It was neither kind of night for Marsh. He was more fatigued than he realized, and the whiskey had relaxed him more than he had intended, causing him to fall into a deep sleep before Randee returned to camp.
Noticing the slumbering man, Randee moved quietly to avoid disturbing him. She knew he had to be very tired after their long journey and his continual guard, which required light sleep. He looked so peaceful—and vulnerable— lying there. She was glad he could relax so fully for a change, as it had to be extremely demanding to remain on full alert around the clock. Since no one was in the area and it was late, they shouldn’t be in any peril tonight, a fact of which he must be aware. She was careful not to make any noise as she put away her belongings and climbed into her sleeping roll.
Randee decided that she made Marsh just as nervous as he made her, and that experience probably was new and difficult for him. He was not a man who wanted to be vulnerable to anything or anyone, as his survival could depend on being hardhearted and clear-headed. Carefree loners like him often believed that strong emotions—those which were distracting, demanding, and consuming—usually made a man feel defensive and anxious, made him reluctant to surrender any part of himself to another person for fear of losing some special edge which he possessed over others. Perhaps he was also concerned about what he had witnessed between her and Sheriff Wade. Perhaps he worried that she might, or could, fool him as easily and insensitively as she had deceived Brody. Somehow she needed to let him discover that she viewed the two men differently, that she would not dupe him romantically or in any other way. Soon, she would reveal everything about herself and this task, and he would realize she could be trusted implicitly. He would realize he could be himself around her, that he could tell her anything, that he could depend on her fully, that he could finally lean on someone for understanding and comfort and help. Yes, she decided wishfully, she had to prove that she could be all things to him: friend, partner, companion, confidante, and … yes, his lover.
The more she was around Marsh Logan, the more she wanted to get to know him better and the more she liked him. No, her mind refuted, the more they were together, the more she came to love and desire him. Perhaps that was what made Marsh different from the other men she had met and known: She liked him and she loved him. It was possible to feel either emotion without the other; but when both were felt for the same person, it was rare and wonderful. Perhaps that was the secret to real love, lasting love, powerful love: truly liking and respecting the person you loved. And, despite his lifestyle and reputation, she respected him and admired him, as he had enjoyed his stimulating existence without going afoul of the law.
Hopefully Marsh would come to feel the same way about her before this mission ended one way or another. If she had him pinpointed correctly, he was the perfect man for her, and she couldn’t imagine being so wrong about him after all the time they had spent together. All she had to do was convince him she was perfect for him and persuade him to give up his deadly lifestyle. If only he would let down his guard so she could sneak past that loner-fence which surrounded him. As she drifted off to sleep, she was envisioning them together on his land, building a wonderful life as newlyweds… .
At dawn the next morning, the Epson Gang made another vicious raid above Fort Worth.
As they traveled that day, Marsh kept thinking about what Randee had hinted at the night before. As much as he wanted to have her explanation, he dreaded it, because he assumed she would want him to open up to her after she did so with him. As long as he could keep quiet, he wouldn’t have to lie to her again, verbally that is. For some strange reason, he found being deceitful with this woman as vexing as it had been with his parents. Maybe it was because she was as special to him as they were, and that probably explained why he was becoming more apprehensive around her. Since she was getting to him, he warned himself to watch his step with her. At least one thing was clear to him now; her problem was personal, not criminal. He was surprised at how deeply he had slept last night, and was more amazed that her stirrings hadn’t aroused him. Either he had been awfully tired or she was becoming good at stealth.
They halted at midday to eat and rest. Marsh pointed to tracks nearby and asked, “What can you tell me about them?”
Randee studied them for a moment, then replied, “Two riders passed this way during or right after a heavy rain. I can tell that because of the number of hoof prints, and the ground had to be mushy when they were made, because they’re deep and unclear. The dirt around them has dried and hardened enough to crumble into the tracks, and the grass isn’t newly damaged. I would guess about a month.”
Marsh grinned in pleasure. “I would guess the same thing. What else have you learned?”
“I guessed two riders because the prints are about the same depth. I don’t think a supply horse would weigh that much. They were heading northwest, possibly to Santa Fe.”
“Excellent, partner. Looks as if I’ll have to keep you around.”
Randee smiled and thanked him. She withdrew a ribbon from her stuffed saddlebag and secured her hair behind her nape. The day was getting warmer and she wanted to stay as cool as possible. As Brody had intended, the blue ribbon reminded her of him. Yet, she hastily dismissed him from mind, to deal with him much later.
