Disobeying the Marshal by Lauri Robinson Page A

her, she’d been peeking out the window of her mother’s clapboard house, while the self-righteous older woman had held a shotgun to his chest. He’d asked Florie to come with him, practically begged her to, but she’d refused. He didn’t blame her. Hadn’t then and couldn’t now. And he didn’t blame her mother, either. His profession aside, he’d done wrong. Had his actions driven her to this? To Sister Marie’s?
    “Hoping to what?” he asked.
    The darkness of night didn’t lessen the perfection of her delicate features, nor diminish the soft shade of her blue eyes. Worry contoured her lovely face, and the sight played havoc with Cord’s already twisting insides.
    “I-I came to see you, b-but I didn’t want you to see me like this,” she whispered. “I was hoping Marie would loan me some clothes.”
    In a rush, the ruckus inside Sister Marie’s—the banging of piano keys, the clicking of the roulette wheel and the overly loud voices of men who should have stopped drinking hours ago—hit his ears. Marie Hooper’s generosity was known for miles. It was understandable Florie had heard of her, but, Cord determined, Marie was not who Florie needed. This was his chance to make it right. He wrapped an arm around Florie’s still trembling shoulders. “Come on.”
    She stumbled and he tightened his hold on her. Her apologetic smile played more havoc with his insides. With his aid, she took a cautious step, then another, and he set his pace to accommodate her stiff movements as they walked down the well-worn trail between the two buildings and onto the boardwalk.
    Their heels clicked upon the wood, echoing in the night air. The sound didn’t interrupt Cord’s mind as it conjured up a dozen reasons for her to be here. Until his common sense—the part of him that was him hard to find when it came to Florence Rockford—managed to sneak in and declare she wasn’t here because she loved him. That was a myth his rambling mind conjured up on those nights he couldn’t sleep. In those dreams nothing kept them apart. Not his badge. Not her mother.
    This time it was him that stumbled. That was it, wasn’t it? Love.
    Florie gazed at him questionably. He set their pace again. “Did you say you came to see me?”
    “Yes.” Her wobbly smile hit his heart like a bullet. “Where are we going?” she asked.
    He’d intended to take her to the Marshal’s office. The squat but serviceable building at the end of the block was made of bricks and mortar that not even Billy Winter could break out of. Billy’s brothers had tried to help him escape, and now all four Winter brothers shared one little cell, fighting over who got the cot every night.
    Cord guided her off the boardwalk and gestured down the road. “To my house.” Maybe there she wouldn’t see him as a lawman, but simply as a man. Perhaps one she could love. He now knew that was it. He was in love with Florie. The moment he set eyes on her again, his mind had comprehended what his heart had been saying all along. “It’s that house at the end of the road,” he assured her. “Not much farther.”
    Her long, thick hair was plaited into one braid, but several strands had escaped and floated around her slender face. She brushed the tendrils aside as she looked toward his house. Cord held his breath. The memory of how her hair had formed a curtain around their faces, as she’d lain atop him and kissed him with those lush, full lips, had popped into his head and sent his blood surging like a swollen river.
    Good heavens, he had it bad. Forcing the memories into the recesses of his mind was impossible. He clenched his jaw. Parts of his body, dormant these past months, burst to life, hot and throbbing. He could almost feel the silkiness of her nakedness gliding over him. Taste the extraordinary flavor of her skin. Hear the way she’d moaned as they’d come together so astoundingly he still pondered the intensity of their merger.
    Sweat beaded his