Trail of Aces (Hot on the Trail Book 8)

by Merry Farmer

  Olivia slapped a hand to her mouth to keep from giggling. In the process, she lost her balance. Risking soaking his boots, Charlie leapt into the shallow stream to steady her.

  “Are you certain you don’t want me to carry you?” he asked. Again. This time he added, “You can ride on my back and hold on to Barnaby’s lead. We’ll make much better time, and my boots might have a chance to dry out.”

  “Oh.” She twisted and looked down at his feet. The stream ran over his ankles. His boots would never be the same. Fortunately, they served their purpose when Olivia said, “All right. I’ll ride on your back. But just for a while.”

  “Saints be praised.”

  Charlie walked her out of the water, securing Barnaby’s lead on a tree limb before turning and bending down. Olivia stepped cautiously up through the undergrowth to him, put her arms around his neck, and hopped aboard. She was as light as he expected her to be, and with just a little jostling, he secured her, holding her legs near his hips.

  “Now, grab hold of Barnaby’s lead, and we’ll see if we can catch up to where the wagon train should be.”

  Olivia reached over and took hold of Barnaby’s lead, and they were off. It was a relief to be able to move twice as fast and to return to the faint path they’d walked along the night before. Charlie was half convinced the path was used by Indians, or if not them, then deer at least. It was narrow and winding, but clearly worn.

  “Do you think the wagon train has gotten that far ahead of us?” Olivia asked, ducking under a branch.

  “Probably not. They may have a path, but they’ve also got all those wagon and oxen.”

  “I hadn’t thought about it like that.” She adjusted her grip around his neck.

  “If we keep pushing forward, we might even get ahead of them,” Charlie went on. He probably shouldn’t push himself as hard as he was, but that fear that they would end up completely lost was still there, in spite of the plans he and Pete had made.

  “You know, we’d be able to move a lot faster if I had—”

  “Your shoes,” Charlie said at the same time as she said, “—my shoes.”

  The two of them laughed. The jostling interfered with Charlie’s grip on her, but it infused him with light and hope.

  “Imagine where we’d be if I forgot my shoes too,” he said, hoisting her higher up his back.

  “We wouldn’t have made it more than ten feet before you would have gone back for them,” she said. “My shoes, on the other hand…”

  “You’re far tougher than I am, and you know it, Sweet Pea.” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t last ten minutes out here without you.”

  “I don’t believe that.” She ducked around another branch as they started up a slope. “You survived on your own in the streets as a child, after all.”

  He huffed an ironic laugh. “Surviving on the streets out of necessity is a world away from trudging through the woods. My survival skills are of an entirely different sort.”

  A long pause followed his comment before she asked, “How bad were things when you met Chet?”

  A rumble of warning went through him, like the first hint of thunder before the storm on the horizon. “Things were bad.”

  “But you were playing cards, weren’t you?”

  His beautiful, brave, persistent wife. There was no point in keeping things from her. “I might have had a few fancy suits to wear in public for show, but by the time Chet and I ended up at that final table for the tournament in Richmond, I was down to my last dollar. I don’t know what I would have done if he hadn’t brought up his idea.”

  She shifted on his back as if shrugging. “You could have gotten a job somewhere, a shop or on a riverboat.”

  “Me?” He laughed. “Work for someone else? Now tell me, Sweet Pea, could you really see that happening?”

  “Hmm.” The sound was full of doubt.

  He lowered his head and shook it. “Besides, respectable institutions generally take a look at your previous employment and references before they take you on. And I don’t have the skills for a trade.”

  They reached the top of a gentle hill. It provided a nice view of the valley and even hints of sparkle from the Snake River. The sun had dipped well toward the western horizon. There was no telling what time it was, but Charlie’s stomach suggested it was close to supper. He stopped, tilting to indicate that Olivia should hop down.

  “Can you see the wagon train from here?” she asked as she did.

