One morning about a month later on one of Arthur's visits Eliza smiled as she stood completely bare before him helping him dress. She tucked his shirt into his breeches and pulled his suspenders up over his shoulders as he watched her.

"So who's this feller Andrews?" he said.

"Hm?" she said as she pressed his hat on and kissed him. "You been in town recently?"

"So he's townsfolk."

She pulled back and looked at him. "Where did you hear that name?"

He looked down and pulled out a piece of paper. "Was on the porch for you."

She looked down at it. "You're readin' my mail?"

"If you're gettin' mail it means someone knows where you're livin'."

"Just Addie. She agreed to forward my mail to me." She took the paper from him and looked at it. "And anyways, this is a letter from Addie herself!"

"You've yet to answer my question," he said, thinking back on a couple of the comments in the letter: Mr. Andrews is keen to see you… Andrews wants to know what you'll have of him. He looked at her and came close. "I don't like the sound of him. Don't go near him."

She looked up into his eyes and felt her breathing slow. "You don't own me."

"No…" he said in a low tone, and the way he drew out the vowel almost made it sound like a question, but she knew it wasn't. He took her mouth in his and kissed her deeply. She'd never imagined kissing could be as sinful as he could make it.

He finally drew back, reluctantly releasing her bottom lip as they parted. He smirked when he watched her lean forward with her eyes closed and her mouth hanging half open, craving more. "Don't go near him."

Her eyelids fluttered open as she listened to the sound of his boots as he left the bedroom. She grabbed the sheet off the bed, wrapped herself in it, and hurried after him, her hair bouncing in her face as she abruptly stopped in the sitting room. "Andrews is the grocer, Arthur," she said, clutching the letter in one hand and the sheet around her with the other.

He stopped cold, hearing her pronounced breaths through her nose behind him, knowing she was just on the verge of cackling. He wished he could keep from doing it, but he couldn't fight it—he looked back to see her trying to gather a haughty expression through loose, crumbling pieces of giddy laughter and gratification. She didn't have to say a thing—he could read it in her eyes: You kinda like me, huh?

He lifted his eyebrows and continued walking out the door, trying to brush it off. "I'll be back in a bit," he called.

He returned that afternoon with not one horse, but two. She came through the front door and watched him goad and pull the new one by the lasso. "Hyah!" he said, finally slapping his flank and sending him running into the corral as he closed the gate door behind him.

"Found you a beauty," he said rubbing his hands together as he approached the porch.

"You found him?" she said, descending the porch steps.

He nodded. "Found him roamin' the fields."

"That's a painted chestnut thoroughbred," she said wiping her hands on her apron.

"Yeah…" he said looking over at her. "How'd you know?"

"You caught me a race horse?"

"Well, you gotta have somethin' to ride around on. And your little milkin' heifer's gonna get mighty lonely in the barn," he shot her a saucy smirk and snickered when she swatted him with her rag. "When my mare ain't around to keep her company, that is."

She looked back at the horse and watched as he rambunctiously pranced around the edges of the corral. "He's beautiful."

"Yeah—only the best," he winked at her as he walked toward the corral. "He's a fine one, but an awful wild one. For now, at least."

"You gonna try to break 'im?"

"Try?" he said with clear disgust at the word. He chuckled as he walked toward the horse. "This horse'll be well and broken 'fore I'm done with him."

She turned and went back indoors to watch Isaac and tidy the house, but when it grew dark Arthur was still outside. She followed the sounds of harried whinnying and frustrated grunts to see Arthur still being bucked beneath the stars. When the horse threw him, he finally came inside with a snarl on his face.

"Buckin' bastard," he snipped.

.

Early the next morning when Eliza awoke and turned to stretch in the bed she was met by a soft kiss on the mouth, and she smiled groggily. Arthur tossed the quilt off and got out of bed, and she watched and listened to the usual jingling sounds of his belt buckle and spurs as he quickly dressed.

"I gotta go work on breakin' that horse," he said reading her mind before she opened her mouth. "I don't want him buckin' you when you gotta ride into town."

