Intimate Strangers (Eclipse Heat Book 2) (17 page)

Hiram kept his word and came back to check on them before pursuing his business.

“Mighty fine-looking womenfolk you’re squiring around this evening, Quince. See to it that they’re protected.” He teetered back on his heels and gave Hamilton a hard look and then took his leave.

Ambrose shaved and, looking more handsome than ever, joined them and immediately took his place next to Brody. “You and your mama look real fine in those dresses we picked out for you.” He shifted his glance to Lucy in her yellow and she didn’t want to wear it then, remembering the first evening in town with distaste.

They were standing in the lobby of the hotel when she decided to change back into the cotton she’d worn earlier. Roberta accompanied her to the room, and when she saw what Lucy was about, scolded her.

“That dress is soiled and not fit for evening wear. If you’re so determined to change, let’s switch. We’re about the same size, and I’ve a mind to see myself in that yellow.”

Lucy donned her blue and Roberta wore the yellow. Changing pleased Lucy mightily, especially when, on their return, Ambrose puckered into a frown.

Brody, however, took Lucy’s hand and grinned up at her. “We’re twins, Mama,” she said as she pointed out the similarity in their attire. Lucy squeezed her hand and prepared to endure the company of Ambrose to get through the evening.

* * * * *

“Pshaw, Quincy, why he looks at you like you’re a dollop of ice cream. If there was ever a man smitten, it’s Ambrose Quince. Men are dense. Trust me; it’s just part of being male.”

Roberta always had an opinion and an itch to know what others were upset over. When Lucy confided to her the reason for her coolness toward the children’s father, surprisingly her partner in the restaurant business defended him. It was unexpected and unwelcome and made Lucy aggravated at Roberta as well as with Ambrose.

They all promenaded down the boardwalk, which had dried considerably under the heat of the sun. Roberta flirted outrageously with Hamilton as he offered his arm and she took it.

Lucy had claimed Alex as her escort, leaving Ambrose and Brody walking together when they arrived at the Ice Cream Shoppe. They had only just gotten themselves seated in a big booth that left Lucy uncomfortably pressed between Alex and his father when Mr. and Mrs. Howard from the evening before entered, accompanied by the cowboy who had accosted her.

The evening hadn’t passed many minutes before Mrs. Howard spotted them and directed her husband and his friend to their booth.

She seemed much livelier this evening, given to smiles and furbelows, and when she spied the Quince family, she bustled across the room, the two men following in her wake.

Oh Lord
, Lucy prayed silently.
Please, don’t make me have to shoot that cowboy in front of the world.

He was sober tonight and all smiles until he spotted her.

Iris immediately made introductions. “Mrs. Quince, Ambrose, I’d like to introduce my nephew, Peter Slocum. He owns a ranch out your way and brought in his herd with the Circle Five consortium. I told him you were just delightful people to know, Mrs. Quince being a real leader of society in your town.”

As Lucy watched, Iris beamed all around and Ambrose bristled. Slocum edged slightly behind the older woman.
Hiding in case I take aim at his manly parts.

Roberta, ignorant of the man’s identity and always one to appreciate an unattached male, welcomed them to join the group and introduced herself.

Mr. Slocum seemed confused when he saw who wore the yellow dress, apparently unsure of which woman he’d insulted. When he caught Lucy’s eye, she made certain he wondered no longer.

Stumbling over his words, he said, “Please accept my apology for my uncouth and forward behavior last night. I had too much to drink celebrating the end of the trail drive.”

Roberta accepted the man’s apology and forgave him without permission, waving at adjacent chairs to be drawn to the table and join the two groups.

Lucy carefully situated herself between Roberta and Alex, ignoring the chair Ambrose drew out for her.

The rest of the men would have gladly talked cattle and left the women to visit, but again Roberta would have none of that. “You men need the gentling attentions of our feminine influence. Sit yourselves down here and enjoy the company.”

Surprisingly enough, all did. Mrs. Howard had just returned from Boston and was filled with stories, many of which involved people no one at the table knew. Iris Howard looked at Lucy, expecting responses when she mentioned certain names, but Lucy’s lack of comment didn’t deter the discussion.

At the same time, in a louder voice, her husband tried unsuccessfully to converse with Lucy about resurrecting her horse-breeding program—something she did not remember and had little interest in doing.

At last, Iris said with exasperation, “Mr. Howard, you are rude. My own dear brother, Thomas Calhoun, has traveled extensively in the West. Yet he has not lost the qualities so important in a gentleman. Would you be equally obliging?”

