A Wanted Man

The chill of early winter was just settling into the end of the day, and former Confederate Captain Jacob McCrae felt every dropping degree right down to his Southern born and bred bones. He let his gaze wander as his newly purchased prize stallion trotted easily along the blessedly solid ground of the main street. One of the few welcome effects of the encroaching winter was that it froze the mire that passed for the main street of the town well into summer season.

The town of Silver Rock Springs had sprung up along the track of the west bound railway, and it had somehow survived the passing of the rail workers who’d moved onward to continue joining the vast and growing country. In their wake, the small boomtown had struggled, then recovered. Recently, they’d begun to flourish, though a large part of that was due to the careful planning and relentless resolve of McCrae.

He snorted softly as the thought flitted across the landscape of his mind’s eye. Silver Rock Springs was a mud hole in the middle of a vast, rugged Territory. A new land that was wild, untamed, and teeming with possibilities. Jacob saw them all, and he was determined to shape this otherwise worthless little town into his vision of what it could become.

The whispery caress of snowflakes kissed his cheeks and he closed his eyes for a moment, savoured the sweet, clear crispness of the cooling air. Twilight, the shadowy border between day and night. He loved this time of the day. As he opened his eyes again and turned his gaze skyward. The sounds of the town seemed muted against the splendour of an indigo sky, painted sporadically with the paler hues of cottony lavender clouds. Stars were winking into place against the deepening cast of approaching night, each one a tiny fragment of icy fire. Rising ever higher was a crescent moon, slung low on its side.

He’d arrived in Silver Rock Springs almost four years earlier, intent on robbing the locals and moving on. Then he’d seen Emma Blake and too many things had changed, perhaps too quickly. He was still learning to balance desire for freedom with his need to have her in his life. She was patiently awaiting the final verdict of his decision, though he suspected she already knew better than he did what that choice would be. It’s why she welcomed him into her home, and her bed, on an almost nightly basis.

He’d made enemies because of Emma, but none that he hadn’t as yet been able to deal with in his ruthless, efficient way. Her one-time beau, Daniel Callon, was the only one who continued to stand up to him. Jacob respected Callon for his strength, even if he was a pain in the ass for defying him.

He passed the Silver Rock Emporium, and his smile was unconscious, natural. Madeline and Bert Shaw owned the largest general store in the town. And, they were among the only real friends he had in a community filled with people who jumped to do his bidding, whatever it might entail. Maddie and Bert fought with him, challenged him, and on those occasions when he tried to ignore his basically decent nature, they also reminded him of what he was inside. He pretended he was hard and without mercy, but the instincts that they sensed in him were real. Jacob was a great deal more vulnerable than anyone realized.

A light breeze swirled upward from the ground, enveloped him in a frigid embrace that he shuddered against. He pulled his long coat closer, and nudged his mount. The stallion whinnied quietly, then obeyed the wordless directive as he moved faster toward the Livery Stable.

The stable-hand was asleep in the corner, an empty bottle ample testimony of his drunken state. McCrae resisted the urge to rouse the man and instil a little fear into him. Instead, he took care of his horse, and wandered back into the night.

The sky was black velvet now, and he lit a cheroot as he leaned on the hitching rail. He could hear the strains of the piano being played in the Lucky Star, but he was reluctant to go inside. He’d been away a month, it now felt like mere minutes. The snowfall was thickening, blanketing the town in an illusory image of pristine cleanliness.

Illusion it was, too, he thought with a low chuckle of bitter irony. Nothing about this town was pure, virtuous, or clean—most of the time it was barely civilized. The Theatre and Opera House was akin to a bad joke. It was impossible to buy a good book, unless you ordered it from somewhere else. His cheroots were bought from an old friend in Virginia. His clothes were tailored in another city. Whatever veneer of gentlemanly fashion and manners he was able to maintain was due to knowing people outside Silver Rock Springs.

So, why did he stay? This wasn’t home. And no one really wanted him here. He accepted that when he was honest enough to admit it to himself. But, as the thought coalesced, he recognized the lie. Someone here did want him to stay, very much.

He ran a gambling house and saloon. Hardly the lofty station he’d grown up with as the first son of a wealthy plantation owner. Jacob had been educated in the finest schools; taught the polite manners of a gentleman; and imbued with a deep sense of honour that virtually defined who and what he was. Then a war had taken away his family, his wife, his world, and his youthful idealism. An entire life altered beyond recognition—perhaps the greatest casualty of a war that had gained him nothing, and cost him everything he held dear.

For a few, eternal seconds, Jacob imposed his inner vision over the reality of what surrounded him. He’d amassed a small fortune over the past few years, and he could create the place he wanted Silver Rock Springs to be. Would create it, in time.

