Claudia Dain

A Kiss to Die For

by

Claudia Dain

© 2003, 2011 by Claudia Welch

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This is a work of fiction.
 
Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Prologue

The Texas wind was blowing hard and cold, but he didn't care. All he cared about was that little girl in his sights; she was a woman full grown, but slight, like a girl, with red hair the color of ripe pumpkins hanging down her back. The wind blew her hair hard, making strands of it whip around her head like straw in a cyclone. She kept pulling at it, tugging those wild strings of hair down with her white hands until she held them like a bouquet.

Only one reason for a woman to wear her hair loose on a day of such wind; she wanted to catch a man's eye.

She'd caught his.

He'd seen her before. This game she was playing with him was an old one and he let her lead him around in it, knowing it built her confidence to have him chase after her. Knowing it made her sure of herself. Knowing that soon she'd do something reckless. And he'd be right there when she did.

He'd give her what she was asking for.

Maybe even today.

He got hard thinking of it, thinking of her under his hands, soft and willing. Her mouth telling him yes when he wrapped his arms around her and asked her to marry him.

That's what she was wanting from him, a proposal of marriage, and that's what he'd give her. That, and a few dozen kisses. But she'd be getting more than kisses from him. A whole lot more.

He knew exactly what she wanted. Same thing they all wanted. And he was more than happy to oblige.

He was nothing if not accommodating.

She was a pretty little thing, her hair so bright against the milk white of her hands. She had a spray of freckles across her knuckles that about matched the color of her hair. She was smiling at him, her eyes blue and round with excitement. He'd arranged this meeting with her yesterday, as she was walking out of church with her folks. He'd whispered to her as she'd passed, her head down as she walked behind her ma, and she hadn't answered. But here she was.

Her folks didn't know about him, not yet. They'd know soon enough. Once she agreed to marry him, they'd know it all.

"You're a pretty little girl," he said, closing the distance between them.

"I'm not a little girl," she huffed, letting loose of her hair. It rose up in the air and twisted, writhing and hot against the blue of the sky.

"Is that why you came today? To prove to me you aren't so little?"

"Is that why you asked me out here? To make sport of me?"

She turned her back on him in a sulk that begged to be petted out of her. He accommodated her, giving her just what she wanted from him. He knew everything about this game they were playing.

He stroked down the wild tangle of her hair, holding the length of it in his fist. It was cool and smooth across the back of his hand.

"Your hair's like slick fire," he said, pressing up against her. "Is your mouth the same?"

She turned in his arms, her hair wrapping around her throat and breasts like a red silk cord. She wanted to give in, but couldn't. He was moving too fast.

"You gonna make me beg for it?" he said on a whisper.

"Would you?" she asked back, raising her eyes to his.

"Nah"—he grinned, lifting up her face—"I'm gonna make you beg. More fun that way."

He kissed her then, liking the smallness of her pressed against him. Her mouth was like fire, after he had tutored her some.

It was her first kiss.

She acted as if she liked it fine. She was pressed up against him, her breasts small and hard and high, and her arms wrapped around him. She was holding nothing back, which was just how he liked it.

"You beggin' yet?" he breathed against her throat. That red hair of hers was still wrapped around her, so hot against the white of her throat.

"No, you'd better," she breathed roughly, "you'd better—"

He cut off her air with a kiss that had her hanging on to his belt for balance. When he was done, she laid her forehead against his chest and gulped in air, her fingers still wedged in his belt.

"Are you playing with me?" she whispered, hiding her face from him.

He wrapped his arms around her with a huge smile. This was it. Time to give her what she'd come all the way out of town to get.

"Hell, no, darlin'. I'm not playing with you. I want to marry you."

"You do?" She looked up at him. She had the most powerful blue eyes.

"I do," he said. "Will you?"

She bloomed like a flower, right there in his arms. "Yes!"

He kissed her again, sealing the pledge they'd just made between them. She sure seemed to like his kisses.

"I've got a little something for you," he said as he ended the kiss. His eyes were gentle as he looked down at her; this was the moment, the perfect moment.

"You don't need to give me a thing," she protested but she reached out her hand for whatever the gift was that he had brought her. "I'm just so happy right now, I don't need another thing to make it perfect."

Women said things like that. They didn't mean them. He knew that.

He kissed her once more, in parting, while he gave her the gift he'd brought just for her. Just like a flower, she was, just like a flower that bloomed bright and fresh with the sun on it and then was blown down by the first cold wind.

When she collapsed on the ground, her throat crushed like a broken stem, the wind blew hard at her unbound hair; it flew up and twirled against the sky, glistening red against deep blue. No one now to hold it down, to keep it off her face and out of her eyes. It didn't much matter anymore. He studied her for a minute, that pretty hair flying wild in the wind, and then left her.

She'd got what she came for.

Chapter 1

The train pulled into the Abilene station with a chug and a lurch that rocked his body forward in stiff synchronism. He held himself erect and kept his balance, keeping his eyes on the town coming into view through the dusty windows of the westbound train. Abilene had grown some since he'd last been through—more houses and a wooden church—but had shrunk some, too. The Drovers Cottage hotel was gone, moved to Ellsworth a few years back since the cow trail had moved west. The dance house he'd used was gone and the town looked light a few saloons. Abilene didn't look like the wild cattle town it had been right after the war. Still, it would have a jail and that's where the man in the seat in front of him was headed.