His hands moved to her waist, and with exquisite care he slid her gown down over her hips, his fingers exploring every exposed inch of her body. The sea-green fabric bunched under his hands, and when it was finally free, Samuel tossed it to the floor. In the golden haze of the lamplight her skin glowed like fine porcelain he'd seen once as a boy. Her breasts were small but full, her waist narrow, and her hips, Samuel noted with relief, were wide and rounded.
He'd been so worried about her size. She still seemed far too fragile to accommodate a man as large as he, and a trace of fear lingered in the back of his mind.
Abby's fingers moved over his chest, and he couldn't deny the sigh that escaped him at the pleasure of her touch. He'd dreamed of this for so long. Then, timidly, her hands moved farther down his body until they reached the wide belt buckle at his waist. He held perfectly still, not wanting to frighten her with any abrupt movements. But he needn't have worried. After only a slight hesitation, Abby's fingers pulled at the leather belt, her desires clear.
Samuel pushed away from her and stood at the side of the bed. As he undressed fully, he watched her. There was no sign of fear in her eyes when she looked at his nude body. Only the desire that fired him on. She was too beautiful for the likes of him, he knew. Her fine, smooth skin, flushed from his attentions, her nipples, erect and waiting for him. Her tongue, darting out to lick her lips, inviting him to taste her sweetness. It had to be a dream, Samuel told himself. And if it was, he prayed silently, please, God, let him never wake up.
"Samuel," Abby called to him, and he dropped his pants on the floor beside her for gotten dress.
He stretched out alongside her, his hands moving over her body with gentle eagerness. Abby moved closer, snuggling as close to him as she could get. Her head just under his chin, she began to plant tiny kisses on his neck and chest. The feel of her lips against his flesh stirred a hunger in Samuel like he'd never known before.
He leaned on one elbow and dipped his head down to claim her breasts, one after the other. Just as Abby would begin to moan and toss her head in pleasure, he would leave the sensitive bud for the other. His tongue swept over her heated skin, marking her as surely as if he'd trailed a red-hot brand over her body. Abby's hands moved up and down his arms, her nails scratching gently as they passed.
He moved one hand down over the curve of her hip and slipped around behind her to cup her bottom. Then, in a smooth motion, Samuel turned quickly and lay beneath her.
Abby stretched out her length atop him. And Samuel held her waist and gently slid her body along his, bringing her breasts to his mouth. Again, he teased her, enjoying her pleasure as much as she did herself. Then slowly he moved her back down along his body until he once more shifted position, laying her gently against the pillows.
Samuel's fingers moved lightly over her abdomen, dancing feather touches to her flesh. His lips moved to claim hers and as his tongue darted inside her mouth, his fingers slipped into the center of her soul.
Abby gasped and her hips began to rock. Her arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him tighter to her. Their tongues met and caressed each other while Samuel's thumb stroked across the most sensitive part of Abby's body. Her moans were louder and fed Samuel's hunger until he, too, felt the overwhelming urge for completion that swamped the woman in his arms. Finally she tore her mouth free from him and cried out, "Samuel! I need…"
"Yes, Abby, I know… "He kissed her and with his free hand smoothed the matted hair back from her brow. Quickly now his fingers moved in and out of her body, creating the rhythm his body would continue when he felt she was ready to accept his entry.
A faint scrabbling sound from behind him startled Samuel, and he turned to find Harry and Maverick trying to hop onto the mattress with them. Samuel growled low in his throat, his desire battling with patience that was already near its end.
Abruptly he pulled away from Abby, stalked across the cabin, and opened the door. The dogs understood and left immediately.
"Samuel," Abby said, "Samuel…"
He hurried back to her and lay down once more. "Damn dogs," he mumbled with a kiss. "They must've thought I was hurting you."
Abby smiled and trailed her fingers down his cheek. "The only way you could hurt me is if you leave me like this," she said quietly.
"Never." He kissed her again and moved her thighs apart. Kneeling between them, he looked down at her and hoped to God he wouldn't hurt her. She raised her hips in silent invitation.
"Come to me, Samuel."
"Abby" — he swallowed convulsively — "you're so damn little."
She held her arms out to him, a smile on her face. "It will be all right, Samuel," she said softly. "I know it will. Trust me."
