My Darling Gunslinger (11 page)

“My ma died when I was just a little girl. And pa, well, he lit out when I was fifteen. There was nobody to help me. A man came out to the cabin and said I had to leave. He’d bought the land and said he was going to raze the cabin, build a big house for his family.”

“Daisy, I understand,” Charlotte repeated.

“No, you couldn’t. I had
nothing
.” Daisy turned her hazel eyes on Charlotte, her gaze fierce. “So I made a choice. I walked the five miles into town and marched right into the saloon. I took my first customer to my bed that very night.”

“I know.”

Something in her tone must have alerted Daisy to the truth in the words. She blinked and fell silent.

“Jasper told me,” Charlotte explained softly. “He didn’t want to. But I had to know who you were. I threatened to leave if he didn’t tell me. Jasper knew we had nowhere else to go, that we’d run out of friends and family to hide us. So he told me.”

“You know?” Daisy leapt from the settee, turned her back and stared out the window through a gap in the drapes. “You’ve known all along?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Charlotte replied warily. “It never mattered.”

“You didn’t care that a whore cooked for you, for your son?”

“You are not a whore. You are Daisy Harper. You are my friend.”

Daisy began to cry. Charlotte rose slowly to her feet, lifted one hand and very nearly laid it on her heaving back. But she had nothing to give, no tenderness to offer. And she was fresh out of compassion.

She waited in silence until Daisy had gathered her composure and turned around. Her eyes were puffy and red, her lips trembling as she forced a smile upon them.

“Ty recognized me,” she whispered. “From before.”

“I see.” But she didn’t. Not really. “Did he force himself upon you?”

“No!”

“But he tried,” Charlotte continued relentlessly. “He offered to keep your secret in exchange for certain favors.”

“No! It was me,” Daisy cried. “I thought to buy his silence. I took him into the linen closet. I offered him what he’d had to pay for before. I offered to take him in my mouth.”

“Jesus, God,” Charlotte breathed, a sudden image of Daisy on her knees before Ty in the linen closet flashing before her eyes.

“He refused.”

The words hit her like a blow. Charlotte staggered back, collapsed onto the settee with a whoof of expelled breath.

“He said as how he wouldn’t tell you. He said he wouldn’t ruin my second chance.”

“You didn’t…”

“No. He wouldn’t let me. I would have done it. I would do anything to stay here.”

“You’d best return to the house now.” Charlotte could feel the bubble of calm that had come over her during Daisy’s confession shimmering around the edges. It was going to burst. All the emotions that had been hammering at her since she’d awoken that morning were just beyond the bubble. All the terror, the fury, the sorrow were about to rain down on her.

She needed to be alone. She needed to beat her fists on something, anything. She needed to howl to the heavens until there was no breath left in her body.

“You aren’t angry with me? With Ty?” Daisy asked.

“No. Go back to the house.” She knew her voice had come out raspy, making her words sound harsher than she’d intended. “Now.”

“But…”

“Please,” Charlotte begged, her voice cracking.

Daisy turned and fled, her skirts billowing around her. She nearly tripped on the steps at the door. Charlotte saw her through the gap in the drapes, saw her look back over her shoulder once before hurrying away.

Child, you must learn to moderate your emotions lest you grow into that most unfortunate and unattractive of creatures – a lady ruled by her passions.

The Archduchess of Dresdenstein

Charlotte rose slowly to her feet, her entire body humming with energy, with the need to move, to fight, to exert herself until exhaustion brought her to her knees. Hands shaking as if palsied, she tugged at the pink ribbon wound around her waist, pulled at the bow until it was a tangled knot.

With a cry of frustration she dragged her skirts up, the crinoline of her petticoats bunching over her forearms. She snatched a knife from the sheath strapped to her thigh and sliced through the silk ribbon.

The skirt of her gown fell to the floor, taking her petticoats with it. She kicked the mass of cotton and lace into the corner beneath the birdcage that once, years before, had been home to two gray lovebirds. She moved to the pearl buttons running up her shirtwaist from navel to neck before tossing the garment to join the puddle of clothing in the corner.

She wrestled with the small gold buckles of the belt she wore low on her hips. Fashioned like a gun belt, the soft leather and the matching bands that wound around her thighs held her knife sheath to her left thigh, her holster and small revolver to her right. Carefully, she placed the belt and her weapons in a drawer in the dainty table sitting between two chairs.

Perched on the edge of the settee, she slowly, methodically unlaced her boots and rolled down her stockings, all the while flashes of light danced along the fringes of her vision. With deep breaths and force of will, she slowed her heart rate until the blood no longer roared in her head, but rather coursed through her veins like a raging river, filling her with strength, with determination.

