The Marshal's Surrender (Holidays in Mountain Home Book 3) Read online

“Thanks, Miss Talmadge, but no thanks.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You’ll feel better once this whole mess is over and done with.”

  He folded his arms, spread his boots, and pinned her with his gaze. Yeah, he’d feel better once the bad guys were on their way to Cañon City for terrorizing Mrs. Irene Boczowski, destroying her property, and kidnapping Noelle… but that feeling better wouldn’t have anything to do with Miss Talmadge, who really wasn’t lookin’ all that appealing.

  As if the attack of one young woman wasn’t enough, the mayor’s daughter—the former sheriff’s daughter’s partner in crime—exited the front door and joined her friend on the porch. The ladies linked arms and both looked at him with a mix of appreciation and disappointment.

  “We have complete confidence in you,” Miss Virginia Abbott confided in a stage whisper. “We have every confidence, don’t we?”

  “That we do.”

  Dragging her cohort along, Miss Talmadge drew nearer and traced her fingertip down the front of his coat, tracing the circle of one button after another.

  He nearly cringed.

  What would it take to rid himself of these girls’ attention?

  “You know, don’t you, that if you had a wife to take care of you, trouble like this would be ever so much easier, right? The community would look more kindly upon you if you were a stable, married man.”

  This was the most blatant hint she’d dropped, to date, and he didn’t see her easing up.

  “Ladies, this is not the time.” Nor the place. Anyone could overhear.

  “Just think about it, won’t you?” Miss Talmadge’s finger still drew maddening circles on his chest. He wanted to step backward, out of reach, but he’d never been one to retreat. He stood his ground.

  Behind him, the door opened and closed. Families bustled toward their waiting conveyances.

  He kept his attention riveted on the two girls. “No sense thinking about it. Like I’ve said, I’m not the marrying kind.”

  “Bah.” Miss Talmadge smiled, much too confident. “A fine man like you needs a wife. You need to bolster your credibility in Mountain Home.”

  “My mother said the same thing.” Miss Abbott patted her friend’s arm. “Just now, naturally. And earlier. Both. Married men are ever so much more trustworthy.”

  Gus rolled his eyes. “Excuse me, ladies.”

  Miss Talmadge grabbed his coat collar and he was too much of a gentleman to pull out of her grip. He raised one eyebrow and waited for her to explain herself.

  “Do be careful, won’t you?”

  “Always am.”

  “It’ll be ever so dangerous riding out tomorrow morning.”

  Guilt twisted in his chest. He wouldn’t be riding anywhere. He’d be here, safeguarding the Finlay family. He didn’t like the idea of drawing the bad guys in that way, but Old Finlay was right… it seemed the most productive way to end this thing.

  Miss Talmadge’s hold on his collar tugged him closer. What a pest.

  “Something you wanted, Miss Talmadge?”

  She preened. She did have a lovely smile, but not near as captivating as Effie’s….or Noelle’s.

  “Why yes, there is. As you’re busy with this dreadful case, you’ll be so busy, I don’t know when I’ll see you again. Allow me to issue my invitation now. Without family at Christmastime, I just know you’ll be lonesome. Mother and Father wish to invite you to spend Christmas Day at our home.”

  “That’s kind—”

  Miss Abbott stomped one boot. “Now wait a minute—we agreed—”

  Gus held up both hands, effectively dislodging Miss Talmadge’s grip on his collar. “No invitations. I’m not feelin’ social right now. Too much work.”

  Besides, he wasn’t in the mood to celebrate Christmas. It’d be fine with him if the season passed right on by in its blur of white and snow and icy temperatures.

  “—he’ll definitely come to the mayor’s Christmas Eve party,” Miss Abbott continued as if he hadn’t spoken.

  “Precisely! It’s my turn for Christmas Day. Fair is fair.”

  “Ladies, I’m not a hair ribbon you can take turns with.”

  The pair glanced at him but quickly turned narrowed gazes back on one another. Let them have their little snit. He wanted no part of it. “If I ever marry, mind you, there’s only one gal on my list.”

