broke from hers, she cried out his name. She didn't know if it was a plea, a broken whisper, a beseechment that he leave her…or a prayer that he stay with her.
Whatever it was, it changed his touch. He went very still. Shannon was amazed that she had freed her hands, only to wind her arms around him, only to rake her fingers through his hair. She felt the touch of his fingers, slowly curling around her breasts over the satin of the gown.
'I am not lying!' he vowed again, and softly. He rubbed her nipple between his thumb and forefinger and felt it swell to his touch. She felt the softness of his beard, and the sweet, burning tenderness of his kiss. He ravaged her body still, but with care, with passion, but with some strange lust gone, so gentle that she arched and writhed and twisted toward him, maddened to feel more and more of it…
Then he thrust into her, deep, full, grinding, and defying all his previous gentleness. Bold, determined, sure, his fingers and his eyes locked with hers as he claimed her completely and cast her shuddering to her depths with the ecstasy of feeling his body within her own, burning within her, a part of her mind, her heart, her frame…her soul.
'Malachi.' She whispered his name again as he began to move within her. She held him, embraced him, caressed him. Fever and tempest were with them as they whirled and whirled in a dark and furious and timeless storm that stripped away pretense…
And even hatred…
Satisfaction burst upon them, as volatile as the burning cannon fire of the war that had raged around them.
He pulled from her when it was over. She lay silent; he lay looking at the ceiling.
'What are we doing to one another?' he said softly. But he didn't look her way. He rose. Shannon could not move, not even to adjust the satin of the gown over her hips. She heard him doffing his borrowed clothes, donning his own trousers and shirt and boots. She still did not move.
He paused at last. 'We've got to go. Get up. Get dressed. I'll explain when you come down, but I've got some good news as far as freeing Kristin is concerned. Hurry. We need to get moving.'
He walked to the door. When he reached it, he paused for several seconds.
'I'm sorry, Shannon. Really sorry. It…it won't happen again.'
He was gone. She listened dully as his footsteps faded away on the staircase. Listlessly, she curled into herself. She had to get up. She had to get dressed and ready. They were going after Kristin. This was what it was all about…
She dragged herself up. Then she leaped up from the bed, anxious to call him back because she realized now she could still hear his footsteps. She had to tell him that she was sorry, too, so very sorry… 'Malachi!'
He was coming up the stairs, coming back to her. She raced to the doorway.
A man was coming up the stairs. He was wearing a feather hat, and his head was bowed low, and the brim covered his face. But it wasn't Malachi. A sense of danger suddenly sheared along her spine.
At that moment he reached the top step and raised his head.
She stared straight into the evil leering face of the bushwhacker, Justin Waller. 'Howdy, Shannon. Excuse me— howdy, Mrs. Gabriel,' he said softly. 'My, my, my, I have been anxious to catch up with you. And you do look particularly pretty this morning.'
'You!' she cried, swinging around to dive for the Colt.
'Me! Justin Waller, Mrs. Gabriel. Why, yes'm, I've turned up again, and I am…anxious!'
The Colt was on the floor somewhere. She groped frantically, opened her mouth to scream. The sound that issued from her was a breathy gasp. He caught her around the waist. She opened her mouth to scream again, and his hand clamped tight over her mouth. 'No, no, my little darlin',' he crooned, his face taut against hers, his pleased grin displaying his teeth. 'You do have to hush! The captain might have gone for the horses, but the Haywoods are downstairs, and I planned to leave kind of quiet like. I do want to deal with Malachi Slater, but not here. Not now. You're going to be real, real quiet for me.'
Shannon tried desperately to inhale and bite his hand. He laughed, reaching into his pocket with his free hand, and produced a soaking, foul-smelling scarf. He removed his hand from her mouth. She gasped in quickly to scream, but before she could issue a sound, he dropped the scarf upon her face, and she inhaled the potent drug upon it.
The room spun and faded and went opaque, and then disappeared entirely from view.
Justin Waller waited. Her eyes fell shut; she went limp beneath him. He pulled the scarf from her face at last, and lifted her dead weight over his shoulder.
At the top of the staircase, he hesitated. He heard Slater talking in the kitchen.
Quickly, quietly, he ran down the stairs and out the front door. The street was quiet. He smiled. He walked calmly to his horse, tossed Shannon over the animal's flanks, and mounted behind her lolling body.
And rode serenely out of town.
When Malachi returned with the horses, Iris was already waiting for him, seated in a small buckboard wagon. She was wearing green brocade with a cocky little feathered hat, and the green went exceptionally well with her red hair.
Malachi tethered the horses and looked at her. 'You're a beautiful woman, Iris,' he told her.
She smiled and didn't flush. 'Thanks, Malachi. You didn't need to say that.'
'You don't need to come.'
'Yes, I do,' Iris said. 'You don't know anything about the back entrance to Cindy's house. And you won't be able to run around in the town of Sparks, I promise you. You won't be able to do your brother one bit of good if you're arrested along with his wife.'
'I don't like putting you into danger,' he said softly.
'I won't be in any danger. Cindy's a friend of mine. I come into Sparks often enough. I'm known there.'
'Still—'
'Malachi, I swear that I will be in no danger.
Malachi still didn't like it, but he knew he had no right to dictate to Iris. And her trip to Sparks had been monumentally important.
She had found Cole. He'd been sitting in the local saloon, his hat pulled low over his head. She hadn't recognized him herself at first, not until she'd leaned back and seen his silver gray eyes. He'd been wearing ranch clothes and a Mexican serape and his face had been covered with the rustic start of a beard and mustache. He hadn't looked at all like Cole.
He'd recognized Iris, though. Before she could talk to him, he'd come up quickly to buy her a drink, then he had told her he was going by the name of Jake Egan.
Iris had brought him to Cindy's place, a big gabled house her friend owned on the outskirts of town. It was a cathouse, of course, and Shannon was sure to hate it, but that was where they were going now.
Cole told Iris that Jamie was just over the border, and he had gotten word to him. The three of them planned to converge in Sparks, and take matters from there. Thanks to Iris and her friends, they would have a good place from which to plan and work.
Iris glanced toward the Haywoods. 'Your wife ain't pleased, I take it?'
He shrugged. 'I haven't told her yet.'
Iris frowned. 'But—'
'We had an argument. We didn't get that far,' Malachi said briefly.
Iris lowered her head and a smile stole over her lips. 'I hope you told her that I wasn't with you—'
'Iris, it doesn't matter—'
'It matters to me! I'd just as soon she not shoot me.'
'She's not going to shoot you, Iris.'
'Malachi—'
'Iris, the matter is solved.'
'I don't think so, Malachi.'
'And why is that?'
Well, as you might have noticed, Mrs. Slater isn't out here yet.'
Malachi swore softly. He started up the porch steps toward the front door.
