To Wed a Wanton Woman (6 page)

Train palmed her hip and aligned their
bodies, fitting his erection against the heat of her sex. He groaned as she
grabbed fistfuls of his shirt. Her head fell back, giving him access to her
entire neck. His tongue found her earlobe, flicking it before gently sucking it
into his mouth.

Marion
dropped to her knees and Train followed her down. The bed of hay crinkled
beneath them as they positioned in the stall. God, she was pretty. Face
flushed, shallow puffs of air parting her full lips. He lay next to her. The firm
peaks of her breasts pressed against her dress, waiting for his touch. Every
gulp of her breath lifted her chest, beckoning him closer.

But this wasn’t right. He was just like
every other man who fucked her. He had her in the barn, on her back, wanting
her thighs spread for him. His heart lurched. “This isn’t right.” He sat up, closed
his eyes and leaned against the wall.

“Train?”

The word asked a thousand questions.

He swallowed, pushing his heart from his
throat, and opened his eyes. Her hair fanned across the sweet smelling hay. She
was all sensuous curves and long willow-like limbs. His blood surged. He wanted
to be just like everyone else, to be another man to fuck a willing whore.

Marion
sat up and reached for him. Marion never needed any man. She’d wanted men,
giving and taking pleasure of her own. What she felt for Train both terrified
and thrilled her. She had never begged before. Never said there wasn’t a first
time for everything. With her heart racing, she said, “Please, Train.”

His gaze was soft as a caress. When he
returned to her mouth, his tongue sent shivers of desire surging in waves. She
knew better than to try to end the sweet torture. Her heartbeat pulsed in every
part of her body. She moaned, aching for him to deepen the kiss. Slow and
sensual, her toes curled as he made love to her mouth.

“I’m burning up, Train. I need you to touch
me,” she whispered into his mouth as they kissed.

He smiled, refusing her request, continuing
the painful pleasure of using only his tongue.

Marion
clutched his neck and tried to pull him on top of her. She whimpered, impatient
to have his weight pressing into her.

He chuckled. “Not yet, sweetheart. You miss
out on too much when you rush.” His voice was rich and smooth in the nearly dark
stable, the sweet and pungent smell of hay all around them. “I want to savor
every kiss.” Long shadows cast against the walls and rafters. “I like it slow.”
He inclined his mouth over hers, once again intimately exploring with soft
tenderness.

He wanted slow, but her heart raced like
Midnight Dancer. Maybe Train saw this comparison. She needed fast. Her body
bucked. Like Midnight Dancer, she wanted to throw her head back and demand he
let her free.

Finally, he moved between her legs. Her
thighs spread. He ground against hers. With the slightest pressure, a
tightening response welled from deep within. His undulating hips, and the
pressure of his hardened length against her sensitive flesh made her arch
against him. It was just enough to push her over the edge. “Train!” she cried into
the stillness of the stable. Her fingernails dug into his arm. Waves of pleasure
rippled through her. Her heart thundered. Shivers streaked over her flesh. She
couldn’t catch her breath. She tightened her thighs against him and jolted with
the spasms. Finally her muscles relaxed and her legs fell open.

Train rested his forehead in the hollow of
her neck. “Are you okay?”

She wrapped her arms around him and held
tightly. “What about you?” she whispered. Heavy, shallow breathing eased.

“I’ll get mine another time.” He kissed her.
“I swear someday I will make love to you.” He combed his fingers through her
tangled hair. “Marion, I won’t share.” His hand stilled and their gazes locked.
Both accepted the implication of the statement. If she wanted him, she would have
to give up the only life she knew.

“I am disappointed,” she sadly said. “I hate
not getting what I want.”

Train cradled her in his arms as she lay in
front of him in the hay. Her bottom fit snuggly against the front of his
trousers. Their legs tangled together as they fell asleep.

