His arm came around her, and he pulled her closer. He was hard against her stomach. “Umm,” he murmured into her ear. “I’m always horny in the morning.”
She smiled into his chest. “I remember. Before I forget, I want to see your tattoo.”
He drew his leg out from beneath the covers. Her gaze traveled to the meeting of his thighs where his manhood stood proud and tall. She almost bent to kiss it, but caught herself. How could she even think such a thing?
“Well?”
His voice startled her. “What?”
“Are you going to stare at that all day, or are you going to look at the tattoo?”
She laughed, a little embarrassed. “If you only knew what I almost did …”
He didn’t cover himself. “Tell me.”
“No,” she argued. “Let me see the tattoo.”
He covered his leg with a pillow. “Not until you tell me what you almost did.”
Her cheeks got so hot she was almost dizzy. “I couldn’t tell you, Jackson. You’d think I was . . . was immoral.”
He fingered her breast. “Now I really have to know.”
She couldn’t look at him. “You’d think I was terrible, really you would.”
“Unless you were thinking about biting it off—”
She interrupted him with a jab to the ribs. “Of course I wasn’t thinking that.”
He continued to stroke her breast, arousing her. “Anything else will only make me hornier than I already am. Trust me.”
Still unable to look at him, she said, “I was almost tempted to … to kiss it.”
“I’d like that.” His voice was deep and husky.
Shocked that he was so casual with the idea, she asked, “People actually do that sort of thing?”
“Whatever people want to do with each other is never off limits, Libby, as long as they both consent.” He whipped off the pillow. “Now. Do you want to see my tattoo?”
Nodding, she got to her knees and bent over him. There it was. A teardrop—or raindrop, as he’d told her—exactly like Dawn’s. It didn’t appear to be as large as Dawn’s, but then, his knee was so much bigger. “Well. I’ll be,” she murmured. “It’s not that big. It’s no wonder I didn’t see it that morning.”
He shook with quiet laughter. “Have you any idea what I was thinking about that morning?”
She traced the tattoo with her fingers. “I’m not sure I want to know.”
“You.”
She dragged her gaze from his firm, hairy thigh and looked at him. “Really?”
“Oh, yes.” His answer was enthusiastic. “I was trying to imagine what your nipples looked like. I’d seen them pucker against your dressing gown the night before and couldn’t get the image out of my head.”
“I thought you were too drunk to remember.”
“A man is never too drunk to think about nipples,” he assured her with a rakish grin. “I imagined yours were nearly as pale as your skin.” He cupped her breast, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “And I was right.”
The lush heaviness returned to her lower belly, and she moved to the head of the bed, flung one leg over his hip, and sighed. “How am I going to get any work done, feeling this way?”
“You don’t have to work while we’re here, remember? The only thing I want is for you to entertain me.” His hand roamed her bottom. “And believe me, Libby girl, I’m easily entertained.”
She bit back a moan of pleasure as his fingers found her. “So I’ve noticed.”
“You’re already wet.” His voice was a seductive whisper against her cheek.
And she was nearly ready to shatter into pieces. “So you really think I’m going to have your baby?” She felt languid, waiting for the sensation to build.
He kissed her—a deep, wet, open-mouthed union of their tongues. “I know you are.”
She wanted to believe it, too. “I don’t see how you can tell—”
“Shhh,” he soothed, gently rubbing her with his fingers. “Don’t talk. Feel.”
It did feel wonderful, but— “You shouldn’t have to—”
“Shhh. I want to watch you. Don’t fight it.”
Fight it? She spread her legs, feeling wanton. She didn’t think she could fight it if she wanted to. And she didn’t.
Later they stayed under the covers and talked. Jackson told her about his suspicion of Ethan.
Libby shook her head and sighed. “It’s almost hard for me to believe that Ethan had a hidden life. I knew he went to Eureka nearly every month, but I always assumed it was on business.”