After he'd left, when she heard the restless whinnying and heard Arthur grumble, "Goddamn nag!" she sat up and changed out of her nightgown. She brought Isaac out with her in his thatched bassinet and set him on the ground by the corral fence. She climbed the boards and rested her forearms on the top rail, smiling as she watched the tug-of-war for authority between man and animal for another several minutes. The horse once bucked him so hard his hat flew off in her direction; and when it fell to the ground before her she bent and reached for it, smiling as she placed it on her own head.

"Why don't I give it a try?" she said.

"Now Eliza," he said through bucks, "I won't presume to be like your father, tellin' you what you can and can't do, but I won't lie to you: this is a fierce wild animal. He means business, and he don't tire easily. At all." He looked at her as he dismounted. "As long as you think you can handle him…"

She nodded. "I think I can manage." She climbed through the fence rails as Arthur massaged his tender hands.

Arthur hopped over the fence and turned to watch her. "Holler if it gets too much for ya."

With his hat still on her head she was already slowly walking towards the beast, who was anxiously pawing at the dirt and shaking his head. She held her hand out and softly cooed to him. "Hey, boy. That's all right. You're all right, boy."

Arthur peered at the scene as she reached out a hand and stroked his nose looking him straight in the eye, whispering to him.

"Shhh, good boy," she whispered. "Steady, that's it. Shhh." She patted and massaged the side and underside of his neck as she kept her eyes on his and shushed him. With her hand cupped she brought an apple to his mouth that Arthur hadn't even noticed she had. "Easy, boy. Ohhh…good boy. Yes. You're a sweetheart."

Arthur watched as she effortlessly reached a foot up into the stirrup and swung her leg to the other side, hiking her skirts and knickers past her knees and midway up her thighs. He raised his eyebrows; precious few times had he seen a woman mount a horse with a leg on either side while in a skirt—certainly never like that. His eyes grew heavy as he watched her in the saddle, saliva pooling at the top of his cinched throat.

His brows scrunched together and his jaw hung open as the horse suddenly gave a few soft, sullen bucks—spurts here and there—almost as if he'd forgotten how to buck, or as if just remembering that he was supposed to and wasn't really certain he wanted to at all. Eliza held steady, gripping the horn and adjusting her balance for each romp. He reared once—a halfhearted little thing—and Eliza sat forward and held the reins tight. It wasn't a full fifteen seconds before the horse was completely at peace and contented beneath her. She pulled him this way and that with the reins, and Arthur watched as she let her right hand hang loose and comfortable at her side, the way he himself did when his horse entered a trot.

He finally swallowed and raised his eyebrows, blinking. "Well, that's it then! He'll only take you, I guess. Where in the hell did you learn to do that?"

She smiled and turned the horse around. "My daddy was a sailor, but my mama was a pony girl when she was young. She wouldn't let him move us to the shore. Had to have her horses and her wide open spaces. She taught me everything she knew about ridin' 'em and how to treat 'em." She reached down to pat and stroke the horse's neck. "Good boy. My boy," she said. She looked back up at him. "You gotta love 'em as much as you discipline 'em. Maybe even more." She dismounted and came toward him.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said. He couldn't take his eyes off her.

"Good," she grinned as she ducked and climbed through the rails. "Don't want you to go and unknowingly mistreat my new horse, after all. Or yours, for that matter."

He turned to her. "I tuckered him and broke him halfway for ya."

She put a hand to his cheek and grinned. "Sure you did." She picked up Isaac in his bassinet and began walking towards the homestead.

Still dazed, he looked back at the horse, whom he could've sworn was looking at him with an evil gleam in his eye.

He turned and went after her. "Whoa, whoa, hang on there…" he mumbled, practically skipping to catch up with her. He took his hat back from her head. "Ain't it about time for his nap?"

She smiled brightly at him. "It can be if we want it to be."

He nodded with a tilt of his head. "I'd say the clock is tellin' us it's about that time."

"Oh, the clock is, huh?" she laughed. She took Isaac to his bedroom and began rocking him to sleep.

Minutes later she heard Arthur's belt buckle rattle and his deep voice say from a distance through the cracked bedroom door: "Put the kid to bed already, Eliza."

She smiled as she looked down at Isaac's slivered eyes. Some things you can't rush, she thought.

When she finally got him to sleep and went to her room, Arthur practically pounced on her, jamming her up against the wall and immediately kissing her neck. "There's a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza…" he sang and mumbled as he kissed under her jaw.

