Sam’s Creed (17 page)

“Now there’s a bit of ass I wouldn’t mind taming,” a trail hand with lank brown hair hanging from under his hat declared.

With seeming nonchalance, McCade reached out and grabbed him by the throat. With a move equally as casual, he tossed him through the glass front of the saloon. Glass shattered in a cacophony of discordance.

The packhorse jerked at the reins and whinnied. Isabella held on to the ends of the reins, making shushing sounds the horses ignored. Kell whined. The third time she was almost jerked from the saddle, Sam rode up, sliding his hands around the reins until he got close to the horse’s head. She let go in response to his tug. She didn’t know where to focus. On Sam or Tucker.

A shout came from inside the saloon.

“Damn it, Tucker!”

Isabella blinked again. This was the “nice” friend Sam expected her to like? This giant who tossed men through glass windows?

“Put it on my tab, Brian,” Tucker called over his shoulder before his gaze met hers.

“That doesn’t cover the inconvenience,” Brian grumbled from the dark interior. Tucker didn’t take his eyes from her, approaching with a fluid grace leaving her with an impression of being stalked.

“Uh-huh.”

He was a handsome man in a brutally harsh sort of way. There was no warmth in his gaze, just a cold assessment as he glanced at her then at Sam.

“Thought we agreed we’d only bring back blondes?”

What did that mean? She turned in the saddle to look at Sam. He was checking on Kell. “Bella here proved just too tempting to pass up.”

Tucker reached up and took her hat off, studying her as if she were a horse. His gaze dropped to her mouth. “She does have potential.”

She snatched her hat back. With a snap of her hand, she used it to knock his off his head. He caught it without any sign of awkwardness. To her surprise, all her violence had done was make him smile.

“Push her much more, Tucker, and we’re going to have words.”

For all the languor in the statement, Isabella heard the threat.

“Like that, is it?” Tucker asked.

Sam stood. “Pretty much.”

“Desi sent us out after blondes.”

“No shit.”

“She’s not blond.”

He made her dark hair and caramel-colored skin sound like a deficit. Him with his black-as-sin hair, scary eyes and much darker skin.

“Sally Mae is right,” Bella snapped. “You are overly familiar.”

His gaze cut back to hers. “It’s my nature.”

She wasn’t so sure about that, but he was something. Either very bad or very good. She couldn’t tell which.

Sam came up beside her. His fingers curled around hers. It was a subtle gesture, but as they were in public, a declaration of intent. He’d been sending her these signals for days, but saying nothing. Was he trying to tell her something?

“I need a place for Bella to stay.”

Tucker sighed and looked down the street where Sally Mae stopped in front of a fenced yard. “The only place for a decent woman to stay just got complicated.”

“Don’t tell me.”

“Sally Mae runs the local boardinghouse.”

“Is that where she took Tejala’s man?”

“Yup.”

“Well, sh—shoot.”

Bella glanced at Sam askance. He’d never watched his language around her before. First the hand-holding and then this. What was he doing?

“Mrs. Schermerhorn has deep beliefs.”

“I thought you did not know how to say her name?” Bella queried with an arch of her brow.

The faintest of smiles touched his lips. “The ability comes and goes.”

More than likely with his need to irritate. She looked over to Sam. “I’m beginning to see the family resemblance.”

Sam took her hat and popped it back on her head, tapping it down until it covered her eyes. “Everyone does eventually.”

She pushed the hat back. The man Sam had tossed money to grabbed the hands of the dead man and hauled him away, dragging him across the street. Sam was still on the subject of the woman’s behavior.

“Is she stupid? That man will rape her first chance he gets and probably slit her throat before he’s finished.”

“To her that’s unimportant.”

“How can this be unimportant?” Bella asked.

“She’s a Quaker. She believes she is to do no harm, that all life is sacred and the rest is up to God.”

Sam reached for his makings and took out a paper. “So, she’s stupid.”

Tucker went still. “No, she’s not.”

Sprinkling tobacco on the paper, Sam brought the paper to his tongue. Isabella couldn’t look away. A shiver ran down her spine as Sam ran his tongue along the edge. Between her legs her pussy flexed and fresh cream gathered. He had a very skilled tongue.