He butted the cheroot, pulled his hat down against the rising wind, and trudged toward his saloon. The shouts and mayhem quickly penetrated his reverie, and he decided he wasn’t in the mood to deal with anything tonight. He changed his direction and disappeared down a sidestreet.

Less than ten minutes later, he entered Emma Blake’s small, but elegant home. Her maid, Kay, told him Miss Blake was in the bath. He took the stairs two at a time and went into her rooms. She looked up as he entered her bathing room and leaned on the doorframe, a lazy smile curving his mouth upward.

“My, my,” he drawled, his Southern accent a ripple of silk in the air. “The very sight of you does my heart good, Miss Emma.”

She laughed and rose from the water, allowing his eyes to drink in every curve as the warm fluid poured over her like a lover’s caress.

“I don’t think it’s your heart that is inspired by the sight of me, dearest.” Her gaze moved pointedly to the front of his trousers, and they smiled at each other, desire suddenly sizzling in the space between them.

“What do you suggest we do now?”

She walked to him and his hands slid around her waist, then upward to cup the fullness of her breasts. His thumbs brushed indolently over the sensitive peaks, then he rolled hardened tips between his fingers, tugging gently until she shuddered visibly. Her flesh was warm, still damp from her bath, and he lifted one swollen breast to his mouth as he lowered his head. She gasped quietly, and leaned into the caress, moaning low in her throat when he began suckling her nipple.

“Jacob…”

His teeth closed on the rigid bud, nipped gently, and she arched into him, her hands tangling in the snow-damp curls of his hair as she pressed him closer.

When he would have transferred his attention to her other breast, Emma shook her head and eased away from him. His darkened eyes narrowed, consternation in their fiery depths. She smiled, and led him into the softly lit bedroom he’d crossed on his way to find her. She quickly peeled off his clothes and threw aside the bed linen. He sat on the edge and she kissed his forehead, then his cheek, trembling when his hands ran the length of her legs and smoothed over her buttocks. He leaned into her, kissed her stomach, then each rounded hip.

She pushed him back onto the bed and when he was flat on his back a few minutes later, she joined him. Emma grinned down at him as she gazed at the familiar lines of his body. He was lean and muscular, but the solid strength in his slender body was readily apparent. So was the intensity of his passion. She brushed his smooth, rigid arousal with her fingers, the stroke feather-light, and was deeply satisfied when he moaned softly in response. Encouraged, she bent over him and repeated the touch with her tongue. Her name slipped from him, a whisper of sound carried on the breath of a gasp of pleasure. She took him into her mouth, stroking gently as she teased and sucked, increasing the pressure of her caress when his hands in her hair demanded more.

“What do you want, Jake?” She asked softly, eyes locked with his a short while later.

Jacob tugged her up over his body until he could kiss her, his arms wrapping tightly around her as they shared a closeness they’d been denied for many weeks in his absence. His hands traced the smooth curve of her back, brushed soft touches over her bottom before he probed into her.

Emma eased back and sat astride his hips, then she leaned forward. Her breasts touched his chest, and she glided back and forth, increasing the tickling sensation of her nipples against the fine dusting of dark hair on his chest. Between her legs, his erection strained against the slick, wet entrance of her body.

Jacob caught her hips, pushed her back and down, biting back a loud groan as he was finally sheathed in her tight heat. His hands shifted, moved to cup the heaviness of her breasts as he molded warm flesh with sensuous pressure. He stared up at her, entranced by the beauty that always transformed her when they made love. Her eyes were closed, delicate features softened with the magnitude of her passion. Her mouth was open, lips parted slightly as she fought for breath—a struggle he made more difficult when he carefully squeezed her breasts. He knew no other man would ever see her this way. She was his, had been from the moment they’d met. His name was a low moan of blissful pleasure; the only word she appeared able to force past her lips.

“Marry me, Emma,” he whispered, and saw the tears she wept as she nodded and her head fell forward, her face obscured by the fall of her hair. She moved against him, increased the rhythm of their lovemaking as she road him in sensual abandonment.

When he felt the first spasm of release begin to build, Jacob’s fingers slid between them. He stroked with practiced familiarity and felt her body tighten reflexively. Moments later her shuddering climax merged with his, and his arms held her fiercely when she collapsed on top of him, gasping and spent.

Lost in his happiness, Jacob McCrae finally let go of his losses. Outside, his banished demons lingered in the snow-frosted air for uncounted minutes, then slowly dissipated in the harsh, unrelenting, unrefined reality of Silver Rock Springs. The past no longer mattered. He was home at last. A wanted man again.