Lawman (39 page)

With torturous slowness, Gabriel eased
himself closer. Megan gasped beneath him, opening herself still
wider for him. Her welcoming felt every bit as wondrous as the feel
of their bodies gliding sensuously together. She wanted him, really
wanted him, he thought. And he—he wanted her just as much.

His shaft pulsed, urging him to thrust
harder, faster. Gabriel made himself move slowly, watching for
signs that he'd hurt her. He saw none. Instead, Megan cradled him.
She stroked his arms, his back...and when her hands cupped his
buttocks, pulling him ardently to her, Gabriel lost what control
still remained to him.

He'd been made for this. Made for loving
Megan. Each thrust drove the truth of their need for each other
deeper within him. He loved her. Loved her. Rejoicing in it,
Gabriel loved the woman in his arms as long and as well as he
could.

Completion burst upon him in a shattering
arc of pleasure. Gasping her name, he possessed her again and
again. And when it was over, he sank into her loving arms...and
prayed nothing would take him from them.

The following day dawned brighter than any
in Megan's memory—a phenomenon that owed itself, she felt sure, to
having awakened in Gabriel's arms. The hours spun themselves forth
in similar fashion, beginning with a loving tumble between the
sheets and coverlet of their shared bed and a hot, soapy bath.
After a rapidly devoured breakfast, eaten late enough to pass for
luncheon, she and Gabriel had set out again into the sun-splashed
streets of Tucson in search of Joseph Kearney.

There seemed to be a tacit agreement between
them this day, Megan thought as she felt Gabriel's hand clasp hers.
An agreement to work in unison, rather than at odds. In that
spirit, she squeezed the work-roughened hand he offered, her heart
brimming with gladness at the unexpected love they'd found, and
accompanied Gabriel into the
plaza
.

Soon, she would tell him she loved him,
Megan decided.

She grew more sure of it with each moment
that passed. Remarkable as it was, she felt herself thoroughly
besotted with the big, dark-hatted man beside her...and felt her
feelings returned with every adoring glance he sent her way. Surely
there could be no reason to hold back the most important truth of
her life.

They skirted a crowd gathered 'round a
Sonoran puppet show, then continued their progress toward the
combined postal and express office at the far end of the street.
Fairly humming with happiness, Megan watched the building's adobe
face come into view.

"Do you think McMarlin will have learned
anything yet?" she asked, lifting her skirt hems above the dusty
streets. "Perhaps my papa has already returned to the station with
his winnings, and has set everything straight with your Pinkerton
men already."

Gabriel's face drew taut. "Perhaps."

"You'll know, when you receive his report,
won't you?"

"I'll know." He quickened his stride,
pulling her along in his wake. "One way or the other. It's possible
McMarlin himself will be on this afternoon's express, bringing me
the news."

The bad news
, his expression said.
Frowning over his suddenly darkened mood, Megan released Gabriel's
hand and skipped a few paces in front of him. Some levity was
clearly needed here. Unfortunately, bringing comfort and laughter
to folks was not her strong suit. What would Addie have done?

"When we're finished," she suggested, "let's
go on to the marketplace and buy ourselves something nice. I
promised Addie a cone of sugar and some of the Mexican vanilla
beans she favors, and I do believe I could find a card of buttons
to replace the ones you...ah, lost last night."

He grinned, doubtless picturing the same
thing she did—nearly a dozen men's dress shirt buttons raining down
from their balcony in the moonlight. Vividly, Megan recalled the
moment when Gabriel had ripped open his shirt so passionately, and
then taken her into his arms. She wanted to sigh aloud at the
remembrance.

Instead, she fell into step beside him and
hugged his arm against her once more. "Well? Would you fancy a bit
of shopping on the way to finding tonight's secret Faro game?
Buying something pretty always works miracles on my
disposition."

Only a few paces from the express office's
ramada
and porch, Gabriel stopped. From his greater height,
he stared down at her, his expression inscrutable. Then his hand
caressed her cheek.

"I believe I've already had all the miracles
I've got coming to me," he said. Briefly, his grin flashed. "And if
you got any prettier, I'd be fair loaded down with too much pride
to walk beside you."

