The Texas Ranger

by Diana Palmer

  "I don'tunderstand what's happening to me," she managed to say, shivering.

  He smiled slowly. "You will," he said. And he eased down beside her.

  Chapter Seventeen

  » ^

  In the tempestuous minutes that followed, Josie learned more about her own body than she'd ever known. His hands were expert as they brought her from one peak of pleasure to another, only to let her down gently at the last minute and start all over again.

  "You're killing me!" she protested wildly, as he stopped short again and rolled across the bed with her, one long, hard-muscled leg between both of hers as he bent to her breasts again and suckled her.

  His fingers dug in at the top of her thighs and he chuckled against her body as he drew his hair-roughened leg against the inside of her soft one. "That's the idea," he murmured.

  "What?"

  Brannon nipped her shoulder before his mouth moved back up her chin to torment her swollen, soft mouth. "That's what they call it. The little death."

  "Marc," she groaned as his mouth bit hard into hers. Her hands were buried in the damp thickness of his wavy hair and her body was trembling. So was his. She wondered at his stamina, because it seemed a long time since he'd undressed her. He was still fiercely aroused, but when she lifted to tempt him, he only moved away again.

  She felt him touching her as the hunger built to flash point. She steeled herself for another sudden stop, but it didn't happen. This time, he sank into her. She felt him with awe, with wonder, as her body protested just faintly the newness of invasion.

  He lifted his head and looked into her wide eyes. His face was clenched and she felt him shiver with every hard downward movement of his hips. Only then did it occur to her that he'd reached the limit of his endurance.

  "Help me," he whispered harshly. "I can't hold it for much longer."

  "I don't" she faltered breathlessly.

  "Find the position you need," he murmured against her mouth. "Shift your body against mine until you feel the pleasure bite into youthere, sweetheart?"

  "There!" she gasped, lifting helplessly in an arch. "Ohyesthere!"

  His mouth opened and began to penetrate hers. He felt her body dance with his, felt her arch up to him, press herself as close as she could get. She was rigid with it, he could feel the pulsation in her even as he felt it begin in himself. He was hot, throbbing, swelling

  He cried out in an agony of release, his whole body flung up into glorious joy and mind-killing satisfaction. He hoped she was going with him, because he lost it entirely. He shuddered again and again and again, groaning her name as the waves of pleasure knocked him almost unconscious.

  She felt his pleasure even through the violent satisfaction he gave her. So this was what it was all about, she thought dazedly, clinging to him with bruising fingers. Her mouth opened against his bare shoulder and she shivered with the intensity of it, the beauty of fulfillment. She understood at last what he'd meant when he said he'd given her a taste of satisfaction just as they began. Words couldn't do justice to the sensations that whipped through her slender body. She kissed the taut muscle of his shoulder hungrily as she sank into the mattress with a final, agonizing shudder of ecstasy.

  It was hard to breathe. She couldn't stop shaking. Her body was sore, but gloriously pleasured. She felt the dampness of moisture clinging to her skin, her hair. Her fingers brushed lightly against his long, lean back and she felt the same moisture there. She moved, and felt him deep in that secret place and she laughed softly.

  "For a nervous beginner, you're a quick study," he murmured into her throat.

  She laughed out loud and hugged him close. "Oh, you rake," she whispered lovingly, kissing his throat. "You wonderful, wonderful rake!"

  He laughed, too, exhausted but completely relaxed for the first time in years. He rolled onto his back, still intimately joined to her, and held her gently on his body. "Two years of stoic repression. My God, am I glad I waited!"

  "So am I." She kissed his chest, the hair tickling her nose where her lips pressed. "We forgot something."

  His lean hand smoothed her hair with magnificent unconcern. "What?"

  She punched him in the ribs. "You know what."

  He only sighed. "It's in the drawer."

  "It does us a lot of good in there!"

  His mouth traveled over her chin.

