An Inescapable Attraction (The Defiant Hearts Series, Book 3) Page 6

  Thaddeus shrugged. There were better things one could do with one's time, but poker had come easy to him.

  "Yes," she added, "he said you were almost as good as me."

  He rolled his eyes, not believing her.

  She shrugged. "Anyway, he showed me a thing or two, and we even worked a couple games together."

  "You mean you helped him cheat?" Thaddeus could easily imagine gamblers so distracted by her loveliness, they didn't even notice Kelly fleecing them.

  "I don't know about that. I wasn't infamous or anything." She shot him a grin. "I'm not Canada Bill or Umbrella Jim," she said, referring to the notorious three-card monte swindler and the shell-game con man. "It was more like, with Kelly's bad luck, I was helping him to even the odds. Why, I could beat that man nine times out of ten and he knew oodles more than I ever will about Faro. He can keep track of all the cards that are played, and I nearly can."

  "Really?" That was an impressive skill if she could do it.

  "Riley always said I had a good memory."

  Riley could go to hell, but she'd brought him up yet again, so he might as well ask. "Why'd you leave him?"

  "Kelly?"

  "No."

  "Oh." She was quiet a moment. "It's a long story that I'll tell you sometime."

  "Did you sleep with him?" Good God, how had that slipped out? Thaddeus decided he must be more tired than he thought. It was the last thing he wanted to know. Her answer had the potential to eat him up inside for the rest of his life.

  She gave him that long, contemplative stare of hers. "Yes. I had my head on his bare chest one night, and I fell asleep. That was after my father died."

  "You know that's not what I meant," Thaddeus said. "And you don't have to answer anyway. My question was completely beyond the pale. I don't know why I asked, and I don't care to know the answer."

  Another one of her long stares. Then she spoke again. "I couldn't have relations with him, even if I wanted to."

  Thaddeus noticed that she didn't say she didn't want to, only that she couldn't. Wait, why couldn't she?

  "Why not?" He'd gone this far down an inappropriate path.

  She gave an exasperated sigh and then looked away from him. "He would've known I wasn't a virgin. He's a doctor, remember? I couldn't have him thinking so poorly of me."

  His mouth fell open before he realized, and when he did, he closed it with a tooth-cracking force. He didn't know what to say to her astonishing admission. But his stomach twisted uncomfortably like he'd been sucker punched. Disappointment that he had no right to feel surged through him. After all, she'd never been his girl.

  He had to say something into the vast quietude.

  "Riley probably wouldn't have minded," he offered, wondering who the lucky bastard had been. "That is, I don't believe he would've thought badly of you."

  He looked down and saw that his hands were fisted again. If he didn't change the course of this conversation, he was going to get angry as a hornet, and he needed his other hand in good working order for firing his gun and punching people. He unclenched his fists and tried to give her a reassuring smile that he feared was closer to a grimace.

  "We need to get some rest," he said. "Sleep gives me the upper hand when I need it."

  He was babbling but he couldn't stop, especially with her staring at him with those guileless blue eyes. "If I'm too tired, I won't be of any use to you. We better stop talking and settle down."

  He desperately wanted her to shut up concerning her sexual escapades, and he needed to stop trying to understand.

  "Fine," she said, sounding angry.

  What had he done now? He put his bag down for a pillow and watched her use her old duster for the same. Then she relaxed into what little hay remained and turned her back on him. He took another look around before lying down beside her, careful to face away, staring at the weathered wall.

  They'd been sleeping in the same bed now for almost a week, but suddenly, he couldn't stand the notion of touching her. He knew he was being a sore loser and childishly possessive. After all, he'd lost count of how many women he'd bedded, but they'd meant nothing to him, not a one. None had compared to the girl he'd left behind. And now to hear her tell that she'd been intimate with another man!

  It would be better if it had been Riley. At least he liked Riley. But now he was haunted by some faceless scoundrel pawing his Ellie, stripping her clothes away at her behest, and settling between her thighs. He'd imagined it himself so many damn times, it was almost a memory rather than a fantasy.

