Susan Amarillas (28 page)

Rebecca whimpered as the pleasure washed over her, as he filled her completely, touching her deep inside and sending shock waves of passion washing over her.

Luke barely breathed, barely moved, his body focused on the luxury of this sensation. Her legs rode high on his hips, and he penetrated her more deeply than ever before.

Though it was sheer madness to cling to him, to give herself over to him, Rebecca was inundated by the extravagant enchantment, the urgent desire, that was melting her reason as fast as it was liquefying her body.

What was it about him that made her risk all for him? But as he kissed and laved at her mouth, as he moved with sure and certain strokes inside her, she knew the answer. She loved him, she realized as the first tiny tremblings of the ultimate bliss convulsed within her. Another heartbeat, another powerful stroke, and she cried out at the peaking desire. Luke quickly covered her mouth with his, absorbing the pleasure-driven cry, and continued the demanding rhythm.

“I love to hear you scream, Princess, but this is not the place. We wouldn’t want anyone to come to see what the commotion was.”

“There wouldn’t be a—” He moved inside her, and she gasped as pulsing need surged through her and the incredible flutters started again. No, she thought, this couldn’t be happening. The ache coiled tight inside her, and she knew, God help her, that it was happening.

She struggled against the impending climax, determined to restrain herself, to somehow deprive him of his control. But her body would not still, and tingling nerves and soul-searing passion would not relent.

Aching, tensing, she moved faster and harder, seeking release from this pleasurable pain. Her body reached for the rapture it knew was near. She climaxed in a heart-pounding liquid rush. Feeling her release, responding to her sensual delights, Luke gave in to his own need and slid into her once more. At the same instant, Rebecca kissed him, her mouth soft and inviting against his, and she absorbed his groan as she felt him pour his shuddering release into her throbbing channel.

It was a perfect union, one of pleasure given and taken, lush and erotic and equal.

Minutes later, he was buttoning his trousers and adjusting his shirt and coat. She was straightening the green silk of her dress, pushing at the errant curls that had come loose to drape down her back.

Rebecca stood in ecstatic shock and base anger. Furious at him, and angrier at herself for responding to him so easily, so wantonly.

As she looked at him, she wanted to strike out, to deny what had happened, to rant and scream in indignation, but how could she? There was no turning back this time, no pretense of denial. And so, more ashamed than she’d ever been, she turned away.

His voice stopped her. “Marry me.”

She stood there, her back to him. She dragged in a lungful of cool night air. “Eight years ago I would have given anything to hear those words from you.”

“And now?”

She refused to face him. “Now, it’s too late.”

“Why?” He came around to face her. “Why is it too late? We can be married. We can be a family.”

She shook her head resolutely.

“I want you.” He took her shoulders in his grip. “I want my son.”

“How will I explain to Andrew that the man he thinks is his father, isn’t?”

“I don’t know. We’ll find a way.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. I don’t care. All I know is that I want you—both of you.”

“But I do care. If I marry you, everyone will know what I did—what we did. They’ll know that Andrew is illegitimate.”

“He’s not illegitimate.”

“Only because Nathan married me when he knew I was pregnant.”

“Dammit, I know that. I can’t change it. I would if I could, God knows, but I can’t. I’m grateful to the man. What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to leave me alone. I want you to leave Andrew alone.”

“No. You’re mine. Both of you belong to me.”

“You gave up any claims when you left.”

“The hell I did.”

“We’re not property. We’re not some saddle gear you forgot and now have come back for. There are people involved here, scandal to be considered.”

“We’ll move.”

“Oh, move. Just like that. Pack everything up and move. To where?”

“How do I know? Texas, Colorado—I don’t much care.”

“And that’s the trouble, Luke. You don’t care about anyone or anything but yourself and what you want. You were selfish enough to walk out eight years ago with never a backward glance, and now you’re being just as selfish because you’ve decided that you want a family.”

“Not `a family.’ I want
my
family.”

“We don’t belong to you, no matter what you think.”

“I think I just proved you wrong.”

“That was lust.”

“The hell it was.”

“It was. And I’m not risking my life and Andrew’s and Ruth’s to satisfy your selfishness
or
my lust.

“What’s Ruth got to do with this?”