  What had possessed him to say that?

  He clutched, his chest tightening from the stark realization that he hadn’t been about to claim undying love for Effie Scofield…he’d been about to claim Noelle Finlay was the only one he’d consider.

  Amazing.

  “Who?” Miss Talmadge stepped nearer, a sweet smile on her pink lips. The cold had made her cheeks pink, her eyes bright. Someone else would find her attractive, appealing. She batted her eyelashes in a coquettish manner some bloke would find alluring. Not him. He’d always been a one-woman kind of man.

  The mayor’s daughter laughed. The musical tones usually made him smile. She’d had him grinning more than once when she came by the sheriff’s office to feed him.

  But today, these two seemed more shallow, more desperate, their flirtations annoying—the flattery had long since died. He really ought to put an end to it. “My apologies, ladies.”

  “What do you mean—apologies?” Miss Talmadge split a glance between her friend and him. “Oh, I guess one of us will be heartbroken, won’t we? There is only one of you, after all.”

  Miss Abbott blinked twice in rapid succession. “There’s no sense spending Christmas Eve with one of us and Christmas Day with the other…if you’ve made your selection.”

  An evil part of him wanted to taunt them. The girls were like dogs, fighting over a bone.

  “Well, Mr. Rose?” Miss Talmadge seemed awfully sure of herself.

  The door kept opening and closing. More families and couples and individuals heading out. Amid the low murmuring of voices inside, he caught a hint of Noelle’s laughter. Now that sounded like pure happiness. Joy. Unfettered.

  Good.

  Very good.

  After all she’d been through, it just seemed right and wholesome and precious and it tugged on his heart.

  He’d nearly lost her.

  “If I marry,” he said, even as the pair of unwanted young ladies stepped ever closer, leaning in to hear him, “I’ll have none but Noelle Finlay.”

  From where Noelle stood near the front door of her home, she easily overheard Gus’s impassioned statement. “If I marry, I’ll have none but Noelle Finlay.”

  She’d heard him, plain as day.

  Crystal clear. Unmistakable. Shocking.

  Precisely what she’d wanted to hear.

  Unbelievable.

  Memories of his kiss, not ever far away, swept over her with the heat and voracity of a forest fire.

  That kiss had seared her to her toes.

  And made her crave more. Far more.

  This proved the tides had turned.

  She found herself grinning like an idiot. And shaking Reverend Gilbert’s hand. Naturally, he and Mrs. Gilbert had joined the others for the impromptu town meeting.

  “Glad to see you looking so chipper, Miss Noelle.”

  “Thank you, Reverend.”

  “Happy you survived your ordeal.”

  “Me too.”

  She strained to hear the rest of the conversation. What else was Gus saying to Virginia and Belle?

  She was still smiling, ear-to-ear, when the last of their guests filed out half an hour later.

  She found Gus on the back porch, smoking a cigarette and scanning the tree-line along the back of the house.

  He glanced at her, nodded, and blew out a steady stream of smoke.

  Confident his feelings were now in her favor, she determined to grab the opportunity by both horns and run with it. He might argue with her, but that would all be for show. It was time to act.

  If she’d learned nothing else through her ordeal, she’d realized time was preciou
s. She’d regretted not telling him how she felt. She wouldn’t wait—not now that she knew he returned her affection.

  Even with her coat bundled up to her throat, her muff securely about both hands, and her hat pulled low, the chill wind circled about her wool stockings and chilled her bone deep. She doubted she’d ever be warm again.

  From here, it was easy to see a lantern bobbing in the hand of one of the men, moving from bunkhouse to barn. She watched Gus track the hired hand.

  Inside the house, dishes clattered in the kitchen as her mother prepared dinner.

  Homey sounds.

  Familiar music.

  She’d desperately missed her family and the safety of her home. It was good to be back.

  Gus drew deeply on his cigarette and blew the smoke at a sharp angle away from her.

  She opted for the direct approach. “I heard what you said to Virginia and Belle.”

  He groaned.

