Fool for Love (Montana Romance) (29 page)

Their path back to the heart of the town passed through a small field behind of one of the rows of buildings fronting Main Street.  A group of saloon girls had made a small bonfire and sat around chattering like magpies.  Amelia could just make out their
silhouettes in the dark.

The woman Gertie yelped as they came close and jumped up from the log she was sitting on to intercept them.

“Eric!  Am I glad to see you!  I didn’t get a chance to thank you for your gallantry earlier.”  She skipped over to kiss Eric’s cheek in spite of the fact that Amelia was still on his arm.

The stab of jealousy at the woman’s forwardness was drowned by Amelia’s reluctant feel of kinship with the woman.

“Well thank you, Gertie,” Eric answered modestly.  “Somebody had to do it.”

“But not just anyone did do it,” Gertie insisted.  “It was you.”

Eric chuckled and tried to move forward.  A couple of the other light-skirts hopped up from their perches and stopped him.

“I would feel a lot better if a strong, handsome man like you was our sheriff,” a particularly buxom brunette bounced her way in front of Eric.  She traced a finger along Eric’s arm.

Irritation and shame had Amelia pulling away from him and crossing her arms over the bump of her belly.  The woman ignored her look of warning.

“Well I don’t know about that.”  In the dim light of the bonfire Amelia could still see the blush coloring Eric’s face.

“Well I do,” a third whore spoke up.  “We need someone to protect us too.  That Kent is more interested in being entertained than keeping us safe.”

“Yes,” Sarah piped in.  “I think you should give your ranch to Curtis and come be sheriff,” she recited like school verses.

An awkward hush fell over the group and guilty glances were exchanged.

“Did I say it right?” Sarah asked.

Gertie shushed her and pushed her back.  She covered the slip by batting her eyelashes at Eric and saying, “I think we need a strong, virile man like you looking out for us.”

“And I think it’s about time we went back to the hotel,” Amelia blurted, overly loud.

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” Eric was quick to agree.  He started forward again.

The saloon girls gave way, waving and giggling and calling, “Good-bye!  Good-bye,
sheriff
!”

As they reached the corner onto Main Street and the wholesome light of streetlamps Eric chuckled.  “Sorry about them.”

Amelia kept her lips pressed shut.  Her heart was racing and her mind spinning with the exchange.  Every drop of jealousy had evaporated into darker suspicion.

“They’re harmless mostly,” Eric went on.  “And I can assure you that you’ve got nothing to worry about when it comes to the saloon girls.  I wouldn’t dream of looking twice at a one of them, not when I have you.”

He hugged her arm and managed a clumsy kiss on her cheek.

“Curtis put them up to that,” she told Eric, point blank.

“What, that thing about being sheriff?”

“Yes.  I wouldn’t be surprised if the entire conflict was a set-up.  The Irishmen work for him, after all.”  It made perfect sense now, to a point.  Her heart raced.  “Why would he do that?  What does he stand to gain?”

They reached the hotel, climbed the stairs, and paused on the porch.  Eric turned to face her, standing closer than he should have in such a public place.

“I thought you liked Curtis?  You two get along like peaches and cream.  Should I be jealous that you’re so wrapped up thinking of him?”

Amelia flushed and glanced down.  “It’s not that at all.”

Eric tipped her chin up to face him.  “You know what?  I don’t feel inclined to think of Curtis at all right now.”

He leaned closer, his lips brushing hers.  Every nerve in Amelia’s body flared to life and her thoughts scattered.  Before she could stop herself she leaned into him, grasping his shirt.  Her mouth opened eagerly to his.  He accepted the invitation with enthusiasm, sliding his tongue along hers and sucking on her bottom lip.  His hand slipped from her arm to caress her breast, his thumb raking over her nipple under layers of cloth.

“Let’s go upstairs,” he whispered against her cheek.

“We shouldn’t.”

The temptation was intoxicating.  Amelia took a breath and forced herself to step back.

