Her Forbidden Gunslinger Read online

  “Please, Gray.” Her hips rose, asking for more friction.

  It was all the encouragement he needed. He drove into her then without restraint, giving into the madness of their passion, watching in awe as her face changed with each stroke. Finally her hoarse cry filled the room and he watched her come apart, felt her come apart, as she contracted around his shaft. Only then did he bury his face in her neck and hold her tight until his own groan of pleasure tore itself from his lips. He barely managed to pull out of her before spilling his seed.

  He fell onto her then, limp and sated, and sure that she had taken some part of his soul.

  Long moments passed in silence as their breathing returned to normal. Sophie relished the way his body felt, completely relaxed and calm, on top of her. But he stirred then and shifted so the bulk of him lay beside her, a heavy thigh still positioned between hers and his shoulder still covering most of her torso. The June night was so warm their skin glistened in the meager lamp light, but it didn’t matter. She savored him and the slick feel of his skin on hers.

  “Are you okay?”

  Sophie opened her eyes to see him raised slightly, gaze roving her face in search of damage. As if any damage he’d caused would be visible on her face, she mused. “Wonderful, mon coeur.” Her fingertips caressed his cheek and he reflexively turned to press a kiss to the center of her palm.

  Her other hand came up to stroke his shoulder and then down to trace lightly over the tattoo, overwhelmed by her need to touch him, to somehow be closer to him even though they had just completed an act that brought them as close as two people could physically be. “Is it always this way?” she whispered, hoping he didn’t need clarification because she wasn’t quite sure how to express the complex feelings of longing and completeness she felt.

  When his gaze met hers again the solemnity was back but there was something else. And when he whispered “never” Sophie’s breath caught in her throat. She realized, more than anything else, she wanted to see him look at her like that every day for the rest of her life. But there were so many things in the way.

  “I’m sorry if I made you do something you didn’t want to,” she blurted out.

  He laughed. A soft exhalation of air that caused prickles of pleasure to dance across her skin where it touched as he bent and placed a kiss on her shoulder, her chest, her neck, just before his lips brushed across hers. “Did it feel like you had an unwilling man between your thighs?”

  Her cheeks pinkened. “No. I meant…” Her voice faded. It didn’t seem right to mention her uncle, Anton, and Gray’s profession. Those things had no place in the room with them anymore.

  But he knew. “We have tonight, Sophie.” And he kissed her again. A slow, deep, wet kiss that made that part of her start to ache again. When he pulled back there was a devious glint in his eyes that promised to make good use of the hours ahead.

  Chapter Six

  Some time later, Gray lay with Sophie curled against his chest. One hand gripped her hip in a mildly possessive touch while the fingers of his other hand were threaded with hers. The pose seemed so natural, it scared the hell out of him.

  She’d just finished telling him about her childhood. The ranch, her parents, her brother, and how happy they’d been. Perfectly idyllic until Jean had come and convinced her father to mine their land. She didn’t mention that part but he knew what Sinclair had told him. When the mine began showing profit, her parents had been killed in an accident that LaSalle had almost certainly arranged. He wondered if she knew about that. The thought of Sophie at her uncle’s mercy filled him with a rage that bordered on uncontrollable.

  She rose up to look down at their clasped hands. He swallowed hard at the smile she bestowed on him. Her heart was reflected in that smile and it made him ache because he had no idea how to keep that heart from breaking come morning. He had no idea how he would let her go, for that matter, so he pushed the thought from his mind and squeezed her close. They had tonight.

  “Any regrets?”

  “A warrior never regrets.” He couldn’t stop himself from smiling back.

  “Does a warrior tell the woman he’s just taken back to his lodge and thoroughly ravished about himself?”

  He laughed. “I doubt the woman would care to hear it.”

  “Well I do. Tell me.” She folded her hands on his chest and rested her chin there, waiting.

  It ran counter to his nature to talk about himself so he started with the most recent things and worked backward. He told her about the ranch he had worked at tracking horse thieves before coming to work for LaSalle. When he opened his mouth to tell her about the job before that, she started laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” And he rolled so that he hovered above her.

  “You don’t talk about yourself much, do you?” she managed between chuckles. “I don’t care about your profession, your life as a gunman or gunslinger or whatever you call yourself. I want to know about you.”

  “I don’t talk about myself. Men generally don’t ask.”

  “And women?”

  Gray took a breath before he answered, knowing she probably wouldn’t like what he had to say, but she deserved honesty—as much as he was able—so that’s what he gave her. “They just want their money when we’re done.”

  “Have there only been…prostitutes?” The smile was gone from her lovely face.

  She wouldn’t understand what it was like for him. As a half-breed he was beneath any respectable woman’s notice and as a gunslinger he was too dangerous. After a while, he’d stopped noticing them. Had stopped thinking of any sort of future. “Yeah, but I haven’t lain with a woman in a long time, Sophie.”

  After a while the couplings with prostitutes had seemed hollow and unfulfilling. And now that he knew the joy of pleasuring Sophie he wondered if sex with another woman would ever be satisfying again.

