Come the Spring (30 page)

He wanted her. She still couldn't seem to get past that remarkable fact, and she really wished she could talk to him about it. She didn't dare say a word, at least not while he was in his present irritable mood. She supposed she would have to wait until later to bring up the topic, and perhaps by then she would have figured out why his admission had stunned her and left her breathless.

No, she wouldn't mention it now because it would be indelicate.

Daniel didn't have any such reservations. “About what I said yesterday…”

“And what was that?”

“You know … that I wanted you.”

She folded her hands together. “You didn't mean it Is that what you want to tell me now? It was the fever talking.”

“No, I meant it all right.”

“You did?” she whispered, astounded that he was being so forthright. She had just given him an out, but he hadn't taken it.

“Yes,” he said. “I'm not going to do anything about it, though; so don't let it go to your head.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?” she said.

Daniel realized he'd made a bit of a blunder when he saw the fire in her eyes. “I just meant that I guess you could take what I said as a compliment, but don't make too much out of it because I don't plan to do anything about it.”

“Oh, yes, it was a compliment all right. You told me you wanted me, and then you promptly threw up all over me.”

He burst into laughter. “I'm real sorry, Grace.”

“Oh, go stick your head in a bucket.”

He laughed again. “I got you all riled up, didn't I? I didn't think you were capable of ever getting angry, but you are, aren't you? You've got a temper underneath that thick layer of sugar, Lady Winthrop. I wonder what good old Nigel would think about that.”

“Must you be so exasperating?”

“Do you still want to send the telegram agreeing to marry Nigel?”

“Could we please change the subject?”

“Sure,” he agreed. “Do you want to talk about the weather again?”

“We didn't talk about it, but no, I don't want to now. I was thinking about Jessica and Rebecca. I had hoped to run into them when we were changing trains, but I didn't see either one of them.”

“Cole and Jessica wouldn't have had time to catch up with us. They're a full day behind us, and Cooper and Rebecca left yesterday.”

“But we made up time going by horseback, and they could have missed their train yesterday.”

“Maybe, but it's unlikely,” he said. “I looked for them too, but I didn't see them.”

“Of course you didn't. You were draped all over me. You could barely keep your eyes open.”

“I'm sure your friend is doing just fine. Don't worry. Cooper will keep her safe.”

“You really think so?”

“Yes,” he insisted. “Now stop worrying. Knowing Cooper, he's probably already taught her how to play poker. I'll bet she's having the time of her life.”

Twenty-Eight
 

Rebecca was going stir-crazy. She thought she would go out of her mind if she had to stay locked inside the tiny compartment with Marshal Cooper much longer. As attractive and attentive as he was, he was still driving her to distraction. He did try to make the time pass quickly. They played cards for several hours, chatted, and ate a boxed lunch the porter fetched for them. Boredom set in then, and all she wanted was to be left alone for a few minutes. In desperation, she finally came up with a plausible reason to send him away. She asked him to please fetch her brown suitcase the porter had put in the luggage compartment so that she could get her medicine. Pleading a headache, she insisted that if she didn't drink her tonic before the pain intensified, she would have to leave the train at the next town and take to her bed.

She felt guilty lying to him because he was being so sympathetic and understanding.

“I know I should have packed the medicine in my little valise, but I forgot.”

“Is the pain bad?” Cooper asked, his concern apparent.

“It's becoming unbearable,” she replied. “If I don't nip it now, I'll be sick for a week. The pain becomes blinding.”

Cooper couldn't have been any more solicitous. After promising to hurry, he told her to bolt the door after him, and she did exactly that. Then she stood in the center of the claustrophobic cubicle and let out a blissful sigh because she finally had the room to herself and it was so wonderfully quiet. She needed time alone to think about the future and formulate her plans. Lord only knew, there was so much to be done in such a short time.

She expected Cooper to be gone at least fifteen minutes and probably more. The luggage compartment was three cars away, and once he'd made his way there, he would have to search through the baggage to find hers. Yet, less than a minute after he had left, a knock sounded at the door.

“Now what?” she muttered, assuming that the marshal had thought of yet another order to give her before he went on the errand. She forced a smile back on her face, flipped the bolt, and opened the door a crack.

The door seemed to explode against the interior wall, then bounced back. She couldn't even scream. All she saw as she staggered backward was the barrel of a gleaming black pistol. It was pointed at her.

She fell on the bench, clutching her bosom. Panting with fear, she cried out, “What are you doing here?”

In answer, the gunman rushed inside and kicked the door shut behind him. He was dressed in a dark business suit and wore shiny black shoes. He didn't look like a murderer.

“Get up, bitch,” he hissed.

She didn't move fast enough. He grabbed her arm and jerked her toward him, his gun pressed into her belly. When he let go of her arm, she tried to step back, shaking her head at him in a silent plea not to hurt her, but he was indifferent to her fear.

“Please,” she whimpered.

Her plea fueled his excitement. “That's it, bitch. Beg me,” he crooned. “I want you to beg.”

He reached between them and tore the front of her dress open to the waist, smiling when she cried out again. Before she could cover herself, his hand was painfully squeezing one of her breasts.

“No, don't do this,” she whispered.

He tossed the gun on the bench, laughing now, and pulled her up against him. His fingers tore through her hair as his mouth slammed against hers. The kiss was wet, hot, crude. He bit her lower lip until he'd drawn blood and hungrily licked the red drops with his tongue.

