Beneath the Major's Scars (23 page)

Authors: Sarah Mallory

‘Hmm.’ He cupped her breasts, which tightened immediately
beneath his hands. ‘You are a little ahead of me, but I will catch you up.’

She shifted around until she could place her lips on his
abdomen, steadying herself by placing her hands on his hips, revelling in the
feel of his smooth skin beneath her fingers, her mouth, her senses enhanced by
the attention he was giving to her own body. Even as she made him groan with
pleasure he was moving lower, his lips burning a trail across her body while his
hands, the vanguard of his exquisite assault, caressed her thighs, preparing her
for his most intimate kiss.

She wanted to please him, to worship his body as he was
worshipping hers, but he was sapping her control. She tried to move her hips
away from his pleasuring tongue, but his hands gripped her, holding her firm
while he continued his relentless onslaught, rousing her to a bucking, crying
frenzy that left her almost sobbing with the pleasure of it.

Dominic gathered her to him and she lay for a few moments in
the shelter of his arms. Her senses were still heightened, she could feel his
soft breathing, hear the stir of the breeze through the distant trees. The
fragrance of lavender from the sheets filled her head, mixed with the musky male
scent of the man beside her. The candles had guttered and died and they had only
the moonlight now, casting its silver gleam over the tower room. She stirred a
little, but when Dominic tried to pull the covers over them she stopped him.

‘No, I have not satisfied
you
yet.’

He chuckled. ‘There is plenty of time for that.’

Zelah sat up. ‘No, let me do this.’

He was still aroused, but she was pleased, and slightly awed,
by the way his body reacted to her touch. It excited her and she could feel her
body responding again. Dominic groaned and pulled her to him, his mouth seeking
hers. His kiss reignited the fire and her body was soon burning with desire. He
rolled over her and she opened for him, tilting her hips, inviting him to
enter.

He pushed against her, deep and satisfying. She matched his
rhythm as he gradually increased the momentum, each thrust carrying her closer
to the uncontrollable excitement that was so alarming and yet so exhilarating.
She clung on tightly, digging her fingers into his back, afraid she might faint
with sheer pleasure. Then, just when she thought she could stand no more, he
cried out. She felt him tense. Her whole body gripped him. He shuddered and her
own body answered with a tremor of its own. It was a climax, a tipping point and
she clung tightly, as if to let go would plunge her into some black and endless
abyss.

* * *

Exhausted, they sank down together beneath the covers,
Dominic wrapping himself around Zelah in a way that made her feel safe,
cherished.

‘I hope you are going to marry me after that,’ he whispered,
nuzzling her neck.

‘If that is what you want, Dominic.’

‘I have no choice. I love you too much to risk losing you.’

‘Oh.’ She struggled to sit up. ‘Oh, please, say that
again.’

‘Say what?’

‘That you love me.’ Suddenly she felt very shy. ‘I have wanted
you to say that for such a long time.’

‘Have you? Then I will say it every day from now on.’ He drew
her towards him. ‘I love you, Zelah, with all my heart. No, you
are
my heart. You are my reason for living.’

He kissed her gently and, smiling, Zelah gave a contented sigh
and snuggled down in his arms to sleep.

* * *

She awoke the next morning to birdsong. It was not yet
dawn, but the lack of curtains or shutters in the tower room gave them no
shelter from the grey light. She opened her eyes and found Dominic propped up on
his elbow, watching her. The sight of his naked torso was enough to bring
memories of the night’s activities flooding back. She put her hand up to his
cheek and he turned to plant a kiss in the palm.

With a little shiver of pleasure, she slipped her arms around
him. ‘Oh, I am such a lucky woman!’

He gathered her against him. ‘No regrets, then?’

‘Not one.’ She turned her face up and he obliged her with a
long, lingering kiss. ‘Mmm.’ She snuggled closer. ‘I feel quite dizzy. Perhaps I
should not have drunk that Madeira last night.’

‘You need some water.’ He slipped out of bed and went to the
cupboard. Zelah watched him, enjoying the sight of his bare, athletic body
moving effortlessly as he crossed the floor.

‘How did you know to come back?’ he asked her, pouring water
into two glasses. ‘I thought I had done everything I could to keep you away,
damned fool that I was.’

Zelah scrambled off the bed, but she paused to find her chemise
from the tumble of clothes on the floor before she joined him, not quite
comfortable yet to stand naked before him, except when she was in the grip of
passion.

‘Jasper told me how angry you were when you thought that he was
merely toying with me.’ She took the proffered glass. ‘He said you wanted me to
be happy.’ The water was sweet as nectar. ‘So I told him what would make me
happy. Pray do not frown so, Dominic. I thought if anyone could tell me if there
was any hope, it would be your twin.’

‘And what did he say?’

‘He had guessed you were not...indifferent to me, but we agreed
that you were—how did he put it?—
too damned noble for your
own good
.’

He scowled at her, his look promising retribution for her
mockery. It sent a pleasurable shiver of anticipation down her spine. She
continued.

