Lonesome Bride

  "Don't you fret, now, Miss Caite,” Danny said. “Not many people get the hang of poker right away."

  "Now you got to choose which cards you'll keep,” Hal put in from around his fat and stinking cigar. “You only get to keep five."

  Caite peeked at her last card and hid her whoop of excitement beneath a ladylike cough. Danny had dealt her the ace of diamonds. She had a full house. Once more the betting went around the table, and this time, Caite threw in the full contents of her purse.

  "Now, Miss Caitleen,” Danny cautioned. “You don't want to go throwing away all your money."

  "I'm willing to risk it,” said Caite bravely.

  The other men protested, but Jed cut them off. “The lady said she wants to risk it all,” he growled, laying his own bet on the table. “Let her."

  Reluctantly, Danny called for everyone to turn their cards face up.

  "If I keep these three aces and these two tens, does that leave me anything good?” Caite asked innocently, spreading the full house out on the table for all to see.

  She was met with stunned silence.

  "Well, I'll be a buggered toad,” Hal muttered under his breath.

  "Looks like the lady won,” Jed said sardonically, favoring Caite with the first grin he had given her all night. “Gather it up, Caitleen."

  "Beginner's luck, I guess,” Caite responded sweetly, and began putting her winnings back in her purse.

  * * * *

  "Sure ‘tweren't too nice o’ you to fool us like that,” Mick said several hours later, as Caite again swept the table clear of winnings.

  "You should know better than to trust a woman,” Jed told him.

  "I'm done in,” Hal declared, reaching over to shake Caite's hand. He was echoed by the other men as they all stood up from the table. “I reckon you earned my respect anyway, Miss Caite. I ain't never seen a better poker face on anyone in my life."

  Caite laughed merrily, the sound like discordant bells in Jed's whiskey soaked ears. “Thank you, Mr. Overton."

  She shook each of their hands soundly. When they had all left the table, she turned to Jed, her green eyes glowing with triumph. She leaned over the table conspiratorially.

  "Sorry to take all your money, Jed.” She laughed.

  Jed shrugged. The whiskey was still warming him from head to toe, and there wasn't much in the world right now that wouldn't strike him as funny. He reached over and pumped her hand as the others had done.

  "You're a heck of a poker player, Caitleen."

  Her smiled turned sad for an instant. “I learned from my father. He is an atrocious gambler. I watched to see what he did, and learned to do just the opposite."

  "I reckon it's not too ladylike to come to a saloon and play poker,” Jed said. He hadn't let go of her hand. It felt mighty fine in his.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Are you going to start that again?"

  "Don't get your bloomers in a bunch,” Jed said, realizing for the first time he was slurring his words. “Why'd you come here anyway? I'd have thought the last face you'd want to see tonight would be mine, the way you yelled back at the hotel."

  "I wanted to show you that it's not only men who can carouse,” Caite replied, tucking the last bit of money into her purse and tying it around her waist.

  "Why?"

  His question seemed to stump her for a moment. “Why not?"

  Jed shrugged. “So you've shown me you can gamble. Do you want to learn how to drink, too?"

  Caite wrinkled her nose at him. “What makes you think I need to learn?"

  Jed laughed. “You can't hold your liquor like a man can, Caitleen, no matter how much you'd like to."

  "Hold it like you are?” she asked, folding her arms across her oh-so-lovely bosom. When had he lost her hand?

  "Yesh,” Jed said, then said it again to get it right. “Yes. Let's see you do it."

  She appeared to think about the prospect, then turned and motioned to Mac. “Another round of what Mr. Peters has been having!"

  This ought to be good, Jed thought, watching Mac fill two more shots with whiskey. He slugged down the first. Caite took the second, turning it around in her hand and looking at it from all angles.

  "What are you waiting for?” Before he had even finished his sentence, Caite had tossed the shot down her throat like a pro. “Blue-eyed blazes!"

  Caite slammed the glass down on the table and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Nothing to it."

  "I am in awe,” Jed declared in drunken admiration. Clumsily, he lifted her hand and kissed the tips of her fingers. At least he tried to kiss the tips of her fingers. His lips seemed to have other ideas, and he ended up smacking the air. Who cared? She got the idea.

