Chapter 30 #2
Her hands fisted in his shirt as her name in his smooth baritone washed over her. It had been so long. “I want you to be sure. If Mr. Abernathy can find Rowena Dunn in St. Louis, what’s stopping someone from finding Miss Charlotte in Carroll County, Virginia, or wherever we land?”
“You mean as easily as they could discover, Seth Walker is, in reality, a reformed member of the infamous Hartigan Gang? I’ve thought about this. The truth getting out will always be a risk. But it’s one I’ll take every day to be with you.”
“How many times must I say this? I don’t care what people think. Besides, I’ve found people tolerate a bit of notoriety if you’re wealthy and carry a pair of Colt Peacemakers.”
He grinned, only half joking, but she was too worried to return his smile.
“I don’t know, Seth. I’m afraid my funds won’t be as substantial as you think. Fen was an avid gambler, if you recall. As for our joint account, it supported us comfortably and kept the bar afloat, but it isn’t anywhere near enough for a new start without Eldridge House.”
“I wasn’t referring to your funds or Fenton’s, but mine,” he drawled.
Charlotte blinked in surprise. “I didn’t realize hunting down fugitives paid so well.”
“It does if you’re good at it.”
Given that he consistently returned from his out-of-town trips with the man he pursued in tow, his claim wasn’t an empty boast.
“I’ve done all right for myself. The trouble is, I couldn’t carry it with me on the trail. That would have been asking for trouble. I have it stashed in a half dozen banks from Illinois to Texas.”
“How much is all right?” she inquired, feeling incredibly intrusive, but this was their future they were talking about.
“Let me see. Bringing in four or five fugitives each month at $100 each, with some paying five or ten times as much, spanning thirteen years...” He paused, his brow furrowing as he did his calculations.
Then he shrugged. “I don’t have an exact total, but there’s more than enough to last us a lifetime. ”
As he gazed down at her, she marveled at how truly handsome he was. His face would be the first and last thing she saw each day for the rest of her life.
Suddenly, he flashed a broad grin. “Well?” he prompted.
“Well, what?” she replied, puzzled.
“You’re tough on a man’s ego, love. It’s customary for a woman to answer—perhaps accompanied by a smile and, even better, kisses—when a man asks her a particular question.”
It came to her then; he had proposed. Although a hundred what-ifs ran through her head, she followed her heart, which was hopelessly in love with him. “Yes, Seth. I’ll marry you.”
He let out a whoop that made her jump nearly out of her skin. Then he tempered some of his exuberance, pulled her into his arms, and vowed, “I’m going to spend the rest of our lives seeing to your happiness.”
The kiss started slow and sweet, his hands cradling her face while his thumbs wiped the tears from her cheeks.
Soon, his tongue traced the seam of her lips, seeking entrance, and passion flared to life, as it always did for them.
Charlotte responded eagerly, her hands sliding into the thickness of his hair.
The taste of him, a mix of mint and desire, sent a shiver down her spine.
Suddenly, he swept her into his arms. With his mouth on hers, he took a step toward the bedroom but muttered that it was too far away and carried her to the settee instead.
He sat with her astride his knees and, with her help, rucked up her skirts to her waist. Then he leaned back and tore open his pants.
With his shaft rising impressively between them, he lifted her, thrusting up as she sank onto him.
Leaning down, cradling his face for a change, she kissed him while undulating slowly, making it last, when what she really wanted was a hard, wild ride.
He stopped her, an arm around her waist.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Something’s poking me.”
“Um, shouldn’t I be the one saying that?” she drawled then laughed, giddy with joy.
“Yes, and I’ll get back to that in a second.” His arm flexed, holding her to him as he shifted onto one hip. With his free hand, he pulled her cloak from under him.
He looked up at her, brow arched in mild recrimination.
“Sorry. I spread it out to let it dry.”
Seth started to toss it aside, but stopped, bringing it closer. “This section of hem is stiff.”
“That’s not all that’s stiff,” she deadpanned. “Can we get back to taking care of it?”
“Minx,” he accused. “I’m serious. It’s not like the rest. Something’s off.”
“It’s old. I shouldn’t wear it.” In her haste, as she tried to take it from him, she heard a rip. “See what I mean?”
“Hold on. There’s something in there.”
“Um, Sheriff? That could be said about me, too.”
He chuckled but wasn’t deterred. To her amazement, he withdrew a rolled-up piece of waxed paper sewn into the garment.
“What on earth is that?”
“Patience is a virtue, so I’ve heard,” Seth murmured, his focus on carefully unrolling it.