  "Sleep," he mumbled to himself. You stupid bastard, just sleep.

  * * *

  It didn't seem that long before he felt an elbow in his back, awakening him, followed by her warm body pressing against his. He realized that, against all odds and despite his tortured thoughts, he'd managed to follow Ellie's lead and fall asleep in the loft. He must have sorely needed the rest; after all, he couldn't protect her if he nodded off while on horseback.

  The rider who'd shot at them might have kept on riding, too, and could be looking for them as soon as they broke cover, a fact he hadn't mentioned to Ellie. She seemed to think they'd lost their pursuer.

  Peering through the broken slats in the roof, he took stock of the time of day—late afternoon. They couldn't possibly ride out in the open now. He closed his eyes again. The close, scorched air in the loft and the sound of bees buzzing nearby were like an opiate. He drifted back into a shallow doze, still feeling her snuggling behind him. He had no idea how long he lay there, enjoying the sensation of her body next to his.

  "Thaddeus," he heard her murmur against his ear, jolting him awake again. He sat bolt upright, his gun in his hand before he was fully alert. It was sunset.

  He looked down at her, reclining, unperturbed, blinking up at him.

  "Goddamnit, woman, what is it?" His pulse was racing.

  "Nothing, I..." She quirked her mouth in a shy smile. "Nothing."

  His heart still ricocheted around in his chest, but he took a deep breath to settle his nerves and truly looked at her. She had something to say, perhaps, or... hm, what was that look on her face?

  Her cheeks were infused with a pale blush, and she raised an eyebrow, her lovely mouth crooking up on one side in a secret smile.

  If he didn't know better, he'd say this lovely lady lounging in the hay was giving him a come-hither look of invitation.

  He swallowed. He had to be reading her wrong.

  "Ellie?"

  "Thaddeus," she said again, her voice like a cat's purr. She stretched out her arms to him, and he had no doubt.

  Blazes! He was being tempted by an angel. How could he resist? The yearning washed over him and through him, and he put his gun aside. He leaned down until she could reach him, and her arms slid around his neck, while he rested his forearms on either side of her.

  Looking down into her face, he saw only openness and longing. Naked longing. For him.

  He bent lower and kissed her. The rush of warmth and longing was even stronger than at the Grindels'.

  She opened her mouth to him, and he took what she offered. It had been so many years of wanting her. Of course, he bumped his nose against her in his hurry to meld his lips to hers, and naturally, he bit her lower lip too hard when he found he couldn't get enough of her, causing her to hiss.

  All the years of being intimate with women whose names he now couldn't remember, and yet here he was, feeling clumsy and green with Ellie.

  He trailed kisses down her pale neck and encountered the eyelet lace of her shift at her neckline and over that her dark blue blouse with a daunting row of buttons down the front, disappearing into her skirt.

  With slightly shaking hands, he unbuttoned her, pulling the shirt out of her waistband. Underneath was the white shift that he'd seen before at the rooming house. No corset. She certainly had no need of one, so slender was she. But the blasted shift had more buttons! He tackled these with earnest, and all the while, her hands were in his hair, ruffli
ng it, then stroking across his shoulders and down his chest.

  At last, he parted the cotton undergarment and feasted his eyes on her breasts. The last rays of the sun slid across her skin, turning it golden. His manly parts appreciated the view as much as his eyes. Her twin peaks of pert womanhood topped by perfect rosy nipples caused his shaft to swell and press painfully against his fly. Had anything ever looked more delicious or inviting? He didn't think so.

  Bending lower, he rubbed his cheek, stubble and all, against first one breast, then the other. So soft, yet firm.

  She muttered something incomprehensible but clearly encouraging him to continue.

  With hot open-mouthed kissed, he devoured one breast, while alternately stroking and kneading the other, until he took hold of her nipple between this thumb and trigger finger, rolling it gently. He latched onto her other nipple with hungry lips, and she arched against him. At her movements, his erection pulsed harder.