  “Not yet.” Charlie turned in the direction he thought they were and raised a hand to shield his eyes. “It feels like they should be making camp soon.”

  “It might be a good idea for us to make camp too.”

  He pivoted to face her. Wandering through the forest had left a dirty streak on her face and tangled her hair, but she was still radiant in the evening light. A mischievous smile tweaked the corners of his mouth. “Giving up already?”

  She crossed her arms and rested her weight on one hip. “This is a perfect campsite. It’s sheltered, there don’t seem to be as many rocks as our spot from last night, I can still hear the stream below that ledge over there, which means we have a water supply nearby, and we can see into the valley and will notice when the camp lights their fires.”

  Charlie’s brow flew up. “I see that you have all the survival skills I lack.”

  “I have many things you lack,” she said. He laughed and turned to find an appropriate tree to secure Barnaby. “Which is why we’re so perfect together,” she added, so quiet that he almost didn’t hear.

  Slowly, he turned back to her. “Now, haven’t I been telling you that this whole time?”

  Her arms were still crossed, and the wicked grin that came to her weathered face was the most alluring thing he’d ever seen. His body heated and his unmentionables jumped with excitement.

  “Whether you’ve been telling me or not, some messages can only be heard when we’re ready to hear them.”

  She dropped her gaze as she finished, face pinching with remorse. It pierced Charlie’s heart like a bullet. With just a few long strides, he marched up to Olivia, sweeping her into his arms.

  “Olivia, I don’t care if every word I say to you goes in one ear and out the other as long as we’re together. Half the things I say are foolish nothings anyhow.”

  She slipped her arms around his waist and looked up at him with dancing eyes. “I like your foolish nothings, if you must know. No one has ever said a foolish word to me in my life.”

  “Then I’ll speak nothing but brainless malarkey from now on.” He bent his head closer to hers, foreheads touching.

  She laughed. “I hope you speak sense part of the time. You’re far smarter than you give yourself credit for.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “I’ve been a sad fool all my life. The only good thing I ever did was cheating at cards to win your hand.”

  Olivia gasped and stepped back. “You cheated?” The light of teasing and a richer, more intriguing excitement shone in her eyes. “I knew it.”

  “I thought you knew it at the time,” Charlie laughed. “I was dead certain that you were fully aware I was cheating up a blue streak, and that you were bluffing to play along.”

  She clasped her hands to the sides of her blushing face. “I thought you’d won honestly and I was maintaining my honor by marrying you. I wasn’t bluffing.”

  “I realized that about one second before Rev. Kilpatrick asked me if I took you to be my lawfully wedded wife.”

  Olivia dropped her hands and gaped at him, laughter in her eyes. “You waited that long to see if I was bluffing?”

  He inched toward her, reaching for her waist. “Yes?”

  “I wasn’t bluffing.”

  “I know. Neither am I.”

  He closed his arms around her, pulling her flush against his body, and kissed her.

  Olivia didn’t know whether to laugh or gape in wonder at the circumstances of her marriage. So much could have been different if either she or Cha
rlie had backed down. But no, neither of them were the backing down type. She celebrated that fact by sliding her arms over his shoulders to run her fingers through his hair as he kissed her.

  He’d kissed her before, but never had their lips met with such joy, or such eagerness. His mouth was firm and demanding against hers, while at the same time his lips were soft and coaxing. She let him lead her down whatever path he wanted, pressing against him from thigh to chest and parting her lips for him. He met her acceptance with a sigh of completeness and possession, meeting her tongue with his own in a dance that sent flutters to her core. It was the most invigorating and natural thing to feel such an ache in the spot that he’d touched and brought to life so many days ago.

  “Charlie, I’m tired,” she hummed against his lips when he let her come up for breath. Her fingers continued to play with the hair at the back of his neck. She tugged his hat off and let it drop so that she could explore further.

  “Oh?” Uncertain tension shot through him. That didn’t stop him from kissing her again, or from lowering his hand to cradle the curve of her backside.

