hold,” called Freet.
George urged his horse forward. He never rode point, just in case of ambush.
“What’s wrong?” he growled, his fury now contained in a pressing need for vengeance. They must be close.
Freet dismounted, taking the lantern from Furlong, then ran along the ground like a bloodhound, lantern raised.
“Freet lost the trail,” said Furlong, sneering at his fellow.
“Think you can do better?” growled Hammer. “Get off your damned horse and help him look.”
They’d lost their tracks once before at a fork, but they’d find Boon, because Hammer would not be denied the pleasure of killing him. He already anticipated what he’d do. Maybe over a fire, like the Comanche raiders once did. Yes, he’d enjoy seeing Boon’s flesh blister. Or slice off his eyelids and leave him staked to the ground to await the sun’s torture.
And as for Laurie…
George had never planned on letting her live. The only thing that Captain Bender would get in exchange for the reward was his daughter’s corpse.
“Campfire,” called Freet, from somewhere in the brush.
“Still hot?” asked Hammer.
Chapter Eleven
Boon’s insides stung as if they were cut from swallowed glass. He’d never felt like this—worried, protective, helpless. But Laurie was talking crazy. He knew what would happen if he kissed her again.
Did she?
She lifted her pointed chin, staring up at him, her eyes dark as the far side of the moon. Something inside him flipped and tightened. He wanted to hold this woman to his heart forever.
He saw his need reflected back to him in her dark eyes. This was not the look he’d expected. He’d thought to find her in need of comfort. But this was not the kind of comfort he’d thought she’d need. One look told him he’d been mistaken. Laurie had transformed herself into a woman of a certain mind. Her stare was direct, bold, her lips parted and her eyelids half-hooded. This was a woman demanding to be kissed.
He didn’t believe it. But his body reacted, his pulse galloping along like an eight-horse team. He battled for control of his impulses, even as he felt himself surging like a runaway horse.
“Laurie?”
“Boon, if what you say is true then you’ll kiss me. I want you to touch me again. I want to feel that again, but this time I want to touch you, too.”
He drew a breath at the image her words conjured. Now he wasn’t on horseback. Now he could easily take her. He’d planned their first encounter but the pull between them had been so strong that he was dead sure he would have taken her if he could have. Now she wanted him again and he’d have to give her what she needed and keep from taking what he wanted.
“Not a good idea, Laurie. I want you too much. I could, I might…” Words failed him. If he spoke, if he mentioned an unwanted pregnancy, she might change her mind. Lord, please don’t let her change her mind.
He was a hypocrite. Hadn’t he just told her he would never take a woman without wedding her first? But Laurie didn’t want a husband, or, at least, she did not want a husband like him.
But she did want his body and she wanted the proof of his words—that even knowing what she’d done he still found her desirable.
She bit her lower lip and seeing her white teeth draw across the full, plump flesh drove him to madness. His breathing came fast, as if he ran and needed the extra air, yet he lay still as a river rock.
He couldn’t do this.
If he cared about her, he’d see she got what she wanted, a husband she could be proud of. Her father had left him in charge of his only daughter. He had to bring her home safe.
Laurie lifted a hand to his chest and gripped his shirt in her fist, pleading with her eyes.
He hesitated. Her eyes went cold.
“I knew it,” she said, her hands slipping from him.
Boon seized her up in his arms, capturing her against him.
Desire flared in her eyes as she recognized she had won. Her breathing was labored and the rise and fall of her breasts against the sheer cotton of her blouse made his skin tingle all over.
She wore a blouse, chemise, skirt, stockings…and nothing else.
He rose up to his knees and took hold of her, bringing her into his arms. He could feel her breath on his cheek, her soft breasts pressing against his chest and her fingers raking his back. Needy little moans came from her throat and he had not even kissed her yet. But he would. He closed his eyes at the realization that he was willing to set aside everything he believed to have her just once.
It was all he’d ever get of her. He knew it, and the truth tasted bitter in his mouth. Laurie was like an angel fallen to earth. Any moment the heavens would snatch her up again and she’d be lost to him forever.
But tonight she was his. He closed his eyes, offering a prayer of thanks and a plea for forgiveness. He’d never taken a woman, never longed for a woman, until Laurie. Somehow, she stripped him of all his principles and left him with nothing but need.
She tipped her head back, offering herself to him, and he slanted his mouth over hers. Her lips were soft and pliant. He pulled her even tighter. Boon ran his tongue over her upper lip, tasting the sweetness of her skin. She gasped and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth.