  Calm down, he told himself. But he couldn't stop from using his teeth against one of her hardened buds; at the same time, he felt her hand stray down his torso to the front of his pants. He stilled, her nipple in his mouth, as she ran her palm over the length of him through the fabric of his pants.

  He groaned against her skin, letting her breast slip out of his mouth.

  "Keep touching me," he urged, his voice low. And he switched breasts, paying equal attention to the other bud that thrust up at him for some sensual consideration.

  Leaning on one elbow, he raised her skirt, not a fancy garment like she used to wear back in Spring City when she was the princess of the town. It was a plain blue frontier skirt, and he couldn't wait to remove it or at least hike it up high enough so he could gain access to her smooth thighs and treasured woman's core.

  He stroked his hand across bare skin in no time, and he pushed her skirt higher. A second later, he felt her undoing his belt and his button fly. Soon, she was tugging at his pants to pull them down, even as he was slipping his hand into her drawers.

  She gasped at his first touch and spread her legs under him, but he didn't settle between them so far that she couldn't gain access to him. In fact, as he brushed his fingers across her damp curls, she slipped her hand inside his open pants and was doing the same to him.

  God Almighty, it felt good—to have her fingers wriggling near his shaft, but he longed for... His breath hitched as she caught hold of him in a firm grasp. At the same time, she lifted her hips, pressing against his hand, and he remembered what he was doing. He slid a finger between her folds and felt her slick with desire.

  She rewarded him with a faint moan. It was the sexiest sound he'd ever heard. He wanted to taste her next note of pleasure, so he kissed her again while gently easing his finger into her passage. He caught her moaning sigh in his mouth. She moved her hips higher, and he slipped a second finger into her opening. So tight. She gasped again. Without warning, she began to stroke him.

  "Jesus," he exclaimed, feeling his climax building faster than a bobcat chasing after a rabbit. In turn, while he pressed the heel of his palm onto her woman's mound and flicked his thumb across her swollen nub, she bucked against his hand.

  He practically came from the feel of her alone, so hot under his touch.

  She broke free from his mouth, arching her head back, and he felt her body start to contract around his fingers. She cried out, riding his hand, no longer pumping him with her encircling fingers but merely holding on.

  In seconds, she climaxed, shuddering against him, tightly squeezing his manhood. But as soon as her body relaxed, she began to stroke him again; he rolled onto his back, letting her finish him. It didn't take long. Spurting into the hay beside them, he closed his eyes, feeling thoroughly spent.

  He hadn't had sex like that, without penetration, for years. Some would call it tame and yet, it had been a most satisfying experience, having Ellie's hand on him, better than he could remember having in a long while. Where the devil had she learned to do that?

  The smile died on his face. Where indeed and with whom? He went from sated to blindly jealous in the time it took him to do up his pants and consider the man who'd deflowered her and taught her about these type of things. If he knew him, Thaddeus would have no trouble shooting the man—though killing him with his bare hands would be preferable.

  Sitting up, she lowered her skirts and began buttoning her shift, and he felt his temper flare.

  "What the hell was that?" he asked, glaring at her.

  She recoiled at his tone.

  He was even angrier at seeing the pink spots blossom on her cheeks, flushed from what they'd done, and the bits of hay in her hair. He wanted to lash out at her, to punish her somehow for not being the virginal girl he'd remembered. He'd set her above all others and in the past day, he'd found out that she wasn't the innocent he'd believed, and then—goddamnit!—she'd let him grope her; she had, in fact, enticed him to it.

  What next? Would he find out that his only sister was a harlot?

  "Are you angry?" she asked, clearly bewildered.

  "I don't like being surprised and ambushed is all," he said sourly.

  She stiffened at the implication that what happened between them was all her doing. "You seemed to like it fine a moment ago." Her voice was clipped and even.

  She had him there, but he wasn't going to let her best him.

  "You know something, Ellie," he said, not hiding the sneer in his tone, "if someone shoves a piece of sweet cake in a man's face, he's probably going to take a bite, just to see how it tastes. It doesn't mean he wants to wolf down the whole thing, or that he even likes the cake, for that matter."

