The Lone Rancher (17 page)

“And you can identify these men?” he questioned.

“No, she can't,” Quin called out quickly.

“Have you discovered the name of the deceased?” she interrogated Hobbs, then she cast a wary glance at the approaching mob.

“Not yet.”

“I demand that you release Cahill immediately. You have no solid evidence. Even your so-called smoking gun could have been fired by the real killer or one of his cohorts to make Cahill look guilty…
and you know it,
” she said emphatically.

“I know nothing of the kind—”

“Then I'm hiring Lucas Burnett and Dog to investigate the scene of the crime,” Adrianna interrupted in a sharp tone. “I'm willing to bet a part-Comanche, ex–Texas Ranger and Dog can find a trail that indicates there were
three
riders, just as Cahill and I claim. What do you want to bet, Hobbs?”

The marshal muttered, shifted in his chair, then glanced out the window at the lurking crowd.

“Do you know how bad you're going to look at election time when I support whoever runs for office
against
you? I will mention the evidence I know Burnett and Dog will find at the scene that
you
didn't find. I'll make you look bad, Hobbs. Count on it.”

Hobbs's back went ramrod stiff. His brows swooped down over his slitted eyes. “Are you trying to blackmail me?” he challenged in a low growl.

“No. I'm hiring Burnett as my private investigator,” she assured him sternly. “Release Cahill, turn over his pistol and tell the mob the truth. There is no evidence that Cahill had anything to do with the murder. He arrived too late to stop the shooting and he is an injured victim of the crime.”

Quin craned his neck around the corner of the cell room to watch the glaring contest between Boston and Hobbs. She was magnificent, he mused. He admired her keen intelligence and fiery spirit—especially when it wasn't directed at him.

To Quin's everlasting relief, Hobbs blew out an agitated breath, then pushed away from his desk.

“All right, I'll release Cahill and assure the mob there is no evidence of his involvement. But if you think that will quell the rumors floating around town, you are mistaken, Miz McKnight.”

“I'm still sending out Burnett to canvass the springs,” she vowed resolutely. “We'll let you know our findings.” She looked down her pert nose and Quin silently applauded her ability to portray the power-wielding heiress from Boston. He wondered if she was mimicking
her father—and decided it was likely. Quin had picked up several mannerisms from
his
father over the years and he used them when necessary.

Muttering under his breath, Hobbs stepped around the corner to unlock the cell and return the six-shooter. He moved aside to let Quin pass. “If anyone else turns up dead around here, don't expect me to look the other way,” he warned. “The Cahills and McKnights are not above the law.”

“Truth and justice will prevail, Marshal,” Boston retorted, refusing to back down an inch. “A murderer is running loose. I trust you'll do all within your power to find him. Or rather the
three
of them.” She stared pointedly at the pot on the stove. “You don't have time to lounge around your office, drinking coffee and propping your feet on your desk.”

Hobbs glared at her, then stalked outside to confront the mob before they reached the boardwalk.

“I don't think Hobbs likes me much,” Boston commented, then smiled wickedly. “I wonder why?”

“Can't imagine. But don't take it too hard. He doesn't like me, either.” Quin dropped a kiss to her dewy lips. “Thanks for coming to my defense. That lumpy cot and drafty cell were getting old real quick.”

“I missed having you in bed last night,” she whispered.

Desire pummeled him below the belt buckle in the time it took to blink. Funny how quickly one word or thought aroused him these days. No other woman had that ability. But then, there was only one Boston in the world.

And that was probably a good thing.

When Quin opened the door, all eyes darted past Hobbs to zero in on him and Boston. Quin maintained a deadpan expression long after Hobbs said, “Break it up, men. The real murderer is on the loose. If anybody can identify the dead man at the undertaker's I want to know immediately.”

When Quin veered toward Preston, Boston tugged on his arm. “Don't kill that arrogant bastard in front of the mob. I refuse to attend your necktie party today since I'm not dressed properly for the occasion.”

“Van Slyck deserves to have his head bashed in for what he said about my sister,” Quin grumbled resentfully.

“I agree, but people are watching every move you make. Don't provide fodder for gossip.” She squeezed his hand, then veered away. “I'll catch up with you later. I'm going to ask Rosa to fetch Lucas and Dog to investigate.”

When she strode off, Quin ambled toward Preston, who smiled tauntingly. “Oh, dear, you aren't planning to kill me, too, are you, Cahill?”