The men cast sympathetic looks toward Clayton. Lucy admitted that Iris and her prim dignity didn’t look like a comfortable life partner but measuring Clayton Howard’s soft hands and vacuous talk against the tough ranchers at the table, neither half of the couple seemed a prize to Lucy.

Alex eased from his chair and followed Ambrose to the counter to order the table’s ice cream treats and Lucy remained silent, listening to the threads of conversations around her.

It was too late for Lucy to move when they returned, and Ambrose slid his chair close to hers. Heat from his thigh burned through the layers of her dress material and even the cold ice cream couldn’t lower the temperature simmering in her core. She had resolved to be done with his thick-headed suspicions, but she couldn’t deny her body’s response when he leaned against her.

By evening’s close, their party had grown in number to nine. Both Hamilton and Pete Slocum seemed inclined to accompany Roberta, which had Lucy’s friend batting her eyes joyfully. She placed one of her hands on Hamilton’s arm and linked elbows in a very familiar fashion with Mr. Slocum, leaving the rest of the group to sort out their partners.

Lucy turned to Alex, but he’d already taken Brody’s arm and was escorting her importantly toward the door. That left her facing Ambrose.

“I expect you’d like to plug me with that gun you favor.” She didn’t disagree with his words but looked ahead at the other couples leaving.

Since there was no choice of partners left, she reluctantly allowed him to place her hand upon his arm. He covered it, securing her to him. “We’ll be having a talk tonight, after the children are abed. You owe me the chance to answer your last remark.”

When she tried to withdraw her hand, he pressed it down on the hard muscle under her fingers and refused to release his hold.

“As I pointed out earlier, you don’t know me at all and I don’t owe you anything, Mr. Quince, least of all time to explain.” Lucy’s voice was soft to keep the children from hearing, but her words were hard and spoken from the heart.

As they strolled behind the others, she remained silent, overly interested in the windows displaying merchandise along the street. The stores were still open in most cases, and their illumination provided a guide down the boardwalk as the couple walked, intermittently in shadow and then light.

They were in just such a shadow when Ambrose chose the moment to scoot Lucy farther from the light, leaning her against the building that they’d been walking past. He loomed over her, stepping into her body as he pressed against her and caught her hand as she reached for her reticule.

“You’re not going to shoot me and you’re going to be still,” he growled. And then, before Lucy could call to the quickly receding entourage in front of them, he lowered his head and stole a kiss.

At first it was the merest brush of his lips. But then, when Lucy tried to turn her head and opened her mouth to tell him to unhand her, he pressed her tighter, molding her frame to his as he deepened his onslaught, entering her mouth with his tongue.

One hand cupped her head, limiting her ability to break free, the other smoothed across material from waist to breasts, coaxing her. Her struggles ceased and she became pliant, acquiescing as her body savored his.

His whiskers scraped along her chin at the same time his fingers teased her turgid nipples, which were taut and thrusting against her dress. He freed her mouth, leaving her too breathless to protest as he feathered kisses across her jaw to her neck.

When his lips touched the shiny scar behind her ear, he lifted his head and pushed her hair away, squinting down at the mark where her attacker had branded her. And then, as though trying to soothe the long ago hurt, he followed its course down to where it disappeared beneath her dress, pulling her even closer as he rubbed his lips across the nerveless tissue.

Heat from his mouth seared through the numbness of the scar, awakening molten need that left her arching against him. When he stopped, they were both breathing heavily and his arousal pushed insistently against her. He tilted her head and murmured, “Not everything was wrong between us, Luce.”

Her answer should have been tart but came out a husky whisper. “Even if that’s so, it wasn’t enough before and that hasn’t changed.”

“It’s everything we need to build with and the other things will change.” He ran his hands up her back and cupped her head, tilting her lips to resume his kiss.

She didn’t know what would have happened then if gunfire up the street hadn’t pulled them away from the flow of passion that had left her unresisting.

“The children,” she said, even as he turned them both and drew her back into the light to hurry toward the sound of running feet and chaos.

When they arrived, a swatch of yellow lying on the boardwalk warned Lucy that Roberta was down. Both Pete Slocum and Hamilton knelt beside her, and the welling blood that flowed from her wound darkened the yellow dress.

Hamilton swept her into his arms and said, “Point me to a doctor.”

Clayton Howard said, “Take her back to the hotel. I’ll fetch the doctor.”

Everyone followed Hamilton as he hurried toward the hotel with Roberta cradled in his arms.

Pete Slocum handled the sheriff, who came charging up, accompanied by Hiram. “What the hell happened here?”

Hiram answered before anyone could set him straight. “That’s Mrs. Quince being carried by her husband. Who shot her?”