“Dawn’s trust fund is gone,” Jackson repeated. “I wonder how much more he embezzled.”
Gripped by a terrible thought, Libby raised herself onto her elbow. “You didn’t suspect that because Ethan and I had been seeing each other, that I knew anything about his embezzling, did you?”
He brought one of her curls to his face and inhaled. “No. I never did. I have to admit that I didn’t know what I would find when I rode up to your rooming house that first day. I wondered if Dawn Twilight was your hired help, as she’d been at that other place, but the moment I saw her, I knew she was loved. I knew things were different.”
“And you knew then that you were going to take her away from me.”
“Yes,” he admitted.
She turned toward him and smiled into his furry chest. “And look at us now.” Her thoughts again turned to Ethan.
“And you think Ethan is responsible for the poisoning of all those sheep?”
“Yes, I do. The first day I was called out to Mateo’s, I found three sets of horseshoe prints. One set was made by a Tennessee high-stepper. That’s an unusual breed in these parts. Most ranchers and cowhands use cow ponies. The other night, the night of the wedding, Ethan Frost left the jail on a high-stepper.”
Libby rubbed his chest. “All the evidence against him is circumstantial, isn’t it?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“So what do we do now?”
He raised her chin with his forefinger and smiled at her. “We?”
“He trusts me, Jackson. I mean, we’re still … he still thinks we’re friends. Maybe I can find out something that would help.”
Jackson’s mouth came down on hers, and he kissed her hard. When he broke the kiss, he looked at her, his expression stern. “You will do nothing of the sort, Mrs. Wolfe, my wife, the mother of my unborn child. Promise me you won’t. Promise.”
Her heart swelled with love and pride. “If you say so, my darling.” She smiled to herself as she cuddled against him. Darling. It sounded so very natural to call him her darling. Oh, but she did love him, didn’t she? The reality didn’t frighten her, didn’t cause her any pain at all. He might never return her love, but he was tender and concerned, and when he made love to her, she could almost believe he actually did love her.
Their time at the cabin was over too quickly. And even though it had snowed, it wasn’t enough to snow them in. Libby was a bit disappointed, because she knew that once they were among Jackson’s family again, their idyllic life together would never be the same. Having people around would inhibit her.
They bundled up for the ride home in the open wagon. Libby had never seen such beauty as the snow and frost-covered trees. The boughs of the pines, weighed down with snow, would move with every breeze, spraying finely sifted granules into the cold air. Sunshine glittered off the white ground, reminding Libby of millions of sparkly diamonds. Her breath clouded in the icy air, and she pulled up her scarf to cover her mouth and nose.
Jackson tugged her closer. “I don’t know if I can get to the ranch without wanting you again.”
She knew the feeling. The lusty sensation of his lovemaking was with her every waking minute. “It’s too cold to make love, I’m afraid.”
He treated her to a grin. “That’s what you think.”
“Jackson!” She punched him lightly.
“I mean it. Look at the blankets in the back.”<
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She turned on the seat and saw the stack of quilts. Her body was preparing already. “Oh, we couldn’t … not outside.” She swung around to face him again. “Could we?”
His arm came around her. “Who’s to stop us?”
So far they’d made love on a bear rug on the floor, in the bed, on a kitchen chair, and standing up with her legs wrapped around his waist. He was such a clever, inventive man …
They rode into the yard, Libby blissfully in love and satisfied. He’d been so eager for her that he’d barely had time to unbutton his fly. She’d felt the excitement build the moment she raised her skirts. Huddled beneath the blankets on the wagon bed, they’d made breathless, exciting love.
Her gaze roamed the ranch. The snow was gone at this level, but the air continued to have a bite to it.
Her feeling of well-being dissipated the moment she saw the expression on Susannah’s face as she left the house and hurried toward them.
Libby let Jackson help her from the wagon. “What is it? What’s wrong? Is it Dawn?”
