Between the Marshal & the Vampire(26)

He helped Mariel to her feet and dusted off her skirts, feeling responsible for her mussed state but also proud of it, too. He liked the pretty blush on her cheeks when she thanked him.

"Just taking care of my lady," Clay said, tipping an imaginary hat, since he'd lost his back at the train.

She smiled and he couldn't help himself. He caught her hand and pulled her against him. He bent her back beneath a long, lingering kiss. Without Vellum's influence the kiss was softer and less urgent, yet no less satisfying. What he'd intended to be a quick kiss turned into one that dragged on as he found himself unable to end it. Mariel kissed him back the way he'd always hoped a woman would, with as much passion as he gave.

"Clay," she said, sounding surprised and pleased when he finally ended the kiss. He kept her enclosed in his arms. "You're an amazing kisser."

"Only when I find a woman worth kissing." He hugged her, more eager than ever to get to Everton and begin a life with her. He hoped the weeks flew by.

As an afterthought, he turned his head. Vellum stood like a conglomeration of shadows, his pale face the only detail visible. Yet even though Clay could see the other male's face, he couldn't read what he was thinking.

~~~~~

Another night, more miles crossed. This time when they stopped to sleep for the night, Vellum didn't bind Clay in any way.

"I feel honored," the Marshal muttered as Vellum yawned where he stood beside his crate.

The vampire grinned at Clay with human teeth. "You should. There aren't many I trust with my life. At this point, there are only two of you."

Mariel hoped Clay appreciated the magnitude of what Vellum was doing. All Clay had to do was slide the lid aside when the sun was at its zenith and Vellum would die.

Clay, reclined on one elbow, inclined his head. "As long as you continue keeping your end of the deal, I don't have a problem with you, vampire."

"Nor do I have any problem with you, Marshal. Quite the contrary."

Clay didn't respond, though his brow creased.

"Goodnight," Vellum said and actually waved at them before lowering himself into his crate and sliding the lid over to seal himself into darkness.

"We could end it all in a couple of hours," Clay said conversationally.

Mariel stared at him. If Clay tried to kill Vellum would she stop him? The answer came quickly: of course she would. Vellum hadn't harmed either of them, and in fact had done his best to see that they were comfortable during an uncomfortable journey. Even leaving aside the fact that she'd been intimate with Vellum twice, she just plain liked him. He was interesting and he had shown her only kindness. And there were the hints, such as the waving just now, that told her he wasn't fearsome (unless he needed to be, such as with Beaufort's men) and he wasn't alien. He had been forced to become a vampire and showed signs that he disliked the life he now lived. He was lonely. He was much like her.

"If you hurt him, you're not the man I took you to be, Marshal," she said quietly, without inflection, letting the words stand on their own.

He rolled onto his back to study her. A lock of light brown hair fell in a curl over one whiskey-brown eye.

"As long as he doesn't hurt you, he's safe," Clay said.

"He hasn't hurt me."

"No. Nor me, either." Clay's smile was boyish and self-deprecating. "In fact, he sort of helped me."

She couldn't stop her matching smile. "I might know what you mean."

"You think our feelings are only because of him?"

Back in Willowtown, she would have deflected the question, or shyly suggested the affirmative. But she was moving on with her life, and she had to move on with her attitude, too.

"My feelings haven't changed, Clay. I still want you."

"Thank the Lord for that," he breathed, and rolled up against her.

She loved the way he kissed her. That spark of deviltry she'd suspected he might possess had indeed been present in his lovemaking. He wasn't all easy and laid back. He could be as intense as Vellum, just in a different way, a more reverent way, perhaps. Mariel got the sense that Clay was always aware of how and where he touched her, and whether she responded positively to it. "Attentive" was a good word to describe him, and he displayed it now in the shade of a blanket, while the sun was turning the sky red and gold as it rose from slumber.

"You're beautiful," he sighed against her jaw as he trailed soft kisses down to her throat. He kissed her where Vellum had fed from her. "I'm a lucky man, Mariel."

She combed her fingers through his hair. "Yes, you are, Marshal."

He grinned and licked her skin. "Always did like a woman who understands how much she's worth."

"Never did like a charmer, but I'm learning to make an exception," she returned with an impish grin.

He gazed into her eyes and then molded his lips to hers once again. She curled her arms around his strong shoulders and let him guide her back.





7


The next sunset, after Vellum brought dinner back to the camp, Mariel watched the vampire with nearly the same level of concentration that he was apt to use when he fixed on her and Clay. She was worried. Worried that Vellum might become jealous or feel left out. He'd warned her not to form attachments with him, but he'd let slip enough hints to tell her those warnings might have been as much for himself as for her.