Something Like Love

  Neil was pretending too; pretending that there were no barriers to them being together, no looming trial, no differences in their stations. In his mind, they had a lifetime—not days—to explore whatever it was they were feeling for each other. Holding her against his heart felt as natural to him as breathing.

  He walked her into the house, and they doused candles and lamps as they went. The distant sounds of voices and music from the goings-on at Sophie’s hotel floated through the velvet silence, but Neil and Olivia barely heard them, because there were about to be goings-on in the living quarters of Miss Olivia’s Dressmaking Emporium that were of an entirely different nature.

  In the bedroom, she stood before the mirror and removed her hat. Placing it on the wooden bureau below the mirror, she raised her eyes back to the glass and saw him reflected behind her. Even though he was on the other side of the room, she felt as if he were much closer; so close she could feel the warmth of his breath teasing against her neck and his trail-hardened thighs against her own. Anticipation thickened the air. Nothing needed to be said; they both knew.

  Feeling bolder than ever in life, Olivia held his eyes and untied the strings of her cameo she’d worn in honor of her mother and set it on the bureau top. Next came the silky ascot around her neck and the large gold broach accenting it. His eyes in the mirror fairly glowed with desire, and it spurred her on. The rhinestone buttons snaking down the front of her cinch-waisted jacket were freed one by one. The Eve awakened inside of herself made Olivia disrobe slowly, purposefully. Off came the jacket, followed by her skirt. Her own eyes smoky, she watched him watch her remove the apronlike bustle with its staircase of steplike pleats. As she undid the buttons of her blouse, the intensity of his interest and the arching heat made her fingers tremble.

  She turned her head so she could see him truly, and the moment was so vivid that it was as if time had slowed.

  Then he came to her and fit himself close behind her. He placed soft, humid kisses up the plane of her throat. His hands came up to cup her breasts. Her eyes closed, and she arched against his strong chest. He played with her in and out of the camisole, making her nipples answer to his fevered call and her moans rise in the silence.

  Neil’s discovery that she wasn’t wearing a corset sent him soaring; he was filling his hands with warm woman flesh, pressing his lips against the side of her perfumed neck, and that hardened him even more. “Open your eyes, Olivia. Watch your husband make love to you….”

  Reflected in the mirror, there she stood in her camisole, drawers, stockings, and shoes. He was behind her, his kisses on her neck, his hands sensually moving the camisole over and around her breasts. Fingers teased, circled, and rubbed. The nipples were berry hard, and the tableau was so very scandalous that she had to close her eyes or explode.

  The rest of her clothes were taken next; slowly, lazily, his hands stroking and teasing as the garments magically melted away.

  Neil wanted to move over to the bed but found it impossible to stop touching and stroking her satiny skin. He figured he could stand with her just this way for the rest of his life. The citizens of Henry Adams were in danger of ever seeing their beautiful mayor again, because he was never going to let her go.

  Olivia had expected to be modest and embarrassed in the marriage bed, but Neil had her so enthralled that being a shrinking violet was the furthest thing from her mind. He was teaching her the smoldering joy to be found in uninhibited loving, and she was a student willing to learn every lesson in the curriculum.

  He led her to the bed, kissed her, then left her for a moment to turn down the lamps.

  When he returned, she looked up at him from her seat in the middle of the bed and felt nothing but wonder. She rose on her knees, and her hand tenderly captured his bearded jaw. With her kiss, she drew him down to join her, and he didn’t protest at all.

  Olivia was lying on her back. For the first time in her life, she was naked to the sweep of a man’s hand. Had she not been so overwhelmed by the caresses moving over her like a sculptor fashioning clay, she might have been able to put the experience into words, but she was floating in such a hazy world of desire, and the sensations were so blissful the words wouldn’t come. She was hard in some places and damp in others. She opened her legs when his touch soundlessly invited her to, then arched while he brazenly lingered within the dewed folds of her passion-swollen core.

