Her Bodyguard (21 page)

Actually, he had another secret she’d probably consider to be his deepest, but he knew better than to address that particular bucket of worms anytime soon. Luke rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not putting my men at risk, Mari. Their identities are not secret like mine. I didn’t introduce y’all yesterday because that was before I decided to tell you the truth.”

Noting the skepticism in her expression, he continued, “It’s more than that. You wouldn’t have tangled with Murphy, you wouldn’t have gone through hell, if not for my job. I put your life in danger, and for that, the least I owe you is some honesty.”

The look in her eyes softened, though the doubt didn’t totally disappear. He was making some progress. “What else can I tell you, Mari?”

After a moment’s consideration, she said, “Murphy. Let’s talk about him for a minute. There’s more to that story than what you’ve told me, isn’t there? Something personal?”

Luke grimaced. The woman was too intelligent for his own good. “You would have to pick my least favorite topic, wouldn’t you.”

The smile that played at the comers of her mouth encouraged him, and made the idea of revealing his connection to Murphy a little easier to stomach. “That Irish blackguard and I go way back. It’s not a pretty story. If I tell it to you, are you gonna make it worth my while? Are-you gonna believe what I say?”

“That depends. If you tell me you met him while the two of you were in seminary studying to be priests, I rather doubt I’ll buy that tale.”

“Actually my stepfather brought him home because we were a family of thieves, and he thought Murphy would fit right in.”

“Now that I find totally believable,” Mari said, nodding. “So, you grew up doing what? Rustling cattle? Robbing stages?”

“Nothing so plebeian.” Luke sat on the side of the bed and reached down to tug off his boots. “Brian Callahan was a gentleman thief.”

“What are you doing?” Mari asked, as he stripped off his socks.

“I told you it’s a long story. I’m gettin’ comfortable.”

As he settled back beside her on the bed, Mari clutched the sheet tighter to her breasts. “You behave yourself.”

“Do you want to hear this story or not?” Because he was still annoyed at her attitude, Luke indulged in a minor bit of retaliation by draping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her against him. She stiffened but didn’t protest. Obviously, her curiosity was stronger than her desire to act snitty.

“A truly charming man, Brian performed as a magician at society functions in New York City. It was a perfect cover for his true vocation, stealing, and for years he went about his business undetected. That ended the night he cracked the safe of Bernard J. Kimball.”

“The railroad baron?”

“Railroads, steel, shipping. That’s him. He caught Brian with his hand literally in the safe. What people don’t know about ol’ Barney is that in addition to being an industrialist, he was also an avid collector of historical treasures. He wasn’t always particular about the legality of his acquisitions.”

“Let me guess,” Mari said. “He hired your stepfather to steal for him.”

“Bernard called him an acquisition specialist. See, back after the War Between the States, Kimball developed a special interest in documents and artifacts relating to Texas history, and he sent Brian to Texas to oversee search and procurement efforts. Brian was happy to make the move because he’d run afoul of the local constables.”

“Ah. Another of our infamous G.T.T. rascals,” Mari observed. So many men from other states had fled their homes in avoidance of the law that “Gone To Texas” had become a common expression.

“Exactly. Brian didn’t enjoy leaving New York the way he did, so for a while after his arrival in Texas, he actually tried to stay on the right side of the law. It was during that period that he first called upon my widowed mother.”

Luke played with a lock of Mari’s hair, enjoying the soft sensation of silk sliding over his fingers. The scent of rose water clung to her, teased his senses, and for a moment, he lost his train of thought.

“So your mother married him and they had Rory,” Mari said, drawing the logical conclusion. “How did Murphy enter the picture?”

Luke didn’t want to talk about Murphy. He’d much rather play with her hair. Nuzzle her neck. Trace her collarbone with his tongue. Release those buttons at her bodice and—

Mari jabbed him with her elbow.

Luke sighed. “Brian played cards with him one night in East Texas and was impressed by Murphy’s skills at sleight-of-hand.”

“He was a cardsharp?”

“The best for his age that Brian had ever seen. He brought him home to teach me. By that time, Brian had abandoned his attempt to stay straight.”

“Really? What did your mother say about that?”

