Trail of Aces (Hot on the Trail Book 8)

by Merry Farmer

  “To tell you the truth, Sweet Pea, whatever plans I had for the end of the trail have been utterly rearranged.”

  His comment was enough to jolt her awake. She lifted her head to look at him. “What do you mean?”

  With a tender smile, Charlie freed one hand from their bundle of blankets and stroked the side of her face. His touch was electric. “I’m not sure what I’ll do when I reach the end of the trail. Before, I thought maybe a trip to San Francisco, further south into Mexico. I’d even considered taking a ship back around to New York, or even Europe.”

  Olivia held her breath. “You were going to take the money and run.”

  He nodded, once, simply.

  “But not now?”

  A tender smile touched his lips. “Not unless you want to tour the castles of Prussia with me.”

  Her heart fluttered in her chest. The closeness between them sent her awareness to every part of their bodies that touched. She was aware of her soft curves pressed tight against his hard muscles.

  “I want to teach,” she said as she’d said so many times before. “I want to make a difference in the lives of young people. I want to educate them, to give them a chance to better themselves.” She focused on his eyes, her heart pounding with the emotion of what little he’d told her about his childhood. “I want to give young people the tools so that they never have to worry about being hungry or…or…” She couldn’t bring herself to say “or turning to crime to survive.”

  Charlie must have heard the words in her heart anyhow. His embrace tightened, and he slanted his mouth over hers in a kiss filled with such tenderness that her heart cracked open in her chest. Liquid warmth spilled through her, filling her and gathering in her core. She leaned into his kiss, meeting him passion for passion.

  They twined together in such a confused, awkward bundle that Olivia wasn’t entirely sure where she ended and he began. His heart thumped against her arm, his thigh trapped and warmed her feet, and something firm pressed against her hip. It could just as easily have been the handle of some tool or another supply or—no, she was fooling herself if she thought that. She knew what that stiffness was, and her body responded with its own, complimentary reaction.

  Charlie shifted her in his arms so that her breasts pressed fully against his chest. Better still, he lowered his hand from her cheek to cradle the side of one breast. Olivia shuddered with pleasure, arching her back and cheating toward him so that he could touch her more fully. A thousand wild thoughts rushed through her brain—what it would be like if they wore no clothes, whether he would let her touch the part of him that was hard against her hip, whether anyone would notice if they—

  She pulled back with a short gasp that turned into panting. “We can’t.”

  “Can’t what?” His grin was devilish, and the spark in his eyes made her want to go right back to doing what they’d been doing and more.

  “Can’t…can’t…” She lowered her eyes, unsure how to say what her head kept telling her needed to be said. “We can’t be a married couple in the snow with so many people around.”

  Charlie laughed out loud. The vibration rattled her more than she was already rattled. “All right then, Sweet Pea. We’ll wait until we’re in Oregon City. We’ll find ourselves a nice hotel. It’ll have a big bed, soft sheets, and a warm quilt. We’ll undress each other slowly.”

  His hand dropped from her breast to her leg. Olivia sagged with disappointment, until he began to pull up the fabric of her skirt to the point where he could slid his hand underneath and up her thigh. She caught her breath, unable to draw in a new one as his fingers inched closer to the split in her drawers.

  “Once we have no clothes, we’ll slither between those sheets, our bodies rubbing in all the right places.”

  Something about the word “slither,” combined with the heat in his heavy-lidded eyes sent a shiver through her. That shiver flashed tenfold when his fingers brushed through the split in her drawers and touched her most intimate place. Olivia gasped and squirmed. Her body wanted something, but she was at a loss to know what or how to get it.

  “That’s right,” Charlie whispered. He pressed one hand against the joint of her hip under her drawers while tugging at her waist with his other hand. The result was that she pivoted, legs inching open as she straddled him. With his hand so close to the unbearable ache he’d created between her legs, she felt exposed—under three layers of clothes and a blanket.

  Even still, she circled her arms around his shoulders and leaned her forehead against his. His fingers brushed back over that aching part of her. When he curled them up to dip two just inside of her entrance, she gasped and arched against him.