“For what? Being a lecherous ass?” Quin replied, flashing an identical smile. “I didn't think to ask the other night, Van Slyck. What were you doing in Deadwood, crawling to Leanna on your knees, begging her to give you another chance? She rejected you again, didn't she? As I recall, it didn't take her long the first time you came sniffing around to realize how worthless you are.”

To Quin's amusement, Preston's face turned purple with rage. The color looked good on him.

“Go to hell, Cahill,” he sneered viciously.

“Can't. It's
your
future address, Van Slyck. And why'd you kill that man on my property?”

“I didn't. If I wanted to kill someone I'd start with
you,
” he snarled in a hateful tone.

Quin couldn't prove Preston had anything to do with the murder. But for certain, Preston was spiteful, vindictive, and he delighted in rubbing Quin's face in scandal every chance he got. Preston was a cheapjack, after all.

 

Adrianna was thrilled that Rosa offered Lucas and Dog's services to scout the site of the shooting. She was also greatly relieved that Quin had resisted pounding Preston flat and mailing him to the end of the earth.

The minute they returned to 4C, she ordered Quin to bed and, surprisingly, he didn't object. He teased her by saying, “I saw the way you worked over Hobbs so I don't dare argue with you.”

Adrianna had to admit that she felt physically and emotionally wrung out herself. The past week of party planning, destructive fires, an unsolved murder and Quin's stint in jail had worn her out.

Leaving Butler in charge of whatever problems arose, Adrianna collapsed in Quin's former bedroom. Three hours later, she awoke to rake her tangled hair from her face. She sat up on the edge of the bed to work the tension from her neck and back, then expelled a heavy sigh. It was time to move home, she told herself sensibly. An extended stay at 4C would invite more gossip. Heaven knew there was too much of that floating around Ca-Cross!

Adrianna went downstairs to see Butler in the office, entering expenses from their ranch into his ledger. Bea
was flitting around, dusting everything that didn't move. Elda was in the kitchen putting together a gourmet meal for supper.

Their last meal at 4C, she mused. She and her adopted family would leave in the morning. She would divide her time between overseeing her cattle and horse operation and checking to see what Lucas and Dog's search turned up. In addition, she was going to keep a watchful eye on her cowboys. She wanted to know who favored that brown gelding with three white stockings she had commandeered the night of the murder.

“Leaving?”
Elda chirped after Adrianna made the announcement to go home. “But I like it here. There's more room and this kitchen is spacious so I don't bump into myself when I turn around. Plus, the cowhands are so kind and courteous that I prepare them snacks to take to the bunkhouse.”

“You can stay if you prefer,” Adrianna told the plump cook. “I'm sure Cahill would be delighted.”

“I'd be delighted about what?”

Adrianna pivoted to see Cahill leaning against the doorjamb of the parlor. His clothing was wrinkled, his hair was mussed from sleep and a five-o'clock shadow that was two days old lined his jaw. Still, the sight of him squeezed at her heart and desire coiled deep inside her. It amazed her that she could look at this ruggedly handsome rancher and want him with every fiber of her being.

“I said you would prefer Elda remained behind when we leave tomorrow,” she said belatedly.

His thick, dark brows furrowed. “You're leaving?”

She was pleased that he looked and sounded disap
pointed. She would feel ever so much better if he'd miss her half as much as she was going to miss being with him.

She sent her employees dismissive glances and they took their cues to grant her privacy. “We both know my staying here fuels gossip.”

He scoffed caustically. “It won't matter, Boston. Gossip will claim we had a spat and you left me. I told you, it makes no difference what we do. Wagging tongues will put an unflattering spin on everything.”

“Regardless, it's best for me to leave and we both know it,” she said as she stared out the window, watching the hired hands tend their evening chores.

When he moved up behind her, his warm breath fanned her neck, leaving erotic fires burning in its wake. Adrianna closed her eyes and marshaled her failing willpower.

“Don't go, Boston,” he murmured, then skimmed his lips over the column of her throat. “I like having you here.”

For how long? she wondered. Until the demands of the ranch occupied all his time? Before he left on the spring cattle drive and never gave her another thought?

How long would it take him to forget his interest in her while he was on the trail, visiting cow towns where ladies of the evening entertained drovers and cowhands? She'd become a half-forgotten memory and she would be pining away for him like a brokenhearted fool.

“I can't stay,” she replied, trying to ignore the reckless desire spiraling inside her.