  "Another!” Caite signaled to Mac, who obliged promptly.

  Twenty minutes later, the table had been swept clear of cards and money and even glasses. Jed held Caite's hand in his own, both their elbows up on the table.

  "I don't want to hurt you!” Jed exclaimed, blinking at Caite. She seemed to be a little blurry.

  "Don't make me break your arm!” she crowed back, pushing down on his arm with enough sudden force to slam his hand into the table. “I won!"

  Blast. She'd actually arm wrestled him and won. Rubbing his hand, Jed looked at the woman across from him with new respect. And he was afraid to say he loved her? What the blazes was the matter with him? Forget about the checkers, the woman was a poker fiend, and she could down a half-bottle of whiskey to beat the band.

  "Why are you looking at me like that?” Caite asked. Then she giggled. Then she narrowed her eyes at him. Then she giggled again.

  "You're drunk,” Jed accused, pointing an unsteady finger at her.

  "I beg your pardon?” Caite asked huffily. “I am no such thing."

  She giggled again. Jed joined her, reaching across the table to clap her on the shoulder. He must have slapped a little too hard, because Caite fell off her chair. She didn't seem to be hurt. She just giggled some more.

  "It feels like ants in my belly,” she gasped at last.

  Jed helped her up from the floor. Her chair had seemed to disappear, so there was only one place for her to sit. He heaved her onto his lap. Blue-eyed blazes and blast! Aside from the odor of stale cigars, sweat and spilled beer, she was the prettiest thing he'd ever smelled. And he told her so.

  "You think I smell good?” She didn't push him away when he nuzzled her under her ear.

  "Mmmhmm."

  "You two going to be wanting anything else?” Mac asked.

  "I'm tired of whiskey,” Caite declared suddenly, wiggling herself more comfortably on Jed's lap.

  "We'll have two beers,” Jed said. “Quit wiggling there, Caite."

  "Why?” She turned to him, wide-eyed, as if she had no idea what the heck she was doing to him.

  Mac returned with the beers before he had time to answer her. “Here,” Jed said, handing her the foamy glass. “Drink this."

  Caite took the glass from him. “How am I supposed to drink this when there's all this funny white stuff on the top?"

  She held the glass in two hands, bringing it so close to her face some of the foam got on her nose. She laughed then dipped her tongue into the beer's creamy top. At the sight of that pink ribbon sliding from between her lips, Jed nearly spilled his own beer. She slipped her tongue again into the foam, using the tip to scoop up some of the suds.

  "Jesus, Caitleen!” Jed cried, dropping his glass entirely. “Are you going to drink that beer or make love to it?"

  She turned to look at him again. Her face was flushed, and her hair had begun to pull out of the tight bun. Her eyes sparkled. Slowly, slowly, she ran that tempting tongue along her lips again, keeping eye contact with him all the while.

  "I reckon,” she replied in husky imitation of him, “I'd like to make love. But not to the beer."

  With a groan, Jed stood and grabbed her up in his arms. He vaguely heard the chair clatter to the floor behind him, but paid it no mind. He locked hi
s mouth on Caite's, tasting her sweet flavor mixed with the beer's tang.

  Somehow he managed to carry her to the front of the saloon, where he promptly tripped on his own feet. The two of them landed in the street, arms and legs atangle. Caite began to guffaw, tears streaming from her eyes.

  "You want to get us locked up for public drunkenness?” Jed hissed, clapping his hand over her mouth. Caite kept laughing, even when he dragged her to her feet.

  "Oh, Jed,” she said and laughed, as finally they stumbled up the stairs to the hotel's second floor. “I haven't laughed so hard in ages."

  "I reckon it's ‘cause you haven't been this drunk in ages,” Jed told her, fumbling with the key to the door. His hands seemed all thumbs. It didn't help his left eye kept wanting to close on him. Caite pressing her lush body up against him and whispering to him to get inside didn't help much either.

  "I was drunk on elderberry wine once,” she declared self-righteously. The door opened suddenly, and they nearly fell inside.