With one last flick that had her shifting in the saddle, Sam twisted the ends. “What is she then?”

“A woman of principle.”

“Who’s going to get herself killed.”

“I keep an eye on her.”

“From the saloon?”

“From the barn behind the boardinghouse.”

Sam’s lips tightened. “You set yourself as guardian for a woman that doesn’t even see fit to let you rent a room under her roof?”

“It was my choice.”

“I bet.”

Something lashed in Tucker’s eyes. Isabella couldn’t identify it.

“Shut the hell up, Sam.”

“The hell I—”

The emotion flashed again. This time she did recognize it. The big dangerous man cared for the woman. Isabella put her hand on Sam’s thigh. “It is not your concern, Sam.”

“The hell it’s not.”

Tucker looked at her hand. His brow arched. She tipped up her chin and matched him stare for stare. She didn’t care what he thought. But inside, the part of her raised to always submit to propriety cringed. Just a little.

“Maybe the saloon has rooms.”

To her surprise, Tucker’s “no” beat out Sam’s.

“It’s not a place for a proper lady, miss.”

She might as well take the bull by the horns.

“Maybe I’m not so proper.”

“For Sam’s sake, I hope not.”

She blushed. Tucker laughed. Sam wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. She tipped her head for his kiss. She felt much better once his lips met hers. This was familiar. This made her comfortable. This was the Sam she knew.

“I’ll sit on Tejala’s sidekick,” Tucker offered.

“You’re just looking for an excuse to irritate Sally Mae.”

“True enough.” He walked around the back of the packhorse to the travois. “Who is this?”

Weakened and ill, Kell still managed to raise his head and display his fangs.

“Kell. I picked him up on the other side of the mountains.”

“He looks pure wolf.”

“He’s got to be part dog seeing as he’s domesticated.”

Kell snarled.

Tucker smiled. He had a nice smile, Isabella decided.

“No need to go insulting him.”

He reached out.

“Kell doesn’t like to be touched,” Isabella called, worried despite herself.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Tucker took off his hat and set it on the ground beside the travois. His shoulder-length hair fell forward, hiding his face. As he spoke to the dog in a low singsong language she didn’t understand, Kell continued to snarl. But when Tucker lifted his bandages and looked beneath, he didn’t bite even though it had to hurt and there was plenty of Tucker within striking distance.

“How did he do that?” she asked Sam.

He shrugged. “Tucker has a way with wild things.”

Tucker stood. “His wounds are infected.”

“Oh no.” Isabella did not want to hear he was going to die.

“Know someone that can take care of it?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, but you’re not going to like it.”

“Sally Mae?”

“She won’t turn him away and she has a real talent for healing.”

“Seems all roads lead to Sally Mae.”

“So it would seem.”

“She any good?”

“Her husband was a doctor.”

“Was?”

“He was killed last year by a dissatisfied patient.”

“Sam needs care, too,” Isabella interjected. For her interference she got a glare from Sam.

“I’m fine.”

Tucker grinned and took the packhorse’s reins. “Let me guess, he needs stitches?”

“How did you know?”

Tucker clucked to the horse and started down the street. “He’s always been squeamish when facing a needle.”

Isabella smiled very sweetly at Sam. His blue eyes glittered a warning from beneath the brim of his hat. She ignored it.

“He will not be squeamish today.”

“What makes you say that?” Tucker asked, glancing over his shoulder.

“Because he promised me.”

“You’re leaving me?”

Isabella sat on the rail-back chair in her bedroom in the boardinghouse and stared at Sam, the towel with which she’d been drying her hair pausing halfway to her lap. “There aren’t any more rooms. I’m going to be staying with Tucker in the barn and keep an eye on things.”

She reached over and smoothed her hand over the mattress of the double bed. “The bed is big enough for the both of us.”

Sam didn’t even seem to notice the way her borrowed dressing gown gaped.

“We’re in town now, Bella. We can’t be carrying on like we did before.”

The sick feeling in the pit of her stomach grew. “You do not want to be seen with me.”

