“I don’t think so, at least not now,” she whispered and snuggled closer still.
He squinted down at her. “I’m mighty glad to find you.”
“Why don’t we go home and finish what we were starting?”
“Mrs. Witherspoon, I reckon you’ve got a good idea.”
He picked her up and carried her easily to his horse. He put her in the saddle and swung up behind her. His big arms went around her, pulling her up against his warmth, and he kissed the back of her neck.
The caress of his warm breath on her skin sent a shiver through her.
“You still cold?” He clucked to the horse, and it started away at a walk.
“No, I’m fine…now that you’re here, dearest.” She leaned back against him and he kissed the back of her neck again. They rode back to the little house in town. The whole village was still asleep, everything still.
“I reckon,” the sheriff said as he helped her down and carried her into the house, “the rascals is all home sleepin’ it off.”
Once in the house, he carried her into the bedroom, stood her on her feet, and blew out the lamp. “Now where were we?”
“I had just taken off your boots.”
“Oh, yes.” He smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Go ahead, I like lookin’ down your dress.”
“And I thought you were bashful.” She smiled and dropped to her knees. She took a long time taking off his boots, making sure he got a good look at the rise of her breasts. He reached down and caught her hand, pulling her to her feet as he stood up. He was so tall, she could lay her face against his big chest as he kissed her hair.
“I reckon I ought to take off my pants.”
“You reckon the rowdies are liable to burst in again?”
“They wouldn’t dare,” he said firmly. “This time, I might shoot them.”
He took off his pants and stood in the shadows. “You gonna undress?”
She had never felt so daring. “You want to undress me?”
“Best invite I reckon I ever had.” He grinned and came to her. His dark eyes were hot with intense desire.
Lark closed her eyes and relished the feel of his big hands fumbling with her buttons. He got the front of her bodice undone, and then his hands went to cup her breasts. She took a deep, shuddering breath.
“I thought womenfolk always had corsets and all that stuff underneath?”
“My sister would, but then she’s more ladylike—” She remembered in time and stopped.
His big hands caressed her breasts until she felt her nipples go erect and turgid. He pulled her hard against him, and she could feel his erection, big and urgent against her body. Before he kissed her again, his hands cupped her face and turned it up to his. She had no experience, but even then, she was surprised by his expertise. She hadn’t thought Lawrence had any experience with women because he’d been so inept and shy.
“Oh,” she whispered. “Ohhh.”
He pulled her against him so hard, she could feel every inch of him up and down her slender frame. He was kissing her, kissing her, kissing her….
Then he pulled her dress down so expertly that she was barely aware he did it, except that she heard it fall in soft folds around her ankles. She stepped out of it. Now he took both big hands and slid her drawers down slowly. As his hands brushed against her hips, she trembled at the sensation. Then her drawers fell about her ankles. She stepped out of her little slippers.
“You are really something,” he gasped against her mouth. He swung her up in his arms, kissing her mouth, her face, her eyes, before bending his head to her breasts.
“Oh, Lawrence.” She arched her back so that he could reach her breasts more easily with his hot mouth. She knew she was shaking all over, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself as his kisses and caresses grew more urgent. Finally he laid her on the bed and stood, looking down at her a long moment. His face was shadowed, but she could hear his heavy breathing, see his muscular chest rise and fall as he stood there. “Do you—you like what you see?”
“Mrs. Witherspoon, I love what I see, and I’ve waited a long time for this moment.” Saying that, he lay down next to her and pulled her against him, caressing her bare skin with his big hands.
She felt goosebumps rise as he touched her, and she pressed even closer to him, her hands tentatively running across his virile male body. His muscles were hard and knotted along his back, and his hips flexed like steel as she touched him there. Then very hesitantly, she touched his manhood and he gasped. “More,” he gasped. “More!”
She felt aroused but uncertain as he kissed her face, her eyes, and down her throat in a feverish gesture. Then he reached the feast of her breasts and nuzzled until she gasped and cried out.
Now swiftly, he separated her thighs and touched her mound. “You’re ready,” he whispered.
She was a little scared, but too excited not to want what he was about to do. “I’m ready,” she assured him.
He came into her slowly, very slowly, and she wanted more of him. In a wild gesture of excitement, she cupped his hard hips and pulled him down into her, crying out as he broke through the thin skin of her virginity. He muffled her cry with his gentle kisses. Then he began to ride her in a slow, deep motion and excited her still more. She locked her long legs around his lean body, urging him to ride her harder and faster until the bed was rocking and they were both covered with a sheen of perspiration.
Now it was her turn to whisper—no—demand, “More! More!”
He complied, plunging deep into her very core until her excitement rose higher still. She was riding the crest of a wave that she didn’t understand—and didn’t know when it would come crashing down—but she didn’t care, she only wanted more, and more, and more….
Then the wave crested, and she was swept away in a wild, dark tumble of ecstasy that she had never known she could experience. The tumult seemed as dark and wild as was the man himself, and she was tumbling and disappearing into nothingness. She was only vaguely aware that suddenly, he too was gasping and crying out, holding her to him in a deathlike grip as his big body went rigid and shuddered. For a moment there were only the crashing waves and two spirits locked together, quivering and gasping, and then it ended. Lark realized dimly as she came out of the blackness that she was held tightly against his chest, protected there as if he would never, never let her leave the circle of his embrace.
