To Love a Stranger (33 page)

Pierce felt a surge of hot blood lengthen his staff. He was swollen, hard, painfully full, and he couldn’t wait. Rising, he slid upward along the length of her body.

“Open for me, love,” he whispered against her lips. “I’m coming home.”

Zoey gave a glad cry as Pierce flexed his hips and thrust into her. He worked her gently at first, trying to go slowly, but with her tight, hot sheath squeezing him, his good intentions flew out the window. When her knees came up to give him further access, the banked hunger in him erupted. He pumped his hips with increasing vigor, each deep penetration sending scorching flames through her body. Zoey rocked beneath him, taking him inside her to the hilt. Mouths clinging, loins meshed in violent rhythm, they reached for ecstasy.

Zoey felt the blood hammering through her veins, exhilarated by the incredible passion they were sharing. Her face blazed with fierce joy as she wrapped her arms around him and crushed her breasts against him. Heat was building, fire blazed through her, searing her with shattering force. She was dying the sweetest death possible. He locked his arms around her and yelled his release, draining
himself inside her as she pulled his hips to hers and exploded around him.

“If that doesn’t make a baby, I don’t know what will,” Pierce gasped. “That was worth waiting for, love.”

“A baby,” Zoey repeated dazedly. There was something she wanted to tell Pierce, something about a baby, but she was too tired right now to think. The long journey from Montana and living in turmoil since marrying Willoughby had left her drained. When she woke up she’d tell Pierce he was going to be a father.

“I love you, Zoey,” Pierce whispered as she drifted off to sleep. “I know it’s love because nothing could hurt so much yet feel so wonderful.”

Zoey heard and smiled dreamily. “I’ve always loved you, Pierce.”

“Sleep, love. We’ll talk in the morning.”

Settling snugly into the curve of his body, Zoey let sleep claim her.

Zoey opened her eyes and smiled sleepily. Sunlight flooded into the room, revealing a drabness that she hadn’t noticed the night before. But to her it was the most beautiful room in the world. Pierce had found her in this room, made love to her here, and told her he loved her. They were the sweetest words she’d ever heard.

“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up,” Pierce said, pulling the blanket from her body. “I want to make love to you in the light of day. I want to see all of you. I want to watch your face when I bring you to pleasure.”

“Do we have time for this? Shouldn’t we—”

“We have time.” His eyes darkened with desire as he stared at her breasts.

“There’s something I want to tell you.”

“It can wait.”

With an efficiency of motion he lifted her atop him, settling her across his loins. He was already swollen and hard. He kissed her as he reached between them and touched her, delving his fingers inside her. She was wet and hot, and as ready as he.

“You want me as much as I want you. The proof of your need is at my fingertips.”

Zoey blushed but could not deny it. Wanting Pierce was as elemental to her as breathing.

“Take me, love. Take me inside you.”

Grasping his erection, she lowered herself onto him, gasping as he slowly filled her. Spanning her hips with his hands, he drove himself into her, taking them both to Paradise.

Afterward they lay in one another’s arms, basking in the aftermath of their love. Zoey smiled dreamily, imagining Pierce’s reaction to her pregnancy. She no longer worried about his acceptance of their child. He loved her, therefore he would love the babe he had put inside her. She tried to form the words to tell him, but they never left her mouth. The door crashed open and Samson Willoughby stepped into the room, accompanied by the sheriff and two deputies.

Pierce jerked upright, pulling the blanket around Zoey’s shoulders.

“What in the hell is the meaning of this?” Pierce roared. He glanced at his clothing lying in a heap beside the bed and spit out an oath. Being caught
naked, without his guns, unable to protect Zoey, left him feeling as vulnerable as a newborn babe.

“You’re in bed with my wife, Delaney,” Willoughby said from between clenched teeth. He turned to the sheriff. “Do your duty, Sheriff Wilkins, arrest this man. There must be a law against stealing another man’s wife.”

“I can let him cool his heels in jail awhile,” Wilkins said, “but if the woman was willing, there’s little I can do to keep him.”

“Of course my wife wasn’t willing,” Willoughby said huffily. “She was kidnapped from our room.”

Wilkins cast an inquiring glance at Zoey. She didn’t appear at all pleased to see her husband. “What about it, ma’am? Were you taken against your will?”

His question shook Zoey free of her stupor. “No, Sheriff, I went willingly. Pierce Delaney is my legal husband.”