He stepped away, and when she turned to face him, his expression was impersonal. “Whatever you want,
Boston. But before you go, I want to thank you for pressuring Hobbs to release me.” He held out his hand. “And before I forget, I'll need that note you waved in the marshal's face this morning. It's all I have to prove I was lured to Phantom Springs.”

Adrianna retrieved the note, then handed it to him. She pasted on a cheery smile. “You're welcome, Cahill. I enjoyed telling that stubborn, by-the-book marshal what was what.”

“Good, I'll be sure to call on you next time I'm arrested.”

“There will be a next time?” she asked flippantly.

“Sure, once you're arrested for murder you become everybody's favorite scapegoat and prime suspect.”

“Supper is served,” Butler announced formally, then took his leave in his usual stoic manner.

Cahill smiled dryly. “I still say your man of affairs enjoys acting like a stuffy butler. I think he missed his true calling.”

“No, his calling is numbers, investments and balancing financial ledgers,” she assured him on the way to the dining room. “It's a game he plays to keep others off guard and to amuse himself.”

Just as Cahill amused himself temporarily—at her expense, she told herself. Cahill needed her to be his fast-talking champion this morning to spring him from jail, but any woman could satisfy him in bed. If he couldn't love Adrianna for who and what she was, then she didn't need him.

Men had wanted her for the wrong reasons all of her adult life. Quin Cahill was the only man she wanted to love her for all the right reasons. But if he couldn't voice
the heartfelt words she ached to hear she wouldn't take the humiliating risk of baring her soul to him.

She had her new life in Texas and her unlimited independence, she consoled herself. It would have to be enough.

Q
uin tossed, turned and cursed because he couldn't fall asleep. He knew it didn't have a damn thing to do with the long nap he'd had after he'd been released from jail.

She was leaving
. The words took hold of his thoughts and twisted his heart out of shape. The only enjoyment he'd experienced the past two years was being with Boston. She'd touched off emotions he'd placed in cold storage after his traitorous family had walked out on him. Boston's quick wit and courage impressed him. She brightened his life and touched his soul. Not to mention that she set his body on fire in the heat of passion.

And she was leaving.

Scowling, Quin rolled off the bed in the master suite and stared out the window. He considered traipsing downstairs to pour himself a drink, but he knew that wouldn't appease him. What he wanted was sleeping in his former bedroom.

Admitting defeat, he wrapped a towel around his naked hips and headed for the door. He tiptoed down
the hall to let himself into Boston's room. He inwardly groaned when a shaft of moonlight slanted across the bed, illuminating her curly dark hair and enchanting face.

“Cahill? Are you all right? Is your head hurting again?”

“No, just the rest of me,” he murmured as he eased the door shut, locked it behind him, then went to stand over her.

“Is there something I can do to make you feel better?”

“Yes, you can give me
you,
” he whispered as he eased down on the edge of the bed.

Her soft snicker turned his heart wrong side out. The touch of her hand on his bare chest made him burn with feverish desire in the space of a breath. And when she levered herself up to press her lush lips to his, Quin drowned in the heady sensations she never failed to arouse in him.

“I'm gonna miss you like crazy, Boston,” he rumbled as he discarded the towel and stretched out beside her.

“But I'm here now,” she whispered throatily. “We have tonight.”

Yes, they did, Quin mused as he tunneled his hand beneath her silky nightgown. “One of Rosa's creations?” he mumbled against her parted lips.

“Of course. One of a kind.”

“I'd like it even better if you weren't wearing it,” he insisted as he drew the shimmering fabric over her head and tossed it in the same direction as the towel. “You look best wearing nothing but me….”

When he lowered his head to blaze a path of kisses down the slender curve of her throat to the beaded peaks
of her breasts, she moaned softly. Quin loved that sound. He enjoyed pleasuring her and he ached to have her want him to the same mindless extreme that he wanted her.

When he teased her nipples with thumb and forefinger, he heard her breath catch and felt her body melt against him. A coil of heat scorched him as she brought his mouth back to hers. Her arms came around his neck and she kissed him as if the world was ending and they had only one breath left.

Quin swore his eyes had rolled back in his head and he was on the brink of passing out when her adventurous fingertips moved hither and yon, investigating the various textures of his flesh. He held his breath when her caresses descended across his belly, then stroked him from base to tip.

He lost the ability to breathe or think. He could do nothing more than feel the intense pleasure building with each unhurried caress of her hand. Pulsating awareness pelted him as she eased him onto his back, then hovered above him.