  She surprised him again by kissing him. “How a man like you has walked God’s green earth and not managed to have at least one woman fall in love with him is beyond me.”

  He closed his eyes against the simple pleasure he found in her words. It would be so easy to love her. If only LaSalle didn’t stand between them and he didn’t owe a debt to Sinclair. He rested his head on her breasts, listening to her heart thrum. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “What about your mother, Gray?”

  Gray stiffened, unprepared to go back that far. “Let’s not talk about me anymore.”

  “Please?” she asked sweetly and brushed a hand over his hair.

  He rose to stare into the deep blue pools of her eyes and understood the need she felt. The need to remove all barriers between them, even if it was just for the night.

  “I never saw her after she sent me away.” He paused, feeling the words he had never spoken stick in his throat. But he forced them out anyway. “I was twelve. She cut my hair, gave me a shirt and breeches and made me leave with a trader who visited our camp from time to time. She thought with my eyes I could pass for white or close to it.” He paused again, unaware that his fingers had tightened against her as he spoke. “I think she knew the end was coming, because a little over a year after that, the camp surrendered themselves to the army and were settled on a reservation. She died soon after.”

  “Your father?”

  He sat up then, leaving her to look at the broad expanse of his back. “You ask too much.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered and he felt her arms go about him from behind. Her lips found the smooth skin of shoulder. “I’m sorry. I just want to know everything about you, but you don’t have to tell me now.”

  “He was a bluecoat…a soldier.” Gray laced his fingers with hers, drawing on the acceptance he felt in her embrace. “My mother was newly wed when their camp was raided. Her husband was killed and she was left for dead. I doubt she even knew which soldier it was.” After a pause he continued, “She never said but I imagine she spent the next nine months hoping that I was his…her dead husband’s.”

&
nbsp; How did he explain to her how he’d never felt he belonged anywhere, was never truly wanted? His mother’s people had provided for him but never completely accepted him. It was as much that as any foreboding of the end of their resistance that had made her send him away. Even after he left, the only acceptance he’d found had come in the form of the cash men paid for his gun…until now…until her. He wanted to find the words to tell her, but after so many years they wouldn’t come.

  His confession made Sophie blanch and close her eyes. Had he spent his entire life feeling shame? There were a lot of words out of place in the room that night and she thought that love was probably one of them. What future did they have with Jean and Anton hanging over them? But Sophie doubted many brides felt as close to their bridegrooms on their wedding night as she did to Gray. She finally understood the haunted look in his eyes and she loved him for it.

  She loved him.

  Her eyes were moist with unshed tears when she moved to kneel in front of him. He still looked down so she gently touched his face and brought his gaze to hers. “I’m sorry for what you’ve gone through, mon coeur. But I’m thankful for whatever has led you to me.”

  He swallowed before saying hoarsely. “I don’t deserve you. I’ll only hurt you.”

  Whatever else he might have said was lost in her kiss.

  * * *

  Just as the first yellow streaks of dawn were peeking around the curtain, Sophie succumbed to the exhaustion of the night spent making love, and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Gray was dressed and leaning over her, his eyes tender.

  She begged for more sleep but when he moved into bed beside her and held her close, she was afraid to close her eyes. Afraid to lose any more time with him. So they fed each other breakfast in bed—the buttermilk biscuits, bacon and coffee he had gone out to get while she slept.

  Only after she finally convinced him to turn his back did she get out of bed and wash with the pitcher of water he’d brought. It had gone cold by then but it was worth the extra time spent in bed with him. She couldn’t stop thinking about the things they had done to each other throughout the night, the things he had confessed to her, and she savored the languorous feeling of contentment that she took with her. Until she felt his arms snake around her hips and pull her back to him.

  “Gray!” She meant to scold but it came out as a laugh and then she felt a suspicious hardness strain his pants and press against her buttocks. “God, you’re insatiable.”

  “I can’t get enough of you.” He smiled against her neck.

  “If only I wasn’t so sore.” She’d lost track of how many times he’d been inside her and knew she’d be tender for weeks as it was.

  “I’m not sorry for that.”

  “Beast,” she accused as she turned in his arms and wrapped hers around his shoulders.

  He growled and kissed her until reluctantly pulling back to retrieve her clothes. He even helped her dress, kissing each body part before he covered it. Once she was fully dressed the mood changed subtly, and the reality they had tried so hard to keep at bay slowly began to infiltrate their nest. When she turned from the shaving mirror, finished with her hair, he grabbed her hand and silently pulled her down onto his lap in the chair.

  She curled into him and buried her face in his neck, breathing deeply of his scent while some invisible clock ticked away their last minutes together. Even now, with only moments left in their solitude, she was reluctant to ruin it with talk of what might happen. But she knew it must be discussed. There would be no time alone once they met Cole and Martine at the dress shop.

  “Gray, I…” His thumb, all this time absently stroking a stray lock of her hair, stilled. She watched him gently disentangle his hand and move it to grip the arm of the chair. Her gaze turned then to find his, to understand why he had suddenly gone stiff. But he only looked at her, giving nothing away. She recognized it as the facade she often wore herself and it scared her like nothing else could, but she persisted. “How do we go on from here? I can’t imagine…I don’t want to go on without this—without you.”