He kissed her again and again, holding her prisoner in his arms as she fought him, and when he finally pulled back, he stared into her eyes as he slowly took hold of her hand and forced her to caress him intimately through his trousers.

“I want you.”

Her eyes closed in blissful surrender, and she sagged against him. Her laugh was that of an enchantress. “You always want me.”

His grip tightened, and he panted against her ear. The sound aroused her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and boldly rubbed against him. “You ruined my blouse. You're too rough.”

“You like it rough.”

A shudder passed through her. “Yes, I like it that way,” she whispered.

He began to kiss the side of her neck. She purred like a contented cat. “We shouldn't … The marshal will be back soon. Oh, God, that feels good.”

She leaned back so she could see his eyes. “I see you received my telegram. Are the boys with you?”

He kissed her mouth once again before he answered her. “Johnson's in Rockford Falls waiting for the opportunity to kill both those women. The others have gone on ahead to Red Arrow. If Johnson fails, they'll kill them when they get off the train. You are sure that's where the women are headed, aren't you?”

“Yes, I'm sure,” she answered smugly.

“Have you figured out which one was in that bank?”

“No,” she said. “Both of them are as scared as mice and neither one confided in me. It's a pity the fire didn't kill them,” she added as she slid her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck. “I went to a considerable amount of trouble.”

“Don't you pout,” he crooned. “If Johnson can't get them, the rest of my boys will take care of them in Red Arrow.”

“And then I'm the witness.”

Her throaty laugh inflamed him. “Yes, yes,” he whispered. “Oh, that's fine. Just fine.”

Her hand slowly moved down his chest and then lower still until she was once again stroking his arousal. She knew the effect she was having on him and thrilled with the feeling of such power.

He reached for her skirts. She shook her head. “No, we mustn't,” she whispered as he began to tear at the buttons. “There isn't time. It's too dangerous.”

“We'll make time. I want you, Rebecca. Now.”

She gave in to his seduction and stepped back to strip for him. Her blouse was in tatters, and she quickly discarded it, then unbuttoned her skirt and let it fall to the floor. “We're fools to take such a chance, Donald,” she said as she unfastened her petticoats.

He was panting while he watched her disrobe. He waited until only a silk-and-lace chemise covered her
golden body, and then impatience got the better of him. He rushed forward, thrust his hand between her thighs and roughly shoved her back on the bench. She peeled the undergarment down her body, kicked it aside, then stretched out along the length of the cushioned seat and spread her legs wide, beckoning him to take her. He wet his lips in anticipation as he greedily stared at her breasts. He knelt on one knee between her thighs. He couldn't wait another second, for he knew he would burst with his need if he didn't mate with her quickly.

“You know you drive me crazy, don't you, bitch?”

She laughed. “Oh, yes, I know,” she whispered. “Who would have thought such a stuffy and prim gentleman could have such a violent appetite.”

“How much time do we have?”

“At least fifteen minutes,” she answered.

Donald was fumbling with the buttons on his trousers when he heard a knock on the door. Had he locked it? He couldn't remember. He jumped up and turned just as Cooper opened the door.

“Rebecca, I told you to lock…” he began as he pushed the door wide. He was so startled to see her naked, he stopped. He couldn't seem to take in the scene.

Donald stood behind the door, waiting for the marshal to come inside. He frantically searched for his pistol in his pockets.

“What the hell?” Cooper muttered as he stepped forward.

She leaned up on one elbow, her heart slamming inside her chest, and stared at Donald, silently willing him to take action. Cooper saw where she was looking and turned just as Donald moved forward.

“Son of a bitch,” Cooper shouted.

Rebecca panicked. She spotted Donald's pistol on the bench an arm's length away from her and rolled to her side, grabbed hold of the weapon, and fired.

Cooper was going for his gun when the bullet struck him. The force was so powerful, he was thrown backward into the corridor against the windowpane. The glass shuddered from the impact.

Rebecca scrambled to her feet. To keep from screaming, she covered her mouth with her hand and fired once again. She'd aimed too high the second time. Cooper was already crumbling to the floor. The bullet missed him but shattered the glass. It rained down on top of his prone body.

“Oh, God … Oh, God,” she whimpered. “Did I kill him? Make sure I killed him. Hurry, Donald.”

Growling low in his throat like a cornered animal, Donald rushed into the hallway. His eyes darted from side to side to make sure no one else was coming down the aisle.

“If he isn't dead, he will be,” Donald muttered. “Stop crying and get dressed. We have to get off the train.”

“Yes, yes,” she whimpered before turning to do as he ordered.

Donald quickly dragged the unconscious lawman to the door connecting the cars, leaving a smeared trail of blood in his wake. The train was slowing to take the curved trestle above a yawning black lake when Donald opened the door He could see a small town looming up in the distance on the other side of the lake. He bent down, half lifted Cooper, grunting from his weight, and then shoved and kicked him out. He stood there watching as the train clattered on around the bend, smiling when the marshal hit the water.

No one had seen him. He was sure of it, and he doubted that anyone had heard the gunshots either, for the sound the train made as it thundered along the tracks muffled any other noises.

Once again he had gotten away with murder. Excitement surged through his blood, and he began to pant with euphoria. He thought he saw a movement
out of the corner of his eye, but he couldn't be certain. He turned away as a precaution so that his face wouldn't be seen, and then took his time strolling back to Rebecca's compartment. The carpet had already absorbed the blood, and it looked as though the stains had been there for some time. No one would know how fresh they were unless he got down on his knees and felt the wetness.