  The way he squeezed her, lifting her against the hardness between his hips, left Olivia breathless. “I’m tired of running,” she said between kisses. “I’m tired of sacrificing what I want for someone else or for their idea of what’s proper.”

  “Is that so?” In a flash, his anxious tension vanished, only to be replaced by a pulsing, hot anticipation.

  She nodded, lowering one hand to brush his face. “I’m not bluffing. I’m owning up to my choices. I should have learned more about you before we were wed, but I want to be married to you now.”

  “Do you?” His arms tightened around her, his hand on her backside slipped farther between her legs, and he lifted her to the tips of her toes as he kissed her. It was as if he drew magic from her lips as he explored her mouth with his, sucking on her bottom lip and drawing his tongue along hers.

  “Yes,” she whispered once he let her up for air. “Make me your wife.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he answered, his voice rough with desire.

  He shifted his hold on her so that he could run his hands up her sides, circling his palms around the heaviness of her breasts. An instant later, he blinked and stepped back. The frown he wore as he surveyed the forest clearing where they stood and the trees around them was so determined and purposeful that Olivia had to press her fingertips to her kiss-swollen lips to keep from giggling.

  As soon as Charlie found what he wanted, he marched over to where Barnaby was tethered and scrambled to untie the bedrolls from his saddle. Even from a distance, Olivia could see his fingers shaking. It took him several clumsy tries to work the knots loose. As he took the bedrolls to a patch of level ground, soft with moss, she reached for the buttons of her blouse.

  By the time he finished arranging the bedrolls—one on top of the other for added comfort—and stood to turn to her, Olivia had removed all but her chemise and drawers. Charlie flinched—in the best way possible. His eyes glowing with a heat that made Olivia feel like he was the hunter and she was the prey. It was such a delicious, scintillating feeling which only grew more pitched as he walked toward her, unbuttoning his jacket. He tossed that aside, then took off his vest and dropped that, all the while stalking closer.

  She giggled in excitement, her core throbbing with the need for him to touch her again. He paused when he was only a few feet from her, and finished unbuttoning his shirt, then tugged it up over his head and threw it aside. At last, Olivia had a full view of his naked chest, as she’d always wanted. Her body throbbed with longing. Without waiting for an invitation, she surged toward him, reaching to spread her hands across the strong lines and light hair on his chest.

  He drew in a sharp breath at her touch, then let it out on a rumbling sigh as she stroked her hands over his chest and shoulders, then down to his belly. Every part of him was firm and well-formed.

  “If I’d known you were this handsome under your clothes, I would have suggested we go swimming,” she hummed.

  Without a hint of teasing, but with bright light in his eyes, he said, “I can’t swim.”

  “But you saved me at the riv—”

  He pulled her into his arms and kissed her with a passion that left her feeling as though she was drowning. His hands spread across her hips, then slipped against the bare skin of her torso. She gasped and made a sound that would shock her mother as his hands swept up her sides and over her breasts, taking her chemise with it. She raised her arms as he tugged it off and discarded it, then lowered them softly to his shoulders.

  He bent as she threaded her fingers in his hair, bringing his mouth to her shoulders, then kissing a trail across her collarbone and chest to her breasts. He caressed one breast as he closed his mouth over the other. Olivia gasped as he suckled, then licked her taut nipple. The sensations he evoked were dazzling and shot straight to the liquid feeling between her legs. Instinct pounded at her, filling her with the need to be filled with him.

  “Charlie.” She panted his name, pressing her fingertips into his scalp as he continued teasing and laving her breast.

  He heard the plea in her voice and straightened, kissing her lips. As deep and tempting as that kiss was, his hands had her full attention. They tugged the drawstring of her drawers loose, then pushed them down over her hips. He growled low in his throat as he caressed her backside, then snuck one hand around to dig low into her thatch of curls.