Susannah drew them into the house. “No. Nothing like that.” She gave Jackson a telegram. “This came for you yesterday. We probably shouldn’t have opened it, but your father was concerned.”
Jackson read it, then met Libby’s gaze.
Her heart leaped. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s from Vern. Danel Mateo has been killed,” Jackson answered, glaring down at the wire in his hands.
Libby sank into a chair by the kitchen table. “Oh, no.”
‘I’ve got to get back,” he told her.
“I’m coming with you.”
With a shake of his head, he said, “You stay here with Dawn.”
She stood and placed her fists on her hips. “I’m coming with you, Jackson, so don’t try to talk me out of it.”
He mumbled a mild curse. “Mother, can’t you talk some sense into her?”
Susannah gave him a skeptical smile and merely raised her eyebrows. “I’m afraid not, dear. She’s your wife. But I think you should let Dawn Twilight stay.”
Libby’s first reaction was to disagree. “But she should be home by the end of the week or she’ll miss her lessons.”
“Why not let her attend school with Katie for a week or so? Then, when you have this problem solved, we’ll have a big party to introduce you and Dawn to the neighbors.”
Libby opened her mouth to say no, then closed it. “I—I’ve never been away from her that long.” She would miss her daughter terribly.
“Then maybe you should stay,” Jackson suggested.
Libby reined in her emotions. “No. I’m coming with you.”
“Mama! Papa!”
Dawn raced out from Katie’s bedroom and flung herself into her mother’s arms, then her father’s.
“Did you have a nice honeymoon at the cabin?” She beamed up at them.
Libby felt herself color under Susannah’s scrutiny. “Now, who said it was a honeymoon, dear?”
“Well, you went off by yourselves. What else would you call it?”
“Whatever you want to call it, we had a lovely time. We wish you could have come with us.”
Jackson tweaked his daughter’s nose. “Oh, no, we don’t.”
Libby’s blush spread, and she caught Susannah watching her, a contented, almost joyous expression on her face. Suddenly she had the feeling that she and Jackson had been sent to the cabin on purpose. Had their problems been that transparent?
To cover her discomfort, she asked, “Would you like to stay with Katie for a while and attend school with her?”
Dawn’s eyes got big. “You mean it?”
“I have to get back to Thief River,” Jackson informed her, “and since your mother insists on joining me, we thought you might like to stay here for a while.”
Dawn’s face lit up, then darkened as she frowned. “I want to stay with Katie, but …” Her look was shy. “What about Mumser? Won’t he miss me terribly?”
Libby smiled. “It wouldn’t be the other way around, would it?”
Dawn returned a sheepish grin. “I do miss him. I hope he remembers who I am when I get home.”
Jackson drew her into a fond embrace. “How could he forget you? You’re the only person who sneaks him treats from the table and lets him sleep under the covers at bedtime. He won’t forget you in a mere couple of weeks.”
Libby glanced outside, noting that it was almost dark.
“When should we leave?”
“First thing in the morning,” he answered.
That night, although they were both exhausted and had decided they wouldn’t make love, it was inevitable that they would. Once in bed, their bodies touching, their need grew greater than their exhaustion.
Trying to be quiet, Jackson entered her, clamped her lips to his, and rocked with her on the bed. Bliss shattered inside her, sending a quivering through her. They fell asleep, locked in each other’s arms with Jackson still inside her.
Stifling a yawn, Susannah sat up and pulled on her robe, searching for her slippers with her feet.
From behind her, Nathan asked, “Is it time to get the children up?”
Susannah smiled. Children. No matter how old the child was, it would always be a child to a parent. “I thought I’d make sure they were awake.”
Tugging at the sash on her robe, he toppled her backward. He loomed over her in the dusky light. “You can’t leave this room until you kiss me.”
She drew his face to hers and they kissed. Years of practice had not made their kisses stale, and even now Susannah desired the man who had rescued her from a living hell.
She raised her head and rested on an elbow. “It’s been almost a week since we made love,” she reminded him.