When Ambrose and Lucy brushed past them to gather Brody and Alex close, Sheriff Potter looked confused. “Quincy, is that you?”

Before Lucy could answer, Hiram let out a bellow of rage. “Dammit to hell, somebody shot Roberta.” He took off for the hotel, and left the Wichita sheriff standing on the boardwalk.

Pete Slocum said, “I’ll look around, see if I can find out where the shot came from, Sheriff.”

Ambrose kept them in the shadows, his body a shield for Lucy and the children ’til they reached the safety of their hotel suite.

The doctor, accompanied by Iris and Clayton Howard, joined them shortly. Lucy escorted him into the bedroom and watched while he examined Roberta. “Bullet went right through. Good thing, too. It would have killed her if it had been even an inch to the right. Left a nasty hole, but with proper care, Miss Harris will recover.”

She didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath ’til he delivered his opinion. There was no question in Lucy’s mind about who would deliver the care for Roberta. Her friend had nursed her through near death, near insanity and poverty. ”I’ll stay with Roberta ’til she’s recovered.”

She hadn’t realized Ambrose stood behind her ’til he cut that thought off at the quick. “Nope. We’ll wait here ’til Miss Harris can travel. Then she’ll come back to the Double-Q with us.”

The doctor finished his work, bandaging the shoulder over the hole that still bled, and then followed them to the sitting room. As soon as the door to the bedroom was closed, Ambrose voiced a concern that she hadn’t yet realized. “Someone tried to kill you tonight, Lucy.”

The doctor looked confused, Hiram frowned and Hamilton nodded agreement.

Lucy stood abruptly, fear ratcheting through her as she turned to look at Ambrose.

He put his hands on her shoulders and said sternly, “Hamilton and I will be staying in the hotel with you tonight, Lucy, and you and the young’uns are not to go anywhere without me until we catch the sonovabitch who did this. Understand?”

For once, his high-handed decree was welcome. “Yes, I understand. At this point, my only concern is the safety of the children and Roberta. Do what you need to do.” She didn’t question her implicit trust in Quincy’s ability to protect them.

Lucy was relieved when Ambrose ushered the Howards and the doctor out the door. Hiram would have stayed by Roberta’s side if they had allowed it, but Hamilton saw him out too. She sighed in relief when all were gone but her family.

The Quince men had been with her, and she knew that they were not responsible for what had happened. She couldn’t say the same about outsiders. The men, Alex included, sat alert and grim-faced on the couch in the sitting room.

Ambrose didn’t intend to stay in Wichita a moment longer than necessary. On the Double-Q, he and Hamilton could protect Lucy, Roberta and the children. In a town as wide open as Wichita, the night had proven that impossibility. He sat in one of the two chairs in the sitting room worrying and planning while Hamilton snored on the couch and Alex, determined to stand guard with the men, had fallen asleep with Lucy’s rifle resting on the floor next to him.

Ambrose must have dozed, because he came alert when the door to Roberta’s bedroom clicked open. Lucy, still dressed in Roberta’s blue outfit, tiptoed out. When she saw that he was awake, she frowned at him. Then she surprised him by holding out her hand, motioning toward the outer door.

He rose, checked his gun, and took her hand as she led him into the hall. It was the first overture she’d made toward him since he’d screwed things up the first night. He was ashamed to admit it but, like a randy bull, in spite of all the evening’s excitement, he was still primed and ready.

Lucy whispered, “We need to find someplace to talk.” The door was barely closed before she was pulling on him to follow her.

He kept one hand in hers and the other on his gun. Nothing could be taken for granted these days. He had no idea where she was leading him until they got to the kitchen. When they were inside the silent room, she dropped his hand and turned to face him.

He was as powerless to stop his next move as he had been in turning the stampede. He stepped forward, picked her up by the waist, raising her to his height, and enfolded her in his embrace.

He didn’t realize he was chanting, “Lucy… Lucy… Lucy,” until she pulled his head down and covered his mouth with hers, continuing the kiss begun on the street before the shooting.

She curled her arms around his neck and kissed him as if she meant it. He’d been too long without her to hold back. Clutching her skirts, he wadded them against her bottom as he carried her deeper into the kitchen, looking for a place for loving. When he stumbled into the table, it seemed like a fitting end to his quest.

He set her on the edge, freeing his hands to explore the rest of her. She gasped and  shivered as he fumbled with the buttons at the back of the blue dress. When her fingers touched his chest while unbuttoning his shirt, he groaned. In a moment they were bare-skinned, chest to breasts. His groan was too loud and she shushed him by covering his mouth with hers and inhaling his need.

