11th Hour Rose (11 page)

“Us?” Davy sputtered, incredulous. “There is no
us
.”

“Perhaps.” She smoothed a hand down her skirt, tilting her head to the side. His gaze instantly dropped to the graceful curve of her neck. “However, your behavior of late begs to differ, and this…” She lifted both palms, glancing dubiously about the jail cell. “
This
is completely ridiculous.”

This time Davy shrugged. “Perhaps.” He endeavored to appear bored though he was completely on edge given the twist of conversation.

Those all too enticing crystal blue eyes flicked to him, filled with amusement and a sparkle of something more.

“Do you know what I think?” she asked.

“No.”

“I think this just proves you care for me.”

“Don’t read too much into it.”

“Am I to believe you'd go to this length for any woman in my circumstance?”

“Most people would not prove so foolhardy.”

She smiled. “I think that
perhaps
you’re even in love with me.”

Love?
Davy recoiled in his chair, physically struck by Lilly’s words. She could not possibly be serious.

“Not sure about that?” Lilly arched a brow and for the life of him Davy could not tell if she teased him or not. “No need to say anything just yet.” She stood, wrapping a palm around one of the iron bars. “Thanks to you we have nothing but time. All alone. Just the two of us.”

Oh, bloody hell. What have I gotten myself into?

Lilly faced him from the gloomy confines of the cell, a beacon of vibrant sunshine and warmth, and Davy had the distinct impression that
she
had maneuvered
him
exactly where she wanted.

“There is nothing to discuss.”

“Oh, no?” She leaned against the bars, challenge smoldering in her eye as she looked directly through him… into his soul… “Prove it.”

Prove it?

David had received lesser challenges in terms of war.
Prove it?
Why he’d show her. There was only so far a man could be pushed.

He shoved abruptly to his feet, rounding the corner of the desk, advancing on her with unwavering intent. The barest flicker of panic flashed in her eyes. Good. He tugged the key loose from his belt loop, wordlessly shoving it into the lock. He swung the barred door open.

She gasped. “What are you doing?”

“Proving that I don’t love you anymore than you love me.” Without further prelude, he took her face in his hands and kissed her. Hard.

11
^th
Hour Rose

Nine

Lilly didn’t know whether to scream or sigh. She’d meant to provoke him into releasing her, but the plan had obviously backfired. Now that he was kissing her though she’d be lying to deny that she wanted it, she was rapidly learning what a devastating weapon Davy’s kiss could be.

And devastating was hardly the word.             

Mind numbing was more like it.

Much as she wanted to be angry at his last statement or make a mad dash for the door of the cell, she could do little more than dissolve into him. Smoothly corded muscles bunched beneath her hands as she slid her hands up the camber of his chest to loop around his neck. Where did a man learn to kiss this way? His mouth melded against hers soft and moist, and so deliciously delightful it must be a sin. His hands spanned her waist, thumbs rhythmically stroking the area just beneath her breasts. Soon she was little more than a tingling trembling ball of clay beneath his touch.

Slowly his head drew back, and she gazed up at him wondering, hoping
that by some miracle he’d been as affected as she. Her fingers curled around the shirt at the base of his neck.

“Davy?” she murmured, searching his eyes for some sign that he returned even a shred of her feelings for him.

He nestled her a bit closer, the hint of a playful smile rolling across his lips. “Not sure I’ve proved anything just yet. One more taste should do the trick.”

A tiny voice at the back of her head warned Lilly to be angry, but gazing up into his beautiful blue eyes she could muster no anger. For the first time in days—perhaps as long as she’d known him—no hint of haunted despair lurked in the depths. For the first time, he appeared completely carefree. Happy. Playful.

Davy took her lips again, and the whole of her heart moved, sending an eruption of butterflies sailing through her veins. She swayed into him utterly lost and that’s when she
knew
—the realization rattled to the depths of her soul—she loved him. This big stubborn man who would lock her in a jail cell to keep her safe. She parted her lips, taking all of him. His tongue slid readily into her mouth. The sweet friction inverting her senses until she didn’t know which end was up.