  Neil knew that if he didn’t have her soon he was going to hurt himself; she was hot, wet, and more lush than he’d ever imagined. He undid his belt buckle, then struggled out of his borrowed shirt. So as not to neglect the tight-breasted mayor reclining on the bed, he lowered his head and took a ripe nipple into his mouth. He toyed with it until she moaned softly. Satisfied, he straightened and rid himself of his trousers.

  Olivia tried not to stare, but she couldn’t help looking at him in all his dark Seminole glory. She grazed her eyes across his chiseled arms and shoulders and his trim waist. That brought her attention to the hard proof of his need, and she thought it better to concentrate on his mustached face instead.

  He asked with quiet amusement, “Something wrong?”

  Now she was embarrassed. “No.”

  Getting onto the bed, he felt the springs adjust to his weight, and he lay on his side and faced her. Leveraging himself on the elbow of one arm, he used the other hand to trace her bottom lip. “Some women find it kind of strange-looking at first…”

  She glanced down and then up quickly. Suddenly she was not as uninhibited as before. In fact, for the first time tonight she felt like the virgin bride she knew herself to be, wondering if she really would enjoy the marriage bed.

  “You’ll be fine,” he whispered, as if reading her mind and trailing a finger over her gorgeous breasts.

  Olivia confessed, “I’ve never seen a nude man before—”

  “I would hope not,” he replied with a soft chuckle.

  She thought back for a moment and corrected her earlier statement. “Well, I have, I guess.” She then told him about the erotic postcards she’d seen at Oberlin.

  “Oh, really?” he said, sounding surprised. “And here the country’s thinking you young ladies are there learning mathematics and how to speak French.”

  Olivia’s eyes were closed because he was tracing imaginary circles and lines over her sensitized skin. She was realizing it was hard to keep her thinking clear when he was around.

  He kissed her, deepening it until she melted into the feather bed beneath her back and he murmured, “You’ll have to tell me about them one day soon…” Right now, Neil didn’t need any added stimulus—he was just this side of exploding as it was—so, kissing his way down her full brown body, he prepared her for their ride to heaven. Touching his tongue to the circle of her navel, he asked, “Are you ready, Mrs. July?…”

  In response to the fingers now moving over the damp, hot place between her thighs, she breathed, “Yes.”

  Neil loved watching her feed on his loving; loved the way she arched, loved the way her candy-hard nipples rose so invitingly. “Are you sure?…” He bit a nipple with love-gentled teeth.

  “Yes…”

  His voice was as hot as she, and twice as hushed as the room. “Let’s make sure….”

  When he leaned down and placed a gentle lick against the place he’d been preparing so marvelously, she let out a strangled moan.

  “What’s the matter, novia?” Neil opened her gently, then feasted slowly; lingering, dallying. He reached up until his fingers captured both nipples. Giving them a tender squeeze, he circled his tongue around the lodestone that made her woman, and she twisted and opened her legs in wanton invitation. He gently sucked the temple into his mouth, slid two fingers into the palace walls, and the release shattered her.

  Neil decided that making her come was even more exciting than train robbing. While she rode the last waves of her orgasm, he fit his manhood gently inside and pushed. Her eyes opened and held his. Forcing himself to go slowly, even as his or
gan screamed for the full taking, he teased himself in and out; coaxing her, enticing her. “It may hurt, querida, but only this first time.” Her lids fluttered closed, and passion tightened her face.

  Unable to hold back any longer, Neil pushed past the barrier and, using all the discipline he had, held still.

  Olivia wasn’t sure she cared for this part; he was big, he felt foreign, and the push that had taken him past her virginity hurt.

  Neil wanted this night to be one of pleasure, not pain. In his mind, no woman should eschew lovemaking because their first time hadn’t been good. Concentrating on her pleasure, he began with gentle strokes, moving his hands over the soft skin of her waist and the hardened nipples of her breasts. He kissed her lips, her jaw, his hand continuing its sensual mapping in hopes that her passion would be revived. A moment later, he felt her responding; felt the rhythm in her hips tentatively rising to meet his. He knew she would be all right, and because he did, he increased the pace.

  Olivia decided she’d been wrong; she did like this. Her body seemed to have adjusted to his size, and his stroking had extinguished the hurt. Now, things were as they were before; her body was being rekindled by kisses and touches, and the feel of him inside her was glorious indeed—so glorious, in fact, the fullness signaling the path to orgasm was increasing steadily. Who knew this way could be so moving, so wondrous?

