Samhain Publishing

Emma sighed and pressed her forehead against Mariposa’s withers. Exhaustion crept through her like a thief, stealing her energy and her will. It had been an incredibly long day and it was bound to be an even longer night.

She’d sleep in her new husband’s house tonight. The thought of being in close proximity to Rafe in just her nightgown gave her the chills. She dared not think about whether the chills were excitement or dread. After making sure all her horses had food and water, she finally left the barn.

Rafe had disappeared at least half an hour earlier. She’d expected him to hover and try to take over her chores. Instead, he’d left her alone, exactly what she needed. Rowdy knew better than to bother her. He’d headed straight for the bunkhouse and a whiskey.

Her new husband was turning out to be a different man than she thought he was, either that or he was really good at pretending to be someone else. It didn’t matter one way or the other. Until she was good and ready, if ever, Emma wouldn’t trust any man, much less Rafe.

She trudged to the house with a heavy heart and a dose of homesickness. Emma had spent her entire life on her family’s ranch. In fact, she’d never slept anywhere else or woken up anywhere else. Everything about this whole marriage thing was turning every aspect of her life sideways.

By the time she reached the house, Emma had built up a head of steam laced with resentment. She opened the kitchen door, ready to give Rafe a piece of her mind. The room was empty of people, but holy hell, he’d been there for sure.

A huge wooden bathtub sat in front of a cheery, crackling fire. Steamy wisps rose from the water. A pitcher of water, a mug and a plate with biscuits and cheese sat on the table. She closed the door behind her with a thump.

What was he up to? Did he think to seduce her already? It hadn’t even been twelve hours and he was breaking their contract. Emma wasn’t about to let that happen. She tossed her hat on one of the chairs and headed for the living room.

Rafe sat in the chair, an empty glass clutched in his hand. In the firelight, his face was a study in angles and shadows, his eyes hidden. For a moment it was as if she was looking at a different man, one she didn’t know. The floor felt unsteady under her feet.

“I, uh, what’s going on in the kitchen?”

He peered at the fire through the glass. “I thought you might want a bath and something to eat.”

She frowned. “So you weren’t trying to seduce me then?”

Rafe sighed. “I’m tired, Emma. Do we have to argue tonight? I wanted to get through our wedding day without fighting.” He stood and stretched.

Emma watched his shirt strain from the effect of his muscles tightening and loosening. Her mouth went cotton dry and be damned if her heart didn’t kick up a notch. It appeared her body hadn’t gotten over her childhood obsession with Rafe.

“I’m headed upstairs. Just leave the bathwater when you’re done. One of the men will empty the tub in the morning.” Rafe walked over to her, as if he sensed how much she’d reacted to his body. Her hands fisted as the urge to touch him almost overcame her. “Good night, Mrs. Sinclair.”

He touched her chin, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. The silvery orbs glittered in the half-light. She’d give him credit, he gave her the option to pull away but she didn’t, she couldn’t. Instead, she waited for what was coming next.

A kiss.

“Talon. Why are you here? Why now?” She wouldn’t cry if it killed her.

“I heard about your father’s bet. I heard what Jed had done to you.” Talon’s grip loosened a bit, but he didn’t let her go. He held on to her upper arms, supporting her sagging weight.

Alison’s heart melted at his gentle tone, and she desperately wanted to run her fingers through his hair. Even after all this time, she was still smitten with him—the only man who’d given her the time of day. But those childish days were long gone.

“My father…gambled me away. I’m getting married next week.”

Talon’s look darkened. She recognized that scowl. She imagined what he’d be like if he hadn’t been found by a white man as a child. Talon would be running with the Comanche Indians, sweeping across the desert and living off the land. That untamed wildness was not dead in him. He’d once told her he still remembered flashes of his life with the Comanche. She saw some of that wildness in him now.

“You are not getting married, Allie. Not if I can help it.”

A faint ray of hope lit in her heart. “What do you mean? What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to fix your father’s mistake, that’s what I’m going to do. I’ll be damned before I let you pay for his blunder.”

Alison swallowed hard and looked deep into his eyes. Seeing him again after all this time was nearly too painful to bear.

“Why?” she asked.

He seemed shocked. “What do you mean, why?”

Shaking her head, she broke his eye contact and twisted away from his hands. She took a step back before answering him.

“Why do you care?”

“You’re my friend, Allie. I owe it to you.”

She gave him an incredulous look. “You don’t owe me a thing, Talon Holt. I did just fine when you left me. I’ll do just fine without you now.”

