Her Bodyguard (25 page)

All right. That made sense. She sat on the edge of the bed and reviewed what they’d learned. Most important, they were a day behind her sister. “If they took the train after leaving here yesterday, they could be anywhere by now.”

“True, but not likely.” Luke sat down beside her and started pulling off his boots. “I suspect they’ll stay away from the rail lines.”

“Why?”

One boot hit the ground with a thud. “Sounds like they have trouble on their tails.”

Mari frowned as the second boot followed the first. Luke rotated his ankles, stretching his feet, dividing Mari’s attention between her sister’s circumstance and the puzzle of her companion’s more immediate intentions. “Explain it to me.”

Luke rose and crossed the room to where a pitcher and bowl sat atop a small wooden chest. He poured water from the pitcher into the bowl, then splashed it onto his face. As he wiped his face dry with a hand towel hanging from a nearby rack, he said, “Rory’s hiding. Wearing the mask, then making himself scarce—that’s not part of the act or my brother’s natural behavior. He’s an actor. He thrives on recognition and accolades. If he’s avoiding it, he’s got a reason.”

“Oh, wonderful. That’s just lovely news.”

Luke’s hands went to the placket of his shirt and he started to slip the buttons free. “It might explain why they allowed us all to think that they were dead.”

Her attention on the vee of bare skin expanding with every button released, Mari nodded. “She obviously loves him. She’d do whatever was necessary to protect him. I guess I could even see her justifying what she’s done to our family if she thought her husband’s need was greater than ours.”

“Yeah, well. Rory can make anybody believe just about anything.” Luke shrugged out of his shirt, and Mari’s mouth went dry. “I think they’re on the run and layin’ low, except when they need money. Whether we find them easily or not depends on how much they took in. My guess is that they’ll do a quick series of shows in this part of the state, then pull up stakes and head elsewhere until their money runs out.”

His hands moved to his belt buckle, and Mari forgot all about Kat. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m hot and I’m dirty and I’m tired. I’m going to wash up, cool off and take advantage of this bed, since we have it and sleep for a bit. You’re welcome to join me, or not.”

Mari couldn’t quite get her tongue to work or her focus to shift away as he shucked out of his pants. With his back to her, he dipped a washcloth in the water and methodically dragged it over his skin, washing away the day’s grime. He’s so beautiful, Mari thought. Lean and hard, like the marble statues she’d seen in the museums in Europe.

When he finished washing, tossing aside the washcloth and approaching the bed, she noted that a mere fig leaf wouldn’t do the job for a marble sculpture of Luke Garrett. She scrambled off the bed when he reached to pull off the quilt.

“I left half a pitcher of clean water if you want some,” he told her, stretching out on his stomach against the bleached white sheet.

Moments later, while Mari stood in the center of the small room reeling from this turn of events, Luke dropped off to sleep. No tossing, no turning. Just shut eyes and a snore.

She didn’t know whether to be relieved or insulted. All she was certain of was that she felt rather…let down.

How could he sleep at a time like this? They needed to talk to the newspaperman and pick up Kat’s trail once again. This was no time to delay. No time to sleep. Naked. Against cool sheets. Beneath the relaxing stir of a ceiling fan.

“Maybe I’ll at least wash up,” she murmured softly. What would that hurt?

She poured the dirty water into the flowerpot on the windowsill, then emptied the pitcher into the bowl. Darting a glance over her shoulder, she verified he still slept, then unfastened the buttons at her bodice.

The water felt like heaven against her skin. Maybe Luke had a point. After all, they needed to spend some time up here after he’d made such a point to the bartender about showing her his “magic.” Also, even if they did speak to the newspaperman and find out where Kat and Rory went, they wouldn’t strike out after them in the hottest part of the day. Not when her hind end still ached from four hours in the saddle.

Despite her good intentions, Mari’s gaze drifted back to Luke. She wondered if his posterior hurt. It certainly didn’t look injured. It looked…tight. Touchable. She could picture her hands on it, skimming over his skin, massaging…

Maribeth McBride!

She whirled around and finished her ablutions. I’ll sit in that ladder-back chair beside the bed and rest, she told herself. That’ll be fine.