  Neil had reached his limits. The rise and fall of her body, the sensations of her tight heat sheathing him made him want nothing but pleasure. He forgot about her virginity, forgot about the wound screaming in his back. He filled his hands with her hips and steadily increased the speed of his thrusts. They became faster, deeper, faster. He was soon stroking her like he’d never make love to her again, and when the thunderous orgasm broke, he threw his head back and yelled out his release, dark hips pumping.

  Feeling his crisis in every part of her body, Olivia thought nothing could top the pleasure he’d already given her, but this heated coming together drove her into an orgasm that was by far the strongest. The brilliant power made her twist, cry out, and ride the hard root of passion with no thought to propriety or societal dictates. As he continued his rapid thrusts, she shattered again and somewhere, off in the distance, heard herself hoarsely screaming his name.

  In the silence that followed, Mr. and Mrs. Neil July left the stars and slowly drifted back down to earth. They were both breathing harshly, the echoes of their completions pulsing still. He reached for her hand, she threaded her fingers through his, and they slept.

  By the time Neil stumbled awake the next morning and made his way to the kitchen for a cup of the coffee whose aroma was filling the air, Olivia had bathed, dressed, and done her hair. She was a bit sore in all the tender places he’d made love to, but at the moment, seeing him come into the kitchen, she was the happiest outlaw wife in the nation.

  “Mornin’,” he croaked, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “You look real fetching, Mrs. July.”

  “Why thank you, Mr. July.” She had been very particular in her choice of attire today because her parents were coming. She had on a dark blue jacket and a matching bustled skirt that sported a plethora of pleats on the hem. It was her wish to look businesslike and prosperous so that her parents would see that she was doing well. That he would remark on how she looked endeared him to her.

  Neil studied her mayoral loveliness over his cup and drawled, “You wouldn’t want to take all that off and come back to bed with me, would you?”

  She chuckled, “I would love to, but—no. I can’t run the town from bed.”

  “Sure you can.”

  “Your middle name should be Temptation.”

  He smiled over his cup. “Neil Temptation July. I like that.”

  Olivia found him to be as tempting as his offer. Spending a leisurely day with him so they could learn more about each other, play with each other, and make love was tantalizing. Last night’s interlude came back in a heated rush, making her remember all they’d shared. Her nipples tightened as if saying Amen. However, she had town issues to handle, including the arrival of her parents, and she doubted they’d approve of finding her in bed with her skirts rucked up around her waist.

  Neil said, “Well, since I can’t convince you to stay here, go on and do your job. Do me a favor, though, and send Delbert around so he can look at this wound.”

  “Is it paining you?”

  “No,” he lied. “Just want him to take a look.”

  “You want me to take a look at it?”

  He shook his head negatively. “You head out. I’m going back to bed. I was with a woman last night who did so much screaming and hollering I didn’t get much sleep.”

  Smiling, she tossed back, “Well, you do that, because that screaming, hollering woman guarantees you won’t get much sleep tonight, either.”

  He raised his cup. “I can’t wait.” Then his voice changed. “Come here a minute first, though.”

  She walked over, and he placed his cup on the sink. He took her in his arms and looked down into her eyes. “I didn’t hurt you last night, did I?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Good.” And then he kissed her so slowly and masterfully that she was soon breathless and weak. Reluctantly breaking the seal of their lips, he said, “Now you can go….”

  He turned her loose, and Olivia floated off to work.

  Although Olivia felt as if the sun were shining inside her, the skies above were dreary and gray. There was a distinct coolness in the air, a harbinger of the autumn to come, and she was glad she had on her jacket.

  Olivia took the long way so she could stop by Delbert’s and give him Neil’s message. She was met at the door by Delbert’s mother, Sally. Sally Johnson had come from Wisconsin to live with her son eight months ago. She was a bitter old hag whose contrary attitude made her someone most folks in town avoided. Delbert didn’t have that luxury, however. Like most sons, he loved his mother, but her presence was beginning to make him see red. Lately, he’d become particularly riled over her refusal to accept Muriel Harrington as the woman Delbert loved. Sally had declared loud and long that Muriel, a cook at Sophie’s, wasn’t socially fit to marry her doctor son.

