Rogues in Texas 03 - Never Marry a Cowboy

by Lorraine Heath

  He kissed her tenderly, sweetly, his lips playing over hers as though they had all night to do so.

  “Father and Christopher leave for Galveston tomorrow to hail a ship back to England . I thought we might travel with them, perhaps spend a week at the shore before we go to Dallas .”

  “We go to Dallas ?” she repeated inanely.

  “Yes, I thought you might want to tell David in person that you’ve decided to stay with me,” he said as he nuzzled her neck.

  “Did I decide that?” she asked quietly.

  He drew back and cupped her face between his hands. “I know there are things you want that I cannot give you, but we can still have a meaningful life together.”

  “For how long?”

  “For as long as we breathe. You told me this afternoon that it frightened you to think that I might die. Do you not think I feel the same way each night when I fall off to sleep, hoping every morning when I awake that you’ll still be with me?”

  “But our staying together is so unfair to you, it deprives you of so much.”

  “It deprives me of nothing as long as you are with me.” He returned his lips to her throat. “Stay with me.”

  He skimmed his hand along her leg, lifting her nightgown. “Stay with me.”

  She became powerless when his words were accompanied by the magic of passion. “Pleasure me,” she rasped.

  His mouth swooped down to cover hers, urgent, needy. She could have this passion every night for the remainder of her life. Desire, strong and powerful, surged through her while his tongue moved within her mouth as his body had once stroked hers. She knew they would never again experience a complete joining, but for tonight it didn’t matter.

  Tonight she wanted what he offered, even if it fell short of all she desired. She needed the memory of this night, of their giving to each other what they could.

  With his hands, he worked to make their clothes disappear, and then they were flesh to flesh, heat to heat, trembling, writhing, touching, exploring. He had always been the aggressor while she had taken what he offered. But not tonight.

  Tonight she wanted more, needed more. She wanted to give all that she had taken.

  She moaned in wonder as his mouth began its sojourn along her body, tantalizing her breasts, his tongue swirling and circling before his mouth closed around her nipple and he suckled gently. Pleasure spiraled through her.

  He moved lower and dipped his tongue into her navel, and lower still until he kissed her most intimately. She gasped as pleasure peaked under the guidance of his relentless, skillful pursuit. He knew her needs and where to find their solace.

  She trembled as he carried her to the highest wave of the tempest and lifted her over.

  Kit placed his head on the pillow of her stomach and slid his finger inside Ashton. He smiled with pure male satisfaction. “I love the way you throb afterward,” he said quietly.

  “Could you feel me throbbing the last night when we were together like this?” she asked.

  He lifted his gaze to hers. “Yes.”

  “Couldn’t you just … for a moment…”

  “No.” He kissed her stomach and shifted upward to kiss her breast. “You have no idea how hard it is for me to hold back. I’m close to bursting now.”

  She combed her fingers through his hair. “If I can find pleasure without our bodies joined, why can’t you?”

  She watched his throat work as he swallowed. “I can,” he rasped.

  “Teach me.”

  He tangled his fingers in her hair and brought her mouth to his, kissing her deeply, hungrily. He rolled to his back and she levered above him on her elbow, keeping her mouth mated to his, her hand pressed against his chest.

  He took her wrist and tore his mouth from hers before kissing her palm and each of her fingers. He captured her gaze. “Are you certain?”

  She nodded. “But the rule is that you have to look at me, right?”

  He gave her a seductive smile. “Right.”

  He lowered her hand and she wrapped her fingers tightly around him. He groaned low in his throat, his gaze never leaving hers. He guided her hand until she understood the rhythm, then he cupped her breast, kneading the soft, pliant flesh as she stroked him.

  She heard his breathing change into short, gasping breaths as his eyes darkened. The fingers entangled in her hair tightened. He grunted as his body arched and she felt his hot seed spurt into her hand.

  He shuddered and his body relaxed beneath hers. She pressed a kiss to his dew-coated throat.

  “I love the way you throb,” she said huskily.

  He laughed low before tracing the outline of her face with his finger. “I love you, Ashton.”