Slowly he lifted her hips to ease his entry. Even as his body moved to join with hers, Samuel's fingers stroked the center of her pleasure. Her breathing was fast, ragged. And he knew his own matched it. But still he moved carefully.
As he slipped farther inside Abby, though, Samuel knew she'd been right. Their bodies fit together as if made for each other. After a moment of discomfort, they began to move as one, their souls touching and releasing with each contact of their bodies.
As the first convulsive pleasure shook her, Samuel leaned over and swallowed her broken cries. Finally his own body exploded into hers, and he fell, stunned, into the depths of her eyes.
# # #
"The last time I saw somethin' that stupid," Minerva said, glaring down at Alonzo, "it was waggin' a tail and barkin'."
Alonzo cocked his head and looked at her.
One of his eyes was swollen shut, and when he tried to narrow the other one angrily, he winced in pain. "Consarn it, Minerva." He groaned and laid his head gently against the chair back. "Ain't I got enough hurtin' already without you startin' in again?"
She shook her head and slapped the piece of raw meat into his extended hand. While he applied it to his eye, she went on. "Well, I don't know what else you'd expect… a bunch of grown men rollin' around in the dirt for no good reason a'tall!"
"Hell," he shouted, then moaned and lowered his voice, "I had a reason! Look at my eye, for corn's sake! I didn't do that to myself, y'know."
"Hmmph!" Minerva walked to her rocker, picked her knitting up off the cushion, and sat down. As her fingers slipped easily into the familiar pattern, she said, "Might as well have. Don't know why you'd expect to come out of a brawl like that without a scratch."
"Wasn't a brawl," he mumbled defensively. "Can't call it nothin' else." Her needles clicked furiously.
He glanced at her out of his good eye. "Notice you ain't got nothin' bad to say about Samuel Hart bein' in that fight — and he was the first one in it!"
The needles paused in midstitch and Minerva stared at her husband. "Alonzo Mullins! I'm surprised at you!"
Alonzo shifted uneasily.
She shook the half-finished sweater at him. "You know durn well and good that fight wasn't his fault. You figure he should just stand there while those two drunks was hoorahin' Abby?"
Alonzo frowned. "No, but —"
"I should say not." The needles started in again, and her voice picked up speed. "He had just cause to go start smashin' them two up. But did he?" She waited for him to shake his head. "No, he did not!" Minerva nodded abruptly. "It was them that started that damn fight… " She stopped and glared at him again. "And I'll tell you somethin' else, Mr. Alonzo Mullins. He didn't do near the punchin' you all was doin'!"
"I know," he muttered, disgusted with himself, the fight, and, mostly, Minerva.
"Why, the way Samuel handled them two was somethin' to see." Her eyebrows shot up. "If you hadn't been so busy, you might've seen it, too."
A loud crash from upstairs broke into the one-sided conversation. Heavy footsteps pounded across the parlor ceiling, and Alonzo clapped one hand to his aching forehead. "You children," he started to shout, "aaah… " he finished softly.
Minerva's lips quirked. Calmly she got up, walked to a corner of the cluttered room, and snatched up the broom that rested there. Holding it by the straw bristles, she thumped the handle against the ceiling several times. "Obadiah!" she called out. "You and Luke clean up whatever it is you just broke up there!"
"Ah,Ma… "
She stared up at the ceiling and thumped again. "Don't 'ah, Ma' me, either!" After a few seconds of silence they heard shuffling steps moving across the room. Minerva, still staring up at the ceiling, remarked quietly, " 'Lonzo, it appears I've knocked another hole in the blamed ceiling. You best fix it tomorrow."
Her husband groaned.
There were quite a few empty tables in the Lucky Lady saloon. Sarah Dumont stood at the head of the stairs and let her gaze drift over her place of business. She'd built the saloon up from practically nothing, and she worked hard to see that it stayed the best damn saloon this side of Denver.
Hardwood floors gleamed in the light thrown from dozens of sparkling clean oil lamps. The mirror behind the long mahogany bar had come all the way from Saint Louis without a scratch, and on either side of the bar stretched row after row of drinking glasses she'd shipped in from New Orleans.
