by Nan Ryan
Knowing she was not—at the present time—going to get anything further out of him regarding his past, Kate smiled and said, “Hurry back.”
“Fifteen minutes at the outside.”
Travis rebuttoned his open shirt, strapped on his gun belt and thrust his long arms into the sleeves of his heavy woolen coat. He shoved his hat on his head, opened the door leading into the jail, then closed it and stepped back inside. He came to the tub, laid a hand atop her head, bent from the waist and brushed a kiss to her lips. “Anybody bangs on either door, ignore it, you hear me?”
“Who would…?”
“You heard me. I’m locking you in,” he said, then turned and left.
Thirty-Seven
Travis locked the door between the jail and his private quarters. He walked through the darkened space with its empty cells and went on into the front office, where a lone lamp burned atop his scarred desk. Buttoning his heavy jacket, he glanced out the glass-paned windows.
The sun had set more than an hour ago, but it was light as day outside. It was snowing. Hard. And the winds were howling, forcefully blowing the large white flakes in a southerly direction. Travis laughed.
Apparently while he and Kate were making love—oblivious to everything but each other—an early autumn blizzard had roared down out of the Sierras to blanket the town of Fortune.
Travis squinted through the frosty windows. The street was completely covered in white and the sidewalks were deserted. Which suited Travis fine. A raging winter storm generally meant a peaceful night, as miners and hustlers and gamblers alike were more interested in seeking a warm place to escape the elements than causing trouble.
Travis turned up his collar and stepped out into the wind-driven snow. He headed directly toward the Bonanza Hotel. With the icy crust crunching under his boot heels, he started across the street. Before he reached the hotel, he automatically glanced up at the third floor suite of Winn DeLaney.
The window shades were all pulled down, but lights shone inside. Someone was pacing back and forth before the windows. It had to be DeLaney.
Travis frowned.
There was little doubt in his mind that DeLaney had something to do with Kate getting shot. Not that he’d meant for that to happen. The shooting was undoubtedly a screwup on the part of DeLaney’s two hired thugs.
Ducking his head against the blinding snow, Travis hurried on. His biggest concern was that DeLaney might pack up and leave town before Jiggs and the posse could find Kelton and Spears. Travis ground his teeth in frustration. He knew if he could have ten short minutes with the despicable pair, he could get the truth out of them.
This wasn’t the way they had planned it that night in San Francisco. It had seemed like such a fool-proof plan. He had supposed that by now he would be Kate’s husband and that she would eagerly sign over the Cavalry Blue to him.
But nothing had gone as planned and now, restless and worried, Winn DeLaney wondered if he should hastily check out and leave town as Melly kept insisting they do. They could just slip away in the midst of this raging snowstorm and give up his dearest dreams. It would be the wise thing to do.
No, damn it! Why should he leave? Why behave as if he had something to hide? With every passing day, the odds of a posse locating Spears and Kelton lessened. Surely they were long gone and would never be brought in.
Winn brightened a little at the thought. His secret was safe. No one had reason to suspect he had anything to do with the shooting. Kate VanNam was his treasured sweetheart, the light of his life. And the whole town knew it.
All he had to do was remain calm and behave as though he was innocent. Then, when Kate was better and back in her mansion, they would pick up where they’d left off. He would ardently court her and marry her as quickly as possible. And once he had properly—or improperly—made love to Kate, his swooning bride would be more than willing to sign over all her property to her adoring husband.
Smiling now as he anticipated the wealth that would soon be his, Winn stopped pacing. He impulsively raised a window shade and looked out to check on the storm. He caught sight of someone crossing the snowy street. He lifted a hand and rubbed at the ice crystals forming on the inside of the glass.
And cursed under his breath.
The sheriff was crossing the street against the wind. Winn quickly sank back, but continued to watch McCloud. How he hated the arrogant, nosey, small-town lawman. The bastard was keeping Kate in his quarters behind the jail, and not allowing anyone in to see her.