  “But is it fair to you if this is all we’ll ever have?”

  He drew her head down to his chest, and she heard the rapid pounding of his heart.

  “We can make it be enough,” he told her. “I promise.”

  *

  “He is so bloody obstinate!” Christopher glared at the moon as though it were the source of his anger.

  A small, albeit strong, hand covered his where it rested on the arm of the rocker. “You should tell him how you feel.”

  “Dear God, Elizabeth, he knows how I feel! He knows my thoughts as well as I know his. He is well aware that I came here out of a sense of obligation and fairness, that I covet Ravenleigh and its title. He does as well, though he claims to love Ashton more. But she is to die, and then what? He shall spend the remainder of his life alone. At least if he returned to England he could marry.”

  “Is she pretty?”

  He glanced at her. “She is frail, ethereal. She reminds me of a fairy. Have you not met Ashton?”

  Elizabeth smiled warmly. “I meant the woman your father has arranged for you to marry.”

  “Ah.” He sighed. “I have yet to meet her.” He furrowed his brow. “I can’t recall her name. Father mentioned it in passing when he told me that he had made the arrangements, but I did not care. My heart was still on Clarisse.” He turned to face her squarely. “That’s hardly fair to her, is it? The woman I’m to marry, I mean.”

  She squeezed his hand. “I wouldn’t worry. You’re bound to learn her name before you marry her. Besides, once you’ve met her, maybe she’ll help you to stop missing Clarisse.”

  He cradled her cheek. “Who shall help you to stop missing Daniel?”

  He watched her smile wither, and she licked her lips. “I don’t thing about Daniel so much anymore. I feel guilty about that sometimes.”

  He leaned nearer. “I have a confession to make. I haven’t thought of Clarisse since the first night I sat on your porch until dawn.”

  He brushed his thumb over her lips. “I desperately want to kiss you. Do you suppose being in the position I am of being betrothed that it would be an unforgivable offense if I were to give in to temptation just once?”

  She shook her head slightly, and he felt her pulse quicken where his palm pressed against her throat. He lowered his mouth to hers, drinking greedily of the sweet nectar she offered, and cursing his brother for condemning him to hell with his act of generosity.

  *

  Languidly, Kit awoke and stretched. He had not slept this well in years. He rolled over to draw his wife into his embrace and discovered he was alone. His gaze quickly darted around the empty room. She’d no doubt risen early to relish the sunrise.

  He got out of bed and saw to his morning routine of getting ready for the day. Ashton would need to purchase a few more items before they left for Galveston. Whatever else her heart desired, he would purchase for her there.

  He walked out of the room and down the stairs with a sense of well-being. He glanced at the door that led into his father’s room. Hopefully by now, his father understood Kit’s reasoning and forgave him.

  He entered the foyer just as Elizabeth Fairfield strolled through the front door. She came to an abrupt halt and stared at him.

  He smiled warmly. “Good morning, Elizabeth.�
�

  She shoved a quilt at him. “I brought this for you.”

  He stepped nearer and examined the intricate stitching. “It’s lovely.” He lifted his gaze to hers. “A wedding gift?”

  She nodded quickly and looked as though she were fighting back tears. “You can call it that if you want. I just thought it might help to keep your bed warm.”

  Her generosity caught him off guard as he took her gift. “Thank you. All this time I never thought you cared much for me.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  He heard a door open and watched her gaze shift toward the sound.

  ” Elizabeth , what in the world are you doing here?” Christopher asked.

  Elizabeth jerked her gaze back to Kit’s, her cheeks flaming red. She snatched the quilt from his arms. “You varmint, I should have realized it was you.”

  Kit chuckled. “So you’re the one who mistook Christopher for me. That must have been an interesting encounter.”

  “Indeed it was,” Christopher said quietly, amusement reflected in his voice as he approached Elizabeth.

  She thrust the quilt at him. “I brought this to keep you warm at nights. Made it myself. It’s a lone star pattern, and since Texas has a lone star on its flag, I thought you might think of me whenever you used it.”