They rode until late afternoon and halted again. Marsh suggested a longer rest break for the horses this time, because the day was hot and humid, a condition which tired the animals more quickly than usual. His shirt and hat were sweaty, so he removed them and hung them over his saddle horn to dry. Unrolling his sleeping bag, he stretched out on it.
Randee tossed a blanket on the ground and took a seat. She noticed the way the sun seemingly caressed his bronzed flesh and caused his ebony hair to shine. She watched beads of sweat glisten’ on the furry mat on that hard chest, and her eyes roamed over his flat stomach and powerful shoulders. She wanted to press her lips to every spot that shone in the sun’s glare. She imagined how hot and smooth each area was and how sensuous it would be to carry out her thought. There was very little breeze to ruffle his hair, but it was mussed from his hat and damp with perspiration. Her gaze drifted over his strong features and darkened jawline. He was so entrancing she could have stared at him for hours without ceasing. His eyes were closed; yet, he was frowning slightly as if the brilliant sun was penetrating his lids. She wondered what he was thinking and feeling at this very moment. Who, she pondered, was Marsh Logan and what haunted him from his past? She yearned to know anything and everything about him.
Her green eyes wandered past his slim hips and long legs, which were crossed at the ankles. His faded jeans fit him snugly, but not indecently. She eyed the metal buttons and brazenly wondered how it would feel to unfasten each one and to slip off his … Randee squirmed on her seat and glanced away from the tempting sight which had her mind and body traveling rapidly in a dangerous direction.
Marsh lifted his shoulders, propped himself up on his left elbow, and shaded his eyes with his right forearm. “Is something wrong?” he asked.
Randee’s gaze returned to him. The sun was slightly to his left, causing provocative shadows to dance over his masculine frame and to darken his face. She saw how the muscles rippled over his abdomen from his position, and how those in his left arm bulged from the pressure of his weight on it. Both fists were lightly balled, and moisture gleamed on his tanned arms and face. His azure eyes were squinted as much from curiosity as from the bright sunlight. She should have known he would sense her bold scrutiny! She inhaled deeply and exhaled, its sound ragged in the silence which surrounded them. “The humidity is terrible today,” she remarked to stall for recovery time. “It makes you feel as if you have a rock on your chest. I’m almost drenched.”
Marsh looked her over snailishly. Perspiration was glistening on her face, and her cheeks were flushed. Despite wearing the hat he had purchased for her, Randee’s nose was very pink today. He was mildly surprised, that someone so tanned could sunburn so easily. He wondered what shade the rest of her body was, and knew he would learn that secret one day. It was inevitable; his gut instinct told him so, just as it told him what was disturbing Randee this afternoon.
With her hair pulled back and secured loosely, the soft and enchanting angle of her jawline was most noticeable. He wanted to trail his quivering fingers over her satiny flesh and becoming features, and he must do so soon or go crazy with longing. His gaze roamed the damp fringe of tawny hair across her forehead. He had the urge to blow on it, to make her bangs dance and to cool her face. The color of her eyes reminded him of new grass and leaves in the spring, and he was aroused by the way they were resting on him. Her lips were made for kissing endlessly and he craved to taste them again, even if it did inspire his head to spin more wildly than drinking a full canteen of Indian mescal. That one kiss had been much too brief, and he hadn’t held her in his arms. Mercy, she was a breathtaking creature, the only one whom he’d ever had trouble resisting. He wanted to pull her down beside him and make rapturous love to her beneath the blazing sun. Yep, this woman made his unleashed passions race wild and free like an unbroken stallion. He cautioned himself to clear his head of such wanton thoughts, or his tight jeans would reveal his urgent desire!
Marsh finally spoke, “We’ll make camp in another abandoned fort tonight. There’s a lake nearby, so you can take a nice, long swim if nobody’s around. I can use one myself,” he remarked, mopping sweat from his brow and above his upper lip. “If we’re lucky, it’ll rain soon and cool things off a bit.”
She sighed dreamily and stretched to loosen stiff muscles. “Both rain and a swim would be wonderful. I can hardly wait. This humidity is oppressive. I feel as if my hair and clothes are sticking to me like old syrup.”
He chuckled as she stood up and strolled around. “Makes you kind of restless and miserable, huh?”
She glanced down at him and remarked, “You must be uncomfortable too, or you wouldn’t have your shirt and hat off.”
“I’m so used to being alone that I do things without thinking. I’m afraid I have little or no modesty, Miss Hollis, but I hope you don’t mind me making myself comfortable for a spell,” he teased.