‘Jasper consented to bring me back with him, so that I might
try to discover how you felt about me.’

‘Damned foolishness,’ he said explosively. ‘What if I had
turned you away? Worse, what if I had taken you to my bed and then cast you
aside?’

Her stomach tightened in horror at the thought, but she merely
shrugged, turning to put down her glass as an old quotation came to her mind.
‘Then
I would build me a willow cabin at your
gate
...’

‘Ah, don’t, love!’ He pulled her into his arms. ‘I don’t
deserve you,’ he muttered, covering her hair and her face with kisses. The
now-familiar flame of desire began to burn inside, but she tried to quell
it.

‘You are right, of course,’ she murmured, her head against his
chest. ‘As I shall endeavour to remind you at every opportunity.’

He put an end to her teasing by forcing her chin up and kissing
her ruthlessly.

‘When all our visitors have gone,’ he growled once he had
reduced her to shivering, adoring silence, ‘which I hope will be very soon now,
I plan to make love to you in every room in Rooks Tower. But for now, we will
have to confine ourselves to this one.’

As his mouth covered hers, his arms tightened and he lifted her
off the floor, carrying her backwards until she felt the solid edge of the desk
against her thighs. The kiss deepened as her lips parted and his tongue invaded
her, hinting at the pleasures to come. Her pulse was racing, control slipping
away as he pushed her back on the desk. Her wayward body began to sing,
straining for his touch. She made one last conscious effort to be rational.

‘Dominic, the books!’ she muttered against his mouth as he
swept everything from the desk and laid her down on its unyielding surface. His
mouth ceased the tender exploration of her lips and he raised his head a
fraction to gaze down at her. The intense look in his eyes was so dark, so
dangerously seductive that she shivered pleasurably beneath him.

‘Damn the books,’ he growled, before lowering his head again
and continuing his meticulous inch-by-inch kissing of her body that taught her
more about her anatomy than all her reading had ever achieved.

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt of
Whirlwind
Cowboy
by Debra Cowan!

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Chapter One

West Texas
June 1886

W
here was she? The ground was hard beneath
her back. Her head pounded as she stared up at a gray sky and the sun hidden
behind red-tinted clouds. Carefully pushing herself up on her elbows, she winced
as sharp pain speared through her skull. Her shoulder ached, too. She was behind
a two-story white brick building she didn’t recognize.

She touched her temple, and her fingers came away bloody. She
inhaled sharply. Blood also streaked her pale blue floral bodice. What had
happened?

A creaking sound had her looking over her shoulder. A saddled
black horse watched her with dark eyes. Then she saw a wet stain a couple of
feet away.

She eased over and touched it, startled to realize it was more
blood.

Cold, savage fear ripped through her and she got unsteadily to
her feet, fighting back panic. Whatever had happened here had been deadly. She
couldn’t remember it, but she
knew
it.

Her head throbbed as she looked around wildly, trying to
identify something, anything. Not the building hiding her or the store across a
dusty street or the railroad tracks beyond. Nothing was familiar.

Alarmed and confused, she felt tears sting her eyes.

From the front of the building she heard the heavy thud of
boots. A man muttered in a low, vicious voice. The hairs on her arms stood up
and fear rushed through her.

There was no thought, only instinct. She gathered her skirts
and hurriedly mounted the waiting horse, riding astride. Her skull felt as
though it was being cracked open and she thought she might pass out from the
pain.

Urging the animal into motion, she rode hard away from the
unfamiliar buildings and headed for the open prairie. Someone yelled after her.
She wasn’t sure what he said, but she didn’t stop.

Gripping the pommel with sweat-slick hands, she kept the horse
at a full-out run until she was assured no one was behind her.

Then she slowed the horse to an easy pace. As far as she could
see there was an endless sea of golden-brown prairie grass, dotted here and
there with a few evergreen trees. The landscape looked familiar, but she didn’t
know why. She didn’t know anything.

A forceful gust of wind had her grabbing the pommel. Bits of
dirt and grass pelted her face as well as her mount’s. The animal slowed, but
kept moving.

Dust whirled across the prairie. The horse’s hooves pounded in
a steady lope. On and on. Daylight turned to gray. They crossed a dry creek bed,
then topped a small rise. Through the swirling light and dirt, she spied a small
cabin and a barn. As she rode up to the front of the house, she called out, but
no one answered. There was no sign of anyone at all.

Glancing over her shoulder, she frowned at a boiling mass of
clouds sweeping across the ground. The first stirrings of a dust storm. Being
caught out in it could be deadly.

Fighting back panic, she decided to take shelter in the small
cabin. She wasted no time settling the horse in the barn. After filling the
trough with water from the pump just outside, she closed the animal inside and
ran to the cabin, praying she would be able to get in. When she tried the door,
it opened and she slipped inside with a big sigh of relief.