  She flinched as if he'd struck her, and that made him even madder. He wished he could feel reasonable about her having had sex with someone else; however, he could see nothing but red. And to think that a man would do that with her and then let her go. She'd wasted herself on some lowlife who hadn't even stuck around to cherish her!

  He was as angry at her for that as at the lowlife. He stood up, almost conking his head on the rafters. He had to move away from her now, or he was going to say something even worse that would make it impossible for him to continue helping her.

  Snatching up his belongings, he was in such high dudgeon, he nearly fell out of the loft. Regaining his balance, he started down the ladder. At the bottom, he strapped on his holster and slipped on his jacket. He noted that she had remained sitting perfectly still after his little fit.

  "Ellie," he called up to her, trying to bring a note of reason to his voice. "I'm going to go feed and water Lucky. When I get back, we'll head out."

  He groaned in his head at the thought of sharing the saddle with her again, after what they'd done. Sweet Lord, why was he being tested?

  She didn't stir or answer him, and he didn't blame her. So he left, going stealthily out into the dusk, noisy with crickets and whip-poor-wills, among other critters.

  He stayed away half an hour—plenty of time, he figured, for her to get over being annoyed at him. It had been more than enough time for him to realize that they'd shared something incredible and that he'd been an unfair muttonhead. More than unfair, he'd been downright cruel.

  "Ellie," he called up to her. Nothing. Boy, she could stay silent longer than any female he'd ever met. Maybe she'd fallen back to sleep. He climbed up the ladder, his gaze darting around the small space. Even in the dimming light, he could see that she was gone—woman and bag, coat and boots, gone!

  Shit!

  Chapter 5

  She couldn't have made it far on foot. She might even be hiding close by, thinking he'd leave and then she could make her escape. He had no one to blame but himself as his heart raced like a wild horse. You're an idiot, Thaddeus!

  He hated to break the stillness of the burgeoning twilight, the perfect cover for their journey, but he did.

  "Ellie," he called out, then listened. Again, more loudly, he yelled, "Ellie." Nothing. "Goddamnit! I'm sorry. I said some thoughtless things because..."<
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  He couldn't tell her why. It scarcely made sense to him.

  "Ellie, where are you?" More nothing.

  For hours, he rode slowly in circles, ever larger circles, away from the dilapidated barn, and then he headed in the direction he was going to go anyway, hoping she was walking the right way. His mood grew darker, more desperate, with every step the horse took without her. If anything happened to Ellie now, it would be entirely his fault.

  Eventually, he came to Minonk, right where he expected it to be. He'd been through the town before, so close to the junction that would take him east. But he was minus his most important cargo.

  What in blue blazes was he supposed to do now? He could abandon this foolish stunt of trying to be a hero and get back to doing what he did best, looking out for himself. He needed to pawn the illicit wares in his bag, which would make it a helluva lot lighter, and then he would hightail it to Montana. He had a mine to open.

  Where the hell was she?

  He checked in at the Webber's House hotel, paying in advance for a room. He made use of their safe, paying the young clerk extra to secure his bag so he could find a saloon and try to relax without fear of robbery. In the first drinking hole, he bought cigarettes and a glass of whisky and then decided he ought to eat something since he couldn't remember his last real meal.

  The savory chicken dinner reminded him of Ada's food at the sole saloon back in Spring City, tempting him though he could hardly eat a bite, not while agonizing over Ellie's whereabouts. He took a moment to watch a card game, but seeing the trifling pot and the tame players, he moved on. The Silver Dollar, a large red brick building, seemed more promising with a noisy crowd spilling right out onto the sidewalk, perhaps providing the diversion he needed.

  Thaddeus pushed his way inside the well-lit establishment and took stock of the situation. Full tables, scantily clad waitresses, even a man strumming a guitar—he liked it. He went first to the bar, deciding to order another drink; then he would circle the room, asking if anyone had seen a blond angel in the flesh.