“Why should I? You never complain or object when I get comfy around camp. Just don’t let that hot sun cook you to misery.”
“If it did, would you take pity on me and doctor me?”
Merry laughter came forth from Randee as her expressive eyes glowed with mischief. In a playfully sultry tone, she responded, “I would be delighted to have you at my mercy, Mr. Logan. Why, these little ole hands are itching to get at you, to see what you’re made of. I doubt men like you even know the meaning of pain. And even if it found you, you’d suffer in silence, wouldn’t you?”
“I’m afraid you overestimate my strength and courage, Miss Hollis, but thanks for the confidence in me. Frankly, I hope I never have to prove to you what I’m made of; you might be disappointed.”
“In view of your immense reputation, Durango, I find that malarky impossible to swallow. Have you ever been wounded?”
“A nick here and there, but nothing serious. What about you?”
“Not yet, and I hope that’s one experience I never have. What will we do when we catch up with that gang?” she inquired.
“Try to trim it down a few at a time without arousing their suspicions. We’ll pick up dynamite in Brownwood next week.”
“Do you think it’s safe to let people see us together?”
“Won’t matter much. News is probably out about us already.”
“I was referring to the Durango Kid showing his handsome face in a town where he could get challenged and slowed down.”
“Contrary to popular opinion, woman, I’m not recognized everywhere. Fact is, I doubt anyone there will know who I am.” He skirted her question with an honest response.
She argued softly, “You’re the one who underestimates yourself, Marsh. I’ve only been in Texas for three months and I know who the Durango Kid is: a handsome, blue-eyed, black-haired rogue who rides a black stallion and dresses in black and who’s matchless with guns and prowess. Surely the locals are even more familiar than I am with a colorful legend like you. Actually I’m surprised we’ve gotten this far without trouble. I would think countless men are dogging you this very minute, hungry to consume you and increase their weight.”
“Then, don’t you think it’s a mite foolish of you to be tagging along with such a dangerous man?” he speculated mirthfully.
She shook her head. “I can’t imagine any place safer than being with you. I said, plenty of men are probably after you, but I doubt all of them put together could defeat you. You see, Durango, I’ve heard most of the tales about you, so I know I’m not in peril being with you.”
“Are you sure about that, Randee?” he inquired huskily.
“Why shouldn’t I be?” she cleverly parried. “From what I’ve heard and read, nobody can be trusted to keep his word more than the Durango Kid. And few men dare challenge him anymore. Is it boring to have people too scared to compete with you, to give you that rush of excitement when danger and death are sitting on-your shoulder?”
“There’s nothing boring about peace and safety” he replied too quickly, leaving himself open to Randee’s next remark.
“Then you don’t mind not killing and fighting all the time, and you’re willing to start fresh after this job. Good.”
“Why is that good?” he asked, his curiosity piqued.
“Because I don’t like to think of Marsh Logan entangled in such a deathly web. If you don’t enjoy the existence of a notorious gunslinger, then you don’t mind giving it up for survival, which is what I want for you, Marsh. Whether you realize it or not, or even admit it, you’re a good man, a very special one, and I wouldn’t want to see you slain in some senseless gun battle over who’s the fastest draw. This isn’t a simple game or competition; the rules are harsh and defeat means death or maiming.” She urged him gravely, “Back away, Marsh, before you get in too deeply. Please, after this is over, go home and rebuild your ranch. You won’t be sorry. If you need money to start life anew, I’ll try to arrange a private loan between us, and you do have that ten thousand dollars coming to you for this job. Don’t waste it living as Durango. Let Marsh Logan use it for his survival and happiness.”
Marsh’s heart was beating swiftly at her show of concern and generosity. He had to think and speak like the real Durango Kid. Now he grasped why the Kid lived and felt as he did, because there wasn’t a Randee Hollis in his life! How could any man not respond to this unique female? In many ways, she was part woman, part child. She was wise, yet a trusting innocent. She was inexperienced, yet a potent seductress. She was a daring vixen, yet a gentle angel. She was reserved, yet open and direct. How could any man not be tempted to make compromises, changes, where she was concerned?. If he were the real Durango, she was offering him a tempting path of escape from a perilous existence! And for a reason that touched him deeply. “I’m a gunfighter, a drifter, a gambler, a scout, and a rogue. I’m not a rancher or a farmer, Randee. I come and go when and where I please. What about being bored into old age?” he had to counter.