Her heart squeezed with happiness. Beneath
that gruff demeanor of his, Gabriel really did have a kind of
deep-rooted kindness that was exactly what she'd always craved. He
made her feel as warm as a cup of chocolate on a frosty December
morning.

"I had you pegged from the start for a
flannel-mouthed Irishman," she teased. "If you keep up that kind of
fancy talk, I'll not be able to walk beside you, either."

"Why not?"

"My head will be plumb swelled up too big to
carry."

Grinning, Megan threw herself into his arms
and hugged tight. Heat and resilient muscles met her grasp, and the
familiar, beloved scent of Gabriel's body wafted upward to tease
her nose. Their combined investigation could wait a few minutes
longer, she decided. Right now, being next to Gabriel was more
important.

Thank heavens she'd decided to confide in
him! Trusting him with the truth about herself last night had been
risky, but she'd been rewarded many times over for her bravery.
Surely it could only be equally right to entrust Gabriel with
helping her find her papa. To take a chance on accepting help for
the first time in more years than she remembered.

Feeling happier than she could ever recall,
Megan hugged his middle and rested her cheek against Gabriel's
chest.

Inside his suit coat, something
crackled.

Puzzled, she raised her head. "I'm sorry. I
hope I didn't squash something important."

"I think it's salvageable."

Gabriel slid his hand inside his suit coat.
The gesture reminded her of the way he'd reached inside the coat
he'd loaned her for warmth at Hop Kee's
Celestial Kitchen
,
and of the way his fingers had brushed gently over her bodice when
he'd retrieved a handkerchief for her.

This time, it was not a fine monogrammed
piece of linen that he withdrew from his pocket. This time, it was
a rolled piece of paper.

A familiar piece of paper.

Megan watched Gabriel as, with the same
fingers that had loved her so finely and well last night, he
unfurled the wanted poster. Sunlight bleached the paper,
momentarily obscuring the image. Frowning, Gabriel tilted it. Her
father's likeness lurched into Megan's view.

At the sight, a sudden, sickening sense of
foreboding rushed through her. She stared at the poster, then
dragged her gaze to Gabriel's face.

"
Why do you still have that
?" she
asked.

Drat it! Why had her voice chosen this
moment to turn weak and shivery, when she most needed to be
strong?

"Why?" His eyebrows raised. Absently,
Gabriel traced the picture's pencil-drawn beard. "Because he's
still a wanted man, Meg. You can't expect me to turn my back on
that."

Disbelief swamped her. "But I—I thought that
you...that we...that after last night, surely we—"

"That we would forget the rest of our
lives?"

Numbly, she stared at him. At the hated
wanted poster. At the crowds of
rebozo
-wearing women and
ranchers and off-duty soldiers surrounding them. The passing
moments provided her with no more answers than she'd begun
with.

Gabriel's hand grasped her chin, turned her
face to his. "Meg, I need more than belief in this. More than
wishing. My livelihood is at stake. My reputation." Stark anguish
turned his features bold and uncompromising. "My honor.
Winter
brings in the right man at the right time
."

"He's not the right man!" Megan wrenched
free. "I thought you believed me."

He lowered his head. When Gabriel gazed
upward again, he seemed more determined than ever. "Our future
depends on finishing this case," he said, his voice harsh and deep.
He shook the wanted poster. "How can we be together, when this
remains between us?"

That he wanted to be with her filled Megan
with gladness. That he would choose this means to do so flooded her
with despair.

"There must be another way," she
whispered.

"There is not."

The rattle of the incoming afternoon stage
drowned out all else he might have said. In annoyance, Megan looked
toward the express office and saw the familiar Kearney Station
driver pull his team to a stop in front of it. Grit spewed toward
her and Gabriel, then settled. In its wake, the driver jumped from
his seat and opened the stagecoach's passenger door—a courtesy
Megan insisted of all their station hands.

Autumn sunlight gleamed from the lacquered
wood as it swung ajar. She squinted beyond it, and glimpsed a tall,
broad-shouldered man clattering down the iron steps. A man too tall
and too youthful to be the Pinkerton agent they'd expected to
meet.