Clad only in light stays and drawers she moved to the center of the room, flexed her bare toes against the leather matt, and stretched her arms high. Tilting her head back, she looked at the mural above, imagined herself in the midst of the battle.

The click of the door latch ricocheted through the quiet space.

Charlotte spun around, her hands fisting.

Ty stood in the narrow doorway, one foot on the ground outside and the other on the first step, his hat pulled low and his mouth open but no words, no sound coming from his lips.

“Get out,” Charlotte hissed.

His dark eyes fixed on her, he took the remaining two steps, pushing the door closed behind him.

“I’m warning you,” she growled. “Get out.”

“Or what?” Ty tipped his hat back, dragged his gaze over her from the coil of braids at the crown of her head to her bare toes.

The shiver of lust that swept through her infuriated her.

Unarmed, she lashed out with the only weapons available to her. “Or by all that is holy, I swear I will eviscerate you. I will annihilate you.”

His only response was a lowering of his dark brows over eyes that glowed silver as they dropped to her heaving breasts.

“I will extinguish the supercilious expression in your eyes with such expedience you won’t realize your orbital cavities are uninhabited until you are contemplating your writhing physique from across the room.”

Ty tossed his head back, his hat falling to the floor behind him, and howled with laughter. His long, lean body shook with it. It was dark and husky, and through the terrible fury that had taken hold of her and refused to release her, she heard derision and contempt and incredulity.

With a roar that burned like fire up the back of her throat, Charlotte lunged across the space separating them, intent upon silencing him, upon smacking the laughter from his lips, wiping the arrogance from his face, bringing him down to her level. She wanted him as angry, as mindless, as reckless she felt in that moment.

Her hand flashed out, palm up. Just before her palm connected, she pulled back. Her hesitation combined with his quick reflexes saving his nose from the heel of her hand. He stepped back and to the side. The edge of her hand glanced across his whiskered cheek before hitting the wall behind him.

“What the fuck?” he bellowed, grabbing her shoulders.

With an enraged growl of frustration aimed at the man who stood glaring at her and at her own inability to complete the movement that would have sent him crumbling to his arrogant backside, Charlotte planted her left foot and brought her right knee up. Ty extended his arms, pushing her back and off balance. Her knee caught the inside of his thigh before continuing uselessly between his spread legs.

And Charlotte was falling, tumbling backward. If he’d released her she would have flown through the air to land on her bottom on the Turkish carpet. Instead his grip tightened on her shoulders and he stumbled forward. Off balance, he leaned over her, his face a mask of surprise.

She used his surprise and the momentum of his loss of balance to her advantage, tucking her chin to her chest and twisting until his grip loosened. One quick jerk and his hands fell away. She slammed her shoulder into his midriff, wrapped her arms around his hips, and flipped him right over her back.

With a curse, Ty flew over her as she fell to her hands and knees, her palms stinging as they slid across the carpet.

She was on her feet almost before she’d stopped moving, spinning around to find the man sprawled on the floor. His head was on the very edge of the leather mat, nearly under the birdcage. His legs and arms were splayed apart, his cheek resting on the worn brown leather.

His eyes were closed, his lashes fluttering.

Then his eyes popped open and he jumped to his feet, spinning to face her where she stood panting against the wall.

“Jesus H. Christ,” he muttered. “Are you hurt?”

“Hurt?” she repeated stupidly. Was she?

He approached her, his hands held out at his sides palm up, his gaze traveling over her.

“Are you hurt?” He repeated the question, his voice little more than a dry rasp.

“No.”

Good Lord, he was beautiful. A dark angel with his too-long hair floating around his shoulders, his silver eyes wary, his beautiful mouth pulled into a pout so luscious, so decadently carnal,  something shifted in Charlotte. Something warm and dangerous pushed back her anger, her anxiety, her fear.

She stood mute before him as heat spread over her.

She wanted him. She wanted Tyler Morgan the way she’d never wanted anything in her life. She wanted to devour him, to take him into her body, to feel his weight upon her, pinning her down. She wanted to be consumed by him.

He must have seen it in her eyes, must have recognized the yearning there.

He stopped before her.

“Charlotte.” Her name was no more than a sigh of breath.

“Please,” she whispered, lifting her hands to his cheeks.

“Christ.”

Afraid he would pull away from her, she clasped his face. His skin was hot, his whiskers like sandpaper against her tender palms. “Do you want me?”