Winn scowled. If that handsome sheriff ever gets his hands on Miss VanNam, we’re sunk! Melly’s words came back to him and he involuntarily shuddered as he muttered an oath.
Winn shook his head as if to clear it. He was being foolish. Kate felt nothing for McCloud. She didn’t even like the marshal.
Kate reached for a large white towel and rose from the tub. She got out and stood before the fire, languidly drying off. She wrapped the damp towel around her slender body, carefully tucking it in over her breasts.
She pivoted about and stood with her back to the fire. She looked curiously around at the big warm room where she had been for the past five days and nights. Spartan, totally masculine quarters in which she had spent the happiest moments of her life.
Beside the door opening into the jail stood the tall coat tree. A heavy greatcoat hung there, and an old battered straw hat. A black leather vest. A pair of big roweled spurs. A coiled length of rope.
At the center of the room was the table, with a straight-back chair pulled up to it. The chair’s twin was beside the bed, where Travis had spent long hours watching over her.
Beside her and just to the left of the fireplace was a much used overstuffed easy chair and matching ottoman. A discarded gabardine shirt was tossed over the chair’s back. Directly across from the fireplace was the big double bed with its heavy iron bedstead. The sheets and blanket were badly rumpled from her kneeling there, squirming, as Travis made love to her.
Kate shivered at the vivid recollection of what he had done to her, of the ecstasy she had experienced at Travis’s masterful hands. Before this night was over, she wondered, would he make love to her again? She hoped so. He probably would. After all, he hadn’t even undressed yet….
Blushing, Kate looked away from the bed and focused on the tall bureau standing against the wall by the back door. In need of a freshly laundered nightshirt, she tiptoed barefoot across the cold wooden floor and stopped before the chest of drawers. She smiled when she saw a small stack of poker chips atop the bureau.
Beside the chips were a couple of thin black cigars and box of sulphur matches. A brush with a comb stuck in its bristles lay on its side. A black silk bandanna was neatly folded. She touched a small pocket knife with a fancy pearl handle. And a leather-bound copy of Alexandre Dumas’s The Count of Monte Cristo.
Kate glanced at herself in the mirror above the bureau, then opened the top drawer, looked inside and saw only neatly pressed shirts. She closed it, opened the second. Underwear and stockings. She closed that one and opened the middle drawer. She lifted out a white, neatly folded nightshirt, and started to close the drawer.
Kate stopped abruptly, her brow wrinkling. She laid the nightshirt atop the bureau.
She’d spotted the corner of a tintype peeking out from under a stack of nightshirts. Sliding it out from under the garments, she picked it up and stared unblinking at the smiling likeness of a strikingly beautiful woman with pale hair and glowing eyes.
Darling, my heart belongs to you
Your adoring Roxanne
Kate knew immediately knew who the woman was. The aristocratic Southern beauty over whom Travis had fought a duel! He had killed a man for the love of this woman. And he’d kept this tintype all these years.
Kate’s initial emotion was jealousy. Then anger. Both were fleeting. She had Travis now. Not Roxanne. She didn’t hate Roxanne; she was grateful to the foolish woman. If not for the pampered beauty, Travis would never have come out
West and she would never have met him.
“Thanks, Roxanne,” Kate addressed the woman in the picture. “I’ll take good care of Travis. Such good care he’ll forget you ever existed.”
She shoved the tintype back where she had found it. She returned to the fire, dropped the towel and slipped on the clean nightshirt, but she did not button it.
When Travis returned, Kate was standing with her back to the fire. Her hair was brushed out around her shoulders and held off her face with his black silk bandanna.
“Jesus, baby, what are you doing up?” he asked, snowflakes clinging to his shoulders and raven hair. He set the covered tray atop the table and said proudly, “Got us a couple of the best looking steaks you’ve ever seen.”
Kate came directly to the table. When Travis turned to look at her, she reached up and clasped the lapels of his snow-dampened coat and said, “Great. I’m famished, aren’t you?”
