open and crooked; his hair stood on end; his mouth was red and his face pale.
Then his gaze lowered to her bodice. Glancing down, she discovered that her breasts had almost popped free of every trapping; red scrapes from his beard laced across her white skin. She should be horrified at the evidence of what they'd done. But the sight made her body go hot and limp again.
"Why in hell did you come here?"
She raised her gaze, but he was busy buttoning his shirt and ignoring her. She adjusted her dress and smoothed her skirt, but she still couldn't seem to remember why she'd come to his room—except to kiss him.
No, that hadn't been why.
"You said there was no way to make El Diablo and his men stop raiding Rock Creek without killing them all."
Reese buttoned his shirt all the way up to his neck. His eyes were cool emerald again, though when they passed over her, a flash of heat lit their depths. "Are we back to that?"
"Yes," she said simply. "Is there any other way?"
"Maybe if you had more men than they do, men who could fight that is, they might cut their losses and run."
"What if we had more women?"
"Huh?"
"More women. If you taught the women how to shoot, then there'd be more of us than there are of them."
"I don't think El Diablo would be frightened of women."
"Why is a woman with a gun any less frightening than a man with one?"
"They just are. Hell, Mary, you couldn't even stomach the sight of a man I killed. How do you expect to kill one yourself?"
"I'm not going to kill one. I'm just going to make them think that I will."
He groaned. "That'll never work. Half of being tough is actually being that way. Once or twice you're going to have to shoot somebody, or no one will ever take you seriously."
Mary bit her lip. She'd so hoped she'd found a solution to their dilemma. But if she actually had to kill someone . . .
That might be a problem.
Chapter 7
A knock on Reese's door had Mary scrambling away, rearranging her bodice, then rubbing at the scratches he'd made on her skin with his ravenous mouth. Reese pulled her behind him, but he needn't have worried that the intruder would walk in. A closed door was sacred between men. You never knew what you might discover behind one.
"Reese," Jed growled. "It's your watch."
Jed stamped down the hall to his room. Reese wanted to stamp too. How could he have forgotten his watch and have to be reminded like a child with chores?
"Can you help me find my hairpins?" Mary asked.
That's how he'd forgotten. Understandable but stupid. The woman was driving him to distraction.
Afraid he'd grab her again and finish what she'd started, instead Reese bent and picked up the pins he'd torn from her hair. He held them out to her, but she didn't take them.
Finally, Reese had to look up and found himself trapped again in the wonder of Mary. The prim set to her lips contrasted with the full, ripe swell he'd put upon them. And that hair—curling wild and free, scented like rain, shaded like sun—made him dream improper things in the middle of the night.
He was falling fast, and he'd better pull himself back right quick. She was not for him and never could be—no matter how much he wanted her, no matter how much she wanted him. She had no idea where this was leading—raised by nuns, for crying out loud! He might be any number of things, but he did not destroy innocence.
At least not anymore.
Reese placed the pins into her hand and closed her fingers around them. He nodded to the washstand with the cracked mirror on the wall. "You can use that if you need to."
She didn't speak, just went and stood in front of the mirror. Reese hunted for his socks and boots, then sat on the bed to finish dressing for his watch. When he glanced at Mary, he froze with a boot in each hand.
The domesticity of the scene made a sudden longing for a past that was dead, and a future that would never be shoot through his belly with such force he became dizzy.
Mary's eyes met his in
Then his gaze lowered to her bodice. Glancing down, she discovered that her breasts had almost popped free of every trapping; red scrapes from his beard laced across her white skin. She should be horrified at the evidence of what they'd done. But the sight made her body go hot and limp again.
"Why in hell did you come here?"
She raised her gaze, but he was busy buttoning his shirt and ignoring her. She adjusted her dress and smoothed her skirt, but she still couldn't seem to remember why she'd come to his room—except to kiss him.
No, that hadn't been why.
"You said there was no way to make El Diablo and his men stop raiding Rock Creek without killing them all."
Reese buttoned his shirt all the way up to his neck. His eyes were cool emerald again, though when they passed over her, a flash of heat lit their depths. "Are we back to that?"
"Yes," she said simply. "Is there any other way?"
"Maybe if you had more men than they do, men who could fight that is, they might cut their losses and run."
"What if we had more women?"
"Huh?"
"More women. If you taught the women how to shoot, then there'd be more of us than there are of them."
"I don't think El Diablo would be frightened of women."
"Why is a woman with a gun any less frightening than a man with one?"
"They just are. Hell, Mary, you couldn't even stomach the sight of a man I killed. How do you expect to kill one yourself?"
"I'm not going to kill one. I'm just going to make them think that I will."
He groaned. "That'll never work. Half of being tough is actually being that way. Once or twice you're going to have to shoot somebody, or no one will ever take you seriously."
Mary bit her lip. She'd so hoped she'd found a solution to their dilemma. But if she actually had to kill someone . . .
That might be a problem.
Chapter 7
A knock on Reese's door had Mary scrambling away, rearranging her bodice, then rubbing at the scratches he'd made on her skin with his ravenous mouth. Reese pulled her behind him, but he needn't have worried that the intruder would walk in. A closed door was sacred between men. You never knew what you might discover behind one.
"Reese," Jed growled. "It's your watch."
Jed stamped down the hall to his room. Reese wanted to stamp too. How could he have forgotten his watch and have to be reminded like a child with chores?
"Can you help me find my hairpins?" Mary asked.
That's how he'd forgotten. Understandable but stupid. The woman was driving him to distraction.
Afraid he'd grab her again and finish what she'd started, instead Reese bent and picked up the pins he'd torn from her hair. He held them out to her, but she didn't take them.
Finally, Reese had to look up and found himself trapped again in the wonder of Mary. The prim set to her lips contrasted with the full, ripe swell he'd put upon them. And that hair—curling wild and free, scented like rain, shaded like sun—made him dream improper things in the middle of the night.
He was falling fast, and he'd better pull himself back right quick. She was not for him and never could be—no matter how much he wanted her, no matter how much she wanted him. She had no idea where this was leading—raised by nuns, for crying out loud! He might be any number of things, but he did not destroy innocence.
At least not anymore.
Reese placed the pins into her hand and closed her fingers around them. He nodded to the washstand with the cracked mirror on the wall. "You can use that if you need to."
She didn't speak, just went and stood in front of the mirror. Reese hunted for his socks and boots, then sat on the bed to finish dressing for his watch. When he glanced at Mary, he froze with a boot in each hand.
The domesticity of the scene made a sudden longing for a past that was dead, and a future that would never be shoot through his belly with such force he became dizzy.
Mary's eyes met his in
Similar Books
