One-Click Buy: September 2010 Harlequin Blaze

by Lori Wilde

  When she finished, he asked, “Do you sing, too?”

  She shook her head. “Not very well.”

  “How did you learn to play?”

  “A question for a question?” she asked, wanting more information.

  He nodded.

  “During the mining days, the saloon employed singers…and other ladies. After my mother died, they kinda mothered me, or tried to. They taught me to play, even some lyrics.” Her eyes suddenly danced. “I know some interesting ones.”

  She was enchanting again and his heart thumped against his chest.

  “Now I get to ask a question,” she said, and the sparkle was gone, replaced by deadly seriousness.

  “Who was it Mac supposedly killed?” she asked without pause.

  “A woman named Emma Wentworth,” he said.

  “You knew her? Is that why you want Mac so much?”

  Jared reminded himself again not to underestimate her. He hesitated. It was personal. Real personal. Still, she should know who she was protecting. “She was my wife’s sister. My sister-in-law. She was traveling to Denver. The stagecoach she was riding was held up. One of the bandits manhandled her. She protested and was shot.”

  “It wasn’t Mac,” she said, with absolute assurance.

  “A member of his outlaw band said it was.”

  “Mac doesn’t manhandle women. Ever.” After a moment, she asked, “When did this happen?”

  “Years ago.”

  “How many years?”

  “That’s too many questions.”

  “Is it? Don’t you want to know what really happened?”

  “I know what happened.”

  “Judge and jury and prosecutor, all wrapped up in one. How nice to be so infallible.”

  Her face had turned hard as stone. Whatever light had been there was gone now.

  “He killed others, as well,” he said, “and stole one hell of a lot of money from the army.”

  His gaze met hers and held, and he didn’t want to let it go. He ached to touch her, to pull her to him and feel her softness again, to satisfy the need now settling permanently inside him. Frustration gnawed at his gut.

  The air was fraught with tension again. God, how he wanted her. It was astounding to him, especially considering the injury to his leg, and who and what they both were. Prisoner and captor. Lawman and outlaw.

  God help him if he didn’t want to hold her again.

  “I answered your question,” he said. “Another song?”

  She smiled sweetly and played “The Yellow Rose of Texas.”

  To annoy him, he knew. She was only too aware he’d served with the Union, and the song was a favorite rebel tune.

  He worked at keeping a smile from his face as she finished.

  “Truce?” he asked. He reached out a hand to her and watched her emotions battle each other. The silence stretched tautly between them, and suddenly nothing mattered except the need building between them.

  She unconsciously licked her lips. The ache in his groin grew acute. She probably had no idea how arousing that simple act of wetting her lips was. He wondered whether she could see the swelling under the sheet.

  He held out his hand. “Move closer,” he whispered. He heard the intake of her breath. Then, to his surprise, she did as he asked. She looked dazed, Yet at the same time her eyes were so damned bright and curious and even…glowing. His lips descended on hers, and she responded with an eagerness that inflamed him. He deepened the kiss, almost harshly at first as if to chase her away. But her fingers went around his neck, caressing him, with so much gentleness it hurt.

  Her body quivered ever so slightly. He silently cursed the chain that made every movement damned awkward. His left arm wrapped around her, drew her to him. Her body pressed against his, her cheek against the bare skin of his chest. Surprisingly, her arms went around him, gingerly at first. He felt her stiffening awareness as his arousal pressed into her.

  A low moan rumbled through his body as his lips gentled against hers. His gaze met hers, and he was almost lost in the smoldering fire of that golden amber even as he sensed her uncertainty.

  She was a virgin. He hesitated. Hell, she’d nearly killed him, and yet he felt a tenderness he hadn’t known in a very long time.

  Her mouth opened hesitantly under his lips with an unexpected longing that awakened long-dead feelings in him. His mouth hardened against hers. He forced anger because he didn’t know how to deal with the tenderness. She was stirring things best left alone, and he knew he couldn’t trust her.