  “It’s fine. Really.” She couldn’t help but smile at him. “If I ever marry, I do believe the only man I’d accept would be you.”

  “Noelle—”

  The tone of his voice made it clear he regretted his statement. A chill of uncertainty slipped down her spine. Had he only made such a comment to throw those flirtatious twits off his tail? Maybe.

  Or maybe he’d meant it.

  “Shh.” She couldn’t help but touch him. She pulled one hand from the warmth of her muff and slipped it down his coat sleeve to his wrist, bare inside his coat pocket.

  Feeling daring, more certain of her reception than before, she pushed her hand into the warmth of his pocket, nestling it inside his.

  A rush of delight tickled through her. Especially as the expression on his face clearly read hope mingled with anticipation… and a bit of disbelief. Really? How could he not see how much she loved him?

  He squeezed her fingers, just once, but it sent a rush of excitement skittering through her. Oh, she liked holding hands.

  But then he pulled their joined hands from within his pocket and released her.

  Now that was a disappointment.

  “I’m sorry you heard that.” Gus dropped his cigarette butt and ground it beneath his boot heel. The lingering aroma of tobacco smelled good. It smelled like him. She could grow mighty used to it.

  “I’m not.”

  “Listen—I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Was it true?” She held his gaze, refusing to be put off. “Did you mean it?”

  Discomfort etched his strong features. The decision to placate settled in place. “I’m far too old for you.”

  “What? Six years? Seven?” Bother. What did a handful of years matter? They were both adults.

  “Depends. How old are you?—if I might ask.”

  “Nineteen.” Her birthday, Christmas Eve, would be here before they knew it. He needn’t know she was technically only eighteen.

  “A baby.”

  “Excuse me?”

  A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his supple lips, making her ache for another kiss. That kiss upon greeting had been beautiful, glorious—a kiss between a man and a woman. Age hadn’t factored into that kiss.

  “I’m too old for you.”

  “No. If you were my father’s age, then maybe. You can’t be more than three or four years older than me. That doesn’t count.”

  “Noelle?” He fell back a step, leaned his hips against the porch railing and folded his arms—as if that would keep her at a comfortable distance. It would serve him right if she threw herself into his arms and kissed him again. She had half a mind to do just that.

  “Hmm?”

  “Love doesn’t work out so well for me, and I’m certainly not ready to court anybody. I only said what I said because those two seem to have decided my period of mourning is over and it’s time to go in for the kill. I apologize for dragging you into this.”

  She shook her head. “You’re scared of the spark that flared between us. You’re scared of that kiss.”

  He seemed to choke on his own tongue and held up a hand as if to command her silence.

  “Admit it.” She wouldn’t back down—couldn’t. Not when they finally had a chance. Why would she let a misunderstanding get in the way of an honest chance at happiness?

  “No offense intended,” he began, “but you were only happy to see me. That kiss—it didn’t mean anything more.”

  “Balderdash.”

  “Excuse me?” He mocked her now, mimicking her vocal inflections and register, too.

  She slapped at his arm, giggling even as he chuckled. “That kiss was something special. I think you should kiss me again.”

  Unmistakable longing flashed through his expressive gray eyes before shutters slammed closed. “Not a good idea.”

  She drew near, pushing boundaries, risking a great deal. If he refused her, if he pushed her away, if he dared make some ridiculous statement saying if he ever married, it would be to old spinster Harriet McCormick, she’d never live down the embarrassment.

  It was now or never.

  Her skirts swished against his trouser legs. One more step brought the toe of her left boot into contact with his. He stiffened.

  He smelled of wind and winter, tobacco and man. She stood too near for propriety, but it wasn’t near enough. She took a leap by tucking her muff beneath her arm and pressing both hands flush against his chest. So many layers between her palms and him. She fancied she heard his heartbeat quicken.

  She could stand like this forever, near enough to draw in the scent that was uniquely his. Savor the fresh tobacco on his clothes, in his hair, the sandalwood soap on his skin.

  She ached to draw her fingers through his curls…were they as soft as they looked?

