Mallory Rush - [Outlawsand Heroes 02] by Dead or Alive Page A

stroking it while he imagined stroking into her with a gentle fury— an imagining that made his body ache where she pressed.
    Yes, he was hurting there; but even more he was aching in places unseen.
    Early dawn turned the white shades of the window a pale lemon. The room softly illuminated, he shifted his gaze to the bedstand and stared grimly at the picture he had avoided looking at since he'd first entered her room.
    Encased in a silver frame was a lifelike image of Lori in a wedding gown, her face radiant as she smiled up at a formally dressed man who could only be Mick.
    A handsome chap, though a bit long in the jaw.
    Noble's own jaw tightened.
    Mick wasn't dead, not really. Even from the grave he had a powerful hold over Lori's affections. And her loyalty. Noble could understand that, having lost his parents much the same way. Nevertheless, he considered this man, this Mick, his enemy.
    Not only must I compete with your exalted memory, he silently told him, your martyrdom has put me in a dreadful position.
    His eyes narrowed in hostility at the picture, Noble carefully reached over and turned it down.
    He gathered Lori more tightly to him. Her soft sigh made him yearn to sip the breath from her lips, tautened his keen need for release. Release, how he did need it. A borrowed escape from the mire of his troubled thoughts, some small ease for his physical distress, which she worsened with her nuzzles.
    Never had he felt such comfort and discomfort all at once. Never had he sought ease in the arms of a slumbering woman, but he held Lori as if she were his own, not the lawman's.
    The man whose ghost stood between them.
    * * *
    Lori stretched languorously as she came slowly awake. Ahhh... mmmm, but she felt so rested, so at peace, so—
    She sat up with a start. Bright light beat against the window shades and she knew it must be midday. Had she overslept? Impossible, she never overslept. A quick glance at the bedside clock informed her that the impossible had happened.
    About to bound from the bed, Lori stopped.
    "Wait a minute..." she whispered. The cobwebs clearing from her head, she felt surging images from the night before rush in, wave upon wave.
    Her gaze went to the pillow that bore proof Noble had been there. A single rose lay where his head had been. Beside the rose was a note. Lori picked it up and was struck by the elaborate flourish of his handwriting, a stark contrast to the pharmaceutical-company heading on her notepad—the one she kept beside the kitchen phone. An uneasy premonition niggled at her, but she pushed it aside and proceeded to read:
    My dear, Lori, I took the liberty of plucking a flower from your garden, for it reminded me of you—yellow petals the color of sunshine. Fragile and soft, belying a strong stem and the threat of thorns.
    Lifting the rose, Lori ran a fingertip over the stem. And smiled. The thorns had been removed.
    While strolling your front grounds, I saw many things which pricked my curiosity—even more so than the oddity in your kitchen which allows voices to speak, same in foreign, tongues even, with a random, press of numbered buttons.
    Lori's groan gave way to a gasp of alarm.
    Should you awaken before I return, no need to fret. I have gone to embark upon what promises to be a grand adventure but shall return in time to take tea with you. Quite an assortment I found in your pantry—as intriguing and delightful to the senses as you, my lady.
    Faithfully, I am yours—Noble.
    "Oh my God," she breathed. "Oh my God!"
    Leaping from the bed, Lori tossed aside both flower and note and took off, shouting, "Noble! Noble! Are you here? Please, be here!"
    His room, maybe he was in his room. No Noble there. Just a made-up bed and Mick's pants folded neatly at the end. By the time she flew into the kitchen, her heart was pounding, her stomach churning, and her imagination racing faster than her feet. Oh Lord, please don't let him get run over or arrested or taken to the psych ward at the