When she smiled down at him, her cedar-tree-green eyes sparkling in the shaft of moonlight, he marveled at her incredible beauty. He tried to conjure up the face of any other woman who compared to Boston's striking beauty and irrepressible spirit. No one came to mind. She mystified him. Knowing she wanted nothing more from him than another night of splendor they could provide for each other tormented him. He, who had been too busy managing the 4C alone, wanted Boston to need him to the same degree that he'd come to need her….

His thoughts fizzled out when her curly hair glided
over his laboring chest like a provocative caress. She skimmed her warm mouth over the length of his hard shaft and he groaned in unholy torment. When she took him into her mouth and measured him with her tongue and teeth Quin swore she was going to kill him with pleasure—and he wasn't going to protest.

His lungs practically collapsed when he tried to drag in a shaky breath. His heart hammered hard enough in his chest to crack ribs. She shattered his self-control and made him a willing slave to each lingering touch of her hands and lips—and he loved every minute of it.

Quin swore she had dragged him to the crumbling edge and he was on the verge of a mindless fall into rapturous oblivion. But then she pulled him back to seduce him again—one intimate kiss and caress at a time—and he moaned achingly.

It was unsettling to have one's emotions strung out like laundry on a clothesline for someone else to see. But Boston laid his body and soul bare and he suddenly didn't care about anything except being with her….

Indescribable sensations sizzled through him and a wild burst of pleasure crashed over him like a wave, towing him into an undercurrent of passion so wide and deep he couldn't find his way back to the surface.

“Enough,” he croaked, surprised he could speak at all. “You're killing me, Boston. I need you…now.”

She raised her head where she lay between his legs and smiled impishly. “You don't need me enough yet, Cahill.”

When she glided her hands up and down his throbbing length, then nibbled at him again, Quin swore he was going to explode. He couldn't endure another
moment of this intense pleasure without shattering in a million pieces. He rolled sideways, taking Boston to her back. Only then could he drag in a restorative breath and grasp the flying reins of his self-restraint.

“You are going to pay for that, vixen,” he promised wickedly. “We'll see when enough is enough….”

Adrianna sorely wished she hadn't tormented Quin with erotic seduction because he turned it back upon her. Yet, she had been fascinated by the power she seemed to hold over him. She delighted in the husky sounds of his pleasure and savored the feel of his masculine body tensing, then melting, beneath her intimate touch.

Her thoughts scattered like ashes in a storm when Quin worked his way down her body one inch at a time. Each kiss, each caress, was an aphrodisiac that left her head spinning like a windmill and her body quivering with inexpressible sensations that burned her alive. Even when she swore she couldn't survive another moment of the fiery pleasure, her body cried out for more of the soul-shattering ecstasy bursting inside her.

Then he pressed his mouth against her in the most intimate of kisses and tasted her desire for him. Spasms of passion uncoiled inside her, consuming her very being. Desperate, she grabbed Quin by the hair and pulled him upward. She wrapped her hand around his rigid length and guided him exactly to her. Then she looked up to see those mercury-colored eyes shimmering in the moonlight and she knew she was gazing into the face of the man she loved. She must love him because the feeling of his powerful body surging into hers made her feel whole, alive and content.

He angled his ruffled head to kiss her as he plunged
deeper and Adrianna knew he had taken her body, heart and soul into his possession….

And she was going to leave him in the morning and pretend tonight was only about lust because that's the way Quin Cahill wanted it. The 4C came first and foremost and he indulged in passionate trysts when it was convenient.

“Adrianna—” Her name tumbled off his tongue in a husky drawl and she arched helplessly against him, giving all she was and demanding all he had to give.

He shuddered against her and she clamped her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his muscled hips. She held on tightly because her world was tumbling helter-skelter in incredible sensations. Pleasure burst inside her like fireworks on the Fourth of July and she nearly passed out from the overwhelming pleasure of it all.

Adrianna held him close until they could breathe normally again. She thought their first night together had been nothing short of phenomenal but tonight defied description. She wondered what it would be like to make love with him for the rest of her life….

When he pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, then eased down beside her, she tossed aside her whimsical thoughts and snuggled up beside him. She knew he'd be gone by first light to keep up appearances in the household.

At least she had the rest of the night. Adrianna didn't care how much—or how little—sleep she got because she could catch up during the lonely nights ahead. With that in mind, she kissed Quin and let go of every inhibi
tion. She showed him without words that she was helplessly, madly in love with him….

