Tempting the Marshal: (A Western Historical Romance) (Dodge City Brides Series Book 2) (27 page)

Her stomach began to churm with dread. “I’d rather not.”

“Look, I have my gun.” He pulled it out of the holster and cocked it. “Nothing will happen while I’m standing beside you.”

Her heart pounded like a drum in her ears, faster and faster. “I don’t know…”

“Come with me.” Gently he urged her along, taking her hand and moving toward the door. “Just stay close to me.”

Oh
, what a way he had with his voice—that smooth Texas drawl. Even now, when she was reeling with dread, it made her whole body soften to his demands.

She took an uncertain step forward, allowing him to lead her through the door. Her breath came in short gasps and her heart felt as if it was going to burst out of her chest, until she stepped over the threshold and into the dark central bay.

The smell of moist hay and cows and manure wafted to her nose, bringing back a whole slew of memories which surprisingly were mostly about her childhood. It had been so long since she’d smelled these familiar fragrances.

Fletcher lit the lantern that hung on a post by the door, and the barn was illuminated. Jo swallowed nervously, her stomach burning as she looked up at the thick square beam overhead.

Images of Edwyn’s last helpless moments—his legs kicking and his face ghostly white with terror as he wrestled with the rope around his neck—flashed like blazing embers in her mind. She was breathing hard now, staring upward, seeing things that were not there.

“It’s normal to feel anxious,” Fletcher said to her, dropping his gun into its holster and taking her hand. “It was a terrible ordeal, what you went through.”

Frozen with fear, she could only nod.

She let the memories come, saw it all in her head, remembered huddling in the corner, waiting—God only knows how long—for Zeb and his men to leave, then longer still, to be sure they had ridden away. The rope had creaked back and forth with Edwyn’s limp body, clad in his dark wool trousers and wool vest, while Jo trembled and shivered and cried until she found the courage to finally get up and cut him down, try to bring him back to life. It was no use of course.

She then saddled a horse. There had been no ranch hands around then, in the dead of winter, so she rode off into the night alone to seek help, through the snow and over crusty patches of ice. When she found the city marshal, she remembered the other dead rancher’s wife, and Jo had lied about what she had seen.

She heard Fletcher’s voice, speaking to her as if from a great distance away. “What can I do, Jo?” he asked. “How can I help?”

Shakily she let her gaze go to him. “Just hold me.”

And suddenly, she was safe in his embrace, and the visions of Edwyn disappeared, along with her fears, as she wrapped her arms around Fletcher, rested her cheek on the firm wall of his chest and felt him stroke her hair with gentle fingers. “It’s all over now,” he whispered. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

He continued to hold her for the next few minutes, rubbing his hands over her back and kissing her cheeks until her heart slowed to a more natural rhythm and she was able to look up at the beam and not see Edwyn anymore. She glanced around at the hay and horses and saw the door to the tack room and smelled the leather. What happened to Edwyn now seemed far away, a horrible tragic nightmare that was finally part of her past.

She wiped away another tear and faced Fletcher. “Thank you for forcing me to come in here. I couldn’t do it alone.”

“You just needed some help,” he said. “We all need it sometimes.”

And you still need
me
, she thought—to help you move on from what happened to your father.

“Are you hungry?” she whispered, her muscles relaxing beneath the pleasurable sensation of his hands on her hips.

He raised an eyebrow, playfully. “Got any cookies?”

Jo chuckled, grateful for the release of tension. “That’s why I keep my cookie jar full. For moments like these. Let’s go inside the house.”

Fletcher lowered the wick in the lantern and the barn went dark. Together, they crossed the yard, their path lit by the full moon, and slowly climbed the porch steps. Jo reached out to open the front door of the house, but Fletcher stopped her.

“Let me go first.” He drew his Peacemaker and cocked it. “After that fire this morning, I’m not taking any more chances. Stay close.”

