Lady Sundown (#1 of the Danner Quartet)

by Nancy Bush

  “I love you,” Lexie whispered again, chest heaving, forehead damp with sweat. Tremaine pulled her onto her side, their passions spent, but his only answer was an infinitely tender kiss that left her curiously unsated, hungering for words to match his actions.

  ¤ ¤ ¤

  Late evening sun slanted through the window, marking the bed with elongated rectangles. Tremaine, propped on his elbow, stared down at Lexie’s sleeping form for several moments. Exhaustion had taken its toll; she was sound asleep, her breathing slow and even. Her ivory skin was burnished a golden yellow by the setting sun and, amazingly, he felt himself harden again, just watching her.

  Silently, he slid from the bed and pulled on his clothes. He didn’t have much time and there were things to do. The train had gone hours ago, but Tremaine was still uneasy.

  He crept out of the room on silent feet, wondering if he looked at thoroughly sated as Lexie did. Smiling to himself, he ran a hand through his unruly hair and checked to see that the evidence of his desire wasn’t visible to all and sundry. Satisfied, he strode downstairs to the hotel lobby.

  “Is there a telegraph office in town?” he asked the man at the desk.

  “The only wire service is from this hotel, sir,” he answered proudly, handing Tremaine a notepad and pencil.

  Tremaine quickly scratched out a message to Cullen and paid the man for his services. If there was trouble, Cullen or the sheriff could send a wire in return.

  “I’d like a bath, too,” Tremaine said as he turned away.

  “I’ll send the maid within the hour, sir.”

  Tremaine strode back upstairs. Until he heard from Cullen there was nothing to do but keep Lexie busy. A most pleasurable occupation.

  ¤ ¤ ¤

  Lexie stretched languorously, her skin rubbing against the cool sheets. She sighed, oddly satisfied, then buried her face in the feather pillow.

  From somewhere in the dim periphery of her mind she heard the soft splash of water. A bath. How she longed for a bath! She opened her eyes to unfamiliar striped wallpaper and an arched white ceiling with a milk-glass light in the center. It was nearly twilight, dusk darkening the corners of the room.

  Lexie yawned and then sat bolt upright at the sight that met her eyes. Across the room Tremaine was deep within the steaming waters of the wooden bathtub, his blue eyes full of amusement as they encountered her widening stare.

  Lexie blinked, thought about the wonderous lovemaking they’d shared, and demanded flatly, “How come you get a bath and I don’t?”

  “Oh, I won’t be selfish.” He lifted his dripping arms wide, inviting her to join him.

  “The tub’s too small,” she argued, frowning at the almost instant excitement sweeping through her at the mere idea of sharing a bath with him.

  “Depends on how you use it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Come on over here and find out.”

  Lexie climbed from the bed, wrapping the sheet around herself as she did so. She walked toward the tub, peering down into its shadowy depths, then was embarrassed at the sound of his mocking laughter.

  “If I stood up you could get a better view,” he offered helpfully, his hands on the edge of the tub.

  “No, I can see just fine!” Lexie stumbled backward, tripped on the sheet, swore again, and nearly fell.

  Tremaine chuckled deep in his throat. “Your language is deteriorating by the minute, Miss Danner.”

  Her eyes shot green fire at him. She re-gathered the sheet and tilted up her chin, taking a step nearer. “My language is the result of living with too many brothers who have no sense of propriety and decency. My tender sensibilities were bruised by their rough and uncultured vocabulary. I’m afraid I will spend the rest of my life trying to undo the damage they’ve caused me.”

  “I shall spend the rest of my life,” Tremaine corrected her, reaching out a wet hand, grabbing hold of her arm and dragging her into the water, sheet and all.

  Lexie shrieked. Tremaine laughed. She flailed her arms and he untangled the sheet, swearing good-naturedly. When he finally had her lying across him, naked, he kissed her faintly freckled nose and carefully lifted her above him — then slowly lowered her into a sitting position on top of him, her knees bent over the side of the tub.

  “You wanted a bath,” he reminded her, when her mouth opened in protest.

  “You’ve done this before,” she accused.

  “No. But I’ve had it in my mind a while.”