  Sally had that perpetual sour look on her face as she studied Olivia for a moment before announcing, “Doctor Johnson isn’t in.” And she closed the door.

  Olivia stared at the closed door and bit back her temper. With a shake of her head, she left the porch and headed to the sheriff’s office.

  Inside she found the place crowded with lawmen. They all applauded when she entered, and a very embarrassed Olivia curtsied and went to her desk.

  Chase said, “We got the court date for Neil. The judge will be here the day after tomorrow.”

  Olivia stilled and felt a chill cross her soul. “Do you know who it will be?”

  “Yes, Hanging Judge Parker.”

  Olivia’s heart sank.

  Chase looked glum too. “He wired to say he has a special interest in this case, so the other judges on the circuit are going to let him handle it.”

  “That’s not particularly good news, is it?”

  Griffin Blake answered, “No. He’s going to be real irate that Neil and Shafts have gone back to their robbing ways, after making them deputies.”

  Clouds descended on Olivia’s previously sunny day. “Is there going to be a jury?”

  Chase shrugged. “Parker will call the tune when he arrives.”

  A deflated Olivia sighed. “Are you all going to stay around?”

  Dixon Wildhorse nodded. “And we’ll do what we can to try and get Neil a light sentence.”

  Olivia didn’t want to think about Neil standing trial or the sentence he was likely to receive. The railroads and the army wanted his hide, and she didn’t see the judge letting him off with just a slap on the wrist.

  The Preacher’s glowing eyes found hers, and he quoted, “‘Deliver my soul from the sword; my darling from the power of the dog.’” Psalm Twenty
-two. Verse twenty.”

  Olivia responded with a quiet “Amen.”

  In the thick silence that followed, Chase said to her, “We’re going to ride the perimeter to make sure our bounty hunter friends really did leave the area. We’ll be back in a few hours.”

  Olivia nodded.

  Jackson Blake spoke up. “My brother has something to say before we leave.”

  The stern look on Jack’s face made Olivia wonder what this was about.

  Griffin began by clearing his throat; he looked embarrassed and chagrined. “Well, last night, I had a little too much to drink at the celebration, and I stood up in the middle of the place and proposed a toast.”

  Olivia still didn’t understand. “What kind of toast?”

  “To you and Neil.”

  Olivia’s eyes widened.

  Marshal Wildhorse looked grim. “I know you wanted to keep this a secret, at least for a few days, but the cat’s out of the bag.”

  Griffin seemed to be studying his boots. He looked up. “I’m real sorry, Miss Olivia. Were my Jessi Rose here, she’d probably take a black snake to me, and I’d deserve it.”

  Olivia sighed. He looked so contrite that she almost felt sorry for him—almost. “The news was bound to get out sooner than later—that’s the joy of living in a small town. But thanks for telling me.”

  They exited. Alone, Olivia dropped her forehead to the desktop and tapped it lightly a few times, wondering if this day could possibly get any worse.

  “Mayor Sterling?”

  She looked up to see a short, skinny, brown-skinned man she didn’t know. He was dressed in a green-and-black checkered suit that could have come straight from Armstead Malloy’s wardrobe. “I’m Mayor Sterling. May I help you?”

  He grinned and came in fully. “My name is Wilson Young. I’m a reporter for the Nicodemus Cyclone. I’d like to interview you about your marriage to Neil July.”

  Olivia lowered her head back to the desk and groaned.

  It was now a bit past noon, and Olivia was on her way home for lunch. She needed to tell Neil about the imminent arrival of Hanging Judge Parker and that their marriage was going to be front-page news in tomorrow’s edition of the Cyclone. The reporter had been as nosey as a gossip, but she’d known that if she hadn’t been forthcoming with her answers, he would have printed whatever he’d wanted, and that it probably would have been more lurid than the admittedly lurid truth. She prayed for strength and went into her shop.