“Before I wronged him.”
“I can’t imagine you wronging anyone.”
“I was young, and I didn’t understand. I came upon Hamilton with a…” He was dead now, and nothing could harm him. “With a stable hand.”
Sheriff Hale’s breath paused for a long moment. “Does stable hand mean the same thing in England that it does in Wyoming?”
“It does, yes. I didn’t know it was possible for men to do that together. I thought…I thought Hamilton was being hurt—he was crying out—and I ran to tell my father. He tossed my brother out and disowned him, cut him off entirely. Had the stable hand beaten half to death. It was two years before I realized what I’d really seen, what I’d done. I’m lucky he didn’t hate me.”
“You were just a child.”
“Yes, but that didn’t negate the harm I’d caused. I ended his life, but luckily he found a way to start another.”
His hand stroked her shoulder, then down to her hands to tug the knot free before he rubbed gently at the red marks. “Is that why you’re here in Wyoming? To remember him and punish yourself?”
“No. I want to be here. I wanted to choose my own life, and I couldn’t do that in England. My family and my husband’s family…I felt smothered by them. But here it seems that anything is possible. My brother made a new life for himself. Anyone can become what he wants here.”
“That may be a slight exaggeration.”
“I suppose. But it can also be the truth.”
He kissed her neck again. “And what do you want to be?”
“I’m not sure yet. Right now I’m…experimenting.”
“With me?” He sounded surprised.
“No, I’m quite clear on what we’re doing, Sheriff. I’m experimenting with me. ” Saying it aloud made her feel daring. “I’m opening a library.”
“A what? ”
“A lending library. I’ll try my hand at being a librarian. I shall have to practice my look of disapproval for patrons who lose books. Perhaps you’ll teach me how to be intimidating.”
His chuckle ruffled her hair so that it swept forward to tickle her nose. “You’re English. You already sound proper enough that it will pass for sternness.”
“Perfect.”
His mouth touched her shoulder this time. “You’re fascinating, Lily Anders.”
“Not really,” she said, but she was still grinning when she heard his breath fall into the even cadence of sleep. She couldn’t spend the night, she had to go, but she would carry that impossible statement home with her like a priceless gift.
Sheriff Hale found her fascinating. Another layer to add to who she was.
CHAPTER SIX
A week of hard riding passed in an exhausting blur, but thoughts of Lily Anders kept Hale company along the way. He’d only been home for four of the past seven nights, but he’d spent each evening with her. Sometimes she offered dinner. Sometimes it was so late that her bedroom was already dark when he entered. But every night she stripped something bare inside his soul. There was frightening power in her acquiescence.
Now as he road through the heat and dust, Hale could call up many images of Lily stretched naked on her deep green quilt. One night, he’d been determined to explore every inch of her body, but the candle he’d used to light his way had dripped wax onto her sensitive skin. Hale had cursed and apologized, but Lily’s hand had stayed his retreat.
“Do it again,” she’d whispered. He’d held his hand to her throat and dripped trails of hot wax over her breasts and belly. The hisses and sighs that had escaped her mouth had become his favorite memory. The only memory that could overcome the images of the last murder victim they’d found.
Emilio Rodriguez had been a well-respected cowboy around these parts. He’d ridden out the week before to round up strays and had gotten shot in the gut for his trouble. Hale and his deputy had stumbled upon Emilio’s body days later. He didn’t want to know how long the man had lived, bleeding and thirsty,
“I can’t imagine you wronging anyone.”
“I was young, and I didn’t understand. I came upon Hamilton with a…” He was dead now, and nothing could harm him. “With a stable hand.”
Sheriff Hale’s breath paused for a long moment. “Does stable hand mean the same thing in England that it does in Wyoming?”
“It does, yes. I didn’t know it was possible for men to do that together. I thought…I thought Hamilton was being hurt—he was crying out—and I ran to tell my father. He tossed my brother out and disowned him, cut him off entirely. Had the stable hand beaten half to death. It was two years before I realized what I’d really seen, what I’d done. I’m lucky he didn’t hate me.”
“You were just a child.”
“Yes, but that didn’t negate the harm I’d caused. I ended his life, but luckily he found a way to start another.”
His hand stroked her shoulder, then down to her hands to tug the knot free before he rubbed gently at the red marks. “Is that why you’re here in Wyoming? To remember him and punish yourself?”
“No. I want to be here. I wanted to choose my own life, and I couldn’t do that in England. My family and my husband’s family…I felt smothered by them. But here it seems that anything is possible. My brother made a new life for himself. Anyone can become what he wants here.”
“That may be a slight exaggeration.”
“I suppose. But it can also be the truth.”
He kissed her neck again. “And what do you want to be?”
“I’m not sure yet. Right now I’m…experimenting.”
“With me?” He sounded surprised.
“No, I’m quite clear on what we’re doing, Sheriff. I’m experimenting with me. ” Saying it aloud made her feel daring. “I’m opening a library.”
“A what? ”
“A lending library. I’ll try my hand at being a librarian. I shall have to practice my look of disapproval for patrons who lose books. Perhaps you’ll teach me how to be intimidating.”
His chuckle ruffled her hair so that it swept forward to tickle her nose. “You’re English. You already sound proper enough that it will pass for sternness.”
“Perfect.”
His mouth touched her shoulder this time. “You’re fascinating, Lily Anders.”
“Not really,” she said, but she was still grinning when she heard his breath fall into the even cadence of sleep. She couldn’t spend the night, she had to go, but she would carry that impossible statement home with her like a priceless gift.
Sheriff Hale found her fascinating. Another layer to add to who she was.
CHAPTER SIX
A week of hard riding passed in an exhausting blur, but thoughts of Lily Anders kept Hale company along the way. He’d only been home for four of the past seven nights, but he’d spent each evening with her. Sometimes she offered dinner. Sometimes it was so late that her bedroom was already dark when he entered. But every night she stripped something bare inside his soul. There was frightening power in her acquiescence.
Now as he road through the heat and dust, Hale could call up many images of Lily stretched naked on her deep green quilt. One night, he’d been determined to explore every inch of her body, but the candle he’d used to light his way had dripped wax onto her sensitive skin. Hale had cursed and apologized, but Lily’s hand had stayed his retreat.
“Do it again,” she’d whispered. He’d held his hand to her throat and dripped trails of hot wax over her breasts and belly. The hisses and sighs that had escaped her mouth had become his favorite memory. The only memory that could overcome the images of the last murder victim they’d found.
Emilio Rodriguez had been a well-respected cowboy around these parts. He’d ridden out the week before to round up strays and had gotten shot in the gut for his trouble. Hale and his deputy had stumbled upon Emilio’s body days later. He didn’t want to know how long the man had lived, bleeding and thirsty,
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