  “Well, this isn’t my idea of a bath,” said Lexie righteously, struggling out of the water. Tremaine’s hands bore down on her hips until she sank down upon him.

  She was instantly aware of the changing status of his desire; she could feel him grow hard beneath her, and, God help her, a thrill of raging passion consumed her.

  “Lex,” he muttered, his eyes darkening. His hands found their way to the globes of her breasts, wet and warm. His fingers played with her nipples until she was bending over him, panting, crying out at the hot moistness of his mouth as he claimed one rosy tip, pulling it between his teeth.

  She squirmed and water sloshed over the side of the tub. Tremaine guided her over his burgeoning shaft, thrusting into her, impaling her upon him. But it was Lexie who had the power. She raised and lowered herself upon him, defying his attempts to slow the pace, and was gratified when he closed his eyes and stiffened beneath her, groaning deeply as he poured himself into her.

  Moments later he was hauling her out of the water and positioning her on the edge of the bed. Alarmed, Lexie asked, “What are you doing now?”

  “Paying you back for using me like that,” he answered, smiling wickedly.

  “Using you!” she sputtered, trying to inch away, but he held her fast to the edge of the bed, holding down her knees, putting himself in such a position that he could view the most secret parts of her.

  “Tremaine! What are you — don’t I —” she sucked in a breath as his hot mouth descended upon her trembling flesh. She lost all coherent thought. Her upper torso fell back against the bed and she thrashed and moaned, but he held her fast, inflicting sweet torture upon sweet torture until she reached peak after shattering peak.

  Bent and gasping, she could scarcely believe the intimacies of his lovemaking. Finally, he joined her on the bed and drove himself into her once more.

  “Lexie, my love,” he muttered, collapsing against her moments later. “You are going to be the death of me.”

  She smiled with pure feminine pleasure. “I hope I shall!

  Chapter Twenty-One

  She was a slave and a captive and she knew it. Lexie lay against Tremaine’s hard chest and thought about the last night and day. She’d barely gotten out of bed. Normally, her actions would have made her blush and wonder and tear herself apart with self-recrimination, though she was past worrying now. But Tremaine was in for a big surprise. He might think he’d found a way to keep her a willing mistress, but Lexie had plans of her own.

  She was going to leave under the cover of night as soon as he fell asleep. She was heading for Denver. No matter how much she loved Tremaine, she knew from hours of physical lovemaking that he didn’t feel the same. Even though she sensed he was giving her all he had to give, it just wasn’t enough.

  He stirred and turned to her, nuzzling into her neck. Lexie’s gaze traveled over his magnificent shoulder to the pair of breeches, tossed carelessly over the chair. He’d gotten a message today, one that had bothered him, but when Lexie had asked who knew he was in Katieville, his mouth had clamped shut in implacable silence.

  Her curiosity was now driving her wild.

  She tried to escape from his embrace but he clutched her more tightly, opening lazy blue eyes. “Where you going, Sundown?” he asked in a voice that could only be described as sated with pleasure.

  Lexie’s heart ached at the deception she’d planned. Truth be told, it would take little persuasion to remain his mistress. But not once had he mentioned true love, or marriage,
in all the hours of feverish lovemaking. Theirs would be a soulless union, destined to failure. Lexie knew that her love for Tremaine would not be enough. Unlike Ella, she needed to love and be loved in return.

  “I’m hungry,” she lied. “I thought we could go downstairs and eat dinner.”

  Tremaine drew in a deep breath, closing his eyes for a minute, his sensual lips curved in satisfaction. A pain stabbed in her chest at the sight of his long black lashes and tanned, chiseled face. “All right,” he said a moment later, throwing back the covers.

  He was climbing into his clothes. A lump swelled in Lexie’s throat. “Would you mind — just bringing something back?”

  He regarded her in concern. “Something wrong?”

  “No, I just — don’t want to get out of bed.” At the boyish look of delight that crossed his face, she blushed to the roots of her hair.

  “I’ll be right back,” he assured her, and let himself out of the room.