  "Oh, yeah?"

  "Yesh.” Caite giggled. “I was ten years old. Gerda gave me the spanking of my life!"

  Kicking the door shut behind them, Jed pulled her into his arms. “You got a spanking, did you?” he asked, nipping at her ear. He ran his hands down her back to cup her buttocks.

  "Yes, I did.” Caite nodded.

  Jed lightly swatted her bottom, then squeezed the firm globes. “Like this?"

  Caite giggled. “Oh, no, much harder than that!"

  Jed rubbed his palms over her pert backside again. Caite pushed against him, wrapping her arms around his neck and planting sloppy kisses on the front of his shirt. Muttering under her breath, she hooked her fingers in the bottom of his shirt and began tugging it loose from his pants.

  Letting go of her delicious derriere to help her in her efforts, Jed next moved his fingers to the front of her blouse. There must have been about twenty tiny buttons there, none of which wanted to respond to his fumbling.

  "Oh, just tear the blasted thing!” Caite cried.

  No woman had ever said such a thing to him before. He'd been sporting a mighty respectable tent-pole before that, but at her words, the whole blasted teepee sprouted in his pants. If she wanted him to tear it, then by God, tear it he would!

  "You tore my blouse,” said Caite in disbelief, staring at Jed and the two pieces of fine linen he held in his hands.

  Truth be told, he was a little shocked himself at what he'd done. He didn't really think the darn thing would be so flimsy. He didn't know anything about women's clothes!

  "You told me to,” he said, still clutching the scraps. He was unable to take his eyes off her. She looked like a Greek statue, standing there in her dark skirt, her gorgeous breasts bared to his view.

  "You tore my blouse,” Caite repeated. Then she giggled. “Tore it right the hell off me!"

  If her telling him to rip her shirt off had aroused him, the sound of her swearing made his knees go weak. Throwing the pieces of her shirt aside, Jed grasped a rosy tipped breast in each hand, and propelled Caite to the bed. It hit the back of her knees, causing her to buckle and fall backwards. He was right there with her.

  "Jed,” she murmured. The laughter was gone from her voice, replaced by need.

  "Caite,” he whispered back, pressing his mouth to one nipple and gently suckling.

  She curved her back, moaning. Jed dipped to taste the second breast, equally as sweet and fragrant as the first. He slid his mouth from one to the other until Caite gripped his shoulders so tightly he was sure she'd leave marks.

  "You are so beautiful,” he murmured. He found the buttons at her waistband, and swiftly undid them. His earlier drunken fumbling had passed; now his fingers seemed as precise as a watchmaker's. He slid the heavy garment off and tossed it to the floor. Next came the petticoat, until she was wearing only a sheer pair of bloomers.

  She moved her hips beneath his touch, urging him to continue, but Jed found himself unable to move. The nearly transparent cloth hid nothing, although it covered her fully from waist to shins. He could see straight through the fabric to the auburn tangle of curls marking her womanhood. A cold sweat broke out on his brow. His rod pulsed and throbbed against the restraint of his pants, so he knew he had to take them down quickly, lest the rubbing cloth bring him to his climax.

  Hushing Caite's protests, Jed pulled away enough to remove his trousers. Instantly, his erection sprang free, standing up as proud and tall as any good soldier. Lord, but the breeze moving across him was torture itself. As he looked down at himself, a spasm of excitement shook him. He had to bite his lip, nearly drawing blood, in order to regain control.

  Going slowly only because he needed to control his own arousal, Jed knelt on the floor and took Caite's ankle in his hands. He kissed the delicate bone jutting out, then kissed her again slightly higher. Higher and higher he pressed his mouth, pushing up the material of her bloomers so he could tease the sweet flesh underneath her knee with his tongue. Caite trembled, moaning. He continued up her thigh, over the cloth this time, until at last he reached the place he longed for most.

  Reaching beneath her to cup her buttocks, Jed pressed his mouth against the softly rounded hill of her pubis. Caite let out a strangled cry and bucked her hips. Jed allowed his tongue to wet the fabric covering her, turning the material completely translucent. He could feel the edge of the bedspread brushing against his rock hard penis, and it only added to the excruciating pleasure he was feeling.

