Once a Lawman

by Raine Cantrell

  “I wasn’t laughing at what you said, but your natural manipulating manner.”

  “I do not manipulate.”

  “Sure you do, honey. Not that—”

  “I thought we agreed you would not call me—”

  “Right,” he said over her sputtering. “Like I was saying, I’m not objecting. I admire a woman who knows her own mind and knows how to get what she wants.”

  Belinda’s mouth fell open.

  Conner had to tilt his head to the side to peer at her. “Catch a lot of flies that way.”

  “You surprised me. I can hardly credit what I heard. I expected a man like you to—”

  “Don’t make assumptions about a man like me.”

  “All right, I will not. But you admitted that you admired me.”

  “Let me guess. No one ever said that to you.”

  “You ask too many personal questions.”

  “Helps pass the time if you answer me.” But Conner already had the answer. “C’mon, tell me.”

  “My uncle made a similar remark on a few occasions.”

  “Not one of your suitors?”

  The wheels hit a rut and she was thrown against him. Conner moved like lightning to fling one arm in front of her so she wouldn’t fall forward. For a moment, he had a glimpse of regret in her eyes, then she quickly moved to right herself.

  He wasn’t sure what the regret was for, some suitor she missed, or some suitor who had stopped courting her because he’d felt threatened by her strong-willed nature. He’d wager it was the latter, but he wasn’t going to ask her.

  Conner couldn’t understand a man who wanted a clinging vine sort of woman. Life was harsh and uncertain in the territory. A man often left his home for days at a time, and needed to know his woman could not only protect herself but make decisions that often meant the difference between life and death.

  Growing up with a strong-willed woman like his mother made him see firsthand the advantages a man gained with an independent-thinking woman. The good Lord knows, his sisters-in-law weren’t shrinking violets. Ty and Logan wouldn’t have it any other way.

  But he couldn’t help wishing that Belinda would toss off her restraint with him. He liked her better when she sassed him.

  “You never answered my question of why you came for me, Conner.”

  “I sent your telegram to your uncle. Naturally, I read it first.”

  “Naturally,” she repeated in a sarcastic tone.

  “I had to see what you were up to. By the way, I received replies to the telegrams I sent.”

  “And you discovered that I told you the truth?”

  “Yeah, but I’d already figured that out for myself.”

  “Then why did—”

  “I had to buy time for Logan and Jessie to talk to the boys. You don’t know what they’ve been through before they came here. These past months have been happy ones for them. The nightmares have stopped, most of them. And the boys are loved as if they were born Kincaids. That’s why I gave you such a hard time.”

  “I see,” she murmured.

  “I hope you do. This isn’t going to be easy on anyone. My mother talked to the boys, Logan and Jessie did, too. Kenny lied to protect the little one by saying they were cousins.”

  “Kenny is the other boy?”

  “He looks like a boy, but he talks and figures things like a man. I can’t wait for you to meet him.”

  There was a teasing promise in his voice that forced Belinda to look at him. Hunched over as he was, guiding the team through a shallow stream, she could not see much of his face.

  “Conner, I have a feeling there is more to your coming to get me that you are not telling me.”

  “Smart woman.” He thought about telling her that he wanted to be the first to show her the Kincaid lands, but not when he was forced to speak in a whisper so Dillion couldn’t hear him. He had too much pride, just like the woman who sat beside him.

  There were places he wanted to show Belinda, places that he’d never shared with anyone else. The thought that she would enjoy them, enjoy being with him, had planted itself in his mind and no amount of persuasion would remove it. Another one of those things that concerned Belinda that didn’t make any sense to him.

  But then, he reminded himself, he’d never lost sleep over a woman before she’d burst into his life.

  “There’s a rise up ahead. You’ll have to tell your escort he can wait there. Once we cross over, we’re on Kincaid land and I don’t want someone taking potshots at him after he was so agreeable to you.”

  “He was more than that. He saved my life.”

  Belinda tilted her parasol so that her move to lean forward and look up at Conner’s face wouldn’t be seen.

