Bushedwhacked Groom (27 page)

“Well, I hope one of us does,” she managed dryly.

He chuckled, then kissed her again, his strong hand gripping her breast and kneading it rhythmically. His
other hand slid over her body, boldly caressed her
belly, her spine. When he sank his fingers into her bot
tom while leaning over to flick his tongue delicately
over one of her nipples, she cried out at the over
whelming stimulation. He groaned and buried his face
between her breasts, the roughness of his whiskered face bringing more waves of decadent pleasure.

“Ummmm, soft as a baby you are,” he murmured, taking her hand. “Now touch me again.”

“Lucky—”she pleaded.

“
Touch me, woman.”

His voice came forth with an urgency she couldn’t
deny. Tentatively, she touched his hot manhood, loving
the feel of his soft yet firm length. His encouraging
grunts emboldened her to give in to another wanton
urge, and she licked his chest, savoring the salty taste
of him. “Ummm—good,” she murmured.

“
0h, God,” he rumbled. “Keep it up, darling.”

She explored him more brazenly with both her fin
gers and tongue, stroking his shaft up and down, lick
ing his chest and belly. His breathing grew ragged and
he pushed his fingers between her thighs, seeking her
nub, then probing lower.

“Please!” she gasped, set on fire by his touch, not
certain whether she wanted him to keep going or
stop.

Too late. He pushed a finger into her, and she cried out as she felt that incredible, shattering intimacy for
the first time. Scalding threads of desire tightened relentlessly inside her, demanding that ultimate joining,
that uttermost release. She tossed her head and
writhed, enhancing the delicious friction as well as
her own torment.

“My God, you are so small, so tight—”

He probed deeper and she screamed softly, squeezing his manhood.

He seemed to lose all control then. With a cry he
rolled her beneath him and spread her legs.

“Lucky!” Molly was near panic.

His gaze, bright with desire, locked with her own.
“Molly. My sweet Molly. Trust me now.”

His words melted her utterly and she drew his face
down to her trembling lips, giving him her kiss, her surrender.

He moaned and pushed himself into her. Even
though she was wet, ready for him, he was vast, hot, unyielding. She squirmed at the unexpected pain; he
shoved his hands beneath her, holding her fast as he
penetrated fully.

“Lucky!” Helpless tears spilled from her eyes as she
felt rent in two by his rigid heat. But soon the sense of
oneness came, a blissful certainty that this was meant
to be.

“I’m sorry, darlin’. Just couldn’t resist. My God, you
are divine.” He nuzzled her face, her neck, and waited a moment for her discomfort to fade. At last he began
to ease in and out of her, at first tentatively, then more
boldly. The sensation was electrifying to Molly—inde
scribably sensual, brazenly intimate. She moaned as
fierce pleasure throbbed and built inside her. She dug her fingernails into his forearms as he pushed harder, deeper still. An ecstasy built within her such as she’d never felt before, and suddenly she had to move with
him. When she lifted her hips up to meet him, it drove
him mad. Just as she was sobbing her rapture, on the
verge of sweet release, he learned over and sucked her nipple into his mouth, biting gently. She cried out, consumed by her own climax. With a torrent of
thrusts, Lucky spent himself inside her.

***

Later, Lucky gazed down at his bride in the darkness.
Molly was asleep, awash in moonlight, and stunningly
beautiful. What incredible ecstasy she had brought
him tonight. And she had come to him a virgin—even
in the darkness he’d spotted the small stain on the
sheet. Her innocence and sweet surrender had
touched him deeply. He hoped he hadn’t hurt her too
badly, but when she’d brazenly licked his chest and
boldly stroked him, squeezed him, he hadn’t been
able to stop himself.

His wife. She was truly his now. The thought made
his heart well with bittersweet emotion. The good Lord
must have a sense of humor, he thought ruefully. He’d
been blessed with an old-fashioned virgin, all right, but his bride had the temperament of a wildcat. She
was a thorn in his side, if quite a pleasurable one.

Did she want him, too? Or did she just want the land
they both now coveted?

***

Is it me he wants, or the land?

This was Molly’s thought when she awakened later
that night to the sounds of Lucky’s soft snores. She sat
up in bed with a slight wince, still smarting from where he had claimed her body. But, oh, it had been glorious.

Had they made their baby that night?

All at once she wasn’t in such a hurry to conceive
their child, since her woman’s instincts told her she’d
want to repeat this delicious process with her husband
many, many times.