They walked into the front hall, where the smell of charred fabric and wood was still heavy in the air, then checked each room for intruders who might have been lurking and waiting. They found no evidence that anyone had been there since breakfast.

Fletcher holstered his gun and turned to face Jo. They stood in the darkness of the front hall, close enough that Jo could feel his breath on her face. When their eyes met, it seemed they both realized at the same time that they were alone together in her home, and would be until morning.

“Why don’t we go into the kitchen?” Jo suggested, feeling suddenly awkward.

She led the way, while Fletcher followed. He removed his hat and sat down at the table. Jo lit a lamp and filled a plate with frosted shortbread cookies from the jar beside the window.

“Would you like some coffee?” she asked as she set the plate down on the table.

“I reckon I’m going to need it tonight.”

She knew he planned to stay and guard her safety, but where did he plan to do it? From downstairs—or closer to her bed?

The idea of him nearby while she slept made her tremble with excitement and nervous anticipation. Would she even be able to stay out of his arms? How would it be possible, when she was so completely infatuated with him, in every possible way?

Warily, she filled the stove with kindling and lit it, then prepared the coffeepot and set it to boil. She sat down at the table across from Fletcher and reached for a cookie. “Do you think anything will happen tonight? Zeb’s already tried once.”

“Killer or not, Zeb has good reason to keep you healthy for the next few months. He wants a wedding to ensure my election to the sheriff’s office.”

“Did he actually say that?”

“Yes, after I convinced him of it.”

Jo swallowed the sweet shortbread. “Clever of you, Marshal, but I still can’t trust him. If he thinks I might expose him, our wedding will hardly seem important, even if it does stand to get you elected.”

“Well, there’s more to it than that,” Fletcher said.

He gazed at her uncertainly and her stomach lurched. “I’m not sure I want to know.”

Fletcher ran his fingers through his hair. “Tonight I learned that Zeb wants your land,” he said finally. “He knows you won’t sell, and he wants me to get my hands on it by marrying you.”

The walls seemed to close in around Jo. Now she was beginning to understand. “Is that why he killed Edwyn? For our land?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

A chill grew inside her. “How could he do that? Take a man’s life—Edwyn was a father!—just for a piece of land! What kind of monster is he?”

“Jo—”

“If Zeb thinks he can get away with this…” Her thoughts began to race dangerously as she considered the implications of Zeb’s intent. “The land is to go to Leo after I’m gone. If anything happens to—”

Fletcher covered her hand with his. “I won’t let anything happen. You’re safe with me, and Leo is safe with his uncle, and all of this will be cleared up before we let him come home. Trust me.”

She stood up. “Maybe I should just sell to Zeb. Get out of here while we still can. The land isn’t as important as our lives.”

“No, Jo. I know what it is to give up your home and everything you’ve worked for because something didn’t go according to plan. It can change your life forever. I won’t let that happen, and if he’s guilty for what you believe he is, he’ll soon find himself in front of a judge and jury.”

“But Fletcher…”

“I’ll keep you and Leo safe, I promise.” Fletcher’s eyes burned with intensity as he gazed up at her.

Jo struggled with the anger and fear boiling within her. She dropped her forehead into her hand to suppress the throbbing in her head.

“Believe me,” Fletcher continued, “the thought of losing you makes me want to destroy him, too.”

Jo’s anger cooled at the sound of those words on Fletcher’s lips, and the touch of his fingers, lacing through hers. Slowly, she sat back down. “So you
do
believe that he’s capable of murder?”

“Yes.”

“What changed your mind?”

“Will MacGregor’s murder tonight, for starters. Besides that, everything I’ve learned about you in the past couple of days, and what I’ve seen from Zeb. You’ve won me over, Jo. Lock, stock and barrel.”

But in what way? Was he just talking about the facts of the case? Or did he mean something else?

Fletcher glanced down at their joined hands. “I see that you took off my mother’s ring.”