She groaned a laugh and felt him chuckle against her cheek. "Just what are you gonna do about it, cowboy?" she said and felt him quickly begin undressing her. She took a deep breath as he finally kissed her on the mouth. She felt his hands run over her as he continued pulling her clothes off, and once she even heard a small rip. "Arthur," she brought her brows together. "I only have so many gowns."

"I'll get you some new ones."

"Here, let me," she said, trying to reach her stays. But she wasn't quick enough for him. He fumbled as she lifted her arms, and he managed to pull it off the rest of the way without tearing it as she shimmied her pantaloons off. Having rid them of the hurdle, he brought his hands to her neck and kissed her with renewed singularity of purpose.

She smiled. "A cowboy left to his devices…" she said as his hands left her neck to travel over her skin. "Careful, Arthur. Even kisses can lose their charm if you enjoy them too often."

He looked up into her eyes and grinned, leveling his eyes at her. "You…" he kissed her again, his grin widening. "Somehow I doubt that very seriously."

She laughed.

"He may be a good boy," she heard him say as she felt his tongue in the crook of her neck, "but I'm a bad one, darlin'."

She couldn't believe he'd said it and almost immediately burst into laughter, it was so flamboyantly bawdy and off-color. Deciding to play along, she gently bit his earlobe and whispered to him, "Prove it."

.

That afternoon Eliza lifted her head to find she'd been lying on Arthur's shoulder with her hand on his bare chest and his arm outstretched behind her. She didn't even remember falling asleep. But she had no trouble remembering everything before that. She looked up into his face to see him just waking when he felt her rustle against him. She was pleased they'd awoken gently from napping rather than darting awake to Isaac's sudden cries.

When he realized the way they were positioned, he pulled his arm from around her. When he caught a glimpse of her eyes, he smirked as he stretched and she lied on the pillow beside him.

"So 'd I do it?" he said as he scrunched up his face and yawned. "Did I manage to prove myself a very bad man?"

She shot him a look and shook her head, trying to keep a smirk from appearing at the corner of her mouth. "You've got to stop saying that."

"Why?" he grinned, leaning close. "Ugh, god, Eliza," he groaned. "You got no idea what it's like, goin' so long without you, without this…"

She felt herself melt when he rested his hand on her lower abdomen while he kissed her, so free and easy, like it was meant to be there all along.

"Oh, I've an inkling," she said. After weeks or months of living like a nun in a cloister, he'd come rolling back into her life like a thick thunder cloud from the west. And most times they'd go at it like lovers living their last days on earth.

"Just plumb survivin', darlin," he grinned with a gentle shake of his head before leaning close to kiss her again.

"So you think of me when we're apart?"

"Well, sure. Both of ya."

"You get lonesome for me?"

He grinned and slowly nodded.

She matched his smile and was flooded with goosebumps when he was suddenly on her, kissing her chest. "It's unseemly, Arthur," she squirmed.

"What is?" he murmured against her skin.

"To lie in bed all day."

He looked up at her with a wry grin. "That ain't all we been doin'."

She couldn't keep her smile from brightening as she swatted him. "Even worse!"

He dodged her hand. "We broke in a goddamn wild horse this mornin'!" He stilled and cleared his throat. "And then…" his smile went wobbly, "each other." When he saw her expression, a rolling snicker burst through his nose. "Just think of it as makin' up for lost time," he mumbled as he went back to kissing her chest. "Maybe we could break some kinda record."

She let a soft chuckle escape her as she watched him. She'd been branded hot with the mark of Cain, and it made her nothing more than a child playing with fire. But oh, she loved the way it felt to burn. Never in a million years would she have thought she'd be lying bare in an outlaw's arms, the both of them unable to get enough, never satisfied, always chasing after more. She pushed the thought away that they were just chasing after different things.

He sat on his knees and brought her thighs around him, looking down at her as he put his hands on either side of her midsection. He leaned down and kissed her lower abdomen, slowly working up her torso.

"Oh…no, no. Oh, god. No, Arthur. W-we can't do this all day. We just can't." He ignored her, and she shivered when she felt his tongue. "No…" she moaned, biting her lip as she listened to his lips smack against her skin. "Don't. Please…" she breathed a choppy laugh. Her breathing quickened the closer her got to her breasts. She felt herself ball up the sheet in both of her tight fists. "I…" she swallowed. "I have to check on Isaac," she whispered. "Oh, god! We'll never get out of bed. Arthur!" she whined. "Stop. Seriously, stop!"