  He responded with a groan that held surprise and arousal, and pressed his fingers further into her. Olivia made a sound she’d never heard from herself before, her body a riot of feeling. Heaven help her, she wanted to press down on his fingers, sending them further inside of her, over and over. The urge to move like that was the hardest thing she’d ever had to resist.

  “You’ll be as wet then as you are now.” Charlie’s voice dropped to an impassioned purr. “And as much as I’ll want to sink every inch of my hard, hot cock inside of you—” She gasped at his use of such a harsh word, then thrilled at the hungry wickedness his crudeness raised in her. “—I’ll want to kiss and caress every inch of your naked body first.”

  Another subtle shift of his hand, and his thumb grazed across a part of her that blazed with pleasure. His fingers slipped deeper inside of her as his thumb worked over that nub, and it was all she could do not to bow against him and bear down on his hand. She whimpered at the sensations he was causing in spite of herself.

  “You’ll like being splayed naked in front of me, Sweet Pea,” he whispered, nibbling at her earlobe as his hand continued to send waves of pleasure spiraling up through her. “I can tell that underneath all that goodness and honor and purpose, you want to be bad. So bad.” His thumb worked circles around that part of her that was ready to burst.

  Dear God, he was right. She wanted to be so very bad with him. But who was to say that when a man was your husband, anything you did together was bad? Oh no, in the marriage bed, everything was good. Very, very good. This man was her husband, and it was about time they explored that.

  She ground her hips against his hand, urging his fingers deeper. Charlie sucked in a vocal breath and rewarded her by moving his fingers inside of her. He hit a spot that left her gasping and breathless as his thumb continued to tease her. It was all too much, and with a gasp and sigh of pleasure, her inner muscles contracted and shuddered with exquisite sensation.

  “That’s it, my darling,” Charlie purred against her ear with possessive intensity. His fingers worked faster inside of her as he jerked his hips against hers. “Come for me.”

  Whatever that meant, she loved it. Her body was alive with sensation, heat, and joy. He didn’t stop there. As she leaned into him, he moved his hand from her back to take her hand from his shoulder and guide it between them, right to the hardness hidden by his trousers. It only took a few strokes for him to show her what he wanted, and only a few more exciting moments of rubbing him through his trousers before he tensed, then caught his breath, then went limp with a drawn-out sigh. Olivia felt the front of his trousers dampen under her hand.

  Before she could be alarmed by his reaction, Charlie broke into laughter that shook both of their loose and sated bodies. “That wasn’t particularly smart of me,” he chuckled, gruff and panting. “Unmanning myself on a freezing night when washing and changing clothes is next to impossible.”

  “Oh.” Olivia couldn’t think of anything else to say. Her breathing and raging heart still hadn’t returned to normal. If they ever would. “Do you need clean trousers?”

  “Yes.” His laughter increased, and instead of reaching for his trunk, he held her tighter. “Yes, I do, because my beautiful, surprising wife has turned out to be more than I can handle.”

  “I’m sorry?” It
didn’t feel right to apologize, particularly as she rested her disoriented body against his.

  Charlie adjusted the blanket to wrap them tightly together. “Sorry is the last thing I want you to be after that. But I promise I’ll hold out much longer next time.”

  “Next time?” She pulled back, staring hard at him. “Charlie, I’m not sure there can be a next time. Not on the trail, not until we…that us, until Chet…the money…”

  “I know, I know, Sweet Pea.” He drew her back against him, tender and sweet this time instead of hot and fiery. “We’ve still got things to work out.”