  "I know that." He sighed. "Kids are great. I wouldn't mind one, even this soon. But we should use more restraint next time."

  "Sure," she murmured. Then she laughed. She yawned. "I'm sleepy."

  "So am I."

  "Shouldn't we?" she asked, moving slightly.

  His lean arm came around her. "Stay right where you are," he whispered. "I don't want you any farther away than you are right this minute."

  She smiled and snuggled closer with a sigh. "That goes double for me. Marc?"

  "Hmm?" he asked sleepily, his voice deep and soft at her ear.

  "I like being married."

  She felt the faint rumble of laughter under her. "So do I."

  It was the last thing she heard for a long time.

  The honeymoon was officially over in a week, but people around Jacobsville noticed that it never seemed to end. You never saw Marc unless you saw Josie. She worked out of the D.A.'s office, and he worked out of the Victoria Texas Ranger post, but when they weren't on the job, they were inseparable.

  A few months later, Josie was sweeping off the front porch early on a Saturday morning while Marc was getting the men assigned to the day's work when two long, black limousines flying diplomatic flags pulled up in the dusty front yard.

  Josie was wearing jeans and a dusty sweatshirt. Her hair was loose and still a little tangled, she had no makeup on, and she was wearing ancient moccasins and socks with holes in them. So, naturally, this had to be Gretchen Sabon and her husband the Sheikh. It was nice to know that she was going to make a suitable impression on her new relation, the head of state of Qawi. They'd wanted to fly to Qawi for the meeting, but their jobs had made it difficult. And there had been another power straggle in Qawi that had only just been resolved successfully. Now the Sabons had apparently taken matters into their own hands and decided to just show up as a surprise. Josie groaned and shook her head. Her hair wasn't even combed!

  Marc came striding out of the barn grinning as the tall bodyguard he recognized from Gretchen's wedding got out, waved and opened the back door.

  "Hi, Bojo!" Marc greeted the tall man, shaking hands. He opened his arms as Gretchen got out, looking young and happy and very elegant, and went rushing into them.

  "Hello, big brother!" Gretchen laughed. "We came to welcome Josie into the family. You remember Philippe."

  Her husband was now standing beside her, tall and handsome even with his scarred face, and beaming at his wife. He shook hands with Marc.

  "Welcome to the fraternity," Philippe murmured.

  "Imagine you, getting married, and to somebody as nice as Josie," Gretchen said warmly. She looked up onto the porch. "Hi, Josie!"

  Josie put down the broom, wiped her hands on her jeans and danced down the steps, feeling shy and nervous.

  "I wear jeans and sweatshirts around the palace." Gretchen said, realizing at once what the problem was. "And I never wear makeup around my husband," she added with a wicked glance at the tall, smiling man beside her.

  "It is a waste of time," Philippe drawled. He glanced at Marc and grinned. "As you know, I presume."

  "I do." Marc pulled Josie close to his side. "This is your new brother-in-law, Philippe Sabon. He's the ruling Sheikh of Qawi."

  "I'm very honored," Josie began.

  Philippe took her hand and raised it to his lips with a smile. "It is a pleasure to meet you, madame," he said. "We thought you might like to meet your nephew as well."

  He said something in Arabic, and a woman in a hajib and an aba climbed out with a young man of about two years of age held tight in her arms. "Our son, Rashid," he introduced, grinning at th
e child, who reached for his father and went eagerly into his arms.

  "See that?" Gretchen said with a sigh. She shook her head. "His first word was da-da. He cries unless Philippe reads him a story at bedtime. When he gets up, he runs to his father." She threw up her hands. "I'm just a walking incubator around here!"

  "Liar." Philippe chuckled, grinning at her. "You are a walking reform committee," he corrected.

  "I have only made a few minor changes," she began.

  He smiled and kissed his son on the cheek. "Can you make coffee?" he asked his new sister-in-law. "It has been a long and very thirsty trip out here from the airport."