  Lexie flopped back against the pillows. The message had gone with him. Glancing out the window, she mentally counted how many hours of daylight were left. She’d learned, from spending so much time in this room, that there was a last lonely eastbound train that swept into the station around midnight. She intended to be on that train. By the time Tremaine returned with a pewter tray in hand and a maid bearing another one, night had fallen in earnest. Bright stars pinpricked the velvet sky outside the hotel window. A crisp fragrant breeze swirled the frothy curtains.

  The maid left and Tremaine set Lexie’s tray on her lap. “They think you’re sick,” Tremaine said, grinning. “Everyone offered their condolences.” He reached into his pocket. “I even have a sympathy card signed by all the staff of the Katieville Hotel.”

  “Thanks,” Lexie said, feeling like a fraud. Apparently, the staff hadn’t seen her sneak out to the railway ticket office this afternoon and purchase a one-way fare to Denver. Lexie looked down at the savory beef stew and dumplings and felt her appetite leave in a painful rush. Absurdly, she wanted to cry.

  “Lex, what is it?” Tremaine asked, concerned.

  She carefully placed the tray on the table next to the bed. “I don’t want food after all. I just want you.”

  Her solemnity baffled him. He perched on the bed beside her, looking down at her, a half-smile hovering on his lips. “You have to eat sometime.”

  “Tomorrow,” she murmured and pulled his mouth down to hers.

  ¤ ¤ ¤

  The paper crackled beneath her fingers and she had to carefully fold it into the pocket of her skirt. Longingly, she eyed the mother-of-pearl-handled pistol, its barrel just visible beneath Tremaine’s pillow. He’d emptied the cartridge and squirreled away the bullets, but Lexie had hoped she could use the pistol as a threat if nothing else.

  But it was too big a risk to take.

  She tiptoed carefully to the door. Her hand on the knob, she glanced back at Tremaine’s sprawled masculine form. She could see the smooth muscles of his bare back as he lay facedown, one arm cradled beneath the pillow. Fighting down the urge to kiss him goodbye, she closed the door softly behind her and ran lightly down the stairs and through the lobby of the hotel to the cool summer night.

  The train depot was straight ahead, a mere thirty yards from the hotel. Lexie shivered and glanced through the hotel’s front window to the clock behind the reception desk: 11:34.

  Hurry, hurry, hurry. She rubbed her elbows briskly and walked over to the bench that served as the railway depot. It seemed like forever before the train wheezed to a puffing stop. The noise from its arrival made Lexie want to clap her hands over her ears and glance anxiously to Tremaine’s hotel window. She did neither, but when the brakeman stepped down she slipped her arm through the handle of her reticule, felt the paper in her pocket, gathered her skirts, and leapt aboard the train.

  Only when the train chugged and churned from the depot and the yellow lights of the hotel were a golden blur did she lean back in her seat and expel the breath she’d been holding. It was dark and there was no opportunity to read Tremaine strange message.

  When the conductor came by in his brass-buttoned bluecoat and cap to punch her ticket, Lexie asked, “How long is it to Denver?”

  “About eight hours, ma’am. We’ve a few stops between here and there.” He handed her back the stub.

  Lexie closed her eyes. Another train wouldn’t pull into Katieville until 6:30 a.m. if by some chance Tremaine hadn’t missed her yet, he would have to wait until nearly noon.

  It gave her ample time to find Harrison and garner his support. Only with her brother on her side could she withstand her own treacherous desire to be with Tremaine.

  ¤ ¤ ¤

  The swaying of the train came to a sudden screeching halt and the whistle screamed high and piercing. Lexie jumped and opened sleepy eyes. Were they stopping at another small mountain town? Outside her window rows of buildings flashed by, some modest clapboard affairs with false fronts, others built of sturdy stone and brick. She realized they were finally in Denver!

  As Lexie waited for the bumping rail cars to slow to a stop, she remembered the telegraph message. Pulling it from her pocket, she read the puzzling missive:

  All is quiet. Stop. Sheriff visits twice daily. Stop. Garretts are keeping watch.

  The message was simply signed: Cullen. Lexie read it through twice more, an anxious feeling growing in the pit of her stomach. Garretts are keeping watch? Jace Garrett? What was he watching and why? All is quiet… Sheriff visits twice daily…

  Lexie had no further time to figure out the baffling message. She let the brakeman carry her reticule and help her down to the platform.