They lay there a long time, both breathless and covered with perspiration. Their bodies were still locked together, their passion spent, but both of them were unwilling to separate.
He made a tender gesture of brushing her dark hair away from her face and kissing her forehead. His face looked puzzled and surprised.
“Did I—did I do it wrong?” she asked.
He shook his head, almost as if he were too overcome to speak. “No, you did everything right—oh, so right!” And he kissed her again. He rolled over on his side, but he did not let go of her. He pulled her on top so that her hair hung around his face like a black veil, and he kissed her again.
She felt so tender toward him, and she touched his dear lips with the tip of her finger. “Can we do that again?”
He chuckled. “You’ll have to give me a minute to rest—then I promise you, we’ll do it again and again.”
“I love you, Lawrence,” she said.
All of a sudden, his mood changed. She could feel the sudden stiffness of his frame, the way he pulled away from her. “Did I say something wrong?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No, I reckon not.”
Yet she could feel the coolness of his mood, and he did not tell her he loved her too.
“Whatever I said, I’m sorry.” She came up on one elbow and stroked his rugged face.
“Forget it,” he almost snapped at her. “There’s only one thing that’s important now—our wedding night.” He pulled her down to him so that he could kiss her breasts. Then he began to make love to her again, but more roughly this
time, as if he were punishing her for something. Still his expert touch excited her, and they rode the crest of passion together again, and yet a third time before he dozed off in her arms. For a long time she did not sleep, wondering about the mystery of this man and thinking how little she actually knew about him. But she loved him.
Finally she dropped off to sleep, her head cradled against his shoulder.
Lark came awake slowly. For a moment she couldn’t figure out where she was, then remembered and smiled. Dawn was just breaking outside. Her husband lay sleeping against her. From somewhere, Magnolia brayed. Lark couldn’t help but smile. The sound was ghastly—sort of a cross between someone being tortured and a saw being dragged back and forth on a rotten board.
He came awake and looked at her. He smiled and tousled her hair. “Well, that was some night. You surprise me.”
“In a good way?” She gathered her rumpled nightdress around her and stood up.
“You’d better believe it.” He didn’t seem shy or hesitant at all. He stood up too. “You see my pants?”
“On the floor. How about some coffee?” she asked.
“Love some, sweetie.” He reached out and whacked her across the bottom as she passed him.
“Sweetie?” She whirled and looked at him. “Did you call me ‘sweetie’?”
He cocked his head and looked back, that lopsided grin so evident this morning. “Oh, come off it, Lark, you don’t have to pretend not to know me any more.”
“What?” She could only gulp in anger and surprise. How could she have been so stupid? That tone, that arrogant grin, the easy way he whacked a woman across the rear. There was no doubt it was Larado.
Chapter Eleven
For a moment she felt so confused, she could only stare and blink. Then reality dawned. “Why, you rascal—!”
“Oh, come on, Lark, sweetie, don’t tell me you didn’t guess?” He grinned at her.
“I—I’m not Lark, I’m—”
“And a liar, too.” He laughed and pulled up his pants. “How stupid did you think I was, kid? I knew it was you from the start.”
She was stammering in confusion. “How could you? I mean, I have a twin sister—”
He sat down on the bed and began pulling on his boots. “Yes, and you told me back in Buck Shot that you were mirror twins. Remember I noticed we were both left-handed? A mirror twin’s sister would have to be right-handed.”
She was so furious with him, she was shaking. “You bastard! You misled me—you made me think you were your law-abiding brother.”
He pulled on his boots, stood up, virile and sexy with his bare chest. “You’re more naive than I thought,” he chuckled. “I reckon I figured you were just like me, pretendin’ not to know.”
“I think I’m gonna kill you!” she shrieked, running into the kitchen and looking for a butcher knife.
He followed her. “Why? For givin’ you the time of your life in bed last night?”
She felt the blood rush to her face as she whirled on him. “A gentleman wouldn’t mention that.”
“Lark, I’m no gentleman, I’m a saddle tramp, remember? Now how about that coffee?”
She couldn’t find a butcher knife. “How can you think about coffee at a time like this?” she shouted.
“I’m not just thinkin’ about coffee,” he grinned, “I’m thinkin’ about bacon and biscuits, too.”
“I’ll give you coffee!” She threw the small pot at him. He ducked, and it crashed against the wall behind him.
“Oh come on, sweetie, don’t be mad.”
“Mad?” She was so angry, tears came to her eyes. “I’d like to kill you! I thought I was getting a law-abiding, sweet, gentle sheriff.”
“You didn’t see through that? You’re more naive than I thought.” He grinned and leaned against the door frame.
A thought suddenly came to her. “You’re wanted for bank robbery. I’ll turn you in for the reward.”
“In case you’ve forgotten, you’re also wanted.”
“But I didn’t do anything!” she shrieked. “I was just an innocent dupe—”
“So was I, sweetie. Snake got me into the bank, then something went terribly wrong.”
