Tucker's Claim. Sarah McCarty

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      “What are thee thinking?”

      “Where we can go for a little privacy.”

      “Thee do not have this all planned?”

      The question hit him on a raw spot he had thought long since scabbed over. His mother being Indian didn’t make him an amoral tomcat with nothing better to do than plan the next skirt to lift. “I’ve been busy.”

      Trying to find Desi’s sister, Ari, before her uncle’s henchman did. Trying to keep Sam and Bella alive against the outlaws that wanted Sam dead and Bella’s inheritance in their pockets. Trying to keep his hands off Sally Mae.

      Sally winced and sighed, her palms pressing against his chest, stroking the apology into his skin. Her fingers tangled in the cord around his neck, sliding down to nudge the bullet he always wore around his neck as a reminder of what happened to those who were weak. “Thee should know I’m not good at this.”

      He pulled them away, not liking the thought of her tainted by the memories it harbored. “What exactly is this?”

      “This is supposed to be me seducing thee.” She slanted him a look from under her lashes. “I’ve been led to believe it doesn’t take much.”

      “To seduce an Indian?”

      This time, she slapped his shoulder, the small, painless violence just arousing him more. Pushing back, she glared at him. His hand in the small of her back kept her from putting any real distance between them, but it didn’t keep her from trying. A little of his resentment faded as he quelled the rebellion by lifting her just a bit so her struggles snuggled the ridge of his cock into the V of her thighs. On a sharp gasp, she went utterly still. But she didn’t back down.

      “Any man.”

      “Your momma tell you that?”

      “It was more of a warning, to keep me safe from the base desires of men.”

      “And yet, here you are, blatantly tempting my baser self.”

      She frowned. “Who wants to aggravate me.”

      “Who wants you very much,” he corrected, sliding his hands up her back.

      “I’m not so sure I want thee anymore.”

      The little liar. The truth was in the way she cuddled against him and the way her eyes watched his lips shape around the words as if imagining other things. “Even if I promise to be very easy to seduce?”

      Her fingers dug into his shoulder as he pressed against her in little pulses. “How easy?”

      Trailing his fingers down her cheek, over the slight ledge of her shoulder to her chest, he confessed, “Very.”

      Biting her lip, she continued to hold still as he found and followed the strap of her camisole beneath her dress. “I could meet thee in the barn.”

      The confession came out in a breathless rush that touched his tender side and reminded him she was new to this, likely had never been with anyone but the good doctor. That being the case, this was a very big step for her. The least he could do was make it easy. As his finger hit the bodice of the hidden camisole, he kissed her lips for no reason other than that it had been fifteen seconds since the last time he’d placed his mouth on hers, fifteen seconds since he’d taken her breath as his. Fifteen seconds since he’d felt that particular arc of pleasure go through him. It was no different this time. Pleasure arced in a rich unfurling. And when its journey culminated its race down his spine, settling in his balls, pulling them up tight, it was almost like coming home. This time, when their lips parted, he couldn’t manage easy. His impatience bit into his drawl, dragging it down to a rough growl.

      “The barn’s too conspicuous.”

      She blinked, not with him yet. Her tongue ran over her lips. “I can sneak.”

      As if sneaking was an option. “The rumors will start before you get to the rose garden.”

      His staying in her barn when he was in town hadn’t raised suspicions when her husband was alive, but now that she was widowed, a hostile edge had invaded his dealings with some of the town’s more ornery citizens. Pretty much everyone but Sally Mae held his motives in suspicion. And as the days passed, that suspicion was growing.

      She sighed and flicked her fingers in dismissal. “Some people lead very boring lives. They seek something to talk about.”

      She’d obviously never been on the wrong side of community opinion, otherwise she’d know how much other people’s assumptions could ruin a life. He drew his thumb across the remnants of their kiss, the soft, moist flesh clinging to his calluses.

      “Bored people could make life very difficult for you.”

      “If I worried about how others see my choices, my life would be equally boring.”

      He kind of liked the idea of her life being boring. Predictable. Safe.

      “Thankfully, the sacrifice won’t be necessary.” He let her slide down, his breath hissing between his teeth as her stomach slid along his cock. “The moon’s bright enough. I’m thinking that I could meet you down by the pond.”

      She ran her hand up his back. “Outside?”

      She didn’t sound put off by the idea. He hadn’t really expected her to be. In his experience, being taken outdoors was part of what women expected when they invited him to their bed. “Yes.”

      Her fingers pressed against his nape in a fleet kiss of excitement. “I’ll have to take my leave and then stop by the house. I will meet thee in an hour.”

      An hour was too damn long. As the only thing he could figure she needed from the house was a blanket, he offered. “I can take the quilt off my bed.”

      She stepped back, out of his arms. “Not those kind of things.”

      He had a gnawing urge to drag her back. “Care to explain?”

      She sighed. “Thee must not take this wrong, but I do not wish to become with child.”

      He wasn’t in any particular hurry to be a father, though a part of him couldn’t resist toying with the thought of a child. A little bit of him to go on in the future. He wouldn’t have one, of course. Caught between the Indian world he’d never known and the white world that wouldn’t accept him, there was no place for him, any more than there’d be a place for a child who would no doubt bear his skin color. For him, there were just these stolen moments with different women with no forever on the back end.

      “You’ve got a way of stopping that?”

      “Yes. Jonah taught me.”

      “It works?”

      “We were married six years and I do not have a child.”

      She sounded neither happy nor sad when she said that, which just struck him as wrong. A woman like Sally Mae, who cared for everyone, would have strong maternal urges. Yet she didn’t have children because her husband had taught her how to avoid it.

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