  He started to draw away, but she stopped him. She wrapped her fingers around his neck, playing with the muscles there, and his lust reached monumental proportions as heat surged to his loins.

  Damn, he wanted her. His head bent and his lips touched the fine taffy-colored curls. It felt good, those curls. Soft and inviting. And then their lips met again and he knew nothing could stop the raging fire.

  13

  EXPLOSION!

  Sam felt as if every emotion was running amok, and, worse, her body was doing the same. New sensations were bursting inside her. His lips against hers, her face against his rough one, his hand playing with the nape of her neck. Each intimacy ignited blazes throughout her entire being. And strongest of all was the irresistible craving deep in her core.

  He unbuttoned the top of her shirt with his free hand. Her breast came alive with his touch, hardening and sparking fresh frissons of need coursing through her.

  The embers of the fire that had glowed between them since the first day grew into an inferno. It felt painful in deliciously exquisite ways that aroused and burned her. Sam lost herself in his touch, in the taste of his lips. She didn’t understand what was happening to her, why nothing mattered right now but the lawman she should fear. Her heart was racing, and her senses were spinning out of control.

  He released a long breath. His hand left her breast and he held her chin in his fingers, forcing her gaze to meet his. “Not wise, Miss Sam,” he said.

  “No,” she agreed. “Marshal.” The last was her feeble attempt at sanity.

  “Jared,” he said. “Say it. Say Jared.” His voice was low but there was a cajoling persistence.

  “Jared.” She tried it out, rolled it on her tongue. It was silly that the mere voicing of a name made a change, but it did. It broke down a door standing between them, a door she’d tried to barricade.

  Her fingers were still on his neck and his warmth flowed through her. Their gazes locked together, and she was almost motionless, her whole being waiting for something. Waiting…

  His gaze was intense, and there was a brilliant glitter in those dark hawklike eyes. His hand still held her chin and his fingers moved sensuously along her lips. She felt every one of those touches clear through to the bone and trembled, unable to control the need inside.

  And what were her eyes telling him? She prayed the lust wasn’t too obvious. Now she knew exactly what the word meant. How strong it was. How compelling. She wouldn’t believe that what she felt was anything more than lust. She couldn’t.

  Pull away! And yet how could she? She’d always been an explorer, and this was the ultimate exploration.

  He slid his fingers to her hair, playing with the short curls, stroking her neck with a tenderness she hadn’t felt in him before. She hadn’t thought of him as gentle or tender or…

  She closed her eyes, savored the awareness as the very new thing it was, even though she knew she should run as if all the demons in hell were chasing her.

  But she wanted more. So much more.

  His lips touched hers again, tentatively this time, as if he, too, was lost in some enchanted but dangerous maze. His other kiss had been explosive. Angry. Wanting. It had lit fires deep inside, but the tentativeness of this kiss was far more treacherous. A part of her melted inside, and she tumbled into a flood of mindless sensation. As if he sensed something had changed, his tongue entered her mouth, exploring, seducing, inviting her into a world she’d never k
nown before.

  “Lie next to me,” he whispered. “This is too damn awkward.”

  He’d pulled her shoulders and head down, but her hip was still on the edge of the bed. She’d been careful to avoid his wound, but oh, how she wanted to feel all of him next to her.

  “Your leg?”

  “Damn my leg,” he said as his free hand guided her down next to him on the edge of the bed. She trembled with expectancy.

  He trailed his mouth to the side of her neck and nuzzled the skin, then moved upward. Heat licked at her and she put her arms around him, played with the dark hair even though she knew it was a terrible mistake. He’s the enemy, she frantically reminded herself. But the warning was chaff in the wind, unsubstantial compared to the power of her other feelings. She wanted to prolong the dizzying, warm excitement she knew he shared, for he was rigid with need. She savored her ability to do that to him. He’d so often seemed immune to any feelings, as if nothing really touched him.