Undaunted, she reasoned, “If you get the ranch going again and hire a good foreman, then you can still come and go as you please. But you’ll have a home, Marsh, a safe place to rest, a place to relax your guard when you need to. And everybody needs to on occasion.”
Speaking for himself this time, Marsh asked pointedly, “What happens when my old enemies come to call at my ranch? A man in my position earns plenty of foes, men with long memories, men who’ll stop at nothing for revenge. You think I want to see my home burned and my family killed twice? A little peace isn’t worth it, Randee.”
Believing Marsh to be the real Durango Kid—a famed gunslinger who had managed to remain just inside the law—sadly, Randee could see his point about being unable to settle down peacefully and safely. He had taken a path which was once stimulating to his male ego, a path which now prevented him from enjoying the life of a normal man. Since a legend remained a challenge as long as he lived, the Durango Kid would be compelled to watch his backside forever, and that reality pained her deeply. It meant he would never endanger those he loved. …
Randee knew it wasn’t wise or kind to pressure this man about seeking a life which he believed was out of reach. When—not if—the time came when Marsh wanted a new life, he would take any risk to obtain it. All he needed was something, or someone, to make those risks worth taking. She had observed his expressions and mood; he wasn’t a lost cause, even if he thought he was. She couldn’t tell him he was wrong about being unable to change, because maybe he wasn’t. No one could know more about the life of a gunslinger than the man who was one. If she persuaded him to retire and others made it impossible, she could get him killed. “For now, I agree with you, Marsh; it’s too dangerous for you to drop the strength of the Durango Kid. But rest assured that I’ll guard your back for as long as we’re together.”
Marsh felt that he could truly depend on this woman; he could trust her, lean on her, listen to her, and even follow her. Yet, it wasn’t smart to reveal such things to her any time soon. “I know, Randee, and I’m grateful. You’re the only partner I’ve had, so that should tell you how much confidence I have in you.”
The green-eyed blonde smiled and said, “It feels good to trust another person so much, doesn’t it? We are friends, aren’t we, Marsh?”
“Yes, Randee, we are, and we’ll always be good friends.”
“I’m glad, because you’re the only one I have right now.”
Wisely, Marsh bit his tongue before reminding her about Brody Wade. He knew she was being sincere, and he liked that motive. He smiled and said, “It’s time to move on, partner. Get saddled up.”
“Yes sir, Mr. Logan, right away,” she responded laughingly.
Randee was awed by the lively appeal of the land. Countless varieties of wildflowers crowded meadows or grew in every spot they could take root: Indian paintbrush, goldenrod, groundsel, milfoil, green milkweed, bluebonnets, verbena, and many more. The contrast of colors and shapes was breathtaking. In many areas, the floral covering was so thick it looked as if someone had spread exquisite blankets over the ground. Prairie grass was abundant in this area, as were deer and antelope, which were feeding on it. Her eyes were dry from staring all around her. The hot sun was lowering itself toward the horizon, but there were enough trees to provoke shade, especially with their new growths of verdant leaves. The landscape had a wild beauty to it, mostly free of man’s damaging intrusion. She understood why everyone— Indian and white— who saw this land craved it.
As they neared the fort ruins, she spotted prickly pear cactus, evening primrose, and Spanish daggers surrounding the ghostly site. Marsh told her that Fort Phantom Hill had not survived the harsh duty and numerous desertions which were inspired by monotony and loneliness. After enduring many hardships and perils following its construction in 1851 to protect this area from marauding Indians, the post was closed four years later. Shortly after the Army pulled out, the fort burned, except for rocky foundations, tall chimneys, and three stone structures: the guardhouse, powder magazine, and commissary. Marsh also told her there were several lakes in the area, including one large one south of the post, along with the Brazos River.
Randee glanced around, imagining the number and kinds of creatures which must be inhabiting those abandoned buildings. For certain, she would be more than satisfied to sleep outside tonight! She looked in each direction and saw nothing to indicate anyone was around within miles. They seemed so far from civilization, almost as if they were alone in the world. The sun was nearly set, casting golden shadows about them. A pleasant breeze stirred the leaves, grasses, and flowers, and cooled her warm body. The fragrant blending of floral scents brought a smile to her lips. She was tired, but not exhausted. A curious feeling of tranquility washed over her gently, causing her to forget their reason for coming to this area. She felt so safe and happy with Marsh, so totally at ease, so responsive to him.