Before he could reply, she smiled saucily, rose up on tiptoe, drew his face down to hers and kissed him the way he had kissed her that first time. She wanted to kiss him with such passionate purpose that he’d forget every other woman, including Roxanne.
Thirty-Eight
The steaks will get cold,” Kate laughingly warned when the dazzled Travis shed his jacket where he stood and swept her up into his arms.
“As long as you don’t,” he said, and carried her to the bed.
He yanked the covers down out of the way and lowered her to the mattress. Sighing, Kate leaned back against the stacked pillows and raised her arms above her head. She winced when Travis grabbed the hem of her nightshirt, flipped it up to her waist, leaned down and pressed a burning kiss to her bare belly.
“Travis,” she whispered, flushing hotly. She modestly shoved the nightshirt down.
“Why don’t you take that thing off?” he suggested as he stood unbuttoning his shirt.“I’ll let you,” she said, and watched, transfixed, as he hastily undressed.
His boots were kicked off, and in seconds Travis had stripped to his skin. In the instant before he climbed into bed, Kate was allowed a fleeting glimpse of him in all his naked glory.
He was a beautiful specimen of potent masculinity, tall and lean and perfectly configured. Conceit and cockiness seemed reasonable in a male with such remarkable good looks and physical ability. His height implied power; his darkness, warmth and passion. His strong sexual magnetism had, from the first time she’d seen him standing at the river landing, both frightened and excited her.
Kate shivered with anticipation now as he got into bed and put his long arm around her. Travis again tossed her nightshirt up to her waist. This time she made no move to lower it. His dark eyes smoldered when he leaned close and kissed her mouth. While they kissed, Kate could feel the heat and hardness of his heavy erection surging against her hip. With his lips fused to hers, Travis took her hand and guided it down to him.
After a long, invasive kiss, his lips left hers. So did his hand.
Travis looked into her eyes. “Touch me, sweetheart. Love me.”
Kate curiously glanced down at the surging male flesh rising from a dense growth of raven curls. She gently tightened her fingers around him. She looked back up his face and saw the fire in his beautiful dark eyes. Their gazes locked and held as Kate caressed him with an expertise born of passion. It was a riveting moment for them both.
Travis enjoyed the sweet agony as if it was the first time a woman had ever touched him. To have this beautiful blond angel’s soft hand warmly stroking him while he gazed into her glowing blue eyes was a pleasure beyond compare. His belly tight, his heart hammering, Travis wanted time to stand still. To stop this minute. To have this beautiful young woman with whom he was falling in love hold him in her loving hand forever.
To never let him go.
Kate knew exactly what was running through his mind, and she experienced a quick surge of heady female power. It was thrilling to know that this big, strong man was, at this moment, enslaved by her. She dominated him with the mere stroking of her fingers. Conquered him by looking steadily into his eyes. Highly erotic. Exciting beyond compare. She could, if she wished, lead him anywhere…
Travis abruptly tore Kate’s hand away, sat her back against the stacked pillows and pushed her nightshirt up over her breasts. He gently urged her legs apart, wrapped a hand around the back of her left knee, raised it slightly and cocked it outward.
And then it was his turn to master her with only the touch of his hand.
Kate watched with held breath as his lean brown fingers caressed her pale white belly. She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth as he raked the tips of his fingers through the crisp coils of golden hair between her thighs.
And when he touched that spot where all her burning desire was centered, Kate lifted her eyes to meet his. As it had been when she caressed him, their gazes locked and held. They looked steadily into each other’s eyes while Travis’s long, tapered fingers explored and circled and teased the wet throbbing flesh she so willingly allowed him to claim.
Kate enjoyed this lovely torture as if it were not simply the pleasurable prelude to total lovemaking. To have this man’s artistic hand touching her in that most intimate of all places while she gazed into his smoldering eyes was pure joy. Her stomach fluttering, her nipples stinging, she wanted time to stand still. To stop ticking away. She wanted this gentle man with whom she was falling in love to keep his loving hand on her forever.