  She’d always been passionate in her beliefs, in her fierce loyalties, in her love of nature and the orphaned and hurt critters that inhabited her world, but she’d sometimes wondered whether she had the type of passion she’d read about in books. Now she knew it had been lying dormant, waiting for the right man.

  But this wasn’t the right man, part of her screamed. This was the worst possible man.

  She didn’t care.

  She only knew her body was reacting completely on its own, and her blood was hot, rushing like a storm-swollen river through her body.

  From the moment his lips touched hers, she was helpless to resist, helpless to keep from wanting him. The knowledge was excruciating because it was a betrayal of those she loved. And yet…she was drowning in the essence of him.

  Their lips met again and she stretched against him, feeling the growing hardness of his maleness. She whimpered as the pressure inside her grew. Her hand went to the back of his neck and touched and teased as he had done with her. She knew now how much that simple touch could excite and arouse.

  He positioned his lips over hers, and her mouth readily opened to his.

  Thunder clapped outside. It should have brought back her reason, but instead it only added to the pulsating sensations building within her. Just as she had since she’d watched him approach her in the deserted street, she warred with herself, mind against heart, body against soul.

  Her tongue became every bit as aggressive as his, exploring and teasing. Her gaze met his and his eyes were no longer that cool, impenetrable darkness, but alive and blazing, the blue in them more obvious than ever.

  She pulled back for a moment, seeking a respite from the emotions that were overruling every sensible, responsible part of her. She felt a bewildering pain in her heart, a longing for something she didn’t understand, and the strength of it terrified her.

  WHAT HAD STARTED as a game, a challenge, had suddenly become something else. Jared’s lips took hers. Hard. Part of him wanted to scare her away. The other…hell, the other wanted her with a need he’d never felt before.

  God, but she was beautiful. And soft. So damned soft.

  And so damned innocent. It was obvious with her every response. This was all new to her.

  Damn MacDonald for keeping her here. She should have been courted, married, with child. Yet he was grateful, as well. In just a few days, she’d awakened a heart he’d long thought dead. He’d felt alive and even eager for the next time he would see her. Hell, he’d felt like a callow kid courting his first girl. Nothing could have surprised him more.

  Then her lips reached for his and her body stretched against his, and all thought evaporated as their lips played and teased and tasted. Dammit, he burned with need for her. He burned so much that the pain in his leg disappeared. His need reached volcanic proportions as she touched his neck and returned his kiss with such surprised…wonder.

  Had she even been kissed before?

  He doubted it now. Dammit, she embraced everything she did with all that was in her. She was even willing to kill and be killed for a friend or whatever it was that MacDonald/Thornton was to her. How could he turn that against her now and live with himself?

  He closed his eyes and held her tight with his free arm, wanting, needing desperately to plunge into her, but then he would be no better than the men he’d chased. He would be killing something in her….

  “Don’t stop,” she said, her voice soft but determined.

  “What about MacDonald?” he said roughly.

  She was silent.

  “I’m still going after him.”

  “I know.”

  Her voice was little more than a whisper, and there was pain in it. Maybe like the pain in his gut. But he could no more change who he was than she could.

  Her lips moved closer to him, and this time she was the aggressor. Innocent or not, she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He touched her face with his fingers, wondering how he’d ever thought, even for a second, that she was anything but female. She was lightly tanned and he could see a few freckles on her nose, but the skin was flawless. Her eyes were enormous now, the colors constantly changing. He could drown in those eyes.

  He could drown in her.

  He couldn’t help but touch the fine lines of her face, trace his fingers along her cheek. He hated being restrained, unable to take her in both arms and bring her even closer to him. But with every movement, he was reminded of the chain holding him, and the division between them, and the folly of what he was doing.

  Her lips curled in a smile that was all feminine and seductive and yet uncommonly endearing at the same time. She had to be in her twenties, but she was an intoxicating combination of hellion and angel.

