Elise

by Bobbi Smith

  "You couldn't sleep, could you?"

  "Not a wink," she admitted, getting up to look out the window, her expression forlorn and strained. "I just wish I knew where Trace was."

  "Don't we all," Andy agreed.

  They set to work writing their respective stories, so they could get the issue out as soon as possible.

  It was near noon when a man passing by opened the door to shout at them that the posse was riding into town and that they had dead bodies with them.

  With a cry of relief, Elise left her desk and ran into the street. Andy stayed right with her as they hurried toward the marshal's office. When they reached the corner and could see the office, Elise stopped dead in her tracks. Marshal Trent was there, and so were some of his deputies, but there was no sign of Trace anywhere.

  "Andy?" she said his name in a strangled voice and grabbed his arm. "I don't see him. Where is he?"

  "I don't know," he said, as troubled as she was by Trace's absence.

  It was then that she caught sight of the two dead men thrown over the horses' backs, and she gasped out loud.

  "Oh God! No!"

  She started running forward, stricken by the fear that Trace was one of them. Terror ate at her. Her heart was pounding a violent rhythm. Trace couldn't be dead! He couldn't be! She loved him too much for him to die this way. She needed him with her. She wanted him near her. She couldn't lose him! Not now when she'd finally found him!

  Andy tried to stop her, but she broke away from him and hurried toward the lawmen.

  Jared Trent heard her cry out, and he turned to see her coming. "Elise!"

  She looked away from the dead bodies and to him.

  "Trace is all right." He'd understood her moment of panic and wanted to calm her.

  "What?" She was stunned, and then slowly realized that Trace was not one of the dead men.

  "These are the last two of Harris's men, but Harris was only wounded."

  "Where is he?"

  "He jumped off a cliff into the river. The fall probably killed him, but Trace wanted to find his body and make sure. He's got two of the deputies with him. They were going to search the riverbanks this morning and bring Harris back with them.

  "Thank God he's all right! I thought-"

  "I know," he sympathized. "But no one in the posse was hurt."

  "You were most blessed."

  "That we were. I expect Trace and the others will be back here by sundown."

  She nodded. "Where did you finally catch up with the gang?"

  Jared quickly told her and Andy all that had happened. He promised to let them know the minute Trace got into town.

  Elise went to tell her grandmother and George what had happened while Andy returned to the office. She met him there a short time later, and they went back to work on their special edition.

  Trace was frustrated and worried as he strode along the rocky riverbank, searching for Harris. They had been looking for the outlaw since dawn, but had found nothing.

  "He's got to be dead," one deputy said flatly.

  "If that's the case, we should have found his body," Trace pointed out.

  "The current is damned fast here. There's no telling how far he might have washed downstream," the other lawman said.

  Trace swore silently to himself. He realized that they were probably right, but his gut instincts would give him no rest. Harris was out there somewhere, he was certain of it, and he needed to find him.

  Trace lifted his gaze to the craggy hillsides. He wondered if the outlaw had been strong enough after being shot and falling so far to drag himself out of the river to safety. An ordinary man would have been killed - but they all knew Harris was no ordinary man.

  "Let's keep looking and let's check farther up the banks. Harris is one tough bastard. I don't put anything past him."

  The deputies did as Trace directed. It was well past noon when Trace finally called off the search. They had found no clues to Harris's whereabouts.

  They started back to town, their mood guardedly triumphant.

  Trace was watchful and cautious on the trek back. He wondered if he would ever truly believe that Harris had been killed.

  Elise and Andy were holding the press until Trace returned. They wanted to make sure they had all the pertinent information on Harris in the edition. It was just dusk when they heard the office door open. They looked up to see Trace come in.

  "You're back!" Elise cried in delight and ran into his open arms.

  "We just rode in here a few minutes ago," he said slowly, holding her close.

  "Did you find Harris?" she asked, leaning back to look up at him.

  At her question, his expression darkened. "No. We never did find his body."

  "But you're sure he's dead?"

  It was the question that haunted him more than he cared to admit. "I hope so."

  "So do I," she said fiercely. "We've just about got the paper ready to go. We were waiting for you to get back before we went to press."

  "Do you want to go with our headline?" Andy spoke up. "HARRIS AND HIS MEN DEAD! OUTLAWS' REIGN OF TERROR OVER!"

  "Print it," Trace said firmly.

  As Andy went to work, Trace took Elise by the hand and led her into the privacy of his own office. Only then, when they were alone, did he kiss her.

  "I was worried about you when the marshal came back and you weren't with them," she whispered to him as she held him close.

  "I'm sorry, but I wanted to make sure Harris really was dead."

  "It's all right. All that matters is that you're here with me now," she sighed, resting her head against the broad width of his chest.

  They stood wrapped in each other's arms, savoring the beauty of the moment. The terrible threat that had haunted Trace's life was over. He was home. He was safe.

  "If your grandmother and George could put together a wedding in less than twenty-four hours, how long will it take us?" Trace asked. She fit so perfectly against him that he never wanted to be away from her again.

  She gave a throaty chuckle. "You're absolutely sure about this?"

