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After the Ashes(8)

By:Cheryl Howe


“He wouldn’t shoot anyone.” The woman flattened her palms against her belly as if she were in danger of losing its contents.

He stood and buttoned his pants. Her queasiness was contagious. Suddenly he didn’t have the stomach to take advantage of such a naive woman.

“All I know is that men died, and Corey was riding with those that did the shooting.” He grabbed his shirt and punched his arms through the sleeves before he faced her. “The one I really want is Mulcahy. If you can get Corey to tell me where he is, maybe I’ll put in a good word for him.”

“Can you get him out of trouble?”

“No, but I might be able to keep him from hanging.”

“Might?”

“Maybe, maybe not. At best he’ll be spending a good part of his life in prison.”

“I can’t take that kind of chance.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

“Why can’t you just go after this Mulcahy and leave Corey alone?”

“It doesn’t work like that.” Braddock bent to retrieve his boots. He’d pack his gear and pick up Sullivan’s trail. If she had any sense, this woman would go home once Corey was in custody. She was in too much danger out here. In too much danger in this room.

He glanced at her over his shoulder. The expression on Lorelei’s face was one of deep thought. Slowly, she raised her gaze to his and unhooked the satin vee bordering the neckline of her gown. The dress parted not even an inch, but it was enough to reveal the soft, round tops of her breasts, and her corset’s lace trim. She looked even more nervous than before.

Braddock straightened, unable to stop staring. “Don’t start this again, Lorelei. Quit offering something you don’t intend to give.”

“I’m desperate.”

He let his boots drop to the floor. She sauntered toward him, stopping much closer than before. At some point she’d peeled off her gloves, and her smooth, pale hands fascinated him. With shaky fingers she unbuttoned the trouser button he’d hastily redone. He inhaled sharply when her warm knuckles grazed his stomach.

“My father died just before the war. My two older brothers were killed the year after that. I buried my mother not two months ago. I’m not going to lose Corey, too.”

She took a breath that lifted her breasts, and unfastened another button of his trousers. Her hand brushed lower on his belly, making him feel lightheaded as all his blood rushed to meet her slender fingers. She looked up at him.

He saw desperation and determination in her shiny blue eyes. They said she’d been through hell and back, and she’d get through this, too.

“You don’t want to do this, Lorelei.” He encircled her wrist with his fingers but didn’t pull her hand away. “Even if he is your brother, he’s not worth it.”

His words tasted bitter. If Lorelei’s claim was true, her actions were all the more pathetic and Corey’s all the more despicable. Sullivan would destroy his sister in the process of destroying himself. Braddock’s rusty conscience protested against being a part of it. His body disagreed.

Lorelei moved her hand, with him still holding her wrist, and unbuttoned the third button of his trousers. Two remained, but he knew she wouldn’t have to go that far. His body already swelled in response to her touch. He closed his eyes to block out the sight of her pale hand against his darker skin, fought the strong desire to feel her small fingers fold around him. If he didn’t do something soon, he wouldn’t have to wait much longer.

He gripped her under her arms and tossed her onto his bed. Before she could untangle from her skirts, he came down on top of her, balancing his weight on his elbows and his knees.

“How many men are you willing to fuck to save your brother?” He reached between them and squeezed her leg above the knee, then slid his hand up her thigh. “I’m not the only man after Corey. There’ll be more. Is that the kind of life you want, Lorelei? Is Corey worth spending your life on your back?”

She didn’t push him away as he expected. Instead she remained motionless, letting him move his hand all the way up to the crotch of her thin cotton drawers. He came so close to cupping her between her legs, he could feel the moist heat.

Believing the damp cloth had anything to do with desire for him would be his ruin. Stopping might have been impossible if it weren’t for the tears filling her eyes.

“I don’t know what else to do.”

Braddock eased his hand from underneath her skirts and discreetly pulled them back down to her ankles.

“I can’t let him hang,” she continued. “I promised I’d take care of him. I’ve always taken care of him.”