* * *

“Train?” she whispered when the first rays
of the morning sun streamed through the rafters of the barn. “I’m hungry.” She
put her hands over her stomach in an attempt to quiet the growling sounds.
“Wake up.” She rocked his shoulder back and forth. “Either wake up or I’m going
to the shack to eat.”

He wrapped his arm around her waist and
pulled her back down beside him. Her stomach vibrated. “Did you feel that?” she
asked with feigned annoyance. “Come on, let’s go pillage the kitchen.”

She struggled out of his arms, stood, and
towered above him, hands on her hips. “I’m sure I can think of another way to
wake you up,” she said coyly. “Train,” she sang. She took his cowboy hat off
the peg and put it on. “Be patient, sweetheart,” she whispered in a deep voice
trying to mimic Train as she knelt down beside him. “This morning it’s your
turn.” Her tongue tickled his ear.

His arm shot out with lightning speed and
captured her across the chest. She squealed, head falling back. Laughter pealed
through the air. His hat tumbled from her head.

Train sat up and leaned against the wall.
She sat across his lap. “Now that I have you up,” she said. “What am I going to
do with you?” She wiggled her bottom against his morning erection.

He stood. His abrupt movements caused her to
slide into the hay. He dusted off his hat and put it on. “We better feed you
before you decide to take matters into your own hands.”

She stood and wrapped her arms around his
neck. “That may happen whether you feed me or not.” Her head tilted and he
kissed her waiting lips.

A growl from her stomach caused him to
laugh. “I suppose you expect me to fix you something?” He opened the stable
door for her.

Dampness clung to the crisp morning air. The
mountains remained obscured by a gray mist hovering close to the ground.
Chickens pecked looking for a meal.

Marion
glanced at Train. Three days worth of whiskers covered his face. No longer
tucked in, and partially unbuttoned, the front of his shirt revealed a hint of
hair. He’d left his belt somewhere in the stable so his trousers hung a bit
lower on his hips. She’d seen many men in her line of work. Train was beautiful
against a rugged, Montana background.

“It’s easy to see why you call this place home,”
she said.

“This is temporary. Someday I’m going to
have a place of my own. Until now, I never had motivation to move away from
TJ.” His steady gaze held hers.

“Don’t plan your life around me, Train.”

He rested his hands on top of her shoulders.
“I’m going to build you a mansion. It will take me awhile to fill it with
servants, but I would gladly wait on you hand and foot.” He spoke with a note
of laughter in his voice, causing his dimples to become more prominent.

“And what about children?” She pretended,
amused by his teasing. “We could try and try and never have one.”

“They make too much noise.” He stroked her
cheek with his thumb. “And we wouldn’t be able to drop our clothes and make
love whenever we wanted.”

She looked at the ground. “It’s your dream,
not mine. I think we’re both delusional from lack of food.” He started to
speak, but she put her hand up stopping him. “I’m going back to the Dusty Rose today,
after breakfast. Allison said TJ would have someone take me.”

“If that’s what you want, I’ll take you.”
His mouth hardened into a tight line.

“Train, I only came for the wedding. I’ve
had fun with our teasing, and I haven’t been secretive about my attraction to
you.” She tugged on the hem of his shirt. “If you’re in town, come see me.” She
smiled. “Come on, I’m still starving.” She took his hand and pulled.

Train returned the smile, but it never
reached his eyes.

Train kept close to Marion when they stepped
into the Shack. Cake had cast iron pans filled with scrambled eggs, and bacon
sizzled in a large skillet. As fast as the old man could cook, the men filled
their plates. A tall, metal urn dispensed piping hot coffee, strong and black.

“Train,” a chorus of voices rang out. He
nodded in their direction.

“I’m starving.” Marion picked up a plate and
loaded it with several strips of bacon and a huge helping of eggs. “I smell
fried potatoes.” She sniffed. “I don’t see them.”

Train pointed at the end of the table to a
large dish. “How do you like your coffee?”

“With a shot of whiskey.” She smiled and bumped
her hip against his. “Or black is fine.”