  “You know, lawman, you can catch a lot of flies with your mouth hanging open.”

  Conner closed his mouth with a teeth-snapping crunch. Belinda’s soft, delighted laughter washed over him.

  “I don’t know what the devil’s funny,” he snapped from between clenched teeth. “How did he save your life? You get your fancy shoe stuck—”

  “No, Conner. We were shot at the night I left you.”

  “Shot at?”

  “I cannot wait until you take that ridiculous hat off. Maybe then you will hear me.”

  “Don’t get testy. Tell Dillion to wait here, and then you’re going to tell me what happened to you.”

  “I thought you might know all about it, Sheriff.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “Dillion,” she called out, “I believe you know this is as far as you can ride with us. If I am detained, I shall make sure that someone informs you.”

  “I’ll wait till sunset. If you ain’t back, I’m coming looking for you.”

  Belinda sighed. She was not going to engage in an argument with him. Judging from the white-knuckled grip Conner had on the reins, she was going to have all the argument she could handle from him.

  She gathered herself as the minutes slipped by. She knew Conner would wait until they were well away from Dillion. She had not meant to reveal the momentary suspicions she held about Conner being involved, but it had slipped out. Now she worried about paying the devil his due.

  Chapter Twelve

  Conner cautioned himself to wait as he guided the team over a flat stretch of land. In the distance an overcast sky threatened rain before the day’s end.

  He had chafed at the added delay driving the buckboard brought, but in view of what Belinda told him, he was glad the trip to the house would be longer.

  Why would anyone shoot at her? How could a lovely, educated woman like Belinda have enemies that wanted her dead?

  Her accusation that he knew something about the shooting rankled. He’d never hurt a woman in his life, and he wasn’t going to allow that remark to stand. He wanted time, uninterrupted time, to question her.

  Abruptly Conner swung the team. He headed toward the stand of cottonwood trees on Ouajaia Creek.

  Belinda tightened her hold on the ivory handle of the parasol. The change in direction meant Conner was not going to wait. Why did the thought of being alone with him set her heart thumping so fast?

  The air was warm. Crystal-clear water tumbled over a rock-strewn bed. Cottonwood trees, blooming with new spring growth, proudly displayed their lush foliage.

  Conner led the horses into the thick, hock-high grass and stopped. He shoved the pole brake in place. Flies gathered, buzzing the horses, the droning heard over the soothing sound of running water. He whipped off the sombrero and poncho, tossing them into the bed of the buckboard. Tunneling the fingers of both hands through his thick hair, he glanced up. The overhanging branches laced together to form a bower, as private a place as a man could want.

  But he wasn’t here to court Belinda. A sharp reminder he needed to remember.

  She set the closed parasol on the seat between them and sat quietly in profile to him.

  Conner leaned back, flinging one arm over the back o
f the seat behind her. Two inches separated her very straight spine from his fingers. For a moment he was tempted to slide his hand up her rigid spine right into the wealth of blond hair so neatly pinned beneath her hat.

  What happened to remembering you aren’t here to court her?

  “Well, Conner,” she said very softly, “you are not yelling. I expected that at the very least.”

  “I don’t want to yell at you.”

  “You want to argue?”

  “Nope. I want to know why you accused me of knowing you’d been shot at.”

  “Dillion thought it was you. He told me what happened at the jail the night before. He said you would do anything to place Charles in jail. Even killing me.”

  Conner didn’t move. His fingers curved around the wood of the backrest in a fierce grip. “And you believed him?” Rage shook his voice.

  “I never said that.”

  “But you had your doubts, didn’t you? Don’t bother to lie to me.”

  “I have no intention of lying to you about this or anything else, Conner.”

  The absolute conviction in her voice cut through his rage. “I couldn’t have shot at you. I left town right after you did. Only I went in the opposite direction to take my prisoners to Estralla. The sheriff over there is a friend of mine who hates rustlers more than I do. He lost his wife and two sons when they tried to stop men from stealing their cattle.”

  “I am sorry.”