It wasn’t. The wooden seat was as hard as brick and a trial against her aching backside. She sat primly, hands folded on her lap, uncomfortable as could be, trying not to stare at the plump, inviting mattress.

She toed off her shoes and thought about her sister. Where was Kat? What was she doing this hot afternoon? Was she ensconced in a hotel room, lying beside her husband, taking an afternoon nap? Or was she otherwise occupied?

Was her sister somewhere making love with Callahan? What would Kat say if she knew that just that morning, Mari had done the same thing with Rory’s brother?

Mari shifted in her seat. Well, it didn’t matter what Kat thought, or anybody else, for that matter. It was nobody’s business what did or did not occur between Mari and Luke Garrett. The only person Mari had to answer to was herself.

“Herself” was quite the sympathetic person at the moment.

“One for the road,” she whispered. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so quick to dismiss him. After all, just because he was a Ranger instead of an outlaw didn’t make him safe. He still lived his life on the shady side of the law. He’d given no indication of considering a possible change in the status quo, and she simply couldn’t live her life that way.

No. She’d be a fool to think she might have a matrimonial future with him. They had no future. They only had now.

Now.

She dropped her head forward, staring down at her folded hands, knuckles white with the force of her grip. She felt wicked and wanton. She felt hot and achy and needy. She felt like a McBride Menace all grown-up.

Mari took a deep breath, then looked up. Luke was awake, lying on his side, staring at her. His body was blatantly aroused.

“Maribeth?” he said, his voice husky.

Heat washed through her. She shuddered and swayed in her chair. “Yes?”

“Come here.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

LUKE HAD SLEPT JUST long enough to dream of her, so he was already floating in a haze of arousal when he awoke. He opened his eyes to see her watching him, recognized the sultry look and responded.

She actually did as he commanded, rising from her seat, moving toward him. Even as the heady sense of power, of anticipation, washed through him, Luke recognized that Mari McBride obeyed him only because she wanted to. She wanted him, and the knowledge made his blood ignite and his pulse pound.

She halted beside the bed and Luke reached out and took her hand, then pressed a kiss to the center of her palm. She visibly shuddered.

“You are so beautiful,” he said huskily. He wanted to give her pleasure. He wanted to make her burn.

Gently, he nipped at the pad of her thumb. Her swift intake of breath went through him like lightning. She was close enough to him that he felt the heat of her body and inhaled the seductive scent of her arousal.

Next, he wanted to taste it. To taste her. He began with her fingers, kissing them, nipping them, licking them one by one, watching her eyes burn with suppressed desire. Her lids grew heavy, and almost imperceptibly she swayed toward him. He drew her little finger deeply into his mouth, bathed it with his tongue, holding her there with a gentle suction that brought a quiver to her skin. When, finally, he allowed her to slide free, she spoke in a husky voice. “Oh, Luke.”

The sound of his name on her lips struck a chord deep inside him, and in its echo, Luke detected an undeniable truth. This was not a simple, lazy summer afternoon tussle with a transient woman. This was something more. Something special.

Mari McBride was someone special.

That thought alone should have made him flee the bed, flee the room. Yet, even as he considered it, she took the final step and sat upon the mattress, looking at him in a way different from anything he’d ever seen in a woman’s eyes. Mari looked at him as if he were the center of her world.

Her expression humbled him and an unfamiliar tightness in his chest stole his breath. Luke Garrett knew, sure as he was lying naked in this bed, that he didn’t deserve Mari McBride. Didn’t deserve her sitting there next to him all soft and warm and willing. And he damn sure didn’t deserve the trust gleaming in her eyes.

He
was
an outlaw, he thought. He might bear the title of Texas Ranger, carry all the rights and privileges of a true lawman, but in this bed, he was nothing more than a goddamn thief. The first time he made love to Mari, he’d stolen her innocence. Taken something that could never be restored. And here he was again, ready to take something that didn’t belong to him. Something he didn’t deserve. If he were Trace McBride…

Luke grimaced. McBride had a father’s right to shoot him right between the eyes. After he
castrated
him.

“Luke?”

As if sensing that he needed her touch, she reached over and stroked his cheek. “Is something wrong?”