“A tiny thing like you is going to eat all
that?” Charlie asked Marion when they sat down. He raised his eyebrows at
Train. “You worked up quite an appetite yourself.”

Train didn’t acknowledge Charlie with a response.
Stabbing his fork into a piece of bacon, he silenced the group from further
inquiry.

Train narrowed his eyes at Jack. Leering at Marion, the man leaned back and wrapped his lips around a thin cheroot. “How about a game
of poker after breakfast?” he asked her.

Marion
inhaled as if she was about to speak, however Train was quicker. “She cheats.”

Marion
huffed.

He winked and brushed her leg under the
table.

“We don’t care.” Jack blew lazy smoke circles
into the air. “I believe we’ve parted money before.” The implication sizzled
like a hot piece of bacon from Cake’s griddle.

“Our only experience is at the poker table,
as I’m sure you remember.” She loaded her fork with eggs and put it in her
mouth. “Mmm,” she said to Train. “I’m sure Cake’s cooking is good all the time.
But I think breakfast is especially good when you don’t get a chance to eat
before bed.” Her eyes held a mischievous glint of satisfaction. “I was tired
when we finally went to bed. How did you sleep?”

Train drank a hearty swallow of coffee
letting the scalding hot liquid burn his throat on the way down. “I was tired
from the long ride.” He gave her a reprimanding scowl. “Are you going to stay
and play cards?”

“I think so, unless you have something
better in mind?”

He stepped away from the table. “I’ve got
work to do.”

“Train, wait.” She hurried after him. “I’m
sorry if I embarrassed you. Jack
ass
--” She emphasized the second half of
Jackass. “--tried to insinuate we had met before. It isn’t true.”

“Now we’ll be the topic of conversation. Don’t
misunderstand what I’m saying. I’m not embarrassed. I don’t want to confirm
what they’re thinking.” He trailed his finger down her cheek. “It isn’t
respectful to you.”

Marion
watched his back as he left her standing in the middle of the yard. He was the
first man to see her as something more than a whore, and she was letting him
walk away. As appealing as his offer was, she knew she could never live a life
like Allison. Infatuation faded fast. She wouldn’t allow herself to be
discarded again by someone she loved. Not loving was the only way to insure it
never happened.

Chapter Four

The brothel seemed dark and dirty as Marion entered the front door. Her nostrils immediately burned from the heavy smoke in the
air. A few gentlemen sat in the parlor having drinks and socializing. Marion made her way to Sandy’s office and gently knocked on the door.

Marion
poked her head in. “I’m back.”

Sandy
,
sitting at her desk, looked up from her business ledgers. “You look pitiful,”
she said. “Darling, what happened?”

Marion
collapsed onto the sofa
and t
he
floodgates opened. Sandy came to sit beside her.

“Men aren’t worth tears. Tell me what
happened.”

Marion
explained what had happened between her and Train.

“He never came back to say goodbye. I guess
I can’t really blame him. Sandy, I’m not fit to be a wife.”

“I agree.” She took a hankie from her
pocket. “Of course, you did the right thing. Dry your eyes. You make me nervous
when you cry.” She waited while Marion dabbed her eyes and blew her nose.

“You can’t build castles in the sky,” she
continued. “He’s hurting now, but he’s a young man. Face it Marion, in years
you aren’t much older than Train. The difference is in life experiences.” Sandy patted her on the leg. “Clean yourself up and meet me in the parlor. We’ll have a
drink.”

“Not tonight, Sandy. I’m tired and I feel
terrible. I won’t be good company for you. And I especially don’t want to be
good company with anyone else.” She wanted to go to her room and bask in the
fantasy for a night. “I can’t believe I even entertained the idea. What was I
thinking?” she said and left.

Marion
sat on her bed for an hour, her thoughts in a racing jumble. “Ugh! This isn’t
working,” she said and growled. Images of Train drifted through her mind. While
she replayed their time together on the ranch, downstairs people laughed.