He slapped his hat against his thigh. “You have a reputation to protect.”

“I do not think riding around with you in the wilderness has left me with any.”

“No one here knows that.”

“They do not need to know to speculate.”

“You hear anyone saying anything untoward, you send them my way.”

“Sam, I knew what I faced when I had relations with you. I have no regrets.”

“What we do is between us and not up for speculation.”

The part of her that hoped to hear him say he had no regrets withered.

She twisted her hands in the towel. “Why is this so important?”

“Tomorrow I’m going to take you home to your mother. I don’t need to give her any more reason to meet me at the door with a shotgun.”

He would not budge on taking her home.

“She will be too happy that you bring me home to care in what condition.”

He took a step into the room. Though he came closer, she felt like the distance between them widened.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Because of what you know of your mother, but
my
mother married as her parents ordered. She was not happy leaving Spain. She is not happy here. She has waited a long time for an opportunity to improve her position.”

“No woman who raised a daughter as independent as you would be worried about position.”

She smiled, happy memories pouring over her. “My mother did not raise me. She had…other pursuits.”

“Who did?”

“My father until my mother noticed, as you said, how independent I became.”

“And then?”

Her mother had been very shocked, when in a moment of coherence she’d seen her racing up the stairs in a pair of pants. “Life was not so exciting.”

Sam sat on the bed beside her chair. He turned her face to his. “You mentioned she had other pursuits. What were they?”

She didn’t want to say.

His thumb rubbed her bottom lip. “Did she enjoy other men?”

“
Dios mío,
no!” Her mother was very reserved. Not given to touch. Very proper. “She took medicine for her pain.”

“She’d been injured?”

“I think in her heart for a very long time.”

“Ah. She took laudanum.”

His arms came around her. Strong, warm. She turned, wrapping her arms around his neck. He pulled her as close as she could dream, so close she could hear his heart beat. Steady. Like him. She closed her eyes. “I know I promised not to cling, but I need you to hold me. Just for this little bit.”

His hand smoothed over her hair. “Duchess, I’m just going to be out back.”

“I know.” She also knew it was the first step to putting distance between them. Taking her home to her mother would be the second. Sam never promised her forever, but he wouldn’t be cruel with the goodbye. He would ease her into it. Like this.

“Then why do I feel you shaking?”

Her control wasn’t what she wanted it to be. “I am afraid to go home.”

She didn’t want to lose the magic she had with him, didn’t want to go back to her stifling existence. She didn’t want to live with the gaping hole in her soul—all that would remain of her love when he left.

“Tucker and I will take care of Tejala.”

She shook her head. “I do not want this. He is too dangerous.”

His chuckle stirred her hair. “I’m not exactly a tabby cat, duchess.”

“It is an unnecessary risk.”

She covered his newly stitched arm with her palm. The arm that would bear an ugly scar because he’d refused to take the catgut that Kell needed. He was always making sacrifices. She tilted her head back so she could see his expression and more importantly, so he could see hers. “I do not want to be one of your sacrifices, Sam.”

“Who said anything about sacrificing you?”

“I just think it is important that you know how unhappy I will be as your sacrifice. I will pine, mope.” She frowned at him. “Most likely
cry.
”

He shifted her up onto his lap, and the towel fell to the floor. There was no laughter in his voice, no amusement curved his lips, but she felt his smile in the glide of his palm over her cheek, the thread of his fingers through her damp hair. “Are you blackmailing me?”

She stroked her finger down the stubble of his cheek. He had not had time yet to bathe. “Will this work?”

“Try it and see.”

She was tempted. Very tempted. But if Sam was going to stay with her it could not be because she forced him. “No. That would not be right.”

His eyebrow quirked up. His smile deepened. His lips brushed over hers. “How about persuading me? Would that be right?”

She wished it would. Digging her fingernails into her palms, she kissed him back. “No.”

“So it’s all on me?”

He did not sound upset. His palm slid inside her robe, curled around her breast. Her
“Sí”
was more gasp than word as his thumb stroked over her nipple. “Well, that makes things easy.”