“Looks as if nobody’s been here for months,” Marsh concluded aloud. “This is another place we can mark off our list of possible hide-outs and meeting points. We’ll head for Brownwood tomorrow. If there’s only four or five stops along the way, we’ll reach town sometime Tuesday. We’ll take a nice rest in a comfortable hotel, and pick up new supplies and dynamite there.”
Randee added quickly, “And have our washing done. Else, these clothes will soon be dirty beyond redemption.”
“I can tell you’re a woman used to daily baths and fresh clothes,” he teased as they unsaddled their horses, allowing the chestnut mare and black stallion to graze and drink nearby. “We’ll have time to. get our washing done and enjoy a little extra rest. Just make sure you don’t get spoiled before we hit the trail again.”
She responded merrily, “Don’t worry about me, partner. The blood of a newborn adventuress is flowing through me, thanks to you. I like being a drifter for a change; it’s nice to see so many things and places. It’s so peaceful and beautiful way out here.”
Marsh gathered scrubwood for their campfire while Randee took out the supplies for their evening meal. They had gotten used to working together on the chores, so few questions were asked as they carried them out this evening. Soon, they were sitting on either side of a colorful blaze and eating their meal. When they finished, they worked together to wash the dishes and to put away their supplies.
Marsh shaved the dark stubble from his face as Randee watched. When he finished, she remarked, “You don’t use a mirror, but you never cut yourself. That amazes me. You must have a real steady hand.”
He tossed the black-dotted water aside and rinsed out the metal bowl. “In my job, it pays to have one, Miss Hollis, but it comes from practice. You want more wood on the fire?” he asked as he gathered his belongings, obviously planning not to sleep nearby.
Randee looked at the dying blaze and replied, “No thanks. I don’t think it’ll be chilly tonight. If so, I’ll snuggle in my bedroll.”
“I’m going to bunk down on the other side of that wall,” he told her, pointing to the half-finished stone corral behind the last remaining structure. “Why don’t I close my eyes and you try to sneak up on me? I’ll call out when I’m ready, and when I first hear you.”
“Practice my nocturnal skills? Sounds like fun.”
“This is work, woman, and it might save our necks one night.”
Marsh walked behind the four-foot-high wall and spread out his sleeping roll, whistling as he worked. He removed his gunbelt, hat, and boots, and laid them aside. Unbuttoning his shirt nearly to his waist, he stretched out on his makeshift bed and grinned roguishly. He called out, “Ready any time you are.”
Randee draped her agile body over the stone corral and asked, “Is this stealthy enough for you, partner?”
Marsh stood and playfully chided, “You cheated; I wasn’t ready.”
“Hopefully those bandits won’t be ready either,” she jested.
“Any time tonight that you want to try it again, do so. The more practice you get, the better for both of us.”
“See you in the morning, or before,” Randee hinted merrily. She returned to her campsite and put out the fire, as she didn’t want him to see her coming the next time. She called out, “Stay put, Logan. I’m going to bathe and change.” She smiled when she heard him promise not to move an inch. After gathering her saddlebags, she walked to the water to freshen up and to change into her nightgown.
When she was back in her place, she informed him, “All done.”
“Good night, Randee,” the mellow words came from the darkness.
“Good night, Marsh,” she murmured almost too softly to be heard.
Randee wondered how long she should wait before trying to sneak up on him again. Would he be expecting another attempt so soon? Would he lie awake for an hour or two, anticipating her defeat? Would she … She heard a noise behind her, grabbed her pistol, and whirled to check out her peril.
Marsh was squatting nearby, grinning broadly as he waved the stick which he had just broken to catch her attention. “That was fast, woman, but too late to defend yourself,” he teased.
“I wasn’t expecting you to test me tonight. I thought I was the one doing the training,” she said, explaining her lapse.
Marsh came nearer as he informed her, “This is part of your training, being on guard for a surprise attack.”
“You’re right,” she admitted, “And I failed this time.”
“Don’t get discouraged, partner; it takes time and practice.”
“What happens if we don’t have enough time and practice?” she asked worriedly. “I don’t want to get us killed, Marsh.”
“You won’t, Randee. Take my word for it.”
Randee replaced her pistol and sighed heavily. Floral scents filled the night air and stars twinkled overhead. She did not flinch when Marsh reached over and removed the ribbon from her hair. It felt good when he spread the tawny mane around her shoulders.
Marsh eyed the ravishing creature, and desire consumed him. He wanted her badly, but he didn’t know if he should make a move on her. To tempt them like this was crazy, perhaps unfair to her.