  He was solemn again and she felt her stomach twist in fear. But so sure was she of what had passed between them, she knew she was misreading him and continued, her hand cupping his cheek. “I love you, Gray. I want to be with you.”

  But he flinched from her touch. She felt like he had just thrown cold water on her and the chill worked its way to her extremities until her fingertips were numb with it. Her hands dropped limply to her lap.

  “There has to be a wedding, Sophie.” The words only confirmed what his face had told her. She barely felt it as he gently removed her from his lap and set her on her feet.

  “I don’t understand,” she finally managed in a near whisper.

  He was standing then, close enough to touch, but their arms stayed firmly at their sides. She watched him open and close his mouth several times in an effort to gather his thoughts. Finally he spoke, but it fell pathetically short of what she needed to hear. “We had last night.” He did seem regretful as he spoke and touched a wisp of her hair. “I can’t promise you anything. Please.” He dropped his hand and took in a deep breath.

  “Please?” The expression of resigned regret he wore did nothing to soothe her. “Please what?” For the life of her she had no idea what he was asking or wanting from her. She could not accept what he was telling her, could not accept that he was ready to move on. Each time they had made love it had been more achingly tender than the last.

  As reality came crashing down, she realized the possible consequences of their night and her hand instinctively went to her belly.

  “Don’t worry,” he quickly reassured her, correctly interpreting her action. “I never spilled my seed in you.”

  She jerked as if he had slapped her, as if by denying her his seed he had committed some grievous transgression against her. Logically, she knew it was a good thing and she should be thankful. But it hurt to know that he had held himself back from her.

  His hands were on her shoulders. “Sophie, don’t be mad. I would change things if I could.”

  What he meant by that statement she didn’t know or care to take the time to figure out. She whirled away from him and quickly settled the veiled hat on her head. The room had become stifling and she needed to get away from him. She fled down the stairs and blindly made her way back to the dress shop. She knew he shadowed her by only a few steps but she did her best not to look at him. Anton Beaudin was her future and she cursed herself every kind of fool for forgetting it even for a moment.

  * * *

  Only the strength of his iron will kept Gray from pulling Sophie to him and refusing to let her go. He wanted her in his life, he realized as he watched her walk out. Hell, he’d acknowledged that from the moment he’d watched her come apart in his arms. Being with her had given him a sense of redemption, of life, of what it would be to love and have a future. What it meant to be accepted. No one had ever looked at him with the love and acceptance she had shown him. But he had a job to do and that had to come first, because if he didn’t put it first they would have no chance at all.

  Would she hate him once she knew?

  Chapter Seven

  Sophie closed her eyes and held her face up to the cool wind that blew in from across the valley, doing her best to settle her nerves for the drop that was ahead of her. She perched on her knees by the open window of her bedroom and slowly opened her eyes to look down. Her bedroom faced the back of the house and the roof of the sunroom was just below. It was only a short drop down and then another to the ground. The tricky part would come when she attempted to purchase a ticket for the stagecoach. She’d already determined the schedule from an ad in the newspaper. It was leaving in the morning at six o’clock—too early for her absence to be noted. Her anxious gaze looked out in the distance, knowing that the train tracks were somewhere out there. Taking the train would be infinitely faster if only she had the funds.

  But she didn’t, so she pu
shed the longing from her mind. If only her longing for Gray and the life they would never have together could be so easily pushed away. There were no tears left after the first day, not that those had served her any purpose, anyway. The ache that had lodged itself firmly in her chest was still present and she feared it wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon. She was doomed to lose him.

  She wanted to hate him, and there were times she almost succeeded. He had taken her virtue—well, had it foisted upon him—and coldly brushed her aside in no uncertain terms. Only he hadn’t done it coldly. She could still remember the pain in his voice when he had touched her, pleaded with her, just before she had stormed from his room. He hadn’t wanted to part with her. She was sure of it. He did feel something for her. But he had never promised her anything more. He’d never lied to her about that, she would give him that. It was her own foolishness that had dreamed something more could come from their one night together.

  Was it his fault that he was at Jean’s mercy just like everyone else? No, her reason screamed at her, but her heart felt betrayed. Why couldn’t they leave together? Why couldn’t he offer to take care of her?

  Stupid questions, those. Jean would find them eventually no matter where they went. Still, every time she saw Gray, she forgave him a little more. And she did see him. Almost daily, but never alone. Never so she could ask him those questions. She would catch him watching her with that solemn gaze, usually giving nothing away, but occasionally touching on the forlorn. She tried not to return his looks but it had become increasingly difficult since the initial heat of her anger had died out, and besides, looking at him soothed the pain left behind. Once she had tried to approach him, but Sinclair had come from nowhere and headed her off with a summons from Jean. It had occurred to her then that Sinclair might know what had happened between them. Then she realized it didn’t matter as long as Jean didn’t know. She had even gone by Jean’s study a few times, in the hopes that Gray would be posted there, but it was always one of the others. So she had concluded he was avoiding her and stopped trying.