 

The next morning Quin was sitting at the dining table, sampling Elda's special-brewed coffee, when Boston ambled into the room. He wanted to draw her down on his lap and hold her possessively. Unfortunately, Elda whizzed through the door, carrying a stack of pancakes and bacon that made his mouth water. When she set the plates on the table, then turned away, Quin reached out impulsively to give Boston a pat on the derriere when she walked by.

She arched a brow and looked down at him, surprised.

No more surprised by that display than I am,
thought Quin. He wasn't one for affectionate gestures, but with Boston, it was different.
He
was different….

And she was leaving him…
. Gawd, he hated the thought.

“Did you sleep well, Boston?” he asked teasingly.

She peered at him over the rim of her coffee cup. “Well enough, I suppose.” Her green eyes sparkled with playful mischief. “I don't recall that much about last night. I must have been tired after the long, hectic day.”

He pulled a face and she snickered impishly. “How did you sleep, Cahill?”

“Not well. I woke up several times.” He stared meaningfully at her while she hid her grin behind her cup.

“Really? What kept you up?”

She knew perfectly well that she had kept him up in every way imaginable. Not that he was complaining, mind you. She could disturb him every night the rest
of his life if she were so inclined. Last night was the best night without sleep he'd ever had. He wanted to tell her so but Butler entered the room to cast him a frown and a knowing stare. Quin returned it full force. Butler couldn't lecture him without sounding like a hypocrite.

“I'm still planning on moving our belongings home this morning, but not until after we canvass Phantom Springs with Lucas and Dog,” Boston informed Butler.

Butler's hazel eyes widened in surprise, then he resumed his expressionless stare. The man was a master at it. “We will be packed and ready, Addie K.” He glanced at Quin. “I will need to remove several items from your safe before I go.”

Quin nodded agreeably, then settled down to eat with his new family—who would be gone by noon. Aw, hell! He would be greeted again by deafening silence and he'd rattle around the oversize house like a ghost looking for his lost soul. Maybe he could borrow Dog for a companion, he mused.

After all, Lucas had a wife and Quin had none.

If that didn't work, he supposed he could try to lure Bea and Butler away since they were a matched set. Let Boston see how she liked being alone all the blessed time.

The sudden rap at the door brought Quin to his feet. He rounded the corner to the foyer to see Lucas Burnett, dressed in black as usual, and Dog standing on the stoop.

“Too early?” Burnett asked.

“Not if you want a stack of melt-in-your-mouth pancakes.”

Burnett grinned in anticipation. “I hear Elda is a gourmet cook. I suppose I should see for myself.”

Dog followed Burnett inside and Quin looked at Dog and said, “What? No bow tie this morning?”

“Not while he's working,” Burnett replied, straight-faced.

Quin reached down to pat the oversize animal. “I'll trade Dog for flapjacks and a dozen head of my best longhorns.”

“No deal,” said Burnett.

“Boston is leaving and I'm stuck with my own company.”

Burnett shot Quin a pensive glance on his way through the door. Quin glanced down to note the wolf dog had plopped down in the opening to the dining room, as if he owned the place. He rested his oversize head on his oversize paws.

“There, you see? Dog has made himself at home already.”

“The answer is still no. Get your own wife and dog,” Burnett said. “I'm not sharing either one.”

Quin sighed in frustration and resumed his seat at the table. “Thanks for nothing, Burnett.”

“I'm here to track and scout, Cahill. That's all the help you get,” he said, then grinned before he dived into the tasty pancakes.

 

Amazed and impressed, Adrianna watched Lucas and Quin move methodically around the site where the dead man had collapsed. They expanded the perimeters, looking for footprints and evidence of the three outlaws that had been at the scene.

Lucas squatted down on his haunches, his midnight-black eyes focused on the set of horse prints that were barely visible in the loose rock. “Someone wiped the area clean,” he concluded. “Except for this overlooked partial print.”

“The same way the wagon wreck site might have been wiped clean, so as not to arouse suspicion,” Quin murmured contemplatively. He picked up a broken branch that was thick with leaves. “This is likely the makeshift broom they used.”

When Dog appeared on the rocky ledge above, and then barked, the threesome hiked uphill to see another boot print they had overlooked.

“I wonder if this thug was the gang's lookout,” Quin mused aloud. “He had the best view of the area from here.”

Lucas nodded his raven head. “He was probably the sharpshooter, in case you caused more trouble than anticipated.”