  Before she knew it, her left hand crept toward his coat collar and a chestnut curl.

  “Noelle—” He caught her wrists in his hands, halting her progress. His hands felt so warm, the connection of his flesh with her own so welcome. Her heart skipped a beat.

  She met his gaze in the fading daylight, the gray seeming darker, stormier. She wanted to believe it was because she affected him. Please, let him feel something.

  Behind Gus, here came Cliff, carrying two pails of fresh milk up the snow-covered walk and to the back door.

  She nearly smiled at his concerted effort to ignore them, as if they weren’t there. He set the milk pails, covered with tin lids, on the porch by the back door like always, then turned around and hustled back to the warmth of the bunkhouse.

  Through it all, Noelle kept her gaze locked with Gus’s and he kept her wrists trapped in his hands.

  “This isn’t a good idea,” he whispered.

  “Are you…” She opted for light-hearted banter. It would be so much easier if this came across as teasing, particularly if he turned her away. “Chicken?”

  “Am I chicken?”

  “Hmmm.” She stepped even closer, tucking her boots between his. Her shins made contact with his. Mother definitely wouldn’t approve, but she had a point to prove here, and aimed to do it right quick. “I think you are.”

  A grin twisted the corner of his kissable lips. “Not smart, calling a lawman yellow-bellied.”

  “Prove it. Prove you’re not a coward, not scared of what one little kiss awakened in you.”

  “Think that kiss awoke somethin’?”

  “I do.”

  He leaned down, until mere inches separated his mouth from hers. The weight of his arms about her middle felt so darn good, so right. It would be so easy to close the distance between them, to initiate another kiss. She fairly salivated at the thought of pressing her lips to his.

  “I’m no coward,” he whispered.

  “Prove it.”

  He shook his head. “I think it was an anomaly. A freak thing. Random like a lightning strike. You’d just been through an ordeal, and it was gratitude and relief speaking.”

  But he hadn’t pulled away. His words issued a challenge of their own—daring her to prove that k
iss high in the mountain canyon, when she’d been nearly frozen and scared she’d spend a night in the forest in December.

  “I was happy to see you.”

  “In that moment, you would’ve kissed anyone.”

  She raised one brow. “I might’ve kissed my brother on the cheek. But that kiss?” She leaned nearer, wondering if he sensed half the pull toward her that she did toward him. She’d never been so incredibly forward, but found she didn’t, couldn’t, regret it. “That was for you alone.”

  The light faded further, making it even harder to see his expression, the clarity of his eyes. Oh, but she wanted to.

  He shrugged.

  “You doubt me?”

  “Prove it.” His whispered plea was all the prompting she needed.

  She touched her lips to his and found herself swept into a kiss as powerful as the first. Only this one had a sense of longing that was infinitely deeper.

  This kiss promised a beginning.

  “I love you.” Emotion demanded she speak. “I love you, Gus.”

  She snuggled against the warm hollow of his throat, savoring the moment, the rush of affection vibrating in her soul.

  He stilled.

  He must feel the power of that kiss, the same miraculous bond.

  Love between a man and a woman. Precious. Healing. Permanent.

  Stillness led to a deep breath. His broad chest expanded and with hands upon her shoulders, set her back.

  Cold wind stole between them, and in the near-dark, she glimpsed his hardened expression.

  Euphoria shattered.

  Her Gus was gone—only the stern lawman remained.

  Rejection struck hard and fast, a surprise attack, not unlike the moment the Ruffians had grabbed her from the safety of the kitchen.

  Oh, why had she opened her mouth?

  Things had been perfect—

  “Noelle.” Gus’s voice was as stern as his posture. “This isn’t the time. I can’t—”

  White-hot pain gripped her heart, her chest—

  How dare he? He couldn’t know what she felt. He couldn’t read her mind.

  But she’d known, hadn’t she? From the very beginning.

  One stumbled step, then two. She flung open the screen door and pushed inside.

  Heat and light. Family. Crowds.

  Faces of loved ones turned to her, questions and concern on their faces.