He recalled their first kiss, before the outlaws, when Laurie had kissed him back. When she’d pulled away, he saw the horror and the shame. He hoped never to see such a look upon her sweet face again. Did she know what she was doing this time or was she also chased by madness?
He tried to draw back, to see if she had changed her mind befor
e he lost his completely, but she threaded her fingers in his hair and tugged, bringing him closer.
So she wanted more than a kiss. He didn’t know why. Didn’t care why.
He let his hands roam up and down the twin columns that flanked her spine; strong, firm muscles greeted his exploration. On the third descent, he tugged her blouse clear of her skirts and let his hands run up the chemise until he felt the soft, warm flesh of her shoulders. She pressed against him, sighed and then twisted, as if offering him access to the long row of tiny buttons. He began at the hem and worked north. She did not hinder him, but lay back in his arms, tugging his shirttails free and working his buttons with swift, efficient movements. She finished first and reached with greedy hands, stroking his chest with featherlight caresses. He closed his eyes at the magic of her touch.
He was more than ready for her, but he wanted this to be perfect. He would not rush. He’d show the control he hoped would allow them both to experience the ultimate pleasure together, the way he’d been told it could happen by his teacher, Paulette.
Her mouth was on his skin, kissing and licking. He groaned as he directed her mouth to his chest, holding her head against him. She hesitated only an instant before drawing his nipple into her mouth. The tug and draw sent an electric charge of sweet desire bolting through him, increasing his readiness and his need.
He startled into motion, plucking her from him and turning her so he could kiss the pale column of her neck, nuzzle against the soft lobe of her ear and place kisses over her closed lids. He drew the blouse open, revealing the swell of her breasts above the top of her chemise. She tugged at the pink ribbon that held this final barrier over her shoulders, shrugged from her blouse and pulled the chemise down to expose her breasts. Then she sighed, relaxing back against the saddle. The smell of leather mixed with her sweet scent of lavender.
He had seen her in the sunlight, naked and free. But this was different. Then she had been joyful and relaxed. Now her breathing was labored and her expression strained. The lovely orbs of her breasts lay naked before him like a feast and her pale skin seemed blue in the starlight.
He stared at her, mantled in the shadows of the night. If only he were a painter he could render her perfection, capturing her beauty for all time. Instead, he reached for her.
She offered her mouth. The moment their lips touched she melted against him. Warm, soft flesh pressed to his. She was small, curvy and soft as a rabbit’s pelt.
He pulled her close. She exhaled the breath she held in a long sigh. If she’d let him, he would give her all the pleasure he knew how to give.
Laurie stretched out against him again. He ran one finger up the center of her chest. She shivered and writhed. He longed to cup her breast, but he’d not go too fast again. He made wide circles around the full orbs, caressing, stroking, until she arched up and reached for him, bringing one of his hands to a breast and pressing it tight.
He smiled and dipped to kiss her, as he pinched the budded nipple and heard her gasp against his mouth.
“So sweet,” he whispered. “I could eat you up.”
“Just like the big, bad wolf,” she murmured, her eyes shut, her head back.
He laid her down upon his blanket and leaned over her. He nuzzled her and stroked. She hiked up her skirts and he glimpsed the flash of white thighs. She splayed her legs and the sight of her, lying open and waiting for him, sent a surge of need roaring through his system like a locomotive.
She tugged at his flapping shirt, and he kissed her again. His mind reeled. Laurie’s fingers scored his back, ran over his chest and belly. He threw one leg between hers, nudging her thighs wider apart. He rested on his side with access to all of her. She let him stroke her breasts and caress the warm damp places between her thighs.
She arched and moaned and tossed her head. He felt himself descending to mindlessness, losing control. He settled between her legs, positioning himself to take her.
Laurie felt Boon’s body pressing her to the earth, but still it wasn’t enough. She needed to be closer, needed to feel him everywhere. She tossed and plunged and arched, like a ship caught in rough seas, urging him on. His fingers danced over the wetness and touched that lightning rod of sensation between her legs. She felt the familiar building tension that told her she climbed toward bliss.
Now she felt the hard male part of him, pressing against her thigh. And unlike that first time, she wanted him—no, needed him—to come inside her. She reached, splaying her fingers over his buttocks, and pressed, demanding what she desired.
He knelt, the weight of his upper body held on one strong extended arm as he positioned himself at her cleft. She looked up at him and saw his grim features, the bunching of his jaw and the seriousness of his lowered brow. He hesitated.
Was he waiting for her?