She brushed an errant curl from his brow, her
throat tightening. Lucky was coming to mean much
more to her than the land. But how much did she
mean to him? She couldn’t soon forget that he hadn’t
come to her bed until he’d decided he wanted the
same chunk of range that she did. She was in deep
now, so deep. Knowing how badly hurt he’d been be
fore, she wondered if he would ever be able to share
his heart fully with her.

Chapter Twenty-seven

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Lucky was running late as he led his horse out of the barn the next morning. He practically collided with Sanchez, who was headed inside carrying a saddle he
had repaired.

“
Buenas días,
señor
.” Breathlessly, the little man set
the saddle on a nearby stand. “Do you want me to
come with you to the gorge today?”

“No, I need to hightail it out to the range. I promised
Mr. Reklaw I’d help out with roundup.”

Sanchez nodded. “Should I carry on repairing
el
coche
by myself?”

Lucky scowled at the conflicting emotion he felt at the mention of the stagecoach, then gave a shrug. “Do
whatever you want.”

“
Sí
,
señor.
”

Galloping away, Lucky wondered what in hell was
wrong with him. Why hadn’t he told Sanchez to scuttle
that damn stagecoach in the nearest deep hole? Per
haps because his feelings were still mixed about remaining here—perhaps because he still wasn’t ready
to demolish his one possible escape route. Perhaps be
cause he felt defenseless, falling for a woman who
might never return his feelings—especially now that
his control was broken, his anger in shards, and he
was vulnerable to her. Not that being with her wasn’t
heaven—their lovemaking last night had touched his
soul. And if his seed had taken root inside her . . . never could he become the kind of bastard who
would abandon a pregnant wife as his dad had done
with his mom.

Yes, he was confused. But he also felt a growing
sense of connection—not just with Molly but with this
time, this land. As he galloped through fields of young
corn and wheat plants, he drank in the dew-drenched
air and witnessed the pastoral scene stretching before
him through new eyes—the verdant meadow beyond
the fields, the stark rise of mountain in the distance. As
he approached the range, he chuckled at the sight of
the cattle dogs darting about the herd, at Cory and
Matt riding their cutting horses, trying to separate out the calves. In the distance near a fire, Cole, Zach and
Vance were attempting to brand a squirming calf.

He’d performed these same spring rituals with
Grandpa back in the present, and at the Flying T. In a
way, he’d been brought full circle in time. He felt a
sense of bonding not just with Molly but with her
mother and grandma, and with these men beside
whom he rode the range.

He felt a true sense of family for the first time in
many years. This realization brought a poignant pain as well as a profound sense of peace.

***

In town at the library, Cory Reklaw was stamping a due
date inside Widow Allgood’s selected book when the
front door opened and a vision swept inside. It was Ida
May, glorious in a white linen dress sprigged with blue flowers, a matching ribbon in her shiny blond hair. She
moved gracefully through the dancing patterns of light
on the library floor. Cory was so mesmerized by the sight of her that he hardly noticed her three older sisters waltzing in behind her. Then she caught sight of
him and waved; he gulped and shyly waved back.

Widow Allgood loudly cleared her throat.

Contrite, Cory glanced up. “Anything else I can do
for you, ma’am?”

“No, but it’s pretty obvious what that young lady can
do for you,” she drawled back.

Feeling miserably put on the spot, Cory stood. “My grandma’s down at the general store, if you’d like to go
visit with her.”

The widow laughed and shook a finger at him.
“Never mind the hints, young man. I know when I’m
not wanted.”

Before Cory could protest, she trooped off for the door, her black silk skirts rustling. Cory eagerly went
over to greet Ida May, who was still standing in place, raptly regarding him.

“Well, hello. Good to see you again.”

“Hi, Cory.” She extended her hand.

Cory firmly shook her soft hand, then became distracted by the sound of giggles. He turned to spot her
sisters gathered nearby; the three had already
pounced on a large wicker basket filled with dime
novels. “How’d you girls manage to escape your pa?” he
asked Ida May.

“
He told us we could have ten minutes at the library
while he picks up cattle feed,” she confided.

Cory grinned.
“
Ah, then we’ve no time to waste.”

She nodded happily.

“I’m really sorry about what happened when we
men came calling on Sunday,” he went on.

She waved him off. “Don’t feel bad, Cory; that wasn’t
your fault. Pa and his darn courting candle.”

He nodded. “My grandma promised she’d try to set up another appointment for us.”

“Good for her. Hope Pa will listen to reason this
time.”

“I know. Did you enjoy the volume of poetry I gave
you?”

Her expression rapt, Ida May clasped her hands to
her breast. “0h, Cory, I loved it. When Mrs. Browning
said, ‘And if God choose, I shall but love thee better af
ter death’
. . .
ah, that was so romantic.”