  Olivia rested her head against his shoulder, listening to his heart slow from its furious pounding. A real rogue and blackguard would take what he wanted and force her to be his wife, no matter what she wanted. Charlie may have lost control, but he was still giving her time, still bowing to her wishes. She closed her eyes, marveling over it all. If only she could let go of her last shred of resistance and accept him the way he was accepting her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  She’d let him touch her. Intimately. And she’d enjoyed it far more than she ever would have believed. So much so that by the time Olivia had crept out of Charlie’s wagon before he stirred from sleep the next morning, her rebellious heart was already looking for ways to curl up in his arms and experiment with intimate touching even more. Something raw and powerful had come over her when he moved her hand to stroke him, even with his trousers in the way. His surrender had been complete, and the way he quickened then released gave her a sense of mastery and tenderness combined. It had almost been as if—

  “Olivia. Land sakes, girl, where is your head this morning?” Mrs. Hamilton scolded her as they pushed on through the snowy valley. “You’d think we were traipsing through fields of daisies the way your eyes have been wandering.”

  “I’m entitled to get lost in my own thoughts once in a while, Mrs. Hamilton.” For once, Olivia defended herself. Her thoughts had been startlingly nice, even if they did leave her feeling as though she didn’t know which way was up.

  “Well! Listen to the queen address her court.” Mrs. Hamilton shook her head and smacked the backside of the oxen she and Olivia walked beside.

  “Careful, Bea,” Mr. Hamilton called from the other side of the oxen. “There’s not much room over here on the path.”

  Mrs. Hamilton grumbled something under her breath. Olivia did her best to feel sympathetic for the woman. She clearly wasn’t happy and had only been trying to vent her anger by snipping. On the other hand, if Charlie, her husband, didn’t like the way Mrs. Hamilton spoke to her, maybe she should do more than let the barbs fly and brush them off after the fact.

  Charlie cared about her. It was as obvious as it was surprising. He didn’t have to care for her. It was her fault they were married, and it was her fault they were separated. He hadn’t done anything during the course of their journey but be who he was. The fact that she didn’t know everything him was more her negligence than his. And what she knew about him now changed things.

  She knew he’d had a miserable childhood and had learned to bend and perhaps break the rules to survive. She knew he had found a moment of rest and a moral compass, thanks to the Brothers of Saint Benedict. She knew he had been jerked and teased along into the life that he had lived with Chet. And she knew that in the dark, when the two of them were close, his hands could do marvelous things to parts of her that she’d never considered before. Her body ached with remembered need just thinking about the sensation of his touch. And the way he’d spoken to her—like she was as earthy and base as…as he was. Her cheeks burned to remember how much she’d liked that. If her mother could hear—

  “For the love of heaven, Olivia. Pay attention.”

  Olivia snapped her eyes up, ready to glare at Mrs. Hamilton and give the woman a piece of her mind like she’d never seen before, but her anger froze at the sight of Chet’s amiable grin. When had he started walking with them? Olivia checked over her shoulder to see if Charlie was close. Lucky for her, he was not only a few yards behind her, kicking aside puffs of snow as he marched, his eyes held a steel that told her he would be there the moment she needed him…but not before she was ready.

  “I hesitate to ask what wonders could be so fascinating that they would set your cheeks glowing like that, Mrs. Garrett,” Chet said. He shifted is speed so that he could walk by Olivia’s side. Mrs. Hamilton hung back to walk on his other side, even with the wagon instead of the oxen. She frowned, as if jealous Chet was speaking to Olivia instead of her.

  Olivia opened her mouth to reply “Nothing,” to Chet’s question. She pressed her lips together and huffed out a breath. “I don’t see as how it’s any of your business what thoughts I use to keep myself warm and occupy my time walking through this wretched snow.”

  Her snappishness surprised even herself. Heavens above, had Charlie reached some sort of lever inside of her that opened floodgates of indignation at being spoken to as if she were a whipping boy or a joke? On second thought, it was probably better not to think about Charlie’s fingers exploring inside of her at the moment.

  Chet laughed at her outburst, although the wariness underneath his amusement hinted that he hadn’t expected her to answer with a backbone. “Right you are.” He nodded instead. “I was just assuming you were contemplating a warmer, finer life than this.”

  “I certainly was,” Mrs. Hamilton said.

