Give Me A Texas Ranger. Jodi Thomas
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or needed. Apparently she was one of them, but if he didn’t let go right here, right now, they would never be equals, and for her there could be no other way.
“Stop,” she said again, almost calmly. “Turn loose of me.”
She saw the blink of his eye and knew she’d stood down a fighter who’d never backed away.
His grip loosened and gave. He stepped away and raised his hands in silent surrender.
She’d broken him, but passion still fired in his gaze like a fever out of control. “Sit down.” She pointed to her traveling trunk.
He raised an eyebrow, but did as he was told. The trunk was too high to be a chair, but made a good bench and put her a head above him.
She walked over to stand directly in front of him. “You’ll never take anything from me, Wynn McCord. Not one thing,” she said. “Get that clear. You’ll never take me. I think you’ll have to learn to come toward me some other way than at full charge. If there is to be anything between us, there will be no orders.” She’d give him everything, if he asked, but nothing if he demanded.
She sensed he was in uncharted territory, but he was a strong man and his face showed nothing of how he felt. His glare was so strong she swore she could feel it on her skin.
Slowly, she lowered her crossed arms and her gown slipped back to where it had been, barely covering the peaks of her breasts.
He glanced from her chest to her face, trying to read what she was offering. “I know no words, Anna. I’ll never come a’ courting. I’ll never know what to say or how to tell you the things women want to hear.”
“I don’t expect such things,” she said. “But I do expect honesty.”
“You’ve told me that before, Anna.”
She smiled. “And next time taking it a little slower wouldn’t hurt.”
Carefully, he raised his hands to her waist and tugged her toward him. Then he lowered his mouth and planted a feather kiss on the top of each breast before he looked directly into her eyes and said, “I’ll work on it if you’re willing to put up with me.” He lowered his head and she felt his smile against her skin.
Anna began to shiver as he moved over her flesh. Her hands rested on his shoulders as he drew her to him and nuzzled between her breasts, then turned slowly from one to the other, breathing her in as if she were a flower.
When he straightened, he grinned at her as his hand moved up her ribs and tugged her gown down.
For a while he just looked and moved the tips of his fingers over her gift to him. “You are so beautiful,” he said again as he lifted the weight of one breast and brushed his finger over her skin.
She would have fallen with pleasure if his arm hadn’t held her up.
He stood and carried her to her cot. When he lay her atop the quilt, he knelt beside her. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “I don’t want to frighten you.”
“I know,” she whispered.
Part of her wanted to fight, to break away and run, not from him, but from herself. From feelings so long denied she’d forgotten how to live.
His big hand stroked over her bare body, pushing the gown lower until it barely covered her hips. She closed her eyes and moaned softly as he kissed her. Again and again, he moved up to her lips, his kiss deep with need as his hands branded her.
She relaxed, giving over to the pleasure of his touch. When he stopped, she opened her eyes, wondering how this man could have gotten so close, not with tender words and soft touches, but with honesty in his longing for her.
His hand spread out across her abdomen. “I have to go.” He said the words slowly, as if forcing them out. “But I’ll have your word you’ll stay in camp before I go. Nowhere is totally safe, but you’ll be surrounded here.”
She didn’t trust her voice. She simply nodded. He’d just shown her how much he wanted her. With his words he was telling her how much he cared for her.
She’d thought he would continue touching her, but he stepped away and picked up her robe. Silently she stood, barely aware of the gown falling away as she stepped into the robe he offered.
He tied it above her waist and took one of her hands, kissed it, and then pulled her to the door.
“Hell’s fires won’t keep me from coming back,” he whispered as he pulled her to him one last time.
They held each other tightly for a minute, then he patted her on the bottom and pushed away from her.
A moment later, he was gone. Anna shoved the bolt closed and went back to the cot where she cried herself to sleep, knowing when he came back she would let him in…whether he stayed a night, or forever.
Chapter 6
McCord rode for half the night before he stopped to water his horse. The hardest thing he’d ever done was leave Anna, but deep down he knew leaving her was the only way he’d keep her alive.
The gambler was hunting them both, and McCord knew men like Frank Sanders would come after him first. He’d consider the woman easy pickings, not near the challenge a Ranger would be to kill. He’d want McCord out of the way so he could take his time with the woman. McCord doubted Sanders or Thorn had put the pieces together and figured out that the letter they wanted so desperately to stop from being delivered had been with a Ranger, and not in the mailbag on the stage.
McCord had to draw Frank Sanders away from Anna, and he had a mission he had to finish. If he had a choice, he’d meet the outlaws out in the open so Anna wouldn’t be in danger. Then, when they were dead or in jail, he’d ride back and linger for a week in that funny little tent inside a building.
It was almost dawn, but he could still feel her against him. The woman had climbed into his blood and was pumping through every part of his body. He didn’t want to marry her and have kids and settle down. He wanted to make love to her until they both died of hunger. He wanted to touch her all night long and wake her again and again with passion. He wanted to be so deep inside her he stepped out of this world.
McCord was so lost in his thoughts he almost missed the glint of sunlight off a rifle. The bullet came within a foot of his head as he dove off his horse.
He rolled into the brush, both guns ready and waiting.
Nothing.
An hour passed. Not a sound. Frank Sanders was playing with him. The idea that McCord had escaped and taken another witness with him must have infuriated the gambler. Thorn and Sanders planned to pay him back by making him sweat awhile before they killed him. McCord wondered if the horse he’d heard riding past while he and Anna hid in the rocks that first night had been ridden by Frank. After he killed the others at the station, the gambler might have raced after them, knowing he’d be in real trouble if he failed Thorn by not finding the letter and by letting witnesses live.
McCord burrowed in and waited out the day, determined not to give the gambler any chance to fire again.
At dusk, he climbed on his horse and rode out before even the stars offered light. He’d have to be more careful, but when his job was done, he would track the gambler down.
By sunup McCord and his horse were safely away, miles to the north of where he’d been shot at. The Ranger needed a few hours’ sleep and then he had to think. The letter in his boot was due by the end of the week to an Indian agent deep in the territory. He could make the ride in two days on a good horse. The question was, did he deliver it first, then find Frank, or try to find the gambler first, then burn leather to make it to the agent in time?
Only one answer came to mind. The outlaw could wait a few days to be arrested; the letter had to be delivered. Hundreds of lives might be saved if the agent could put the governor’s plan into action.
Splashing across the Cimarron