  Carriages for hire were lined up on one side of the railway tracks. Lexie, feeling suddenly lost and friendless in this big city, showed the first driver the envelope with Harrison’s address written on it. He quoted her a fare she thought exorbitant, which she paid without a word of protest. She only wanted to be safe.

  The carriage lurched into a stream of traffic that rapidly thickened as they wound their way through the city to a cluster of professional buildings, which housed Dr. Breverman’s small school.

  Dropped on the doorstep of a rather tired-looking brownstone building bearing a sign with Dr. Breverman’s name listed on the swinging plaque near the gate, Lexie swallowed her misgivings and marched up the steps, rapping the brass knocker loudly. The sound seemed to echo within an empty chamber, but very quickly a young girl in a starched black dress opened the door.

  “I’m here to see Dr. Breverman. Actually, I’ve come to see Harrison Danner. Does he live here?” Lexie glanced up the narrow stairway that turned left at a landing and slanted upward to the second floor.

  “Yes, ma’am. He’s livin’ upstairs, he is. In one of the doctors rooms for let. But he’s in surgery now, I suspect.”

  “I’m his sister,” Lexie said to the maid’s questioning glance. “Is there somewhere I can wait for him?”

  The maid inclined her head and showed Lexie to the horse doctor’s waiting room. There was only one other person sitting on the straight-backed velvet-cushioned chairs, an elderly man who worriedly rubbed his hands together.

  A few minutes later a brisk man with a pointed gray beard walked through the door of the inner office. “Colic spasms,” was his blunt answer for the waiting man. “Nothing your other horses will catch.”

  “Thank you. Thank you!” He shook Dr. Breverman’s hand, and Lexie knew without being told that this was the man she admired and yearned to study with. When the elderly man had shuffled to his feet and out the door, the doctor turned inquiringly to Lexie.

  She crossed the room and held out her hand. “My name is Lexington Danner. My brother Harrison is a student of yours, Dr. Breverman.”

  The doctor’s bristly eyebrows lifted. “So you’re the sister hankering to be a horse doctor.”

  “He’s told you about me?”

  “Oh, yes.” The doctor smiled. “Your brother’s inside. If you can stomach a
n autopsy, my dear, please come in.”

  Lexie followed him into the surgical room. Harrison and another young man were cleaning up the area, and the corpse of a small horse lay on planks stretched across four sawhorses. A strong smell of ammonia burned Lexie’s nostrils.

  “Lexie!” Harrison exclaimed upon seeing her. He pumped water into the sink, washed his arms, then came to squeeze her in a bearhug.

  “Since you wouldn’t come back to Rock Springs, I thought I’d visit you here,” she said lightly, forestalling the questions hovering in his eyes.

  “And Pa and Mother agreed?”

  Lexie’s reluctance to answer prompted Dr. Breverman to kindly suggest, “Harrison, why don’t you take your sister upstairs and get her settled? Jim and I will finish up.”

  Shooting the doctor a grateful look, Harrison guided Lexie from the surgical room and up the stairs to his room on the second floor. “Pa and Mother don’t know you’re here, do they?”

  “Not yet. But Tremaine knows.”

  “You told him?” Harrison was surprised.

  “He followed me and caught up with me in a little town called Katieville.”

  Lexie was unaware of the shadow of regret and unhappiness that clouded her eyes, but Harrison, always astute to her feelings, said, “And did he try to force you to go home?”

  “No, that’s the strange part. I don’t really know what he wanted—” she broke off, remembering his hoarse rasp: I want you. She cleared her throat, blushing, avoiding Harrison’s eyes. To break the tension, she pulled out the crushed wire and handed it to him. “Does that make any sense to you?”

  “’All’s quiet. Sheriff visits twice daily. Garretts are keeping watch’?” His green eyes filled with puzzlement. “Where did you get this?”

  “Tremaine got it. It came to the hotel in Katieville. I had to steal it from him to find out what it said.”

  “He didn’t try to stop you from coming to Denver?”

  Lexie wrinkled her nose. “No, I didn’t tell him I was leaving. Although I suspect he’ll be here soon. Harrison, you’ve got to promise to help me. Tremaine might want me to leave with him, and I can’t. I want to stay here with you.”