Jo could barely speak. She was still so shaken by what he’d just said, and what he might mean by it. “I gave it back to Elizabeth. I didn’t think it was appropriate for me to be wearing it.”

“Because we’re not married yet,” Fletcher said matter-of-factly.

Yet?

Jo nodded, fighting to keep from leaping across the table, settling herself on his lap, and kissing him senseless.

“It looked perfect on you.”

Heaven help her, every word that came out of his mouth tonight was filling her with hope and feverish longing. She wanted him with every breath in her body, and it was becoming impossible to imagine resisting him all night long, when he would be here, within reach, perhaps even in the privacy of her bedroom.

Fletcher stroked her knuckles with the pad of his thumb and she felt another sizzling surge of desire in her core. “When I told you my mother would have wanted you to wear it, I meant it.”

Jo felt her chest heaving, as if she’d just run a great distance. “Fletcher, I don’t know what I would have done these past few days without you.”

He kissed each of her fingertips, and the heat of his lips sent her senses whirring. “I’m glad I found you,” he said softly. “Not because of what’s been happening…just because.”

A sense of urgency filled her as he touched her cheek. Her eyes fell closed and she turned her face into his palm.

“I need to kiss you,” he whispered, rising to his feet and moving toward her.

Thank God
… “I think I’ll collapse in a heap if you don’t.”

Her last words were smothered on her lips as he pulled her to her feet and claimed her mouth with his. The kiss was velvety and tasted like the sugar cookies. Jo reached up to his shoulders for support, deepening the kiss until her entire body melted gloriously into his. She trembled from the overwhelming desire flooding her body, and her complete and undying trust in this man.

As the coffeepot hissed and steamed and filled the air with its heady aroma, Jo held Fletcher tighter than she’d ever held anyone.

“Let me stay with you tonight,” he whispered in her ear, his hot breath sending gooseflesh down her arms and legs.

“I thought we’d already decided that,” she managed to say.

“No, I mean let me stay with you—in your bed.”

Her senses spun madly for the thing she had wanted so desperately, but dared not suggest.

Giving herself over to the intensity of her feelings, she nodded, then felt him sweep her off her feet and into his capable arms. As he carried her up the stairs to her bedroom, she wanted to give him everything, no matter what the future held in store for them.

Once inside, he kicked the door shut with his boot, carried her to the bed and eased her down onto her back. She inched toward the pillows, watching him in the moonlight from the window as he ripped off his vest, tossed it onto the wing chair in the corner of the large room, then quickly unbuttoned his shirt. She nearly lost her breath at the sight of his smooth, muscular chest and broad shoulders. He was so much of a man…so strong and brawny….

He crawled onto the bed beside her. His nearness, and the heat of his hard, naked flesh under her fingertips as she ran her hands over his shoulders and back, aroused her to the point of trembling.

He held her in his arms, kissing her lips and cheeks and neck, causing a fever in her blood that couldn’t be doused. “Jo, I know this is where you and Edwyn—”

She drew back, realizing that he was still uncertain about this. “Fletcher, there’s something you should know about Edwyn and me.” She leaned up on her elbows. “He was a good man and I miss him, but we never loved each other, not the way a man and a woman ought to.”

“But he was your husband,” Fletcher replied in a low voice, still laced with desire. “And all the times I saw you staring at his portrait, and how determined you’ve been to avenge his death…”

“He was my husband only on paper,” she explained. “But his heart always belonged to another—someone he loved before he ever met me. It was before he came to America. They were engaged, but she broke it off to marry another man. That’s why Edwyn left his home country. I was nothing but a mail-order bride, because he needed a wife to help him on this ranch, and to help him forget about her.”

“He told you this?” Fletcher said with a frown.

“Yes. That sea chest in the den, it’s filled with the woman’s letters and Edwyn’s, too. I was never angry about it, because he was honest with me from the start. So you see, we were just friends.”