  Kit knew a pang of guilt when he saw the wistfulness in his brother’s eyes as he took the gift.

  “I’ll need no reminders of you, but thank you for the gift.”

  Elizabeth jerked her head up and down. “The girls are in the wagon, so I gotta go.”

  “I’d like to say goodbye to your daughters,” Christopher said quietly.

  “They’d like that. I’ll meet you outside.”

  She turned and scurried out, but not before Kit saw the tears welling in her eyes. Christopher set the quilt down on a nearby chair and strode toward the door. Kit grabbed his arm and spun him around. “You neglected to mention that you had a reason why you no longer wanted to be heir.”

  “The reason didn’t exist until I came here.”

  Kit studied his brother. “Last night I felt that you were in love, but I thought it was with someone in England. It’s Elizabeth, isn’t it? You love her.”

  “My feelings and whom I love are of no consequence regarding your decision.”

  “The hell they aren’t.”

  “Father has made arrangements for a wedding to take place at Christmas. You are quite right that Ashton will die if you take her to England, and you cannot serve as master of the estate from here. You sacrificed your love for a woman once before—a woman who rightfully belonged to you, I might point out—so now it is my turn to make a sacrifice.”

  “To hell with Father’s arrangements. If you love Elizabeth, marry her and take her to England with you,” Kit suggested.

  “Marshal?”

  Kit turned at the sound of Mrs. Gurney’s voice. “Yes, Mr. Gurney?”

  She held an envelope toward him. “I was told to give you this.”

  Kit opened the envelope, withdrew its contents, and felt all the blood drain from his face and his knees grow weak. His chest ached, tears stung his eyes, and his entire world ceased to exist. His fingers went limp, and the papers fluttered to the floor.

  “What is it?” Christopher asked, concern clearly reflected in his voice. “What’s happened?”

  His voice strangled with emotion, Kit forced out the words. “Ashton is dead.”

  *

  CHAPTER 26

  « ^ »

  I gnoring the elderly couple sitting across from her, Ashton stared out the window of the stagecoach, the countryside a blur of green leaves, brown soil, and blue sky. She felt as hollow, as dead, as the certificate she’d paid the physician to draw up for her.

  The actual date of her death was unimportant. Today. The end of the year. It didn’t matter because she knew death’s arrival was imminent.

  What mattered was that Kit was free to return to England , to take his rightful place at the home of his birth, the estate that he loved and had watched over even from afar. He needed to return with his father and establish his right to inherit.

  His father’s time was as limited as hers was. Once he died, the new Earl of Ravenleigh would take his place. She wanted that man to be Kit, and her actions had ensured that dream’s reality.

  True, her record of death was false, but no more false than Kit’s record of birth. How could his father have tampered with fate?

  A gunshot sounded. The woman sitting across from Ashton squealed and burrowed her face into her husband’s shoulder as he wrapped his arm around her and drew her near. Ashton clenched her hands and squeezed her eyes shut. Another robbery!

  Was there no law beyond the boundaries of any towns?

  She felt the stagecoach begin to slow and didn’t know whether to be relieved that they weren’t going to try to outpace the outlaws or fearful for what the thieves might do. She’d had one experience and it was enough to make her fear all lawless men.

  The stagecoach rolled to a stop. Ashton’s heart beat unmercifully in her chest. She swore that given the opportunity she would never again ride in a stagecoach. She heard the pounding hooves and a horse’s neigh.

  Then silence that was more frightening, because it left no hint as to what she should expect.

  The door burst open. Ashton screeched at the foreboding figure blocking the sunlight. Her fellow female passenger fainted.

  “We have no money,” the woman’s husband blurted out.

  “I have no interest in money.” The shadowy figure extended his hand toward Ashton. “Mrs. Montgomery.”

  Relief warred with anger as Ashton stared at her husband. “Didn’t you get the letter I left for you?”

  “Indeed I did, once my heart returned to normal. Might I suggest that the next time you decide to pull such a fool stunt that you place the letter on top of the death certificate instead of beneath it.”