Shaking out her skirts then brushing off her hair and bodice,
she took stock. A Franklin stove sat in the corner to her left, along with a
sink and a pump and a short work cabinet. There was a small but sturdy-looking
table, and straight ahead an open door revealed the foot of a bed.

The windows, real pane glass, shook as the wind gathered force.
Her shoulders and neck throbbed, but she searched for candles or a lamp in case
she needed light later.

Though small, the cabin was solid and would offer protection
from the storm. Looking down, she stared at the bloodstains on her bodice. Her
mind was empty. Why couldn’t she remember anything?

A shiver rippled up her spine. Not only was she completely
alone and lost—she had no idea who she was.

* * *

After a week of tracking Cosgrove, Bram had lost him and
returned home. Whirlwind’s sheriff, Davis Lee Holt, had wired every lawman in
the state and promised to send word to Bram if he received any news.

Bram had duties at the ranch, but he still checked with Davis
Lee every day about Cosgrove. Two weeks after the trail had gone cold, Bram got
news. Surprisingly it was from his uncle, not the sheriff. Uncle Ike had
witnessed Cosgrove robbing a bank in Monaco.

Bram had ridden straight to the small town located northwest of
Whirlwind, where he discovered Cosgrove had murdered a man during that
robbery.

Bram had picked up the outlaw’s trail again, this time headed
east toward Whirlwind. Cosgrove would be a fool to go back there and probably
hadn’t, but the approaching dust storm had erased any sign that he might have
changed direction.

The past three weeks had been hell, and Bram laid that on
Deborah as much as the outlaw he chased. He hadn’t spoken to her mother or
sisters again, though Bram’s brother, Jake, had. He had felt it his duty to let
Bram know Deborah still hadn’t returned home.

Bram tried to tell himself he didn’t care. She’d made her
choice and it wasn’t him.

The spiraling wind swirled across the prairie, flaying his face
and body with sharp bits of dirt and grit. The gunshot graze on his cheek was
healing. Dragging his dark bandanna up to cover his nose and mouth, he knotted
it tightly.

He was worn slick, dirty and madder than hell that this dust
storm would force him to briefly suspend his search for Cosgrove, but he would
find the low-down dog again. He wouldn’t stop until he did. In addition to being
a rustler, Cosgrove was now a murderer. Bram wouldn’t be the only one out for
the bastard’s blood. If possible, he hated the cattle thief even more than he
had three weeks ago.

The wind swept around him and he barely caught his hat before
it blew off. The small cabin on the edge of Circle R property was less than a
mile away, so Bram directed his mount there.

By the time they reached the building, the red dust was
thickening, spreading. At the barn behind the cabin, he dismounted and slid open
the door. When his mount balked at entering, Bram grabbed the bridle to lead the
animal inside. He understood the dun’s wariness. This storm made him uneasy,
too.

The dust swirled inside, the wind noise escalating to a steady
hollow hum. Bram quickly pulled off his saddlebags, unsaddled his horse, then
removed the bridle.

Scout stomped, shifting nervously. Bram spoke softly, trying to
calm the gelding. A clothesline stretched from the barn to the cabin and would
enable Bram to find his way if the dust became too thick to see the house. Just
as he bent to pick up his saddlebag, the horse backed up, almost pinning Bram to
the wall.

“Whoa.” He laid a calming hand on the animal’s hindquarters and
edged away from the weathered wall. That was when he saw another horse deep in
the shadows.

Not just any horse. He blinked.

That looked like Cosgrove’s black mare.

No way in hell. Bram couldn’t be seeing what he thought he
was.

He eased closer, noting that the animal was unsaddled and had
been brushed down. Speaking softly to the horse, he lifted its left front leg,
then the back one. A
C
had been crudely carved into
the top of the mare’s rear shoe. It was slyly done, the top of the
C
coming out of the tack’s head, but this
was
Cosgrove’s horse!

The damn brand blotter had been forced to take shelter, too.
Here!

Bram’s lips twisted. This was too good to be true, and he
wasn’t going to waste the opportunity to catch the bastard. Or kill him. After
the murder committed by Cosgrove during that bank robbery, Bram would have no
qualms about taking in a dead man.

Satisfied that there was enough water in the trough near
Cosgrove’s animal for both horses, Bram returned to his things in the corner and
slid his Spencer rifle out of its scabbard.

After checking his gun, he stepped outside. The wind nearly
shoved him to his knees as he shouldered the door shut. Gripping the clothesline
for support, he slowly made his way to the cabin’s back stoop.

He had the advantage of surprise, but because both the front
and back doors opened into the large main room, he wouldn’t have the drop on
Cosgrove for long. Once Bram opened the door, the wind would sweep in, alerting
anyone in the cabin.

He slowly turned the knob, then flung open the door. He leveled
his weapon, aiming straight at...a woman!

She screamed, stumbling back against the dining table and
folding her arms protectively around herself.

“Sweet mercy.” Bram froze, his mind trying to catch up to what
he was seeing.

There in the flickering lamplight stood a half-naked
Deborah.

Deborah.

What the hell?