Eric grabbed her wrist to keep her within arm’s reach.

“Oh yes we should.”

She turned to him, pleading silently for him to let her go.  He pulled her back into his arms instead.  His lips grazed hers before stealing their way to her neck.

The rough laughter of Gertie and her friends, her peers, rang in her ears.  She went rigid in his arms at the thought of how much she shared with them.

“What?” he breathed.  “What is it?  Was it those girls?  Are you afraid I might get ideas about them?  Because I can tell you in no uncertain terms that I won’t.”

“No.”  She shook her head, tears stinging behind her eyes.  “I’m afraid you’ll get ideas about me.”

“Amelia, I got all sorts of ideas about you, each one better than the last.”  His smile was teasing, but there was something deeper hovering over him.  “I want to make a life with you, here, at home.  I told you that in New York and I told you out at the ranch and nothing’s changed.”

“That is precisely the point,” she argued.  “Nothing has changed.  I can paint schools and serve ice cream and make friends with every woman in Cold Springs, but I’m still the same woman I was when you rescued me from humiliation, with all the same marks against me.”

Eric paused, searching her face with a concern far deeper than she deserved.

“Do you think I should become the sheriff?”

“What?”  She blinked, mind reeling at the change in conversation.

“Do you think I should be sheriff?”

“Well … I … I suppose it all depends on what you want to do,” she faltered.

“I want to be with you,” he said.  “I want to hold you and help you and raise a family with you and grow old with you.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

She tried to turn away.  He laid a hand on the side of her face and forced her to look at him.

“That is what I meant.  Amelia, it don’t matter to me if I’m a sheriff or a rancher or the king of Peru.  I just want to be with you.  That’s all.”

“But you can’t,” she said.  Tears streamed freely down her face.  “You shouldn’t.  You’re a good man.  You’re the kind of person people want to be their sheriff.  And I’m-”

“Beautiful.  You’re beautiful.”

He held her face in both of his hands and kissed her.  The tight knot of the knowledge of who she was, what she’d done, unraveled bit by bit.  She wanted him, wholly, selfishly.  All she wanted was to be with him in every way.

He heard the yearning of her heart and swept her into his arms.  He carried her across the threshold of the hotel, managing to open the door while holding her, as if she was a new bride being carried into her home.  If there was anyone to watch them from the hotel lobby as Eric mounted the stairs to the second floor two at a time, Amelia didn’t notice.  She couldn’t focus at all as he strode the length of the hall to the room they had been sharing.

He had to put her down to fish for the key and unlock the door, but as soon as they were safe on the other side with the door closed, he tossed the key aside and pulled her hard against him.  The broad expanse of his chest and strength of his arms molded against her.

“I know you want me, Amelia,” he told her between kisses that left her panting for breath.  “You can say a thousand words to the contrary, but I know it.  I feel it here.”  He raked his large hands along the curves of her sides, from her breasts to her bottom and up across her back.  “You want me.  And I want you.”

Her reply turned into nothing more than a vocal sigh as he pressed her body against his and took what he wanted from her mouth.  The taste of him was so familiar, like a treat she had tasted and needed more of.  His tongue teased her, his lips powerful and possessive.  His fingertips pressed into her back and shoulders as if he wouldn’t let her go.  The ever-growing bulge of her belly stood between them, holding them apart by inches.

“Let me love you, Amelia,” he said, voice low and raw.  “It’s all I want to do.  Let me fill you and wipe away all those tears you shouldn’t be shedding.  I want you to be mine.”

Each declaration was more intoxicating than the last.  Amelia was helpless to resist.  She gave in to him, submitting to his kisses and the heat of his body against hers.  Her heart thumped against her ribs in fast, agonizing beats.  She wanted so desperately to give him everything, including her aching heart, but there was nothing left of herself to give.

He shifted behind her to undo the buttons of her dress.  The momentary swirl of light and air around her brought a flash of sense with it.  She shouldn’t be doing this.  She shouldn’t be throwing herself at him like the whores out by the bonfire.