“She’s his grandmother. The only grandmother he’s ever had. You want me to tear them apart?”

“She’d understand.”

“Would she? Do you want to tell her? Do you want to say, `Pardon me, your only grandchild isn’t your grandchild at all, and we’re leaving to avoid the scandal? Hope you’ll be fine all alone for the rest of your life?’”

“For chrissakes, Rebecca, I wouldn’t be that cold.”

“Maybe not, but any way you slice it, it’s the same thing. I won’t do it. I owe her more than I could ever repay. She was there for me when I had
no one else,
and I won’t repay her like this.”

“And what am I supposed to do? Pretend I don’t have a son?”

“Why not? Until a few days ago, you weren’t very interested.”

“Until a few days ago, I didn’t know.”

“But you could have, Luke, if you’d cared about anyone but yourself.” She took a step. “Goodbye Luke,” she said quietly, and walked away.

* * *

He watched her go, and a pain swept over him, a longing, so intense that he had to steel himself or be crushed by it. He thought to call out to her. To tell her that she was right, that he had been selfish, then and now. That he loved her so damned much that he thought the rest of his life would be no more than a shell without her and Andrew to fill it. But at the last second, just before she turned the corner, he stopped and realized he’d said it all, and it wasn’t enough.

Hands braced on the porch rail, fingers curled white-knuckle tight against the painted wood, he faced the night, a night as black and bleak as he felt.

It was then that he heard the unmistakable click of a gun hammer being pulled back. In the next second, a raspy male voice snarled, “I’ve been looking for you, Scanlin.”

A soft breeze stirred the bushes beyond the porch. Luke didn’t move. He strained to see into the darkness to find the source of the voice.

“Get the hell down here,” the voice ordered rough and furious.

Luke straightened, all his senses tuned and focused on the man who stepped out of the bushes. He was dressed in rumpled black, his hair was slicked back, his face was pale.

“Riggs,” Luke muttered. “I thought...”

“What? You killed me? Not hardly. But you did kill my brother, you son of a bitch, and I intend to even the score.”

As discreetly as possible, Luke edged his hand toward the opening of his coat, and the gun tucked in his shoulder holster.

“Hold it,” Riggs snarled, spotting the motion.

Luke froze.

“Don’t even try. I’d hate to splatter your brains all over that nice porch. Now take it out and toss it over here. Come on.” He gestured with the gun he held.

Reluctantly Luke obliged, all the while watching the man, waiting for an opening, a chance to do...something other than stand here and be gunned down.

“What now?”

“Now, you and me is gonna take a little walk away from all these witnesses. Like I said, we got us some unfinished business.”

Luke glanced toward the open doorway. Rebecca was in there. He hoped to hell she didn’t walk out here now.

“Come on. Come on,” the gunman said, waving his gun for emphasis again.

“All right, Riggs.” Luke started toward the stairs near the doorway.

“Don’t try nothin’,” the man warned. “I don’t wanna hurt nobody else, but I will if you make me.”

Luke nodded. The odds were all in the man’s favor. If Luke went with him, he was a dead man. The man was advancing, matching Luke step for step. At the top of the porch stairs, Luke stopped still.

There was no way he was going with this guy, and there was no way he could let him get away and possibly come back for Rebecca or Andrew.

A round of sudden laughter erupted from the house. The gunman glanced away for a split second. It was all the time Luke needed. He hurled himself at Riggs, slamming into him, and they hit the ground with a bone-jarring thud. The gun arched through the air and landed a few feet away in the grass.

Luke scrambled to his feet. He started for the gun. Riggs was up, and he grabbed Luke from behind. Luke slammed his elbow into Riggs’s ribs. The man cried out, and Luke was able to break free and turn.

“You son of a bitch!” Riggs shouted, loud enough that those inside the house heard and came outside.

“What’s going on?” someone said.

Luke was a little too busy to answer. In complete silence, they faced each other. Luke was between Riggs and the gun. He knew that if he tried to turn, Riggs would be on top of him. He also knew that there was no way Riggs could get the gun, not without going through him.

“Give it up, Riggs,” Luke told him as the two of them squared off against each other.