By now Cory had blushed crimson, but he didn’t
care. “Indeed. ‘How Do I Love Thee’ is one of my fa
vorite poems, as well.”

“Just to think of having a love like she and Mr.
Browning did,” Ida May went on with a dreamy sigh.

Cory cleared his throat. “Why, yes, it was—er—ex
traordinary.”

“I can’t even imagine how he felt when he lost her.”

“They were soul mates, all right.”

“Soul mates,” she repeated ecstatically. “What a
lovely term.”

They were gazing at one another giddily when a
burst of feminine laughter turned their attention back
to the other sisters. Cory chuckled at the sight of the
three of them, huddled together wide-eyed, poring
over one of the lurid novels. “Well, I see your sisters have selected some meaningful reading material.”

Ida May chuckled. “As I warned you, Cory, they’re far
more adventuresome than I.”

He gestured toward the stacks of leather-bound vol
umes. “Well, our minutes together are slipping away, so
we’d best find something for you to read, as well. Since you enjoy Mrs. Browning’s poetry, may I suggest her
husband’s masterpiece,
The Ring and the Book?”

“0h, yes!” she cried.

They selected several volumes of poetry for Ida May.
Moments later, as Cory was checking out all four
young women, he felt amused by the sensational volumes her older sisters had selected. Fingering a dog-
eared western, he teased Sally. “So you’re braving
Dirty
Dick’s Downfall
this time? A pretty colorful choice for a
lady, I must say.”

Before she could answer, Nelly giggled and said,
“Sally’s already read it five times.”

Cory raised an eyebrow. “Indeed?”

Sally grinned. “I just love rereading the account of Dirty Dick getting his comeuppance in
Denver
—you
know, being gut-shot and all, like the low-down dog he
was.”

Cory whistled. “How very bloodthirsty of you.”

The ladies laughed.

“And his funeral was so dramatic,” Bonnie added
with a lively tilt of her face. “Especially when two of his
gang members got in a gunfight and winged the
preacher.”

Cory feigned a shudder. “You know, ladies, I must tell
you what I often say to my sister: You shouldn’t believe everything you read in dime novels.”

Again the ladies tittered.

“But isn’t that the whole point—the ‘larger than life’ aspect?” teased Sally. “You know, losing ourselves in
stories that are a darn sight more interesting than the
lives we lead?”

“Granted,” Cory replied.

Then he became distracted as the door banged
open and Ezra Trumble strode in, his hostile aura ac
companying him like an evil wind. “You girls ready to
leave?”

Spines were hastily stiffened, dime novels shoved
into reticules. “Yes, Pa,” the girls answered in unison.

Trumble stepped forward to sneer at Cory. “So you’re
volunteerin’ at the library again, eh, young Reklaw?”

“Yes. Mrs. Schmidt has too much to handle on her
own, especially with her husband ailing, so I try to
help out where I can.”

“Sounds like you’re a pure-dee sissy to me,” Trumble
sneered.

Cory couldn’t help himself; that comment raised his
hackles. He stood to confront the geezer. “Oh, yeah?
Would you prefer I turn outlaw, like you keep accusing
my brothers of doing?”

Trumble was poised to reply when the door opened
again and Grandma plodded in. She glared at Trum
ble, then made a beeline for him.
“
Ez, I’ll be having another word with you.”

“Hello, Eula,” he replied sourly. “Your molasses pie gave me the wind.”

“Well, I’m mighty pleased to hear it,” she mocked
back. “Now, on the subject of my grandsons—”

“Ah, them four,” he jeered. “We was just talking about
them—three outlaws and a sissy.”

Cory heard his grandma’s outraged roar and
cringed, then watched, appalled, as she drew back her
hand and slapped Ezra full in the face. Trumble was so
taken aback that for a moment he just stood there
trembling, glaring at her.

Eula shook a finger at him. “Ez, you hush up them in
sults of your’n and listen to me. I want you to let my
boys court your girls again this Thursday afternoon.”

“And why the hell should I, you damn she-wolf?” he
roared back.

“Because if you do, I’ll come along this time, trial
though it will be. But no short-wickin’ my boys, nor
bandying foul language neither.” She vehemently
bobbed her chin. “That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”

For a moment Ezra continued to stare murder at her.
Then he waved a hand. “Very well, woman. Though I
doubtless need my head examined, I accept your
devil’s bargain.”

At this Grandma grinned, the older girls chortled
and Cory and Ida May exchanged a delighted look.