“I’ll say!” she confronted him. “A teller was killed, you—you murderer!”
He shook his head and his rugged face turned serious. “Lark, I swear I didn’t do that. I dropped my gun, and it went off when it struck the floor.”
“You shot a man in the back.”
He put his hands up in a placating gesture. “I swear I didn’t. With all the confusion, I’m not sure what—”
“How can you stand there and lie, you killer! I’m going to the telegraph office and wire the Texas Rangers—”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Lark.” He caught her arm and whirled her around. “We’ll both end up in the pokey, and Snake is the one really at fault.”
She jerked out of his grasp. “I was only holding the horses.”
He looked at her. “You think they’ll believe that?”
“I’ll explain. My testimony will send you to the gallows, you—you saddle tramp, you.”
“Well, now, Lark, remember you’re my wife, you can’t testify against me.”
Reality crashed down on her. “Oh!” she gasped. “That’s why you did it. You married me to keep me quiet. Why, you rascal, I’ll have it annulled.”
He grinned. “You can’t have it annulled, it’s been consummated. Boy, has it been consummated!”
“You rotten scoundrel!” She swung at him. He ducked and grabbed her, hanging on as she tried to bite his hand.
“Ow, you little wildcat!” He held on to her while she kicked his shins.
“This isn’t a legal marriage,” she howled. “I married you under my sister’s name, and I don’t even know what the hell your legal name is.”
“Tsk! Tsk! Ladies shouldn’t swear!” He hung on to her while she struggled.
“They shouldn’t get mixed up with rascals and bank robbers, either. Do you hear me? This marriage isn’t legal. I’ll testify against you.”
He shrugged and grinned again. “Now, what will folks think? You sleepin’ with a man you may not be legally married to?”
She was so furious, she was gasping for air. “Why, you bastard, you thought this all out. You seduced me, then charmed me into marriage so I couldn’t testify against you.”
“I reckon this is what Texans call a Mexican standoff—and don’t tell me you took serious what I was pokin’ at you in fun?”
“Oh you!” She broke away from him. Grabbing the little sack of flour from the pounding, she threw it at him. It split when it hit him, like a snowy white bomb. Flour went everywhere, making his dark features ghostlike. “You don’t expect me to stay in this marriage, do you? Why, I’ll bet I’m not the only one under an illegal name, I’ll wager you—”
“No, my name really is Lawrence Witherspoon,” he coughed, brushing the flour off his face. “So you’re the one who’s broken the law by marryin’ under your sister’s name. I don’t think the good folk of Rusty Spur will take kindly to the news that the outlaw lady has fooled their dear, sweet sheriff.”
“I’ll tell them their dear, sweet, beloved sheriff is an outlaw and a saddle bum,” she seethed.
“Now, sweetie, do you think anyone will believe you?”
“I am not going to stay in the same house with you!” she shouted. “I’ll move back to the hotel.”
“Suit yourself.” He grinned again. “Really will start tongues awaggin’. You want the ladies to gossip about you?”
She thought a long moment, and another thought hit her that was even more hurtful. “You knew from the first. You only married me to protect yourself from my testimony.”
“Well, the benefits were good, too,” he admitted. “I’ll take some more of what I got last night.”
“You rascal, you rotten sonovabitch!” Lark was boiling over, grabbing stuff off the kitchen counter to throw at him. “Y
ou took my innocence.”
“Sweetie, I didn’t take it, you were pushin’ it at me as eagerly as some saloon whore—”
“And I reckon you’d know about saloon whores.”
He grinned. “Reckon I do. Now let’s be sensible and calm down.”
“Calm down. Calm down?” Her voice rose to a high pitch. “Oh, I’ll calm down, all right, you—you scoundrel. From now on, until I decide what to do, you sleep on the couch.”
“But you enjoyed last night too,” he reminded her. Her face felt hot as the blood rushed to it.
“No, I didn’t,” she lied. “And we’re not legally married.”
He grinned and winked. “That don’t make me no never mind. You know in Texas, we got something called common law marriage. Reckon that’s what we got.”
“Not on your life!”
“If it really bothers you,” he said, “we could go to another county and get married again.”
“You don’t understand!” she screamed. “I don’t want to marry you again—I don’t want to be married to you at all.”
“Now, Lark, you don’t mean that.”
“Oh, but I do.”
He ran his hand through his black, tousled hair. “You ain’t too grateful for the pleasure I gave you last night.”
She flushed again. “Will you stop about last night?”
“It was pretty damned good, you’ll have to agree.” He sighed as if remembering.
“I’ll not agree to anything, you cheap, four-flushing thief. What did you do with all the money from the bank robbery? Gamble it away? Spend it on cheap whores and liquor?”
“Don’t I wish?” He shrugged. “Actually, I didn’t get a dime. I’m not quite sure what happened to the money.”
“Don’t give me that! I saw those bags you and that Snake Hudson were carrying as you ran out of the bank.”
He shrugged again. “Snake must have gotten the money—I didn’t get any. If I was rich, you think I’d be hidin’ out here?”
Georgina Gentry - To Tease a Texan Page 16