Riggs charged at Luke. Head down, he rammed into Luke’s midsection. Air whooshed out of Luke’s lungs, and he landed on his knees. He grabbed hold of Riggs’s legs as he lunged for the gun.

The man sprawled facedown in the grass, his hand outstretched. When he rolled over, there was a gun in his hand.

Luke threw himself on top of Riggs, pinning his body down as he reached for his gun hand. They rolled back and forth, Riggs trying to free himself from Luke’s weight, Luke determined to wrench the gun free.

Riggs groaned as he managed to work the gun closer and closer to their bodies, murderous intent in his eyes. Suddenly there was a shot, and then another.

More people rushed out from the party. Men scrambled down the stairs and rushed toward the two men lying still and lifeless on the lawn.

A steady trickle of blood formed a pool against the side of the men.

“Marshal, are you all right?”

Luke felt a hand on his shoulder, then another, felt someone helping him up. His breathing was ragged, and the burning pain in his side hurt like hell.

“I—” He sagged to sit on the ground, and his hand instinctively sought the .45, lying nearby.

“Someone send for the doctor!” a man called. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and pushed it against the spreading red stain on Luke’s white dress shirt.

It took only a glance to see that Riggs was dead, shot through the heart.

“What happened?” the man nearest was saying.

“One of the...kidnappers...” Luke managed. Every breath hurt, and talking hurt more. “Damn,” he muttered as he looked down to check the flow of blood.

“The doctor’s on his way,” the man said. “Let’s get you—”

“Luke!”

It was Rebecca’s voice. Rebecca’s scream. In an instant she was there, kneeling in the bloodstained dirt beside him.

“Oh, my God!” Frantically she touched his face, his shoulders. She spotted the blood. “Are you all right?”

He looked at her kneeling in the dirt beside him, her face a ghostly white, her hands clutching at him. “I’m all right.”

“You’re not all right. Oh, God, you could have been killed!” she ranted. Then, in front of everyone, she pulled him into her arms and kissed him.

He didn’t move, didn’t dare to.

“Becky, honey, you’re, uh, getting your dress all messed up.”

“I don’t give a damn about the dress. Are you all right?”

“I’m okay.”

She insisted on helping him to his feet.

“Just took a chunk outa my side, is all, and—”

He was struggling to his feet when suddenly a hand grasped Luke’s shoulder and, taken unawares, he was jerked back, releasing Rebecca.

“Get away from her!”

Edward stood there, his face mottled with rage. “What the hell is going on?”

Luke had his arm draped around Rebecca’s shoulders and was letting her pretend she was actually holding him up. God, it was pathetic. He was shot and bleeding, and all he could think about was keeping his arm around her, feeling her body next to his.

Edward grabbed Rebecca by the wrist, his grip surprisingly tight, and pulled her away. Rebecca winced as his fingers dug into the tender flesh of her wrist. She managed to twist free.

“Edward,” she cried, “for heaven’s sake, what’s wrong with you? Luke’s been hurt, can’t you see that? This man was one of the kidnappers, and he tried to...” Tears threatened at the realization that it could be Luke lying there in a pool of blood. “Tried to kill Luke, and—”

“Luke,” Edward snarled. “Luke this and Luke that. All I hear these days is Luke Scanlin’s name. I’m sick of it, and I’m sick of you, Scanlin. You’re interfering in my business.”

Luke braced his feet. A couple of men stepped up, as though to help him, but he waved them away. “Well, Ed, you’re right about that. I have been interfering in your business, but you see, I’m gonna marry Rebecca—”

“The hell you are!”

Luke smiled, a slow predatory smile. “Who’s gonna stop me? You?”

“Edward! Please! He’s hurt.”

Ruth rushed to Rebecca’s side, Andrew hot on her heels. “What going on?” Ruth asked, sizing up the situation in a glance. She held Andrew tightly against her side, trying to cover his face with her skirt to prevent him from seeing such a grisly sight.

Andrew was having none of it. “What happened? Who hurt the marshal? Is that man dead, Grandma?”

“Shh, Andrew,” she said gently. “Go back in the house,” she told him, but he didn’t move.

Edward’s eyes glittered with rage. “All right, Scanlin. I don’t care if you’re a marshal. I don’t care if you’re God Almighty. I’ve had enough of your insults.”