But when he pinched her nipples, she arched into him and muffled her moans against his neck, kissing and nipping there as her desire grew. He hiked her skirts up around her waist, shifting her so that he could get the bulky material out from under her seat.

Without further ado, he freed his cock, opened the slit in her drawers and sank his shaft where it had needed to be for three long years. A sigh of relief came from both of them.

The only sound then was the slap of his groin against her pelvis as she tilted upward, taking all of him. He rode her hard, stretching inside to fill her, feeling the pulsing flex of internal muscles that clasped and milked his length.

He knew he was out of his mind with lust, but he couldn’t control this taking. Next time he’d slow down, make it better for her… She rolled her hips, throwing herself up, reaching for more of him, and he scooped her off the table and carried her to the wall, leaning her back against it.

He didn’t have to tell her to wrap her legs around him. Her thighs clutched his waist, ankles locked behind him, and he sank the remainder of his cock into her hot wetness.

“Hang on,” he grunted. Her breath gasped when he licked the mark on her neck down to her scarred breast, loving the nipple ’til it stood at rigid attention. He pulled on it with his teeth, stretching it taut before engulfing it with his mouth and sucking hard.

His hips thrust against her pelvis, sliding through her tight passage to thump against the sweet spot discovered years before. “Take it deep, sweetheart. Take it deep for me,” he groaned, grinding against her pearl with his groin.

She came, muscles rippling like a fist giving him a hand job. He couldn’t stop his own pleasure then, and went off with a roar. She bucked against him, her pussy pulling his seed from him as he filled her with three years of pent-up need.

Ambrose leaned with her against the wall as his legs threatened to buckle. When he had strength enough to lift his head, he looked around for a chair and staggered over to a stool in the corner.

He sat down, his cock remaining snugly inside her. Lucy didn’t seem to object. He knew he should have more consideration for her, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave the warm nest of comfort that her woman’s place offered.

He didn’t realize it was her tears wetting his shoulder ’til he reared back to give her a big smile. Her silent crying nearly broke his heart all over again. “Oh God, Lucy, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, sweetheart. I just needed you so much.”

His shaft was engorged, ready for seconds. He started to separate from her but she pulled on his neck and buried her face in the hair on his chest. He didn’t know quite what to make of it, so he held on to her until the silent shaking quit.

There was nothing he could do about his arousal buried deep inside her and she didn’t seem to want him gone so he sat stoically, embarrassed that he couldn’t control his body.

Finally, sliding her arms back up around his neck after first using a corner of his shirttail to dry her eyes, she said, “Again.”

That was all she said, but it was everything. She dropped her legs from his waist and planted her feet on the rungs of the stool, lifting up and then sliding slowly back down, rolling her hips and thrusting her pussy against his groin, taking him as deep as he could go.

He cupped her breasts, thumbing her nipples at the same time he whispered words of lust. “That’s it, sweetheart, squeeze. Let me know you want me inside you.”

She whimpered a little and captured his mouth, sucking on his tongue and rubbing hers against his. He wanted to be naked with her, sliding his body across hers, touching her everywhere, but this was heaven enough for now.

“We need a bed and six weeks uninterrupted,” Ambrose growled as he stroked in and out of her yielding heat. She tightened her channel around him, silently agreeing.

Her drawers were pulling against his shaft, every time she rode upward, until finally, he reached between them and tore the offending pantalettes.

Planting his thumb on the sensitive nub, he rotated it, teasing her pearl until she clenched and came again, jamming her hips at him, pleasuring herself on his hard tool until he felt her muscles draw tight and she shattered in his embrace.

Her sex clenched, milking his cock with her hot pulsing flesh and he lost his control, shooting his seed into her core. Finally they slumped against each other, his head resting on top of hers, her cheek lying over his heart. “My sweet, sweet Lucy,” he groaned.

This time, he lifted her high, noticing how light she was at the same time as his cock popped free with a little kissing sound. The double blast of his release and hers had left her underwear soggy and his britches damp in the front. It was a small price to pay for the glory they’d had together.

He withdrew and he could tell she was flustered as their joining ended.

He looked around for something to dry her with, but she brushed his help aside.

“It’s all right. I’ll find something. Sit right there.”

By the time he found a lamp to light, she already had her arms in her dress and stood at the sink, drawing a pan of water. She put herself to rights before carrying a wet cloth back to Ambrose. 

His cock stirred when she cleansed his groin, rinsing away the remnants of their coupling.

Done, she tossed the rag to the sink and turned, presenting her back and silently requesting her buttons be done up. Just as quietly, Ambrose complied, nuzzling and kissing the nape of her neck before he finished.