  "I make excellent coffee," Josie said, laughing. "I work in the district attorney's office. We live on it."

  "Yes, I heard about your new job," Gretchen said, linking arms with her. "I want to talk to you about some legal issues"

  "Oh, my God," Philippe groaned.

  Marc patted him on the shoulder. "Now, now, I'm sure it's only things like water pollution and global warming."

  "We really need to do more about prison reform in Qawi" Gretchen was saying as she and Josie went into the house.

  Philippe exchanged a complicated glance with Marc.

  "I've got some aged scotch whiskey in my office," Marc said.

  "Yes. And big glasses" came the amused reply.

  "Uh, Your Highness?"

  Philippe turned. Curtis Russell was standing just outside the limousine alongside another Secret Service agent and two of Philippe's personal bodyguards.

  "Yes?" Philippe asked.

  Russell cleared his throat. "About that matter we discussed?"

  Philippe sighed. "Complications, complications." He glanced at Marc. "Your bureau chief at the FBI is willing to give Russell a job if you recommend him."

  Marc looked as if he'd been asked to swallow a salt block.

  "It seems that his last assignment proved unlucky," Philippe continued.

  "He was sticking his nose into organized crime the last time I heard anything about him," Marc pointed out. "In Austin, I believe?"

  Russell swallowed hard. "I was only showing them how good an agent I'd be. And I did help that guy Phil Douglas get some evidence that helped us track down the Gates woman and bring her back for trial."

  "Yes, you did." Marc had to agree.

  "Sadly," Philippe interjected, "he identified himself as an FBI agent."

  "You're Secret Service!" Marc exploded.

  Russell grimaced. "Well, yes, technically, sort of." He coughed. "I was on vacation at the time. I did used to work for the FBI, for a year or so." He scowled. "Look here, I'd make a good agent. With all due respect, I'm wasted on visiting dignitaries! I can solve crimes. All I need is a chance!"

  Philippe lifted an eyebrow at Marc, who shrugged.

  "All right," Marc said. "I'll put in a word for you. With one condition," he added very deliberately.

  "Anything!" Russell exclaimed with delight.

  Marc's eyes narrowed. "That you work in one of the other forty-nine states of the union!"

  Russell gave him a tight salute. "You bet. Yes, sir. Florida looks good to me. I love beaches." He grinned.

  Marc threw up his hands and went into the house.

  That night, after the company was nicely settled in the guest bedroom, with guards outside the door, Marc and Josie lay close in each others' arms while moonlight made stripes across the quilted coverlet.

  "Christmas is next month," she murmured with a smile, snuggling closer. "I want a live tree that we can plant."

  "Done."

  "And some new decorations just for us."

  "You can have all the rope and spurs you want."

  Josette chuckled. "And a special ornament."

  "Hmm?"

  "You know, one of those that has our names and the date we married."

  "That sounds nice."

  "Next year we can add new ones."

  He was drowsy. "New ones. Mmm-hmm."

  "Like one that says, Baby's First Christmas."

  "First Christmas. Nice. I likewhat?!"

  He sat straight up in bed and gaped at her. "Did you say what I thought you said?"

  She grinned. "We never did open that drawer next to the bed," she reminded him.

  Brannon wasn't listening to explanations. His lean hand pressed softly against her belly and he looked at her as if she'd just solved the mystery of life.

  "My very own miniature Texas Ranger, boy or girl." He chuckled softly. "What a Christmas present! Lucky, lucky me," he whispered, and bent to kiss her with breathless tenderness.

  She smiled under his mouth and lifted her arms to bring him down to her. "Oh, no," she whispered. "Lucky me !"

  Outside, the wind was up. It was autumn after all, nippy and frosty and crisp. But inside that room, there was a warmth that all the snow in Alaska couldn't have chilled. It was, Josie thought, going to be the most wonderful Christmas of their lives. And it was.

  ^