“Oh, Lilly,” he murmured, dragging his lips across her jaw and down her throat to the hollow at the base of her neck. “I want you.” His breath was hot and wet against her skin. “I don’t know how or why it happened, but I want you.” Vaguely she was aware of his hands working at the buttons lining the front of her gown.

I want you.

The words were as thrilling and heady as they were frightening. Feeling wanton, almost brazen, she stood on tiptoe offering him better access to her mouth. Her fingers moved to the buttons of his vest clumsily working them open. Beneath her hands his stomach was flat and taut and oh so very warm through the linen of his lawn shirt.

*              *              *

Oh, God
… Davy groaned. This was heaven unlike he’d ever known. When he’d made the comment a few moments ago he hadn’t actually intended to kiss her so thoroughly. He’d just wanted to shock her into silence. But now that he was kissing her, he had no intention of stopping. He allowed her to push the vest from his shoulders, and set to work freeing the stays of her gown. Her fingers tentatively moved to his shirt fastenings, her soft hands brushed his chest, provoking the sweetest sort of torture. The gentle swell of her breasts peaked over the prim cut of her dress, and he had to see them… taste them. Tugging the dress open with near enough force to rip it, he glimpsed the enticing silk and lace camisole beneath. The sight of her through the sheer silk was surely more erotic than seeing her without the barrier. Like a man starved, a vampire just woken to thirst, he dropped his mouth to the lace overlaying her bare flesh, at the same time stroking a thumb over one perfectly taut tip.

She gasped.

He liked it. A lot. Too much, and… “Oh, my god.” He jerked back. “What the hell am I doing?” This was the jail for Christ sake! Much as he wanted her right now, on the floor
if necessary, the city jail was not the place. He sucked a sobering breath into his lungs.

Oh, but dear Lord, she looked gorgeous standing before him, her gown open just enough to leave him aching to see more, and her wide expressive eyes clouded with a mixture of passion and confusion. “Damn it, Lilly, don’t you know when to stop pushing a man?”

*              *              *

Misunderstanding the words, Lilly believed he regretted having kissed her. “Why are you doing this?” she spat defensively, crossing her arms. “Is this a game to you?”

“What?” He appeared dazed and then incredulous. “Of course it’s not a game? Do you think I go around kissing upstanding women at random?”

“I don’t know?” Lilly sparred. “You’re obviously good at it. For all I know you waltz through Charleston seducing a different woman every night. You are something of a professional widower after all.”

“A different woman every night… Jesus.” He stalked forward, the movement predatory and suspiciously vulnerable. “You are the first woman I’ve truly kissed since my wife died, Lilly.” In a flash, his eyes grew so burdened with loss she could have cried. Gently he reached out to twist one of her haphazard wavy locks around a finger.

She quickly stepped away. “I’m sorry, Davy. I’ll go now.” She strode to the cell door, fixing her gown with trembling fingers.

“Oh, no you don’t.” A brawny arm snared her about the waist, jerking her backward.

“Whoa!” Lilly cried out, spinning in his hold. “David, this has gone far enough.” She shoved a fist into his chest. “Let me go. You’ve proved your point, I will go home.”

He scoffed. “I believe that like I need another hole in the head.” He swiftly spun her toward the back corner of the cell and vacated the barred room, closing the doors with a
bang
before she could mount any further protestations.

She scooped his vest from the floor and chucked it at the bars. “I am not a child.”

His gaze slid the length of her in a slow, smoldering perusal that left her skin tingling and hot with desire. “I’m aware.” He lifted the vest and shrugged it back over his broad shoulders.

Lilly plopped onto the ancient wooden cot, ignoring how his blue lawn shirt stretched over the swell of his muscles. When exactly had the earth flipped on its axis? She felt dizzy. In the space of a week David Langston had gone from infuriating colleague of her father’s to the man she’d fallen in love with.

Confused, Lilly had to admit she’d unleashed more than she’d bargained for by goading him this afternoon. She cast him a surreptitious glance.

He noticed.