Randee knew this was the man she had been looking and waiting for, the man with whom she wanted to share herself. She sensed his desire and hesitation. His quiver ing hand stroked her cheek and he gazed longingly, undecidedly, into her eyes. His touch was so gentle for a strong man, and his mood spoke so loudly for a quiet one. She yearned to yield to this force which was stronger than she was. It was foolish to fight their attraction, and it wasn’t wicked to surrender. She could never win a battle of resistance, so wasn’t it wiser to give in to such a powerful passion? She hesitated no longer. She knew this was who and what she wanted, needed, if only for a while.
Randee eased to her knees before him. Her hands grasped his face and drew it to hers, boldly and bravely sealing their lips. Marsh’s arms encircled her trembling body and pressed it tightly against his hard one. His mouth seared hers, revealing the extent of his matching desire. His lips traveled her face, pressing kisses to every inch. His respiration was ragged, as was hers. Their mouths fused again, swiftly, urgently, hungrily. As his hands wandered up into her thick hair, her head drifted backward to allow his lips to roam her neck. Her hands slipped down his chest, beneath his arms, and around his back.
Almost breathlessly, Marsh separated them and warned, “I’m a man without a home and a future, Randee. I’m a loner and a drifter. I don’t want’ to mislead you. I can’t make you any promises tonight just to entice you into surrendering, much as I want you like crazy.”
Randee’s gaze met his. He could cleanse her of her dirty past. His touch could erase that of Payton Slade. Her willing surrender could remove the guilt and shame of her helplessness with her stepfather’s lewd demands. Yet, that wasn’t why she wanted and needed him. She loved him and desired him above all other men. She told him hoarsely, “Here and now are all that matter. No promises, Marsh, from you or from me. We need and desire each other, so that’s all that counts tonight, nothing more.”
Marsh knew that Randee wasn’t playing hard or easy to get. She was just being honest with herself and with him. He liked that. She knew what she wanted—him— and she wasn’t afraid to follow her desires. She wanted to do things, enjoy life, and do so with him. “What about Brody Wade?” he had to ask.
“I don’t love him, Marsh, or want to marry him. We’re just friends. I know he loves me and I hate to break his heart, but I have no choice. I feel bad about leading him on before I left town, but you said it was necessary and I believed you. I’ll tell him the truth when I see him again. If I’m lucky, he won’t want me after he learns I’ve been spending weeks alone with the Durango Kid.”
“You sure you want to discourage him? He’s a respected man, one who’ll settle down and make you a good husband and home.”
Randee knew what he was doing, being kind and defensive and protective, so she wasn’t angry with him. This thing was meant to be between them, and she must open his eyes to it. “Brody’s a good man, Marsh, but he isn’t for me, and I know you don’t believe he is. I have a ranch and the money to rebuild it. I’m strong, smart, and brave. I don’t need a husband to take care of me. After I get things going at home, I can leave my foreman in charge and sneak off every so often with you to enjoy adventures. That way, I can have both lives: respectable lady rancher and carefree vixen. I’ll pay you well for guiding me around and for letting me join you for a little fun and excitement. I swear, Marsh, I won’t be a clinging vine. I’ll return home whenever you say so. Don’t you see?” she tempted, not caring if she were being forward, “It’s a great deal for you—money, fun, and the company of a sensuous woman whenever the mood strikes you. That is, after you train me to be a partner in all ways.”
“That isn’t fair to you, woman. I would gain far more than you.”
“Not really, Marsh. With you, I can be myself, and I need that every so often. I know we can’t become a couple, and that isn’t what I’m suggesting. But what’s wrong with sharing good times together? I’ll tell you what; don’t answer yet. Get to know me and you’ll see that you can trust me to keep my word. No demands, no promises, no commitments, no complaints, and no chasing after you. Just two close friends who need and want each other on occasion.”
“Your offer isn’t tempting, Randee; it’s outright irresistible, just like you are,” he murmured huskily, then kissed her tenderly.
Slowly, Marsh and Randee sank to her sleeping roll, embracing, kissing, and caressing. Passions wild and free took control of them and carried them over sensous territory which hadn’t been explored before tonight. Soon, they were undressed and lying flesh to flesh beneath a full moon and blinking stars.
Marsh was very gentle with her, although his leisurely pace was hard to control. He craved her desperately, but held a tight rein on his desire to make her his completely. His deft fingers trailed enticingly over her soft skin, aware of its intense heat from burning desire. His lips did the same, lighting here and there like a busy butterfly who wanted to taste every floral spot within his reach. He kissed the hollows of her throat and felt her pulse racing madly beneath his tongue. His lips roamed to her left breast and his warm tongue circled its brown center before his mouth gently conquered the taut peak. He felt Randee arch toward him and inhale deeply as he stimulated the protruding bud. Not once did she try to halt his actions or protest them; she was fully committed to this exploration of pleasure with him.