  "I'm sure." There was no doubt in his voice at all. "I told you-I want to see you in that dress again."

  "And I want to be in that dress again," she told him, gazing up at him adoringly.

  "Do you want to have a traditional wedding?"

  "If you don't mind." She had always dreamed of coming down the aisle in her gown, to be joined forever with the man she loved-with Trace.

  "I'll do whatever you want me to do. I love you, Elise, and I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy."

  She lifted her lips to his. "I'll talk to my grandmother tonight. We'll start making the arrangements right away."

  "It can't come soon enough for me," he said ardently.

  "I feel the same way." She sighed blissfully. "I'm glad your nightmare is over, Trace."

  "So am I," he answered, but even as he said it, he wondered if it really was.

  After they got the copies of the Star out, Elise and Trace returned to the house to tell George and Claire and to start making plans for the wedding. The older couple was delighted with their news. They planned to meet with Reverend Ford the next day and see how soon they could have the ceremony.

  With the threat to him over, Trace moved back into his own home. George and Claire were to stay with Elise as chaperones until the wedding, after which they would move into George's home.

  The wedding was perfect. They took four weeks to plan the ceremony, and it was even more spectacular than Elise's first `marriage' to `Ben'.

  "I believe I heard talk that you two have done this before," Reverend Ford quipped with a smile as they came to stand before him.

  Elise was resplendent in her white gown and veil, and Trace was handsome in his dark suit.

  "This time it's for real, though," Elise told the reverend, smiling up at Trace.

  "Good," the preacher said. Then he began, his mood more serious. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today
..."

  He recited the vows that would bind them as man and wife for all eternity, and they repeated them faithfully.

  Seated among the crowd of well-wishers, Julie fought hard to keep from scowling as she watched Elise and Trace profess their undying love for each other and then pledge to forsake all others until death did them part. It had been difficult enough thinking Elise was going to marry Ben during the first wedding, but this time, Elise really was marrying Gabe-or Trace.

  Julie was still confused by all that had been going on, but she had to admit, Trace Jackson was one exciting man. She had thought him wonderful when he'd been Gabe West, and now that she knew who he really was, she was even more impressed. Julie had to hand it to Eliseshe had found herself an even more exciting husband the second time around.

  Husbands. The thought was wearying to Julie, and she suddenly wondered if Clint had really been as bad as she'd thought that night at the church social.

  "I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride," Reverend Ford told Trace.

  It was the moment they had both been waiting for. Trace turned to his bride, his gaze warm upon her. She was the most beautiful woman in the world, and he knew he couldn't live without her. Ever so gently, he cupped her face with his hands and kissed her sweetly on the lips.

  Elise sighed rapturously at his tender touch and kiss. This was Trace. He was her husband. They were going to live happily ever after.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to present to you Mr. and Mrs. Trace Jackson," the preacher announced. Everyone cheered happily for the newlyweds.

  The reception followed on the grounds. Trace and Elise could hardly wait for the opportunity to slip away. It seemed an eternity since they'd last been alone, and they were truly looking forward to their wedding night. George and Claire had already moved out of the house, so it was all theirs now. There would be no interruptions tonight.

  They stayed on at the reception for several hours, but finally managed to disappear without too many people noticing. Trace had parked the carriage around back, and he helped her into the vehicle and then climbed in beside her. It was quiet, so he gathered her in his arms and kissed her thoroughly.

  "I think you'd better hurry up and take me home," Elise told him, her heart pounding a wild rhythm in anticipation of their night of bliss to come.

  "That's exactly what I plan to do."

  He slapped the reins on the horses' backs and rode for the house. He could never remember being this happy before. He glanced over at Elise as he drove. In the moonlight, she looked even more beautiful, and deep in his heart, Trace knew he would love her forever.

  When they arrived at the house, Trace made short order of tying up the horses. He then lifted Elise down. He didn't put her on her feet, though, but carried her up the steps and across the threshold. She looped her arms about his neck and clung to him, enjoying every minute of being in his arms.

  Trace put Elise down only long enough to lock the door behind them, and then he scooped her up again and carried her upstairs to the bedroom. This time, he kicked the door shut and then put her on her feet.

  "I love you, Elise," he said in a voice hoarse with emotion as he lifted his hands to the back of her dress and began to unfasten the small buttons on the gown. `I've wanted to do this ever since I first saw you in this gown."

  "And I've wanted you to do it," she murmured excitedly. Every fiber of her being was alive with the thrill of being with Trace.

  Elise began to work at the buttons on his shirt. Then she parted the garment brazenly caressing his hard-muscled chest. She smiled at his sharp intake of breath.

  "Kiss me, Trace," she whispered.

  It was all the encouragement he needed. He stripped away her gown and undergarments and lifting her in his arms, carried her to the bed. He left her only long enough to undress himself, and then returned to make her his own in every sense.

  "You are so beautiful," he told her, his gaze going hungrily over her, visually caressing her full breasts, the sweet curve of her waist and her long, lovely legs.

  "So are you," she responded.