He sighed. “You’re mad at me.”

“No,” she said, regret lacing her voice. “I’m well beyond mad at you. You left Banning. Without even talking to me about your decision. I knew the day I watched you ride away that you didn’t care about me. Please don’t pretend to care now.”

Lifting her skirts, she attempted to walk past him, but he caught her arm in his painful grip.

“You know damn well I care for you, Allie.”

“Do I? Because all those nights I cried into my pillow convinced me otherwise.”

“I’m sorry, damn it! Is that what you want me to say?”

“I don’t want you to say anything, especially words you don’t mean.”

“I mean every single word I say, you know that.”

“No, I don’t.” Alison pulled out of his grasp once again. “I’m not your responsibility, Talon, I never was.”

“You’ve done a lot of growing up since I last saw you. But so have I. I’m not running anymore, Allie. I’m here in Banning to stay. And I’m not going to stand by and watch you get married to some gambler you don’t love.”

“You can’t stop it.” Alison stared at the ground as her hand absently played in the folds of her skirts. “Sumrall threatened to kill my father if I don’t comply.”

Talon hooked a finger under her chin, forcing her to look at him. Once she saw the tender light in his eyes, tears welled behind her own. “That won’t happen. Sumrall will marry you over my dead body, not your father’s.”

Delicious heat crawled through Jamie’s body as magical hands swept over her flesh. She moved restlessly against the bed, the linens wrapping around her ankles. Wet kisses, then warm hands skimmed up her legs, drifting over her body, until a lean hard body covered hers.

“Jamie,” a familiar voice whispered. “Wake up, sweetheart.”

Breath feathered against her skin, followed by another wet, openmouthed kiss. She shivered as she felt the scrape of teeth against her flesh. She didn’t want to wake up, ever. Of all her dreams, she had never had one so vivid, so mesmerizing. The temptation to give in, to indulge in her reverie was just too much. Opening her eyes, even acknowledging there was a world outside her dream, would cause it to crash.

She pressed her legs together as the pressure built between her thighs. Sparks of heat flowed through her blood.

“Jamie.” Low, seductive, the voice called out to her again. She wanted to respond to the request, to the desire she heard, but she didn’t want to leave the delectable fantasy.

Jamie shifted her weight, her body brushing up against something solid, something altogether too real. She paused, first in confusion, then in fear. This was no dream. Afraid of what she would find, she slowly opened her eyes. Her heart stuttered when she found Seth above her.

“What are you doing here?” She meant it as a reprimand, but her voice was husky with desire.

His lips curved into a tempting smile filled with sensual promise. For a second, she couldn’t think, couldn’t separate the reality from the fantasy, until her mind finally merged the two together. Every bit of moisture dried up in her mouth, while her palms grew damp.

“I thought I’d show what I meant by pleasure.”

Again, the way he said the word had her curling her toes. She knew he would be more than knowledgeable about the subject. No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t repress the shiver of delight at the thought of having those talented hands—not to mention that mouth—skimming over her body.

Traitorous hope stirred to life in her heart. If there was one man who knew about passion—who could teach her—it had to be Seth. His reputation with women was enough to make a soiled dove blush. For one brief moment, she thought maybe, just maybe, she could find satisfaction with him.

As fast as it came to life the hope slipped away. Sid had no problems with whores, as he as he told her on more than one occasion. Swallowing her regret, her despair, she shook her head.

“It would be a waste of time, Seth.”

He frowned. “Now, don’t let my age fool ya none. I know more—”

“I’m sure you do, Seth. It has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me.”

He didn’t say anything for a second or two, just stared down at her. Her eyes had adjusted to the minimal light, and she could read the expressions darting over his face. Aggravation, then confusion, melted into comprehension and finally determination.

“Jamie.” His tone was a strange mixture of irritation and tenderness. He bent his head to brush his mouth over hers once, twice, then pressed his lips to hers. She wanted to tell him to stop, that there was no use in this nonsense because she could find no satisfaction in the marital act. When his tongue traced the seam of her lips, she lost a bit more of her resistance.

Closing her eyes, she opened her mouth for him. He stole inside as he cupped her face. He rubbed his fingers over her cheeks, his calluses rough against her skin. He murmured something she couldn’t make out. The words didn’t matter. It was the rough tone, the arousal in his voice that spoke to her. Something stirred deep within her soul, something she thought dead, long-ago damaged by her marriage.