  “I don’t see that it matters where I placed the letter. It explained everything.”

  “Now I have some things to explain to you.” He reached farther into the coach. “Please, come with me.”

  Reluctantly, she slipped her hand into his, relishing the strength and warmth she’d never thought to feel again. With his assistance, she stepped into the sunlight. She released her hold on him and straightened her skirts before angling her chin.

  Bearded stubble shadowed his face and his eyes were red rimmed and swollen. She desperately wanted to touch him and relieve his suffering, but she could not give in to temptation. She had to remain strong. “You’d better talk quickly. These people are in a hurry.”

  “I intend to take my time in explaining.” He glanced up at the driver. “Is my wife’s valise up top?”

  “Yes, sir,” the driver said as he grabbed it and tossed it down.

  Kit caught it easily. “Thank you, Mr. Jordan .”

  “You’re welcome, Marshal Montgomery. Good thing I recognized you. Wouldn’t have stopped otherwise. Been too many robberies lately.”

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Ashton asked with equal frustration and anger. She’d finally managed to find the gumption to do something on her own and Kit was thwarting her plans.

  “Give me a week, and if at the end of that time, you still feel your actions are warranted, then I shall honor the record of your death and return you to Dallas myself.”

  “And you promise to go back to Ravenleigh?”

  “Yes.”

  The sadness in his eyes tore into her heart, and against her better judgment, she found herself nodding.

  *

  “Why would Ashton have her own death certificate drawn up?” Elizabeth asked Christopher as he leaned against the porch railing, one hand stuffed in his pocket, his head bent.

  He slowly shook his head. “I can only presume that she thought she was giving Kit what he wanted.” He lifted his gaze. “Theirs is a complicated relationship, not unlike ours.”

  Elizabeth
furrowed her brow, pressed her shoulder against the beam that supported the roof over the porch, and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “I don’t see our friendship as being complicated.”

  Christopher shifted his stance. “It’s not complicated here, no, but it would be in England . I am nobility, you aren’t. I am well educated, whereas life more than schools educated you. I am expected to project a certain mien, and you are refreshingly adept at revealing your true self.”

  Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. “Why do I feel like I’m being insulted?”

  “Believe me, it is not my intent to insult you. I’m merely striving to realistically and tactfully identify obstacles that we might have to overcome if we were in England .”

  Elizabeth rolled her eyes, wondering why he was pursuing this path of conversation. “I don’t see the point in identifying anything. We’re not in England .”

  “No, we’re not.” He held her gaze, and she saw uncertainty reflected in his pale blue eyes. “But we could be.”

  She furrowed her brow. “I don’t see how.”

  “If we wished it to be so.” He took a step closer. “My father arranged both my marriages. The first one worked out splendidly. Clarisse and I were well suited, and until she took ill, I was extremely happy. I have immense doubts regarding the second one. I cannot envision that I shall be content.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “I know you’re feeling guilty because you don’t remember her name—”

  “My misgivings regarding this second marriage have nothing to do with my inability to remember my intended’s name. They reside in the fact that I shall be unable to forget you.”

  She felt as though the breath had been knocked out of her, and all she could manage to his flattering declaration was a soft, “Oh.”

  She turned and looked toward the fields that had lain fallow since Daniel had left to fight for the Confederacy.

  “I realize that we have not known each other long,” he continued, “and perhaps my feelings are premature but I must confess that I’ve fallen in love with you. I was hoping that you might consent to marry me.”

  Tears burned her eyes, blurring the fields that her husband had planted and harvested. She pressed a trembling hand to her lips. It had been a good many years since she’d captured a man’s fancy, a good many years since she’d wanted to. But lately, the wind whispering through the leaves, her daughters’ voices and their laughter, weren’t enough to ease the loneliness. “Everything here reminds me of Daniel,” she rasped. “It would be like leaving him.” The tears rolled down her cheeks as she turned and looked at Christopher. “I know I told you that I haven’t thought of him lately … and I haven’t, but I can’t leave here, leave what I know.” An unexpected sob escaped her.