  “A life in a fine house surrounded by nice things,” Chet went on, ignoring Mrs. Hamilton, much to her annoyance. “A life of social events and parties, with you decked out in fine jewels.”

  Olivia considered continuing her newfound shrewishness and snapping at Chet that she didn’t have Charlie’s jewels, didn’t know what he’d done with them, and didn’t care if they were dropped by the side of the road, never to be seen again.

  Only, that wasn’t quite true. She knew exactly where the locked box was. Her knee had been wedged against it for part of the night in the bed of Charlie’s wagon. And she did care what happened to them. Charlie’s safety and security didn’t just rest in Chet not hurting him in an attempt to steal the jewels, the more Olivia pieced together the bits of Charlie’s past, the more she suspected his entire future hung on what became of the treasure that had once belonged to a man named Josiah. For every thing she learned about Charlie, she realized there were ten more that she didn’t know.

  “She’s suspiciously silent,” Chet said to Mrs. Hamilton, leaning closer to the woman. “What do you suppose that means?”

  “It means she doesn’t have two thoughts worth beans to rub together,” Mrs. Hamilton answered.

  Chet laughed out loud, but there was something decidedly fake about it. In fact, the more Olivia studied Chet as he switched his attention to Mrs. Hamilton and chattered away about his adventures on a river, guiding a boat upstream somewhere, the more forced his entire persona became. She caught herself wondering if Charlie had seen that years ago, if that’s the man he saw now. She wondered how false Charlie had seemed to others in the heyday of his deceptions.

  She continued to wonder as the day went on. Fortunately for the entire wagon train, after midday, the sun broke out from behind the clouds, warming the valley. By the time it set that night, most of the snow had melted. Olivia made her bed on the cold, muddy ground by herself that night, even though her body begged her to climb back into Charlie’s wagon. They were married, after all. There was no harm in anything they’d done or anything they would do. Except that her mind didn’t quite believe that. If a marriage was nothing but official, was it still a marriage?

  The question kept her tossing and turning well after dark. By the time she rolled herself out of bed the next morning and rushed to change into the freshest clothes she had as a cold breeze blew down from the mountains, she still didn’t have an answer.

  “I wish Pete would let you open the school again.” Josephine walked beside her that day, as the slight incline they’d been slogging along for a week f
inally leveled off. “The children are fussy and keep getting into trouble.”

  “Then I’m not sure they’d be able to focus on lessons,” Olivia argued.

  “Maybe.” Josephine sighed. “Truth is, I’m not sure what my little brood of Chances needs. Libby has been so moony lately, and Luke can’t wait to get into trouble. Freddy and Muriel are toughing it out, but the bloom has gone off the rose of this trip for them.”

  “I know how they feel.” Olivia sent a sympathetic glance to Muriel, who walked with Freddy a few feet on Josephine’s other side. They’d linked arms to keep warm, but the gesture had the look of two waifs supporting each other for dear life. “Things will be better as soon as we get through the mountains and on to lower ground.”

  “That’s what Pete keeps telling me,” Josephine hummed.

  “He seems like a man who knows what he’s talking about.”

  “He is.” Josephine suddenly beamed from ear to ear. “Knows what he’s doing too. But don’t tell him I said that.” Her cheeks glowed as if…as if…

  Olivia coughed as the thought struck her, covering her smile with her hand. Maybe she wasn’t the only one keeping warm in unusual ways at night.

  “I’ll feel much better once we get to the Snake River,” Josephine continued, either not knowing or not caring what Olivia made of her statement.

  “I’m sure I will too.” The sooner they got to the Snake River, the sooner they would be able to start the last leg of their journey.

  When they finally did reach the Snake River, near Ft. Hood, a few days later, Olivia wasn’t so sure of that statement. The weather had warmed up considerably, but as a result, the river where they were supposed to cross was swollen and choppy.

  “I need everyone to line their wagons up along the bank here,” Pete called over the muttering, anxious pioneers once everyone had parked between the trees and the rushing water. “We’ll need to float about half a mile downstream until we get to the safest place to cross. It’s not like the Platte.”