Travis knew exactly what was running through Kate’s mind, and he was supremely confident of his masculine power. It was arousing to know that this slender, fragile woman was, at this moment, ruled by him. He controlled her with the stroke of his fingers. Mastered her by looking into her eyes. He could, if he so chose, have her do anything he wanted…
Burning up, wanting her as he’d never wanted a woman, he took his hand from Kate and agilely moved between her legs. He slid down and carefully positioned himself so that only the smooth tip of his engorged shaft was touching her slick swollen sweetness.
With his weight supported on a stiffened arm, he kissed her and said, “Let’s quit torturing each other, sweetheart.”
“Yes, let’s,” she whispered breathlessly, and sighed with bliss when he slid easily into her.
Knowing she was as aroused as he, Travis waited only a few seconds before he began the deep, rhythmic thrusting both their bodies demanded. Instantly the passion they thought couldn’t get any hotter escalated. Kate clung to Travis and eagerly tilted her pelvis up to meet each deep driving plunge of his hard male flesh. She bucked and thrust wildly against him, her feverish body gripping the throbbing flesh that impaled her, filled her, stretched her.
Both wanted the pleasure to last; both knew it wouldn’t. They couldn’t hold back much longer. They were too hot for each other, their bodies too aroused by the teasing foreplay.
In minutes they were gripped in a spiraling explosion of heat, swept into a vortex of intense carnal gratification. It buffeted the joined pair with an ecstasy so intense it was frightening. They moaned and gasped and went at each other with an animalistic ardor that rocked the bed and twisted the sheets.
“Travis!” Kate screamed his name as she wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs around his back, and held on for dear life.
She knew that he was following her into paradise when she felt the hot liquid gushing high up inside her.
When it was finished, Travis fell tiredly onto his back beside Kate. Their hearts racing, their bodies perspiring, they lay limp and immobile for several long minutes, fighting to get their breath. It was Travis who stirred first.
“You okay? Did I hurt you, baby?” he asked.
“No,” she assured him. Then she laughed musically and said, “I suppose the steaks are cold.”
Travis lifted one of her hands to his lips, turned it over, kissed the palm, and said, “I’ll warm ’em up.”
Hours later, after they’d devoured the juicy steaks, they again lay in bed, sated, happy,
reluctant to go to sleep despite the lateness of the hour. Gripped in the first sweet blush of falling in love, they felt that every moment was precious, golden, not to be missed. The simple act of lying in bed together and knowing that come morning they would awaken together, was delightful beyond their wildest dreams.
Wise enough to suppose that this was an opportune time to learn more about this man in whose arms she lay, Kate broached the subject of the mysterious woman whose tintype she had seen beneath the folded nightshirts.
“Travis, am I the only woman in your life?”
“The only one,” he said with a yawn.
Kate traced the line of dark hair going down the center of his stomach with her fingertip. “I heard a rumor that you once fought a duel over a beautiful woman.” She waited.
“You heard correctly.”
“Were you terribly in love with her?”
“I thought I was,” Travis said.
“And?” she gently prodded.
Travis smiled. “Katie, it was a long time ago.”
“I don’t care. I want you to tell me about it. Please.”
Travis nodded. And told her everything.
He calmly revealed how a decade ago a beautiful, conniving thirty-one-year-old Richmond divorcée had captivated him when he was a green twenty-two-year-old. The woman, Mrs. Roxanne Bond, had played him for a fool and had, for sport, goaded one of her many lovers into challenging him to a duel for her affections. A duel in which he had killed a man. He had taken a man’s life and the deed had ended his hopes of a medical career. And then Roxanne had coolly informed him that if he was not going to be a successful physician, he couldn’t expect her to waste any more time on him.
“Within twenty-four hours I left Virginia, heading west,” Travis concluded “And here I am, sheriff of Fortune.” He paused, then said, “Now I’ve done my bit. It’s your turn.”
Kate was dying to ask a million questions, but she refrained. She began to talk about her life back in Boston, telling Travis how she and her older brother had been raised by her dear uncle as children of privilege before the vast family fortune had been lost.