  "You are so beautiful,” he told her again. He could feel the hard kernel of her arousal through the sheer fabric. He bent his mouth to her again, rolling the little bud between his lips until she cried out and rocked her hips.

  "Jed,” he heard her say, and knew neither one of them could wait much longer.

  In an instant he slid the bloomers down and off. He only took a moment to gaze at her before moving on top of her. She opened her arms to him, brought his mouth to hers, and he sheathed himself in her velvety heat with one thrust.

  Caite cried out as he entered her, clawing his back. Jed no longer felt drunk. He felt more alive, more gloriously aware of every single grain of sensation, than he ever had in his life. Each thrust was ecstasy, even more so because Caitleen moved beneath him and met his passion with her own.

  He'd never been with a woman who fit so well with him, or one who had driven him to such heights of pleasure merely by moaning his name. Each thrust brought them higher and higher, until there was nothing in the world but the two of them. He could feel the trembling in her thighs that let him know she was feeling the same exquisite pleasure now tightening his balls.

  At last, she stiffened beneath him, her throaty cry letting him know she had reached her peak. Knowing she had reached ecstasy sent him over the edge. With a last, shuddering thrust, he emptied himself into her, and collapsed.

  When the sweat had cooled somewhat, he was able to roll slightly to one side. He pressed his face into the tumble of her hair, taking in the scent of her. He tightened his arms around her, knowing all at once he would never find another woman who made his heart beat so fast. He's be a darned fool to let her get away just because of three stupid little words, words he now knew he meant anyway.

  "Caitleen,” he whispered into her hair, relieved at last to be able to say what he knew was true. “I love you."

  She said nothing. She was probably too happy to speak. Jed shook her slightly.

  "Caite? I said I love you."

  Her only reply was a loud, uninterrupted burst of snoring.

  CHAPTER 13

  A cat had fallen asleep in her mouth. Caite risked opening her eyes a fraction. Instantly, she snapped them closed against the bright shaft of morning light beaming in the window. She groaned. How could she still be alive after the train had hit her?

  She rolled gingerly to her side, at once finding herself pressed up against an unexpected barrier. She cracked her eyes open again. She was facing a warm, hairy, body—Jed's body. The hairs of his ch
est tickled her nose, and she fought back the sneeze threatening to explode her head.

  She looked down at the rest of him. Every part was just as naked as his chest. She looked at herself. She was naked, too. The train must have knocked their clothes off after it hit them.

  She rolled herself the other way, sliding her feet onto the floor. As carefully as if she were made of china, she sat up. Immediately, the tapping toes in her head turned into a flat-out square dance. She stifled another groan with the back of her hand, suddenly, frightfully, aware her stomach was sloshing violently.

  "Oh, dear Lord,” she moaned softly then clapped both hands across her mouth to quell a gag. She needed a chamber pot. She dropped to her knees, one hand still pressed desperately against her lips, and scrabbled under the bed.

  Just as she pulled out the chamber pot, her stomach erupted. She retched miserably, emptying everything inside her into the porcelain pot. Again and again she heaved, until her stomach was sore and her throat raw.

  "Take a sip of this,” Jed ordered. He handed her a tumbler, and she tried to push it away. “It's water. Just sip it. It'll make you feel better."

  She did as he told her, taking a mouthful of the clear fluid. It came back up almost immediately. Red-hot embarrassment filled her. To be sick in front of someone else was bad enough, but retching naked was just about as miserable as a person could get.

  She sat back finally, and wiped her face gratefully with the damp cloth Jed handed her. “Thank you."

  "Do you think you can stand up?"

  She nodded, every movement like rocks tumbling in her brain. She allowed Jed to tug her gently to her feet. He helped her to sit down on the bed again, then pulled a linen night shift over her head so she was covered. She allowed him to push her back onto the pillows, and then she slept.

  When she woke later, the cat was no longer sleeping in her mouth. It had left a few furballs behind to remind her it had been there, but the feline itself had thankfully vanished. Caite could tell by the angle of the sun slanting through the window, several hours had passed.