  She took his hand and played with it for a moment, then she moved closer and their lips touched again. No punishment this time. No anger. Just an exploration that started tentatively, then grew bolder.

  “Sam,” he said. “Samantha.” At the moment, the latter name fit her better.

  He couldn’t hold her, or lift himself above her. He couldn’t do what he wanted to do. Seduce her. That had been his idea several days ago, but now the thought repelled him. He wanted to make love to her. Slowly, with care.

  The pressure inside grew, and he felt ready to explode. Her hand touched his thigh. He guided it to his penis. Watched and felt—God, how he felt—as she touched him. And then to his surprise she was taking off her clothes, letting them slide to the floor. She looked both defiant and determined.

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “You could have a child,” he warned. “We could,” he amended.

  She looked offended. “I know that.”

  “You’re beautiful,” he said. And she was. She was slender with just enough curves to give her a satisfying softness. He held out his hand and she lay next to him as the heat between them blazed. She touched his chest, lingered on a scar, then ran her fingertips downward, along the skin that stretched taut over the ridged muscles of his abdomen. He shuddered, trying to prevent the spasms her touch created. Yet all his fabled control was crumbling, pulled down by a woman who was part imp and part siren.

  His free hand went to the soft mound between her legs. She gasped with surprise, then cried out in startled pleasure as her body arched toward him. He twisted himself—damn the chain—to meet her and felt the heat run like lightning between them, scorching and branding.

  TREMORS SHUDDERED THROUGH Sam as his lips touched hers, and he moved his fingers first to one of her breasts and then lower to her most private place. Sizzling fires danced up and down her spine.

  “Are you sure you want to be here?” he whispered in her ear.

  No, Sam wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure of anything, but that didn’t diminish the need in her.

  “Yes,” she said instead.

  She heard the rattle of the chain as he strained against it, and for a second the magic was broken.

  She drew a shaky breath, trying to restore some calm t
o a body possessed by a storm. He trailed his lips down her cheek and to her ear, nuzzling until she knew nothing but a consuming need for him, and she couldn’t break away now if her life depended on it. His tongue feathered her cheek even as his fingers continued to explore the place no man had touched before. Sensations streaked through her, and she whimpered with the fierce desire clawing at her.

  “Samantha,” he whispered.

  Her name sounded fine on his lips. Different. But she didn’t have time to think because he engaged her mouth again, and she touched his chest. Hard. So hard. She fingered one of the scars and looked up at him. He would have another scar because of her. She swallowed hard. “Your leg?” she said. “I don’t want…”

  He dismissed her words. “I’ve ridden for days with worse wounds.”

  His lips chased the guilt away, and she ran her hands down his body while he continued to tease and arouse, sending shimmering waves of heat through every part of her until she couldn’t bear more.

  “Jared.” It was a cry of pure need.

  She was aware he moved as far as his chained wrist would allow. He balanced himself over her, and she thought briefly of the wound, the stress…

  And then he lowered himself, most of his weight on his good leg. She felt the throbbing of his sex against her and the aching craving became even stronger. She cried out again as he entered her. Pain came so quickly she couldn’t contain a small gasp.

  He hesitated.

  “Don’t stop,” she said. Despite the pain, the raw need was building inside her. He moved again, fitting himself slowly to her, and the pain started to fade, replaced by waves of delicious sensations as he penetrated deeper and deeper, as if searching for the core of her soul. Her body instinctively moved with his as his rhythm quickened and waves of ecstasy rolled through her. And then when she thought she could bear no more, she felt a magnificent explosion inside. Thunderous waves of pleasure swept through her like a great tidal wave….

  14

  JARED SUDDENLY WITHDREW from her but held her close as she felt moisture between her legs. She knew why, and she also realized what it had just cost him. He lay beside her, his heart beating rapidly, a muscle throbbing in his cheek.