It shocked her. Boon clearly wanted this, yet he held back. The cost was the trembling of his body. He reminded her of the racehorses she’d seen, quivering in anticipation as they waited for the pistol shot signal to run.
She nodded her head, giving her consent.
He closed his eyes in relief and began his entrance, slowly, as if she were made of glass. Farther and farther he slipped, the lovely friction driving her mad.
His eyes opened and widened as he thrust all the way inside her, unhindered by the tissue that would prove to a husband she was intact.
This time there was no pain, no tearing. Instead the sensation was exquisite. Laurie gasped and lifted her hips, bringing him even tighter against her. He began to move now, but not in a jerking contortion. Oh, no, Boon’s moves were fluid, arousing. The glide and thrust stole her breath and then he withdrew and she reached to capture him, but he was back again, his hips thrusting as his stomach tightened, using all that muscle and sinew to drive her mad.
She threw her head back to savor each wonderful glide, feeling the bubble inside her stretching and straining as it searched for release. He moved faster, she met each stroke with one of her own.
The bubble burst and she shattered, losing her thoughts, her fears, her hopes. Everything disappeared as she rode the bucking waves of sheer sensation—bliss.
From a distance she heard him cry her name and then he was falling upon her, his weight bringing her back safely to earth. He rolled away, lying beside her as they panted and trembled. The cool, dry air drew the moisture from her skin and a pleasant lethargy stole through her body like a drug. Her eyes drifted closed and she nestled against Boon, clutching his strong right arm and using his biceps as a pillow. He wrapped that arm about her and dragged her closer, letting her head fall on his chest. He stroked her long hair as a chorus of peepers sang them to sleep.
Laurie’s last thought was that she wished she could lie here in his arms forever.
* * *
Boon roused when the moonlight touched his face. Time to ride again. His body had stiffened and his arm was all pins and needles. He started to stretch and then realized that Laurie lay against him, her blouse unbuttoned, her skirts all a tangle.
It came back to him in a rush of shame and remorse. He’d done it. He’d taken Laurie.
The next thought knocked against his sleep-dulled brain. There was none of the expected resistance described to him by Paulette and no blood. Laurie had told him the truth. She really had not been a virgin.
Why wasn’t Laurie a virgin?
Gradually new concerns wiggled to life. He’d taken Laurie to his bed. He’d allowed her to cajole him into breaking his vow because when faced with the choice of having Laurie out of wedlock and never having Laurie at all, he’d taken the easy road—again.
He placed his free hand on his forehead, closing his eyes, feeling nauseous. He’d never bedded a woman, though he’d done everything else to Paulette, including kissing her between the thighs. The boys said it wasn’t natural not to take a woman and he’d come to a bad end unless he found a willing gal. Could they have been right? He was like Texas, suffering the worst droughts on record, and Laurie
was a rainmaker. He couldn’t resist her.
He had promised himself that he’d never do such a thing to a woman. What was he made of that he fell into the first real temptation set in his path? But Laurie was more than that, surely. And she’d been willing, no, eager to have him.
He beat the heel of his hand against his forehead. It didn’t matter what she wanted. It didn’t matter what she said. Because it was his job to do the right thing and that included keeping his damned mitts off.
He’d taken a woman, not his wife, and he’d enjoyed it more than he’d enjoyed anything in his entire life.
He’d lost complete control of himself and that meant there could be a baby. Laurie could lose everything or be railroaded into a bad marriage all because of what he had done. Would her father force him to wed her? The spark of hope that glowed inside him made him sick. Had he done this on purpose, hoping to drive her to him?
If she had a child, she might be his. The hungry part of his mind instantly responded. He wanted her to have his child, wanted her linked to him forever. That way, she’d have to accept him, wouldn’t she?
The thought shamed him. It was the woman who trapped the man with such a trick. He’d never heard of the reverse, but if it would get him Laurie…
No.
He ought to be horsewhipped. What kind of man was he to take a woman while she was under his protection?
Certainly not the kind that would ever wear a star. And not the sort of man a father would choose for his girl. Boon felt his insides harden to stone as he recognized he’d never have a Ranger’s star and he’d never keep Laurie. He’d have a better chance of running for governor than winning either one.
Beside him, Laurie’s breathing changed, but she settled back to slumber. Wrung out. She wasn’t used to outlaw camps or night riding or having a man throw her skirts up over her head.
As if roused by his attention, Laurie startled, opened her eyes, blinked up at the bright perfect half-moon shining down on her face, making it ghostly white except for the dark bruise on her cheek. His insides twisted up like a wood shaving seeing what Hammer had done to her. Knowing he’d done worse.