“Like hell!” Willoughby thundered. “My wife and Delaney were divorced before I married her. My wife suffers from delusions.”

“Wrong,” Pierce said. “I never divorced Zoey. Now, get the hell out of here.”

“Arrest this man, Sheriff Wilkins,” Willoughby ordered. “Obviously he’s lying. I have a marriage license to back up my claim. You have no proof Delaney is other than a no-account drifter, while my reputation is without blemish. Delaney was the object of a manhunt after he beat a poor defenseless woman in Dry Gulch, Montana.”

The sheriff appeared confused. “Are Mr. Willoughby’s claims true, Mr. Delaney?”

“Those charges were false, and Willoughby
knows it,” Pierce said. “I’ve been cleared of any wrongdoing.”

Willoughby smiled blandly. “So he says.” He removed a document from his vest pocket and offered it for the sheriff’s inspection. “I have my marriage license as proof of my marriage.”

“These look legal to me,” Wilkins said, handing them back to Willoughby. “Do you have your marriage papers, Mr. Delaney?”

“Not many men carry their marriage license with them,” Pierce contended.

“Mr. Willoughby does,” the sheriff said. “Until I learn differently, you’d best come with me, Mr. Delaney. And you, Mrs. Willoughby, should return to your husband. Get dressed, Delaney.” He strode deliberately over to Pierce’s discarded clothing and picked up his gun belt. “You won’t be needing this.”

“You’re making a big mistake, Sheriff,” Pierce said, reaching for his clothes.

“That remains to be seen. You can cool your heels in jail while I send out a few telegrams and go through my wanted posters.”

“The Delaneys are well known in Montana. My brothers and I own one of the biggest spreads in the state,” Pierce said as he pulled on his clothes.

“Pierce is telling the truth, Sheriff,” Zoey said, growing frantic. How could this be happening to her? “We’re not divorced. My marriage to Samson Willoughby isn’t legal.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Willoughby said. “My wife is slightly confused. It’s a condition from which she suffers from time to time. The doctors suggested a
sanatorium, but I can’t bear to part with her.” He sent her a sympathetic smile.

Fully dressed now, Pierce lunged at Willoughby. “You lying bastard! You’re going to pay for the grief you’ve caused Zoey.”

It took the combined strength of both deputies to subdue Pierce and drag him from the room. The words he flung over his shoulder were those of encouragement to Zoey. “Don’t worry, love, I won’t let Willoughby get away with this!”

Zoey wanted to run after Pierce, to try to convince the sheriff that he spoke the truth, but she was naked as a jaybird beneath the blanket Pierce had flung over her.

“Get dressed. We’re leaving Butte immediately,” Willoughby said. “You’ve caused me enough embarrassment to last a lifetime.”

“I’m not dressing in front of you.”

His gaze turned lustful. “I can be persuaded to join you in bed. I’d prefer not to take you in the same bed in which you sported with Delaney, but if you don’t move quickly, I’ll do what I’ve been wanting to do for a long time.”

Zoey gave him a venomous look and did as he requested. She didn’t want him to touch her. Holding the blanket to her naked breasts, she snatched her shift from the floor and pulled it over her head. Feeling less vulnerable, she ignored Willoughby’s hot gaze as it followed her across the room. Fuming inwardly, she grabbed her dress from the chair and yanked it over her head. The welcome weight of the gun in her pocket bolstered her courage and gave her a sense of reckless confidence.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Zoey said,
facing him squarely. “You don’t frighten me. I’m not married to you. I never was.”

“I’m not going to return to Rolling Prairie alone and become the laughingstock of the town. Oh, no, my ‘wife’ will be with me.”

Zoey laughed in his face. “Pierce won’t remain in jail for very long. You’re a fool if you think he won’t follow us.”

Willoughby’s fingers curled hurtfully around her arm as he pulled her toward the door. “We’ll be back in Rolling Prairie before the sheriff releases your lover. I’ve made arrangements to leave on the afternoon stage. I fully expect Delaney to follow when he’s released, but he’ll never reach town alive. I fear he’s going to meet with an unfortunate ‘accident.’ My men won’t fail me this time.”

“You can’t make me leave,” Zoey said, pulling the gun from her pocket and poking the barrel in Willoughby’s gut.

“You’re threatening me?” Willoughby said, his voice rough with anger.