Randee was caught up in a wonderful spiral, which was lifting her skyward with blissful sensations, lifting her to race ecstatically among the stars and moon. Her senses were alive with need, alive with rapture, alive with torment, alive with Marsh Logan. Her hands wandered over the smooth, hard muscles of his back. She felt them ripple seductively with his experienced movements. She loved the feel of them beneath her hands. She loved the contact of their flesh, flesh which was clinging together, flesh which was aflame with passion.
Marsh’s talented fingers teased over her pelt-soft skin, exciting each area that he stroked. He was enthralled by the way she was responding to him, and his body intensified its sensuous siege on hers. He caressed her tenderly, urgently, skillfully. He wanted to tantalize her for hours, giving her pleasure while pressing her to greater need. His loins pleaded for relief, as he had not taken a woman in quite a while. His mind had been on other matters and he hadn’t seen one lately who tempted him to steal time from his busy and solitary schedule.
Marsh’s fingers explored her shapely figure, slowly making their way downward to a region where none had entered before. The fuzzy forest that guarded her virginal domain was incredibly soft and was shaded a little darker than her long blond mane. Ever so gently and carefully, he roamed the newly discovered territory. It was not an invasion or intrusion, as she shifted to welcome his arrival. Her brave invitation intoxicated him more potently than any whiskey he had tasted. His senses were spinning with a greater hunger for her, one he had to feed soon or pass out from starvation for her.
Randee’s eyes were closed as her wits swirled about dizzily in a whirlwind of yearning. Marsh Logan was what a man should be, although he was different from all others. She craved to have him in her life forever. He made her feel so alive, so whole again, so strong and brave, as if anything were possible. He was kind, good, tender, unique; he just needed something, someone, to give him direction, to give his life new meaning. She wanted that someone to be her.
When he thrust within her, there was only a brief instant of discomfort. She felt him hesitate a few minutes as she adjusted to his presence and to the vanquishing of her virginal barrier. Her innocent mind did not know that he was also remaining still as he fought for control over his quivering manhood. He inhaled deeply several times, his warm respiration at her ear causing her to hug him more tightly and to spread kisses over his face to let him know she was all right. She heard him moan and felt his embrace tighten. Joy raced through her. It didn’t take an experienced woman to know that this man was reeling from pleasure and desire, and an urgent need to continue their climb to the Mount of Rapture.
As Marsh began to move within her, Randee caught his pattern and pace and matched them. Both were stimulated beyond caution or restraint. They labored together lovingly until sheer bliss seemed to burst around them like a shower of stars falling from the heavens above. They kissed and caressed as they rode out the beautiful storm of passion. Gradually they relaxed into each other’s arms and closed their eyes to savor every moment of this special experience. Marsh was lying on his back and Randee was nestled against his side, with her arms resting over his chest. He had drawn her blanket over their naked bodies, and one hand was covering hers while the other was wrapped around her bare shoulders. It was not a time for talking, only one for introspection and acceptance of what had just occurred between them.
Soon, the sated blonde was sleeping peacefully. Marsh stared at the full moon overhead, his wits entangled in a quandary. Now that he had taken Randee Hollis, didn’t he owe her something, even though she had vowed no demands and promises? Had he provoked this seduction just to force himself to make a decision about her? To explore his feelings? To test them? To test hers? Now that she belonged to him, what was he going to do about her? With her? He didn’t know.
Commitment was a scary thing, even-to a brave and fearless man as he was reputed to be. He hardly knew this woman, but he was powerfully drawn to her. Was it more than physical desire? It certainly seemed that way! Was she the one woman whom he couldn’t forget or live without? Didn’t his being unable to resist her answer that intimidating question for him? Was she the one whom he wanted as his wife and as the mother of his children, if he ever decided to settle down? From what he had observed, she was perfect for both. Was she the one with whom he wanted to spend the rest of his life? In. good or bad times, he would be responsible for his family and home. Did he want a permanent place to live? One woman? Children? Duties? Did he want to ranch or farm all day and spend every night with her? With another woman? With any woman?