  Elise ran her hands over the powerful width of his shoulders and then down his chest, slipping ever lower until Trace groaned and clasped her to him. He rolled her beneath him and moved to make her his.

  They came together in a blaze of glory. Giving and taking, pleasing and pleasuring, until rapture burst upon them in a crescendo of passion's delight.

  They rested only a moment before the embers of their desire were stoked to a blazing fire again. With each touch and kiss, they explored one another. They gave freely of their love, expressing through this physical closeness all the beauty and depth of their emotions.

  From that first day when Trace had walked off the stagecoach and into her arms, it seemed that they had been meant to be together-to be one.

  And now they were.

  They finally slept, but only when the eastern sky brightened with the promise of the new day. It was the beginning of the rest of their lives.

  The following days and nights passed in a haze of loving glory. It seemed Trace and Elise couldn't get enough of each other, and they loved long into each night, seeking the joy that could only be found in cherishing each other.

  Elise was ecstatic. She had never known being in love could be so wonderful. It seemed her every thought was of Trace. He had become the center of her existence. She wanted to be with him, listening to the sound of his voice, touching him, loving him.

  It was when she awoke to find him gone from their bed in the middle of one night that she first realized something was troubling him. She got up to search for him and found him standing in the darkened parlor, staring out the window at the street beyond.

  "Trace, are you all right?" she asked quietly as she went to him.

  He turned to her, and even in the darkness she could see the strain in his expression.

  "What is it?" Elise went to him and slipped her arms around him. He was solid power, all male.

  "I just couldn't sleep."

  "Why?"

  He shook his head to discourage any more questions, but she would not be put off.

  "Tell me," she insisted.

  Trace drew a deep breath and started back to the bedroom. He put one arm around her waist as they walked. "I've been uneasy lately. It's almost as if things are too good."

  "They are too good," she said in a throaty voice that held a hint of loving to come.

  He stopped to kiss her, then went on. "It's Harris," he finally admitted flatly.

  "What about him? He's dead."

  "I hope to God he is."

  She understood his fears, but wanted to ease them. "I know that without seeing Harris dead, it's hard for you to accept, but wouldn't he have shown up somewhere by now if he'd lived through that fall?"

  "I'd like to think so, but there are no guarantees."

  "Well, he's not here tonight. Come to bed with me. I think I have an idea of how to get your mind off him."

  She gave him a smile that sent a jolt of sensual awareness through Trace. He needed no further encouragement to return to their mar riage bed. And he did manage to forget about Harris for several long, hot hours.

  Later that night, however, when Elise was fast asleep, Trace got up and got his gun. He put it in the drawer of the small table next to his side of the bed.

  It was in the early morning hours over a week later that Trace came awake with a start. He had been sleeping lightly, but was suddenly wide awake and very tense. He did not know what had awakened him, but he slipped from the bed and pulled on his pants before grabbing his gun. He went to the bedroom door and stood there in silence, waiting and listening. He wanted to know what had jarred him awake that way.

  He heard nothing unusual, but he still felt as if something wasn't right. He went to the bed and knelt beside Elise to whisper in her ear.

  "Elise," he said her name in low, barely audible tones.

  Her eyes flew open and she looked
up at him, questioning and fearful.

  "I heard something outside. I'm going out to check on it. You stay inside, no matter what."

  She snatched up her discarded nightgown and tugged it on. "What did you hear?"

  "I'm not sure, and it may prove to be nothing, but I've got to check."

  She smiled at him as reassuringly as she could, then gave him a quick kiss. "Be careful."

  Trace nodded, then told her, "Lock the bedroom door after me."

  With that, he was gone.

  Elise remained where she was for only a few moments, then realized there was no way she could just sit there and wait while he was in danger. She pulled on her robe and then opened the door and started down the hall toward the steps. The first thing she was going to do was get her derringer; then she was going to help Trace. Whatever danger he was facing, she was going to be by his side.

  Trace made his way downstairs silently. He stayed in the shadows, keeping careful watch, trying to figure out what had awakened him. A quick look around the main floor of the house revealed nothing. No one had broken in; nothing was disturbed. Whatever had bothered him had come from outside. It was then that he glanced toward the kitchen and saw the shadow moving across the wall. Someone was on the back porch!

  With utmost caution, Trace slipped out the front door. He made his way around the house, staying to the shadows, watching and listening. He held his gun at the ready, prepared for whatever might come.

  The black-clad figure moved soundlessly off the porch and started around to the front of the house.

  "Hold it, right there!" Trace ordered.

  "Die, Jackson! Like you were supposed to the first time!" Harris shouted, and he fired at Trace, wanting him dead, wanting to see him facedown in the dirt again.

  But it wasn't to be. Trace was ready for him. He threw himself to the ground, firing at Harris and hitting him full in the chest. "I don't think so, Harris. Now, it's your turn to die," Trace said in a low, lethal voice.

  Harris gave an agonized cry as he crashed backward, fell, and lay still. Trace moved to stand over the outlaw. He kept his gun trained on him. When he saw Harris trying to lift his gun to get off one last round at him, he savagely kicked the gun out of his hand.