“Want you?” There was confusion in the whispered words. And something that might have been regret or sorrow.

“It’s a simple question, Ty. In your language.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched.

“Yes or no, Ty?” Charlotte stretched up onto her toes, brought her lips to his, hovered there, almost, but not quite, touching. Their breaths mingled. “Do you want me?”

His mouth slammed onto hers, the force sending her head back. One long arm snaked around her, his hand landing on her hip. He hauled her up against his chest, her toes dangling in the air.

Then the wall was at her back, the tapestry soft and warm against her shoulder blades. He wedged one muscular thigh between her legs, brought it up until it was flush against the heat of her core.

He pried her lips apart, his tongue spearing into her mouth, stroking, searching. She gave him hers with a moan that rose up from some dark, secret place within her. His mouth was hot, feral, devouring. His tongue thrust and parried against hers, circled and retreated. She pulled it into her mouth, suckled, thrilled to the deep groan that rumbled through his chest.

Then his hands were on her, sweeping down her back to cup her backside, pulling her tight against him. She felt his arousal, hard and hot along her hip. She squirmed against him, twisting in an effort to bring him where she needed him.

“Jesus, Charlotte,” he growled against her lips.

“Please…Ty,” she panted.

His hands gripped her hips and he lifted her, held her up long enough to wedge his other leg between hers before plastering her to the wall once more. He ground his cock against her mound while his tongue took possession of her mouth again. He set up a rhythm, a glorious rhythm with his swirling, seeking tongue and his undulating hips.

Charlotte wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her ankles at the small of his back, and gave herself up to the pleasure. They stayed that way for long minutes, her legs gripping his waist as she tilted her pelvis, lunged against his shaft, his hands flexing on her hips, his back heaving as he thrust against her, dragged his length along her aching flesh.

“Now,” she moaned into his mouth. “Now, Ty.”

Releasing her right hip, he wedged his hand between their bodies until he found the opening of her drawers. He dragged one long, callused finger through her curls, dipped it between her folds, and without warning thrust into her body.

The moan that lashed from her lips was primal. Dark and needy.

She levered away from his chest, her hands diving to the buttons on his dungarees. She fumbled, her fingers refusing to function, felt his shaft twitch and pulse. With a moan of pure frustration she ripped his fly open, pushed his trousers down until his cock sprang free.

Charlotte took him in her hand, wrapped her fingers around his girth, stroked him from head to base.

“Shit,” Ty hissed before his wet mouth descended to her throat. He dragged his lips, his tongue, his teeth over her skin to the juncture of her shoulder and latched on. His finger vanished from her core.

Charlotte couldn’t help the moan of complaint that fluttered from her lips.

In the next moment he was squeezing her bottom and lifting her, the broad tip of his shaft probing and seeking, circling and nudging, barely penetrating her body. Tightening her legs at his waist, curling her fingers into his shoulders, Charlotte bore down, desperate to take him fully into her body.

“Charlotte, wait,” Ty panted against her neck.

Charlotte ignored the command, instead contracting her thigh muscles and digging her heels into his back, pulling him to her.

“Ahh, Ty,” she mewled as he filled her, stretched her.

Then his hand was in the hair at her nape. He tugged her head back and captured her lips just as he thrust into her, filling her until for one wild moment she thought she might split in two.

She relaxed her grip on his waist, allowed her weight to finish what his desperate thrust had begun. They came together until there was nothing between them, until they were pressed pelvis to pelvis, until his cock was buried deep inside her, so deep she lost all sensation but the feel of their joined bodies.

Ty began to move. He rocked his hips between her thighs, scarcely withdrawing before thrusting home again, as if he couldn’t bear to separate from her. She met each thrust, tilting to receive him, dragging her aching flesh over his.

Her orgasm was upon her without warning, slamming into her with enough force to bow her back, to force a low moan from her lips. Tearing her mouth from his, she dragged her lips over his jaw and down his neck, clamping her teeth onto the tendon she found there. She undulated upon his hard shaft, impaling herself as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her.

In some distant part of her brain, beyond the roaring in her ears, she heard Ty cry out, his voice guttural and wild. Then he was pounding into her, his hips pistoning between her legs. With a growl that reverberated around the car, he pumped his seed into her with such force she felt it pulsating along her sensitive inner walls.

And Charlotte came apart again, her entire body trembling with the climax that gripped her on the heels of the first. She clasped Ty’s head, her fingers fisting in his hair, and pulled his lips down to hers, fusing their open mouths together, giving him no choice but to take the moan of pure carnal bliss that welled up inside her and burst free.