Wrong? Hell no, nothing’s wrong. I’m naked, hard and about to have the only woman who ever tied me up in knots, and all I can think about is facing her father’s wrath. Dammit, Mari, I never cared about that before. I never cared about a woman’s parents, her family, her reputation. I never cared about a woman before.

Until you
.

“No,” he said, his voice cracking. “Nothing’s wrong, sugar.” Clearing his throat, he shook his head and smiled as a shudder of longing shot through him. “I just wanted to look at you.”

She tentatively ran a finger across his lips and gave him a sultry grin. “I like looking at you, too. But not as much as I enjoy touching you.” Mari then slid her finger into his mouth and mimicked his earlier movements. In and out, she teased him, quickening her rhythm. His hips thrust forward on their own accord.

Well, hell. So much for the momentary attack of conscience. Morals, ethics, right, wrong, good and bad disappeared as Luke breathed in her lemonade-and-sunshine scent and almost drowned in a wave of lust. With a thick sound of pleasure, he pulled her down against him and took her mouth in a hard, deep kiss as his hands went to work ridding her of her clothing until she lay beside him, as naked and hot as he.

He caressed her breasts and tugged at her nipples until she whimpered and moved hungrily against him. She returned his kiss, her tongue tangling with his own. Her whimpers intensified, the sounds greedy and demanding. The musky scent of her arousal seduced him, made him want more. Made him want to taste.

He released her mouth and trailed his lips along the soft, sweet length of her neck. He kissed first the upper swell of her breasts, then the heavy underside, before settling down to feast at her nipples. His tongue laved one, then the other, suckling until he knew she was peaked and tender. Helplessly, she arched against him, her head thrashing back and forth upon the bed, and her responsiveness added fuel to the fire of Luke’s own arousal. He kissed her flat stomach, dipping the tip of his tongue into her navel and delighting in her surprised squeal.

He drew back, gritting his teeth against a groan of need as he straddled her, drank in the naked beauty of her, rosy and dewy with desire. “Mari,” he said, somewhere between a plea and a prayer.

Her eyes flickered open, their gazes met and held. Her eyes were blue jewels afire that scorched him with sensual heat and demanded more. So Luke abided.

Deliberately, he kneed her legs apart, reached between them and found her moist center. He played with her a moment, stroking and exploring, until the urgent movement of her hips signaled her wishes.

She cried out when Luke penetrated her with his finger, probing into the tight, slick sheath. She was soft and supple, yet strong. Strong enough to take him, to hold him, to stroke him with her inner muscles until she drove him out of his mind. He eased his finger higher and added pressure and heard the hitch in her breathing. Knowing she was right at the brink, he pressed down on her swollen flesh and reveled in her euphoric shout.

Silky heat spilled into his hand, and Luke fought for self-control. He could have her right now. He could bury himself in her hot, welcoming body and end this sweet agony in moments, but that would be too easy, too quick. A hot, slow, summer afternoon called for hot, slow sex.

Except he needed her now. Wanted her now. He had to have her now.

So he chose a delicious compromise.

Luke withdrew his finger, cupped the soft, round globes of her buttocks, and tilted her upward as he lowered his mouth to taste her. At the first rasp of his tongue against her petal-soft skin, Mari gasped. “Oh. Oh! Luke, what…oh…oh…ahh.”

Luke smiled against her. Even if she’d wanted to argue further, he’d stolen her thunder with a kiss unlike any other. He savored her sweet elixir, steeped himself in the pleasure of sharing with her the ultimate intimate kiss. He lingered in the sensitive places, those mysterious, hidden places, moving his tongue in, out and around. And as his mouth tasted, his hands continued to caress, to flow over silky skin, delighting them both.

She began to whimper, Little murmurs of pleasure-pain, and she grabbed his shoulders, her nails digging deep. She was close, he knew. Taut and tense, she unconsciously urged him on with the flex of her fingers, the rock of her pelvis, and those achy desperate sounds escaping her throat. “Oh, please, please…”

“Mari-mine,” he whispered, covering her with his full mouth, then sucking gently, tenderly, gave her a climax that arched her entire body.

Luke felt as if he owned the world.