Luke’s lips twisted in a sad smile. “My mother died in childbirth with Rory. I was nine, Janna, fourteen. We figured Brian would run off, but he stuck. Janna mothered Rory and tried to manage me. Brian taught us magic tricks, and he had a grand scheme going for taking our show on the road.”

Luke paused, absently stroking Mari’s shoulder as he thought back to those days, his mood wistful. All in all, life had been good back then. Brian had been a good man, big and bold and boisterous. He’d truly cared about his family. He simply had a different set of values when it came to matters involving money.

“My hands were the problem. They were too big. Too slow.” He flexed his fingers in front of her. “I had a devil of a time learning to pick pockets.”

He had learned, though. Eventually. Even all these years later, he still had the talent. A touch light enough to slip a row of bodice buttons with nary a notice. “Murphy taught me. He had the hands of a phantom, and, to my everlasting regret, the charm of the devil. Janna fell for him like a flour sack off the back of a wagon.”

“He took advantage of your sister?”

“Worse than that. He married her.”

Mari sat up straight. The front placket of her gown gaped open, giving Luke a tantalizing view of her breasts. “Wait a minute. Are you telling me that Finn Murphy is your brother-in-law?”

“’Fraid so,” he replied, distracted. Her nipples were the size of quarters, a sweet, rosy pink.

“Finn Murphy is your brother-in-law and Rory Callahan is your brother.”

“Uh huh.” Luke’s fingers itched to touch her. His mouth craved her taste.

“And I thought the McBride family had its share of black sheep. Y’all are an entire herd. So, are there any more surprises I need to know about? Any other family skeletons I might wander into on the trail?”

Oh, yeah. Definitely. Without a doubt.

But damned if he’d answer that question. Not now. Luke was tired of talking about his family. He was tired of talking, period. He sat up, turned toward her and ticked his dry lips.

He had something much more enticing in mind.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“WELL?” MARI PRESSED AS she watched Luke’s eyes narrow.

“Well what?” he asked, his voice low and thick like hot caramel atop cold ice cream.

Unease shimmered up Mari’s spine. He was in a strange mood this morning, one she couldn’t quite read. She didn’t know what to think of him. She couldn’t decide how much of his story she believed. “Do you have any more unpleasant surprises for me, Luke? Any more skeletons in the closet?”

“I have surprises. Oh, yeah. Not unpleasant, though. Never that. I’m better than that.” His gaze drifted over her sheet-clad body. “Maribeth?”

She cleared her throat. “Yes?”

He looked up, stared into her eyes. “Did you have a good night’s sleep?”

“Yes. Until I was rudely awakened.” What did the way she slept have to do with anything, anyhow? They were talking about his family. A family where nobody had the same last name. A family of sinners with one saint.
If
she believed Luke’s story, that is. Did she believe him?

He traced his index finger across the knuckles of her fist.

“You’re right. I was rude. Let’s do it over, shall we?”

“Do what…” Mari’s words trailed off as Luke reached up and gently shut her eyes.

“Go to sleep, sugar, and let’s do it right.”

Sleep? She couldn’t go to sleep now. She was wide-awake. He was drawing spirals on her shoulder and every nerve in her body had bristled to attention.

Then, she felt it. His breath danced over her skin. His lips, as soft as a butterfly’s wings, made a gentle, lazy journey across her face. He kissed her closed eyelids, her temples, her cheekbones. “Sleeping beauty,” he murmured. “Wake up, beautiful.”

Heart hammering, her lashes fluttered open. His dark eyes stared into her very soul and turned her bones to butter. “What are you doing?”

His slow, knowing smile exposed his roguish dimple. “Saying good-morning.”

Then he slowly, deliberately, brought his mouth back to hers.

Mari’s lips parted at his first touch. His gentleness lulled her, his tenderness seduced her. As he increased the pressure against her mouth, bit by delicious bit, her hands reached up to grip his arms.

Her head started to spin.

Luke’s tongue teased her lips, seeking entrance. Exhaling a breathy sigh, Mari went pliant and allowed him in. He played with her, darting, licking, exploring. He captured her upper lip, then her lower. With lazy seduction, he made love to her mouth. Outside, raindrops thudded against the roof, providing music for lyrics of sighs and gasps and soft, silken moans.

This was more than a simple good morning, and part of Mari, her self-protective side, tried to assert some control.