  “Why, Belinda? You don’t know him.”

  She stared down at her folded hands. “It is the polite thing to say. The right thing.”

  “Always so contained, always doing the right thing. Tell me, Belinda, what’s the right thing for you?”

  “There you go, asking personal questions again.”

  “It seems the only way to get you to snap the leash you keep on yourself.”

  “I do not keep a leash on myself.” She rounded on him. Her gaze clashed with his. The look in his eyes was sensual and caressive, openly speculative. She was the one to look away. “If you left town right after I did when did you send my telegram?”

  There was an edge in her voice that made Conner think she fought not to reveal how important that telegram was to her. “I sent it first. It doesn’t take all that long to walk two doors down from the café. This isn’t the city, Belinda, where they line up waiting to use the telegraph.”

  “So you keep reminding me.”

  “Maybe,” he admitted after a few tense moments, “it’s a reminder for me.”

  Belinda’s gaze strayed to the long length of his muscular legs that moved beneath taut black cloth as he shifted his seat and angled his body into the corner.

  Conner gave in to the need to touch her. His hand moved from the backrest of the seat to trace the line of tiny tucks up the back of her shirtwaist. The thin, soft material allowed him to feel the warmth of her skin and the betraying tremor his touch caused her.

  “Belinda, look at me.”

  “Your mother must be wondering where I am.”

  “No, she won’t. She knows you’re with me. Safe as a babe in its mother’s arms. Just as safe as you want to be.”

  Safe? It was not the word she would use to describe how she felt. Being with Conner in a seductive mood put her in mind of walking around a quicksand pit. Dangerous. Very dangerous. One slip and…and you do not want to know?

  Belinda fought to hush temptation’s voice. Safe was the very last thing she wanted to be with Conner, but she could not tell him that. Conner would grab hold of such an admission and believe it granted him all sorts of liberties. Forbidden ones. Delicious ones? Conner’s light, caressing touch played havoc with all her good intentions.

  “If you won’t look at me, Belinda, at least talk to me. Tell me where you were when the shooting began.”

  This was safe. Without hesitation she told him, striving for a controlled delivery, but as she recalled those terror-filled minutes, she heard the betraying quiver in her voice.

  Conner resisted the urge to gather her close to him, to stop her and swear that she’d never face such fear again. He had no choice but to let her finish. Alarm grew as he puzzled the why of it. Added to his confusion was wondering where the fierce protectiveness for Belinda came from.

  He knew what his brothers called him behind his back, and never in fond terms: Conner the caretaker. He never denied it. There wasn’t a place in his memory when he’d ever turned from an animal or a person in need.

  And Belinda struck him as a needy woman, more than she was aware of being.

  He had to be ruthless in shoving aside his personal musings. Someone had shot at her. He refused to even consider that Dillion had been the target. It still didn’t make a lick of sense to him, unless…

  “And what did Riverton say when you got back to his ranch?”

  “Charles was not there. He had been called away to Tucson on business.”

  “How convenient.”

  “Sarcasm does not become you, Conner. Why would he want me dead?”

  “Why, indeed? Why would anyone want to kill you?” He watched her so intently that he caught the telltale tightening of her lips. “You know, or at least suspect someone, don’t you?”

  “No one knows that I am here.”

  “That doesn’t answer me.”

  She closed her eyes and her cousin Albert’s face came to mind. Was he so desperate to stop her that he would send someone to kill her?

  Conner decided to allow her to keep her secrets for now. But the thought still rankled that she had entertained the suspicion that he was behind the shooting.

  “Belinda, why did you suspect me? And don’t tell me it’s because Dillion said it.”

  “Because of the boy. You strongly opposed my being here. You did not want me to meet him.”

  He wanted to shatter that calm, cool facade, until he saw the betraying tremble of her mouth. The silence grew, and with it, tension wove itself between them. Conner fought with himself to concentrate on what she had said, not think about the smooth pale sheen of her skin or the way her mouth had fitted his as if those lips had been shaped for his.