“So I’m a good kisser?” Casually he reclined in the wooden chair propping a foot on the desk. He grinned, revealing a full mouth of white teeth, the front two just a tiny bit crooked and lending him the look of a little boy with a secret. The smile hit her with such force she fell in love with him all over again. There was a lighthearted side to Davy that made him
Davy
as opposed to David or something more formal like Marshal or General—as he’d been in the war—Langston. It was as though a small part of him would forever be sixteen years old. If he had not lost a wife and newborn son at the ripe age of twenty-five, how would his jovial nature shine?

“Don’t let it go to your head.” She promptly gave him her back so he wouldn’t see her blushing to the tips of her ears and hid the key she’d plucked from his person in her skirts.

*              *              *

“You locked my daughter in the jail!”

Davy tensed and ground to an immediate halt on the street corner. He’d known a confrontation with George wouldn’t be pretty. Turning, he made no passing attempts at civility as George Hudson stormed across the street. “Yes, sir.”

“Damn!” The sheriff slapped his knee, face splitting into a huge grin. “I’m sorry I missed it.”

Davy snorted in disbelief. “Y-you’re not mad, sir?”

“Mad? Hell no. Just wish I’d have thought of it sooner. I tell you, Davy, she is more than I can handle. Over the years I’ve given her a bit more lead than I should have. She is a smart little thing and I never could tell her
no
. Suppose I’m paying the price now, because now that she’s grown she doesn’t listen to a thing I say.” He shrugged, his expression growing sad and wistful. “Don’t suppose I could convince you to marry her?”

“Whoa, George, I-uh…”

The older man chuckled, a twinkle lighting his kind gray eyes. “No need to panic. Just think on it. Any man that can stand up to her has a leg up on us all. Besides… she’d be good for you.” He remained silent for a long moment, his expression growing serious. “Don’t make the mistake I did and spend your younger years alone. I know what it is to lose your wife, Davy. Don’t let it define the rest of your life.”

Davy gulped, shocked into silence. He and George were friends, but such personal subjects rarely came up.

“In any case,” George continued, tactfully ignoring Davy’s discomfort, “she is trying to dismantle the bars from the inside out so you may want to steer clear for a while.”

“I’ll take that under advisement.” He couldn’t help but smile at the mental picture. “Is Whitfield still with her?”

George nodded, backing away. “Think on what I said, Davy.” He turned away with a casual one-armed wave.

Davy merely grunted in response. Marry Lilly? Lost in thought he paced the streets leading toward his house. Where had the sheriff come upon such a daft notion? Never mind that David had entertained at least twenty-five lurid visions of her naked in his bed since leaving the jailhouse. Heaven help him, he could still taste Lilly on his lips… the heat of her in his arms… the bittersweet bite of her words when she’d verbally flayed him to the bone. He sighed, turning up the walk of his lonely two-story house. She kept him on his toes to be sure, but—

“Marshal Langston! Marshal!”

Davy spun to find Deputy Winston and Deputy Whitfield barreling toward him.

“Marshal!” The men skidded to halt before him, breathing heavily. “Miss Hudson. Sh-she’s…”

Davy’s heart sank. He knew without being told what the gasping deputies meant to say. “She escaped? When? How?” He turned on Whitfield. “You were supposed to be guarding her.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” Whitfield continued breathing raggedly. “I went out to take a piss and when I came back the door was hangin’ open and she was gone.”

*              *              *

Dusk draped the city in a curtain of gray, drawing long shadows over the streets. Lilly shivered, cool evening air seeping through the thin fabric of her gown as she briskly rushed home.

She cast a quick glance over her shoulder, hugging her arms about herself, unable to shake the eerie sense of being followed. The sensation probably stemmed from nothing more than having spent the better part of the day locked in the city jail, but the hair at her nape tingled and her skin fairly crawled. Once she arrived home all would be well, and then—much as she hated to admit it—she would heed David’s advice and stay there. Guards and all.

She darted across a mostly deserted street behind a livery wagon, making the snap decision to take a shortcut home past one of the old munitions plants. It would cut at least five minutes off the walk. The tap of her heeled shoes echoed off the cobblestones and along the brick walls. She gulped, convinced that a second set of footsteps were audible as well. Lilly whirled.