Luke Garrett might be a Texas Ranger, but he is definitely no saint
.

Then his fingers slipped buttons free, pushed the nightgown from her shoulders and grazed the swell of her naked breasts. Undeniable desire overtook reason, and she banished the last fragment of doubt. Mari arched her body toward him.

She wanted this. She wanted him. She’d been good for so long, and she’d be good again. But right now, here in the middle of nowhere, where nobody knew her to judge her or to damage her reputation, she wanted to be bad.

She wanted her former fiancé’s ugly accusation put to bed, so to speak, once and for all, if only for herself. No woman who willingly gave her virginity to an outlaw could possibly be labeled frigid!

Besides, Luke Garrett was an adventure she simply didn’t want to miss.

Mari tangled her fingers in his thick, silken hair, subtly yielding, silently urging him on.

Luke was quick to take her hint. He deepened the kiss, the thrusts of his tongue growing demanding. His hand cupped the fullness of her breast, caressing, fondling. “Mmm…” he said, flicking his thumb across her rigid nipple. Arousal zinged straight to her core, and she let out a little groan.

“Like that, hmm?” he asked. His teeth scraped against her neck as his hand continued to move, caressing each breast in turn.

“Yes…” she breathed.

Wickedness danced in his eyes as he glanced at her and declared. “Then you’re gonna love this.”

He dipped his head and took her nipple into his mouth.

Mari’s arms fell to her sides, her hands flexing and gripping the sheet as sensation flooded her. His hot breath fanned her skin as he laved the sensitive peak with his tongue. He teased and nibbled, using the tip of his tongue to torture the tight bud. When he settled down to suckle, she surrendered to his need for fulfillment. “Luke. Oh, Luke.”

Writhing upward, she held his dark head in her arms while her body pulsed with delicious sensation. He tormented, teased, tasted. She begged, cried, prayed. It went on for minutes—or maybe days—and left her weak and trembling. Aching. Hot.

She let out a sigh of loss when he released her, rolled back on his knees. Breathing hard, his eyes dark with need, Luke stripped off his shirt. Mari’s gaze trailed over his muscular, masculine beauty and a hollow, achy yearning filled her. This man. This moment. She’d remember it all her life. She licked her lips and said, “I want to touch you.”

Wordlessly, he lifted her hand to his chest.

Mari trailed her fingertips across the dusting of dark hair, the intriguing ripple of muscle. When she scraped a nail across his nipple, he sucked in an audible breath. Encouraged, she stroked the hard, rippled muscles of his stomach until she reached the sprinkling of hair dusting his navel.

With a pained, ragged groan, Luke grasped her hand into his. “If you want to stop this, Maribeth, you need to do it now.”

“I don’t want to stop.”

His hot, molten eyes captured hers. “You sure?”

She nodded.

“Thank God.”

He climbed from the bed and slipped off his trousers. At the first sight of his jutting erection, Mari recalled the previous day’s events and experienced a quick flash of panic.

Firmly, she willed it away, determined to forget yesterday’s trauma. She trusted Luke. Being with him was good. It was right. This was what she wanted. He was who she wanted.

Her throat worked convulsively and, noting it, Luke paused. He gently stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “It’s all right, sugar. I promise.”

“I trust you, Luke.”

“I know, and I won’t betray that trust.”

“Remember, it’s my first time.”

“I remember.” Satisfaction gleamed in his warm brown eyes. “I’m honored by your gift, Mari, and I’ll treat it with the respect it deserves. I want to make it good for you. I won’t hurt you.”

No. No, he wouldn’t. He wasn’t anything like Finn Murphy. Looking at that man had made her want to run screaming. Looking at Luke made her want to…touch.

So she did.

Heedless of the nightgown that pooled at her waist, Mari sat up and reached for him. Velvet steel, she thought as she trailed a trembling fingertip along his rigid length. His body twitched at her untutored exploration, until she reached the satin tip of him. With a low, growling noise from deep in his throat, Luke thrust against her hand and shuddered. “Jesus, Maribeth.”

As he shifted her hand away, she felt a warm glow of feminine triumph at the glazed, desperate look in his eyes.
She’d
done that to him. Her. Mari McBride, frigid virgin.
Ha!