Beside her, Gabriel's body tensed.
"McMarlin's grown some," he observed. "After that time he spent at
your station, he looks powerfully like—"

"—an awful lot like—"

"Mose."

Blast it! What was Mose doing here, of all
people? Intent on finding out for herself, Megan raised her skirts
once more and hurried toward him. She saw his face, shadowed
beneath his hat, as he strode away from the stagecoach. Saw, too,
the thing he held close in his beefy hands.

The Kearney Station strongbox. But why?

"Mose!" Hastening her steps, she followed
him toward the plaza. "Mose, wait!"

Still walking, he looked over his shoulder.
His eyes widened. She'd be darned if he didn't walk even
faster—away from her! Growing more curious by the minute, Megan
followed.

Faintly, she heard Gabriel Winter give
chase, too. She broke into as best a run as she could manage,
feeling her corset squeeze her ribs painfully with every footfall.
Up ahead, Mose stepped past two cowboys and a
sombrero
-wearing farmer, then ducked down the street leading
to
San Agustín
church.

By the time Megan emerged into the
plaza
in front of the ornate, white-faced mission church,
she was panting for breath.
When I open my dressmaker's
shop
, she vowed,
one of the first things I'll make is a
blasted comfortable corset
. Holding her aching sides, she
sucked in dust-tinged air and looked around for Mose.

She found him. Right beside Gabriel.

With a resigned air, her station hand was
giving over the strongbox he held. ". . . so I figured I'd better
keep it away from Miss Megan," Mose was saying when she caught up
with the two men. "Seein' as how she's so powerful attached to the
station, and all. I knew she'd try to stop me."

"You're right, I would!" Megan stopped
before them, staring up into their hardened faces by turns.
Gabriel's looked pale. Mose's looked guilty. She decided to address
the most easily reckoned with first, and turned her gaze on her
station hand. "What's this all about, Mose?"

He whipped off his hat and clutched it to
his chest. "I'm sorry, Miss Megan, ma'am. I promised your papa I
wouldn't tell you about this. You gave him a fright, turning up at
Levin's Park like you did last night. He's doubly careful about you
now."

"
I
gave him a fright? What nonsense
is this?"

A glance at Gabriel's face told her he
knew—and wasn't saying. Mose shuffled from foot to foot, and
finally came out with an explanation.

"He knows you're after your nest-egg money,"
the big man explained. "I s'pose he ain't coming home till he wins
big. Otherwise, you'll strip off his hide piece by piece with
wrathy words and such."

"Did my father tell you that?"

Miserably, Mose nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

Strip off his hide, indeed
! With
annoyance, Megan noticed the Pinkerton man trying to conceal a
grin. Well, Gabriel could just laugh himself silly, for all she
cared. There were greater things at stake here—like the fact that
her papa knew she was looking for him...and had run from her
anyway.

Wasn't it bad enough he kept himself gone
from the station as much as he could? Now papa had to keep himself
specially away from her, as well? With a heavy heart, Megan looked
from the strongbox in Gabriel's hands to Mose's familiar, caring
face. Confusion and despair battled inside her. Pushing away those
feelings, she tried to focus on the problems at hand.

"How did you get here?" she asked Mose,
crossing her arms to frown up at him with her best
displeased-station-mistress glare. "I'm perfectly aware that agent
McMarlin of the Pinkerton National Detective Agency—" Megan shot
Gabriel a defiant look, letting him know that as far as she was
concerned, the time for subterfuge was past. "—has been at the
station since yesterday morning. I doubt very much that he would
just let you traipse on out with the strongbox in your hands."

She looked toward Gabriel. "That's mine, by
the way. I'll expect you to hand it over."

"In due time," he replied. He addressed
Mose. "Miss Megan is right. Agent McMarlin should have kept you at
Kearney Station."

"Tom?" Eyes twinkling, Mose somehow managed
to pack a world of disbelief into that one syllable. He waved his
hand. "He's plumb head over boots for old Addie. The two of them
been spending all their time mooning over each other."

Megan's mouth dropped open. "
Addie
?
Tom and Addie?"