Having lost her virtue a long time ago, she couldn’t wait. “Well?”
“It’s a legal document of some kind,” he said, then, squinting to see in the low light, read from the yellowed paper. “Attested to me, Paul Abernathy, attorney at law in the state of Virginia, on this the eighth day of March, 1863, is the last will and testament of Phillip James Eldridge.”
Charlotte gasped, both hands flying to cover her mouth.
“Someone who knew about Jael’s false claims must have hidden it in the hem,” Seth surmised.
“Maw McPhee,” she exclaimed. “She was with our family for decades, and she helped with the packing. She also insisted I take the cloak with me.”
“Why the secrecy? You could have dealt with Jael if she’d given it to you then.”
“I’m not so sure. I tried going to Mr. Abernathy for help, but he had left the state.
And Jael had her spies keeping watch, so I can understand Maw’s reluctance.
If she had spoken up, she would have faced the same fate as me—being turned out and left destitute.
I’m certain she never expected it would take me years to discover it. ”
“You can’t let her win,” he declared, his voice tight with anger. “You must go back and fight for your legacy. With the will and Mr. Abernathy, you have ample ammunition.”
Seth twisted and set her waxed paper-encased future carefully aside. When he did, he also shifted deep inside her.
Charlotte let out a sigh as her desire for him reignited. “Are we through talking about wills and old clothes and revenge?”
He glanced up at her, and a slow grin replaced his scowl, so handsome her heart beat erratically—and for other, more intimate reasons as well.
“Am I delaying your pleasurable pursuits, love?”
“Yes, and just as I was hitting my stride.”
His grin broadened. “Never say Prince Charming neglected a lady in need.” His hand curled around the back of her neck and pulled her down for a soul-stirring kiss. Then he released her, and, with a devilish smile, urged, “Ride on, Cinderella.”
Charlotte moved at her own pace, her body undulating atop his. His unwavering gaze following her every motion only fueled her excitement.
Seth didn’t remain passive for long. He sat up, his splayed hands gliding up her back. Her breath caught as his mouth trailed down her neck, gently nipping and sucking her sensitive skin.
“Unfasten your gown; I want to taste more of you,” he ordered, his warm breath dancing along her damp skin.
The dress laced up the back. She couldn’t wait the minutes it would take to remove it, much less stop what they were doing. Impatiently, she tugged down the neckline and let her breasts spill free.
His hand slid down to cradle her bottom, easily covering both cheeks and directing her movements.
The other hand curled beneath her breast, and his lips sealed around the hardened peak, drawing on it firmly.
Her body arched, pressing against him, her moan of delight an invitation for him to take more.
He did so, eagerly moving to her other breast and lavishing on that nipple the same exquisite treatment.
Her fingers sank into his hair, holding him to her.
So caught up in the sensations—his mouth, and the fullness and friction of him inside her—she didn’t notice his fingers until they found the bud at the front of her sex.
A simple flick and rub ignited her like a flash fire, and she cried out her release.
Seth didn’t join her just yet. Deftly, he flipped her onto her back on the settee, and, with her gown and feet up by her ears, drove into her until he, too, released an impassioned cry—his reverberated through the room, more guttural and robust than her own.
Afterward, he collapsed on top of her, and they clung to one another, winded but sated.
He recovered first and pushed himself up on his muscular arms, letting her breathe more easily, and smiled at her tenderly. “My darlin’ bride-to-be, I’ve always put great stock in my instincts. They’re telling me only good things lie ahead for us.”
“Please don’t say that. Every time I dare to dream, it ends badly.”
Propped on one hand, he cradled her face with the other. “Sweetheart, you’re going to have to believe that all changed the day you met me.”
“Which time? When you saved me from burning up with a sadistic madman or when you walked into the Red Eye to investigate an alley shooting or—”
He hushed her by covering her lips with his thumb. Eyes twinkling with amusement, he asked, “I know you’re stubborn, but are you also always so literal?”
“No, but I’m a pessimist, which differs from your unwavering optimism.” She closed her eyes and muttered, “We’re complete opposites. How will we ever make this work?”
“ Doubt thou the stars are fire, doubt that the sun doth move. Doubt truth to be a liar ,” he recited before leaning in and whispering against her lips. “But never doubt that I love you.”
“You can quote Hamlet,” she gasped, awestruck and falling more deeply in love with him. “Now I know this is a dream; you’re too good to be true. But don’t pinch me. I don’t want to wake up.”
“I wouldn’t dare. We are such stuff as dreams ,” he also quoted. Then, chuckling, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to bed.