Marsh knew that his troubled past colored his view and answers. His father had taken up with another woman, betraying his mother, the wife whom he had sworn to love and to cherish above all other females. How much of Marshall Logan’s blood ran within his son? Would he also become bored, do the same, and break Randee’s heart? He had left home at seventeen— hurt, disappointed, resentful, bitter, and rebellious. Those self-destructive feelings and his father’s wicked secret had plagued him for years, had hardened his emotions, driving him from place to place and from reckless deed to deed in search of peace of mind.
As he had done countless times before, Marsh wondered, should he have told his mother about his father’s selfish deceit? No, it would have destroyed her. Should he have remained at home to battle his father, to punish the fallen man, to protect his mother from another slip? Would his parents still be alive if he had? Who could say what a person’s destiny was, or if he had any real control over it?
He had visited home only three times since leaving there: twice to see his mother, and once to see both of his parents. That last visit in ’69 had been a tough one, as his father had pleaded for his understanding and forgiveness, had begged him to return home and to give up his perilous life. His father had related the details and motive for his one moment of weakness, of insanity, of betrayal. Marshall Logan had told him of how he had been tricked by nature, tricked into self-punishment for being a failure and a coward, tricked into proving he was still a man. His father had revealed how scared he was after nearly losing his entire herd and all his crops the year when Marsh was sixteen. His father had spoken of how weak, vulnerable, helpless, and terrified he had felt. He had spoken of how a father and husband had enormous responsibilities and was expected to be strong each moment of his life, even when he needed a shoulder to lean on, perhaps even to cry on. Yet, he had confessed to being too proud and stubborn to allow his wife and son to offer that urgently needed solace.
As the dreadful story had unfolded, Marsh had understood his father’s feelings and actions, a terrible mistake in judgment during a time of depression and weakness—which the younger Marsh never knew existed, or could exist in his cherished father. Their neighbor’s wife had hated her husband and had used his father as a means to punish her verbally and physically abusive husband. While helping their neighbor with chores to earn money to save his own land, the elder Marshall had succumbed to the woman’s brazen overtures— and to the irrational need to hurt his hateful neighbor for making him grovel to keep from losing all he owned and loved. Fortunately, the man had never learned of his wife’s deceit, else Marshall Logan would have been slain!
For a year after discovering that dark secret and needing to inflict as much pain as he himself was experiencing, Marsh had fought with his father over anything and everything. Their battles had had a terrible effect on his dear mother. Since birth, Marsh had been his father’s shadow; he had loved and respected the man, had viewed the man as perfect. The haunting incident had destroyed that bond, those feelings. As a strapping teenager, he had been unable to understand and forgive his father’s Achilles’ heel. Yet, he had kept quiet about the episode. Unable to break his mother’s heart with the truth and unable to remain around his father, he had left home the following summer. Over the years, and especially during this last one, doubts had eaten viciously at him. Despite his father’s confession, Marsh had been unable during that last visit to expose himself to his parents; now, they would never know the truth about their “wayward son,” their “bad apple to the core.” Marsh could still hear his father asking, “How can I ever forgive myself for destroying my only son? I hate hearing those awful things about you, because I know I’m responsible for them. Don’t keep challenging death, son, or it’ll grab you for sure one day.”
He had left home to complete a dangerous mission, planning to return and explain himself afterwards. The Epson Gang raid had denied him that chance forever. Presently, he was involved in the most perilous mission of his life, and he couldn’t allow this radiant creature to remain at his side for very long, or she would wind up slaughtered like his parents. The longer they were together, the harder it would be to send her home, and the more she would resist his order.
Could he risk hurting Randee in any way? Risk hurting himself again? Like him, Randee had experienced many hard times. Did he have the right to give her more, even unintentionally? If he couldn’t commit to her because of his emotions or mission, he would cause her terrible pain. No matter what she said, sleeping together would lead her to believe he was making unspoken promises of a future together. If only he could be totally honest and open with her! But he couldn’t, because it could get her killed. He needed to wheedle that information from her and send her home as quickly as possible, before any contact with that violent band. Marsh admitted that he wanted her badly, but he would rather give her up than get her injured or slain.
He glanced down at the honey-colored head on his shoulder and felt the warm body nestled against his. He shouldn’t have taken possession of her until his dilemma was settled; yet, he wanted her again this very moment. The best thing for both of them was for him to return to his own bedroll and forget this happened.
His troubled mind taunted, Forget? There was no way he could forget it, only ignore it. Gingerly he eased from her side and walked to the river to bathe. Afterwards, he stretched out on his bedroll and closed his weary eyes, unable to sleep for a long time.