  He hadn’t stopped touching her. It was only a move to torment himself, but he couldn’t seem to stop. She’d made no protest, and he could feel the tremors deepen with every slow, sweeping caress of his hand against her back.

  “C-Conner?”

  Instead of answering her, he gazed down at her hands, nervously twisting in her lap. He reached out with his left hand to catch hold of one of her gloved hands. He wasn’t smiling when she threw him a startled glance, he merely lifted the hand to his lips.

  “What are you doing?” The heat of his mouth touched her skin through the fine kid material. All her senses came alive in a way that both excited and frightened her. “Conner, we should—”

  “Get rid of these damnable gloves and do what’s best for what ails you. And me,” he noted in a hushed, intimate voice. He grinned to see her brown eyes widen, but not with alarm. Working the glove free from her hand, he tucked the offending material into his pants pocket.

  “I’m getting a collection of these gloves, for all the times we—”

  “I intend to leave here as soon as my uncle arrives.”

  “I know.” He held her gaze with his, hearing again the regret in her voice and not the words of caution.

  “Then why—” She stopped herself, no longer wishing to hear his answer.

  “Start something that can’t go anywhere?” he finished for her. He kissed her fingertips, watching her eyes, and the flare of sensual curiosity that mixed with an innocence he hadn’t noticed before. “If I knew why, Belinda, I’d stop myself.”

  “Can you?”

  “I don’t believe I want to.”

  Conner studied the arch of her brows, and the sweep of her lashes, noting again the contrast they made to her blond hair. He gave in to the urge to run his finger down the straight shape of her nose, then drifted lower to trace the line of her mouth.

/>   “Maybe I’m curious,” he mused. “And then, it might be something more.”

  An expression of uncertainty flitted across her face. Poise deserted her. The blatant appraisal in his gray eyes challenged and aroused her. Belinda had never been so aware of herself as a woman, a desirable woman if she judged by Conner’s darkening gaze. The small net that temptation had presented rose up to ensnare her. Under its blossoming, she lost the will to fight. All the trappings that had been her protection drifted away in a moment, just as they had the first time she had met Conner Kincaid.

  His fingers caressed her cheek. Heat trailed behind his lightest touch. She held her breath, waiting, as he slid his fingers around to slowly curve over her bare nape and, just as slowly, giving her every chance to stop him, he drew her toward him.

  Belinda managed to lift her hand. Hesitantly she placed it on his chest. The incredibly soft blue cloth of his shirt, pulled taut over muscles rigid with tension, invited her touch. The rapid beat of his heart assured her that Conner was not immune to the sensual heat that built between them.

  “C-Conner, you…you cannot go around satisfying every bit of curiosity you have. Such indulgence is considered…” He drew her nearer. “Is…” Their breaths wove together in an erratic, highly charged cadence.

  “Is what? Sinful?” He laughed softly at her frown. “Funny thing about curiosity. I never did learn not to satisfy mine. What about you, Belinda? Aren’t you a little curious?” She was staring at him with a bemused expression. “Yeah. Just a little bit curious.”

  Tunneling his fingers beneath the thick, silky coil of her hair, he murmured in an intimately hushed voice, “So let’s explore that something.”

  Conner gently tilted her head. “Yes, perfect.” The angle allowed him access to her slightly parted mouth. “Yes,” he repeated as she closed her eyes, “let’s see if it’s sin or bliss.”

  Drawn against him, Belinda’s hip butted the heavy muscle of his thigh as she half reclined on his side. “Your gun…do you ever take it off, Conner?”

  “When I make love to a woman. If I reach for the buckle, run like the devil’s chasing you.”

  Run? She did not think her legs would hold her to stand much less run away. She felt the mere brush of his mouth against her cheek. He was going to kiss her and she had not wished for…A lie. Yes, she answered the little nagging voice, it is a lie. His lips grazed her temple. Warmth trickled down inside to weaken her knees. She did not move when his light, teasing caress roamed across her forehead down to the corner of her eye. Her lips parted a little more, waiting, eager now for his kiss.