She stilled the nagging voice by unbuttoning the cuffs of her dress while he worked his way down her back, then loosening the ties of her skirt and petticoats.  Her clothes came loose and bare minutes later, as if undressing her was a skill Eric had mastered, she turned to him in nothing but her chemise.

His eyes took her in with a heat that was as familiar as the sun in summer.  He shed his coat and vest and tossed aside his hat and boots before closing her in his arms again.  The scent of his skin as he kissed her mouth and chin and neck stirred wonderful memories.  Her whole body responded with abandon.  She was born to love him.  His hands curled around her breasts to stroke the mound of her stomach before traveling lower to her backside.

He lifted her out of the pile of their clothes and carried her across the room to the bed.  The soft bedcovers billowed around them as he lay her on her back and spread himself over top of her.  Heart aching for good and sin alike, she reached for him, tugging at his shirt to find the flesh underneath, the hard muscle and tickle of hair, and drew him closer.

He hummed as their lips met, his spreading tight into a triumphant smile.  His hands sought out the silken skin under her chemise.  He pulled the flimsy garment up further to expose more and more.  He should have been repulsed at the sight of her belly, but it seemed to fill him with a deeper passion.  He shifted to kiss it, to cradle it with a reverence far beyond what she deserved.  Then he surged upwards to caress and suckle her breast.

It was heaven in its purest form.  His lips and teeth and hands teased first one breast then the other.  He traced circles around her nipple with his tongue until she hummed with the pleasure of it.  He pulled deeper moans from her by sucking, lightly at first but then with more insistence.  She was lost and hopeless, as if he knew exactly how to bring all of her defenses crumbling down.  He knew her for who she was, for what she wanted.

When he paused to tug her chemise over her head Amelia took advantage of the moment to shift to her side, pushing him to his back.  Eric blinked but let her take charge as she undid each button of his shirt.  There was magic in the slow reveal of inch after inch of his chest, button by button.  Her desire stirred and deepened, something darker growing with it.

She spread his shirt wide when the last button was undone and ran her hands from his waistband to his collar.  He shrugged to help her lift his suspenders over his shoulders so she could push his shirt away.  The lines of his torso, firm and long, his heated skin and tense muscles brought her every instinct roaring to life.  She knew how to please him, knew it in her soul.  His sharp intake of breath told her everything she needed to know about whether this was right.

She threw a leg over him, straddling his thighs as she leaned down to kiss his chest.  She’d wanted to explore Eric this way since that very first night on the ship but had held herself back.  Her tongue flickered out to tease the hard knots of his nipples.  Her hands inched downward to the fastenings of his pants.  Her fingers explored under his waistband, tantalizing without rewarding.  Eric’s reaction was exactly as she expected it to be.  He shifted restlessly, that male part of him straining against his clothes.

Nick had loved it when she touched him this way.  He had demanded it.  Dark prickles of those memories invaded the corners of Amelia’s mind as she unbuttoned the front of Eric’s trousers.  She pushed his waistband low over his hips, freeing the stiff spear of his penis.  It was full and firm, the head swollen and flared and shining with moisture.  Eric groaned as she stroked its length, yet the sounds he made were so different from Nick.  Eric seemed to ask for mercy where Nick had demanded satisfaction.

The result was the same.  She lowered herself to take the head of his penis in her mouth.  The feel of her tongue sliding across head, of a man’s member filling her mouth and reaching toward her throat as she took more and more of him in, stirred bitterly conflicted emotions.  She loved the taste of him, the fullness, loved the power of his response.  Her body responded with delicious aching, as if her core and not her mouth was receiving him.  But at the same time, memories of Nick’s demanding, of the shame she’d felt when he complimented her on her willingness to swallow, flayed her.

She fought to push the memories out of her mind, reaching to fondle Eric’s testicles.  At least he would have his release.  He muttered something incomprehensible.  Nick’s voice filled in the words in her mind, “That’s right, darling, suck me like a whore.”