When he came up to kiss her again on the mouth, she let herself smile. After all, it was her he was kissing—no one else. And she didn't have anything like powder, rouge, or fancy perfume to allure and entice him—still he came running. And he never had any trouble getting excited. All that bouncing around in his saddle hadn't damaged a thing; she could attest that his body worked just fine. And he knew just what to do with a woman's body. He almost always seemed to know just where and how she wanted to be touched. It was the rare exception that she had to show him.

"Mm…your scruff is scratchin' me," she whispered between his kisses.

"Oh yeah?" he smiled, continuing to kiss her.

"Yeah," she said softly with a smile and a nod, biting her lip.

He brushed his cheek against hers, garnering a mumbled giggle. "Hm…well, you're soft and warm." He slowly kissed the corner of her mouth, teasing her until he knew she couldn't take it anymore and returned his kiss full on the mouth. It was all he needed to kiss her so deeply she started to lose her breath. She finally pulled back, and he groaned when he felt her begin to rustle out from under him. "Don't do it. Don't get up," he whispered, planting another kiss on her.

"And your breath is rank," she said, pressing a hand to his chest and gently pushing him away as she got up.

Dejected, he flopped back and slumped against the headboard. "Yeah, why you think?"

She stopped cold, her eyes going wide as she looked back at him. "Oh. Arthur…no, please…" she whispered, trying to stop him from referencing it further. She shivered at the memory of him pressing soft kisses to the inside of her thigh, working his way up. When she'd first realized how low he was going, she'd panicked and asked him what he was doing. Relax, he'd told her. But she'd found it hard to do until she felt it for herself. She'd never even thought of doing anything like that before.

Arthur watched her face go beet red and her eyes turn to pleading. He chuckled wheezily as he leaned back, pulling out a cigarette. "You know, I will never understand you people with your propriety." He left it between his lips and mumbled as he spoke, striking a match. "As if talkin' about doin' somethin' is so much worse than actually doin' it. Ain't like you didn't seem to enjoy it."

"Arthur! Please!" she said in a strained whisper.

He looked at her and shrugged, his eyes going wide. "Ain't even anyone around! Who's gonna hear, God? Jesus!"

She nodded and huffed an incredulous laugh. "Yes, both of them. The Father and the Son. Thank you, Arthur." She smirked and shook her head as she watched him light his cigarette. "You're somethin' else."

.

That evening after they'd done more work around the grounds, Arthur went back into the bedroom and closed the door. Eliza didn't take much notice and started to work on supper; but when she was finished, he still hadn't shown. With Isaac on her hip, she went to the door.

"Arthur? You comin' to supper?" When he didn't answer, she turned to leave him be. When she considered knocking, she turned back around and almost bumped into him.

She gazed at him as he filled the doorway, taking a short, quiet breath and holding it. He'd shaved his face completely, doing away with the stubbled beard, and had pomaded his hair. He had a vest on over his opened button-down, and he even smelled of something pleasant and spicy…sandalwood? She took in his features—his sharp, chiseled jaw; his thick lower lip; his bright, crystalline blue eyes; his short hair parted deeply and swept to the side, shining and slicked back, the pomade bringing out the golden hues in his light chestnut locks. She was even a big fan of the growing crows' feet around his eyes, feeling they only made him more handsome. Even with his scars and sun-touched skin, he was nothing short of a dream. He made her so weak for him. She couldn't tell if he had any sort of clue what a vision he was.

He started fidgeting under her gaze. "What?" He reached up a hand and rubbed the back of his neck. "Don't like it?" He lifted one of his shoulders. "Quit gawkin' at me like that." He scrunched up his nose, and his expression slid to one side. "Ah… I knew it was silly—"

She rose on her tiptoes and placed a soft kiss on his lips, lingering near him even after they'd drawn apart with a hand on his cheek.

He grinned. "Hm… She likes clean-shaven Arthur, huh?"

She smiled and nodded. "Very much. I like you every way; just never seen you like this before, all done up."

"Well, all right then," his grin brightened. "Just don't get used to it—it's a damn chore."