His hand roamed her hip. “I know. And watching Jackson and Libby at dinner last night made me hornier than hell.”
Susannah rubbed his chest, loving the hair that grew there. “Sending them to the cabin worked, didn’t it?”
“It was a stroke of genius, my love. But then,” he added, his fingertips grazing her breasts, “I’ve always known you were smarter than I.”
She kissed him quick and hard and, with a wistful sigh, slid from the bed and left the room.
At Jackson’s door, she knocked quietly. When she got no response, she opened the door and peered inside. Although she felt like a voyeur, warmth stole over her as she watched them sleep.
They faced each other. Jackson had Libby cradled close to his chest, and Susannah could tell that Libby’s leg was thrown over Jackson’s hip.
Saying a quick prayer of thanks, she closed the door, then knocked again, this time loudly.
“Children?”
There was a rustling on the other side of the door.
“We’re awake, Mother.”
“Just barely,” Susannah said to herself, smiling gaily as she went to the kitchen to prepare a pot of coffee.
24
After leaving Libby at the boardinghouse, Jackson returned the rig, then went to the jail. When he opened the door, he noticed that Deputy Worth was there alone. Oddly, the cell door was open, and he was sitting beside the cot, talking quietly with the prisoner.
“Deputy?”
Axel Worth leaped from the chair and spun to face Jackson, his face a mottled red.
“Sheriff,” he began, his Adam’s apple bobbing frantically, “I didn’t expect you back so soon. Have a nice trip?”
“Fine, thanks.” Jackson stepped cautiously into the cell, his gaze leveled at the prisoner. “What’s the cell door doing open, Axel?”
Again Axel’s throat worked. “I was … ah … just giving him some water.”
Glancing around the cell and finding no evidence of the water ladle, Jackson raised a skeptical eyebrow, but said nothing. He crossed to the prisoner, who eyed him warily from the cot. At least he had regained consciousness.
“Where’s Vern?” Jackson continued to study the supine man, who had a large bandage on the side of his head.<
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“He … ah … went home for lunch,” Axel answered.
The air seemed charged with energy. It got Jackson’s hackles up. “Axel, why don’t you take a lunch break, too?”
“Oh, but, Sheriff, I think I should stay—”
“Take a lunch break, Axel.” Jackson wanted to talk with the prisoner alone. It bothered him that Axel had appeared almost chummy with the wounded man when he walked in. And that he’d obviously lied about what he was doing in the cell.
“I’d like to fill you in, Sheriff.”
“Thanks, Axel. Just one thing before you leave. Has anyone else been in here to see him?”
“You mean his family or something like that?”
“Anyone at all.”
Axel shook his head. “No, sir, no one at all. Just the doc.”
With a nod, Jackson replied, “All right. You can fill me in after lunch.”
Tossing the prisoner a furtive glance, Axel grabbed his hat and left the jail.
Jackson took the seat that Axel had vacated. The prisoner still hadn’t spoken, but he hadn’t taken his eyes off Jackson, either.
Jackson tried to appear comfortable, although he felt taut as a wire. He examined the bandage oil the prisoner’s head, noting that it covered his ear. “What’s your name?”
“Maybe I forgot my name. Maybe I have amnesia.”
The sarcasm in his voice told Jackson otherwise. He rose, left the cell, and locked it, then went to the desk and shuffled through the papers until he discovered what he was looking for. The prisoner’s name was Clebbert Hartman. Cautious excitement flowered in Jackson’s chest. Cleb Hartman was one of the monthly poker players at the Eureka saloon.
Vern’s notes indicated that Hartman, who lived ten miles south of Thief River, had once been treated by the local doctor—for a gunshot wound he’d suffered while trying to rustle cattle.
Interesting. Jackson scraped his chin with the memo, then returned to the cell and resumed his seat. The man glared up at him. His eyes were wary. His nose was narrow and sharp. His face was all angles and planes. He looked like a ferret.
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