  Her knees nearly gave out as he brushed the spot that had given her so much pleasure before. “You’re so wet,” he murmured against her ear, kissing her jaw and neck.

  If that’s what was causing the sensation of liquid heat between her leg—as if it would ignite her soul—then yes, she was wet, for him.

  “I can’t—” Can’t what? Hold on? Wait any longer? Stand on her own?

  Charlie seemed to know. He lifted her into his arms, encouraging her to wrap her legs around him. The motion brought that part of her closer to him, and as he turned and walked to where he’d placed the bedrolls, the friction left her panting.

  He lay her gently on her back, then straightened, hands going to the waist of his trousers. Olivia kept her legs parted, the cool forest air only part of what caused her to shiver as it whispered against a part of her that was so hot. She watched Charlie’s hands as he worked he fastenings of his trousers loose, then pushed them down over his hips. A thrill of excitement and passion and a delicious sort of fear struck her as his staff sprung up once it was free. It was firm and thick. The rounded head glistened with moisture. She’d never seen a man’s part before, but as Charlie knelt between her legs, letting her look her fill, a primal part of her wanted to touch and explore and do any number of things with him.

  She gave in to the urge and reached for him, smoothing her fingers along his shaft at first, then closing her hand around him. He gasped and his whole body tightened, as if resisting some irresistible force.

  “Does it hurt?” she asked, knowing that couldn’t be true.

  “No. It feels good,” he replied through clenched teeth.

  She drew her hand up to the tip, exploring its odd shape and feel. Charlie let out a groan that reminded her of how acute the ache between her legs had become.

  “How should I touch you?” she asked, barely above a whisper, but feeling as bold as if she had shouted.

  “You can touch me any way you like,” he said, though strained. “You can slide your hands over me, up and down, until I spill my seed here in front of you, if that’s what you want to see.” A shiver passed down her spine at the idea and at the memory of how he’d sighed in release in the wagon. “But I think we’d both prefer if I spent inside of you, after thrusting slow and deep in that part of you that’s wet for me.”

  His brash, borderline crude words sent that same wicked tremor of longing through her that they had before. It hardly seemed possible that words that would never be acceptable in polite society should make her ache for him so desperat
ely, but he was her husband. She bit her lip, glanced up into his fiery eyes, and gave his staff one last stroke before relaxing and laying back. She let her arms drift up to lay against the forest carpet of leaves and pine needles, surrendering to him completely.

  The spark in Charlie’s eyes and the voracious growl deep in his chest told her he couldn’t resist what she was offering…and that he appreciate it. Without fully kicking off his trousers, he lowered himself over top of her, instantly heating her body with his own. The feeling of him poised there, so much power in her arms, was as arousing as his touch. It felt even better when she lifted her legs to encompass his hips and thighs.

  He kissed her lips, her jaw and neck, but she could feel his control slipping. With a shaky sigh, he reached between them, positioning himself at her opening. A quick burst of pleasure at the contact of his hard shaft with the part of her that ached so desperately for him took her breath away. When he pushed inside of her, she gasped and bucked against him.

  There was a brief moment of discomfort, a slight burning as her maidenhead gave way, but all that was instantly forgotten as he began to move in her. He filled her so perfectly, full and expansive. She wanted more and more, her need driven higher by the hungry, almost desperate sounds he made with each thrust. Those sounds sent her pulse soaring. They were so honest and true, and revealed the pleasure he felt as he thrust, more than any words could. She dug her fingers into his back and backside as he moved, each push and its accompanying moan sending her closer and closer to the edge.

  And then she was there, bursting apart with light and pleasure, made more wonderful by the feeling of him inside of her, her tremors squeezing him as he moved. He must have felt it, because moments later he tensed, cried out, and she felt a warm rush deep inside. Everything about it sent light and joy swirling through her, and with them, the triumph of knowing that she was well and truly Charlie’s wife now.

  Chapter Eighteen