Lucy turned in his arms, buttoning his shirt, concentrating on each buttonhole and disc instead of looking up at him. In the glow from the lamp, he studied her flushed cheeks and swollen lips, and was again overwhelmed by primitive need.

Maybe she read his mind, because she flushed pinker and directed his gaze to the counter. “I’m going to make some coffee.” She rummaged through the cans of food ’til she found coffee beans and a grinder to use. “Hope you brought some money to leave for this food.”

Ambrose knew their coupling had embarrassed her and figured she might start talking about the weather any moment. He crossed to where she stood and wrapped her in another embrace, silently holding her ’til the smell of coffee filled the kitchen.

Not for the first time in his life, he wished for the gift of loquaciousness.  He wanted to tell her how much he loved her and how much he’d missed her. Instead, he heard himself ask, “You reckon that coffee’s fit to drink yet?”

Lucy patted the front of his shirt. “I’ll pour us each a cup. Maybe we can find a spot out of the way in the dining room to sit.” She retrieved two mugs sitting on the counter and filled them.

“I’m a little hungry, Luce. You didn’t eat much supper either. Since I’m leaving a payment for the use of the room, what say we raid the cupboards and roust up a meal?”

Her grin was his answer. The two of them pilfered through the kitchen pantry ’til Lucy found what she needed to whip up a batch of pancakes and fried eggs.

He toasted the slices of bread while she fixed the rest and he fussed over her the way he always wanted to. When she tried to avoid him, he got in her way more, determined to stay by her side.

“Hell no,” he told her. ”You need to fill a plate for yourself too.” She’d filled his platter and pointed him at the dining hall. Earlier, when he’d lifted her, he’d been shocked at how little she weighed. Her stalwart independence and touch-me-not attitude made her seem bigger than the reality.

Making a face, she filled two plates and handed them to him. He waited for her to follow him into the dining area but she fussed at the counter, cleaning the skillet she’d used and wiping off the table where they’d started their lovemaking.

When she was satisfied, giving the kitchen a last look and making sure all was clean and back in its proper place, she let him usher her from the room.

Lucy carried the two mugs of coffee and Ambrose held two plates stacked high as he scooted a table to a corner so they could see the comings and goings at all the entrances. He settled himself next to her rather than across, so that neither left an open back for someone to plug.

They sat beside each other, shoulders touching as they ate.

She picked at her food and he wolfed down his. “You’ve turned into a fine cook, Luce,” he complimented her. Before, she’d not even tried to fix meals, relying on the housekeeper that she’d hired.

“Why didn’t I cook before?”

It startled him to remember that her past was gone. He reached his hand up and laid it on hers, which was clenched around her fork. “You were young, not trained in the ways of a rancher’s wife.” He wanted to steer clear of this conversation but couldn’t figure the way.

“And is that also something we fought about? Me not being a good helpmate?” She’d stopped eating and looked at him, expecting an honest answer.

“Sometimes,” Ambrose answered, color flagging his cheeks.

“What else?” Lucy watched his face intently, waiting for his answer.

He took a big gulp of the half-cold coffee, stalling for time, trying to find easy words to explain. “Before you disappeared, I was mad as hell at the way you’d flirted at a dance the night before—but in my gut I knew you’d done it to goad me.”

Lucy asked, “Did you lay hands on me, try to hurt me?”

Her question jarred him. “Of course not. We had a fight about your horse project. I, uh…” He looked at his hands rather than at her, still ashamed at his handling of that situation. “I stopped you buying the mares that you had your heart set on having. That’s when you left me.”

Lucy gave a disgusted snort. “I left you because of a horse deal gone sour? Not to mention, I supposedly went without a word to my children? Mr. Quince, if you believe that, I have to question your intelligence.”

When she said it like that, it seemed impossible and he shook his head. “I see now how stupid that idea was. At the time, when you were gone…” He shuddered violently.

“When I was gone,” she said grimly, “someone used my disappearance to blacken both of our characters, trying to get control of everything we both have. “

Ambrose viewed the mess from that angle. Lucy gone, gossip painting him a murderer, rustlers stealing the ranch blind … The list grew as he thought over the last three years.

Lucy touched his hand and then held it between both of hers. “Ambrose, I know you’re a good man. A man I respect and trust. I can’t pledge to obey you because that’s against my nature. But I can swear to you I never abandoned you and my children and I never will.”

He felt the smile start in his chest and work upward.

Lucy said solemnly, “Are you sure you want to be married to me? I don’t think I’m the same person you wed.”

“And I’m not the same man you wed. We’re both different but that doesn’t change the fact we’re married.”