“Damn right I am. Cully is out of your reach. He’s recuperating at the Delaney ranch. You can no longer bully me.”

Willoughby’s eyes glinted dangerously, which should have warned Zoey.

“Turn around, Mr. Willoughby. Walk out that door and keep walking.”

Willoughby made as if to comply. He placed his hand on the doorknob, but instead of turning it, he whirled abruptly, flinging his arm out at the same time, dealing Zoey a blow to the face that sent her flying. Too stunned to move, she lay at Willoughby’s
feet as he calmly bent and ripped the gun from her hand.

“What were you saying, my dear?” His face turned hard; his icy gaze impaled her. “Get up. We’re both walking out of here and boarding the stagecoach. Before I left the hotel I arranged for our luggage to be delivered to the station.”

“How did you know I was with Pierce?” Zoey asked shakily. The left side of her face felt as if it were on fire; her mouth was numb from his cruel blow.

“When I found you missing, I questioned the hotel clerk and learned that a man fitting Delaney’s description was asking about us. I put two and two together.”

Zoey thought it best not to mention that it had been Chad asking questions, not Pierce. “How did you find me?”

He gave a hoot of laughter. “Easy. I went to the sheriff’s office and told him my story. His deputy just happened to see a woman and man fitting the descriptions I gave him enter the Cow Town Hotel while he was making rounds. I remarked to Sheriff Wilkins that Delaney was a dangerous man, so he and his two deputies accompanied me. The clerk verified that a Mr. Delaney was registered and gave us the master key.

“I hated to brand my wife a whore, but I had no choice,” he continued. “Fortunately no one in Rolling Prairie is likely to find out about this. You won’t be going to town much, anyway.”

“Holding me prisoner will solve nothing. If you hurt Pierce, his brothers will come gunning for you. They both know why Pierce went to Butte.”

“Without a body, they can prove nothing.” He pressed the gun against her ribs beneath her cape. “Open the door and walk down the stairs quietly. Don’t try anything funny. The sheriff is already half-convinced your mind is unstable. If you force me to shoot, I’ll tell him you tried to kill me and were shot in the scuffle for the gun. Your ranch will be all mine then. So you may as well accept this without making trouble.”

He pushed her from the room, grasping her arm with one hand and holding the gun against her ribs with the other. Except for the clerk, the lobby was empty when they walked through the front door. He pushed and pulled her along the street, checking his watch as he crossed the road and headed to the stagecoach station. They arrived just as the stage was loading passengers.

“I’m Samson Willoughby. Has our luggage arrived from the hotel?” Willoughby asked the stationmaster.

“It’s being loaded now, sir. You and your wife can climb in and make yourselves comfortable. The stage will leave in about fifteen minutes.”

“I need to make a purchase from the drugstore next door. Do I have time?”

“Plenty of time, sir.”

“Come along, Zoey.” He shoved the gun against her side, forcing her to move with him. Zoey wondered what would happen if she made a break for it and ran. Surely Willoughby wouldn’t shoot her in front of all these people, would he?

“Don’t even think it,” he whispered against her ear as he pulled her toward the store. “I’ve taken all I’m going to from you.”

“Why are we going to the drugstore?” Zoey wanted to know.

“You’ll see,” he said cryptically. “I don’t intend to spend four days trying to subdue you. I’m going to make this easy on myself.”

Zoey had no idea what he was talking about … until she heard him ask the store clerk for a large bottle of laudanum.

“You wouldn’t dare!” she blurted out as he paid the curious clerk for his purchase.

“Here’s a little extra for you,” Willoughby said expansively as he pocketed the bottle of laudanum and handed the clerk a crisp five-dollar bill.

“No!” Zoey cried, truly frightened now. What would the laudanum do to her baby?

“Come along, my dear,” Willoughby said for the clerk’s benefit. “You know how excitable you are. Your imagination is working overtime. You’re going to make yourself ill. My wife suffers from spells,” he said as an aside to the clerk.

Without further ado, Willoughby hustled Zoey through the door and into the street. Before she knew what was happening, he pushed her into the alley between the drugstore and stagecoach station, pressing her against the brick wall with the weight of his body. Carefully opening the bottle of laundanum, he held her face between his hard fingers and forced her mouth open as he poured a generous amount down her throat. He held her in his viselike grip until she swallowed and her wild thrashing subsided.