Sarah started down the stairs and nodded briefly at Mac, one of two burly men hired to maintain the peace at the Lucky Lady. It was Terry's night off, but as quiet as it was, Sarah didn't think he'd be missed. She walked up to the bar, flicked a tiny speck of dust to the floor, and ordered a sherry. When Dave, the bartender, handed her the drink, she held it up to the light, admiring the golden lights that shot through the liquid.
Then, in the mirror, she caught sight of two men sitting in the far corner, their heads together.
"How long have they been in here, Dave?" she asked quietly.
The bartender gave the men a cursory glance and shrugged. "Couple of hours. On their second bottle now."
Sarah studied the two in the glass and took a small sip of her drink. Jason and Chris. You'd think they'd have had enough by now. After the mess they'd made of that barn raising, Sarah couldn't help but wonder what they were up to now. She took another sip and decided to find out. As drunk as they were, there was just no tellin' what they might try — and she didn't want any problems in her place.
Carrying her drink, Sarah weaved in and out of the tables scattered over the saloon floor. But even before she reached them, she heard them. Their voices were slurred but understandable.
"'s all his fault," Chris pointed out to his friend.
"Yeah," Jason agreed. "What's he care if we dance with the pretty lady?"
"He figure we ain't good enough, you reckon?" Chris's eyebrows rose, offended at the thought.
"Hell, if we ain't don't know who is… " Jason slammed his glass down on the table. "Ain't we the bes' damn cowhands in the state of Texas?"
"Yeah…"
"And ain't we got money from the last trail drive we was on?"
Chris frowned. "We still got some… "
"And wasn't we all fixed up — shaved and everything — today?" Jason asked indignantly.
"Yeah." Chris sat up straighter and jerked at the string tie that was now over his shoulder.
"Well, then," Jason asked, "why the hell'd he get so damn mad? Who the hell does he think he is, anyway?"
Sarah stopped at the side of their table. "Think you boys have had enough," she said softly and reached for the almost-empty bottle.
Jason snatched it away from her. "This here's ours, lady. We done paid for it already."
She held her hands up. "All right. Then why don't you take it with you? I'm fixin' to close up now."
"What if we ain't ready to go yet?" Chris countered. Sarah looked at Mac and nodded. The big man started walking toward her immediately.
Jason looked over his shoulder at the approaching man and groaned. "I ain't seen so many grizzly-size men in one place in all my life!"
Chris watched the man in silence as though deciding if he was willing to fight to stay. Then he made up his mind. He stood up, swayed, and grabbed the edge of the table. "C'mon, Jas… let's git."
Jason pushed himself to his feet and snatched his hat off the table. He jammed it on his head with one hand and clutched his bottle to his chest with the other. "We'll be leavin'. For now… "He stared at Sarah, and Mac stepped a bit closer.
Chris grabbed his friend's arm and headed for the door. Before they left, though, Jason stopped and said, "This here is a mighty miser'ble way to treat a man, though. We'll be comin' back, y'hear?"
"Yeah," Chris added before following his friend out the batwing doors, "and we still aim to get our dance with that pretty lady, too. And you can tell that tame Griz of hers, too."
The doors swung back and forth noisily after they left. Sarah didn't even hear the whispered conversations from the customers around her. She was thinking about those two and what trouble they could cause. Oh, she was fairly sure they wouldn't do any real harm. She'd seen their kind for years. Cow boys who worked all spring and summer, then holed up in some town for the winter to drink all their money.
Still, she told herself as she thanked Mac and walked back to the bar, it might be a good idea to tell Samuel Hart that he hadn't seen the last of those two.
Abby sighed and snuggled in closer to Samuel. His left arm closed around her and pressed her tightly to his side. Her head on his shoulder, Samuel moved just enough to plant a kiss on her forehead. "Samuel," she breathed, running her fingertips across his chest, "that was…" He smiled and captured her hand in his. "Yeah, Abby, it was."
She shivered suddenly.
"Cold?" Samuel asked and reached for the quilt at the foot of the bed. He drew it up over both of them, tucking the blanket around her carefully before drawing her back into the circle of his arms.
"Mmm… better," Abby whispered.
From outside, one of the dogs barked, and then came the screech of nails being dragged down the length of the door.
Abby buried her face in Samuel's chest to stifle her giggles when he tossed a dirty look toward the intrusive sounds.