May, 1886
Coyote Jack’s Wild West Show
The Main Tent
Houston, Texas
Elinor Armstrong stood on a high board twenty-five feet off the ground, holding a fly bar in two hands, preparing for a full somersault in mid-air. The practice hours at Coyote Jack’s allowed her the opportunity to learn the acrobatic feat. And the people of the traveling show had graciously indulged her whim and had taught her, a Houston debutante, how to fly. Her partner swung from the opposite side, hanging upside down by his knees with his arms outstretched.
Her heart in her throat, Elinor pushed off and gained height as she’d been taught. Once she and the catcher had synced their swings, she let go of the bar, curled her body and flipped in the air before latching on to his muscular arms. She crowed with delight at another successful trick then let go of him so he could release her to the waiting mattresses below.
As soon as her feet touched the stuffed canvas, she rolled as she’d been taught then sprang up with a flourish. Claps sounded, and she spun to bow to her audience of one, but came face-to-face with a thunderous scowl instead.
“You just took years of my life,” Trap Ferguson growled.
“You’re back,” she exclaimed, her excitement shooting to the stars. Grinning, she launched herself at him.
He caught her easily, as he could since he was the strongest and most masculine man in Texas, but he only held her for a second before pushing her back and squeezing her shoulders. “What the hell was that?”
“I’m learning to be an acrobat.” She batted her lashes at him.
“The hell you are,” he roared.
She rolled her eyes and disengaged herself from his grip. “I’ve got to practice more. Wait until you see.” She turned to head to the ladder, but he grabbed the ruffles on the back of her leotard and stopped her. “Trap,” she cried and tossed a look over her shoulder.
He pulled and she had no choice but to stumble backward. “Let go, you big lummox.” She tugged at his grip, but had no leverage and had to work to keep her feet under her instead.
Once behind the stands, he whipped her around, and as she drew breath to give him a piece of her mind, he slammed his lips onto hers. The kiss consumed her immediately, as it always did, and she threw her arms around his neck and shoved herself against him. Her cowboy lover. The man who inspired her as no other ever had.
He held her so tight, she could barely breathe, but she didn’t care. She’d missed him so much. But she wouldn’t dare tell him the secret wishes living in the deepest parts of her heart. If he knew, he’d leave.
Her head swam with desire and desperation. Did he understand her longing? Did he know its true nature? Did he realize the hunger he caused affected her clear to her soul?
When they came up for air, he set his forehead on hers, breathing heavily. “Elinor,” he rasped.
At some point, his hat had fallen. She ran her hand over his beard then pushed her fingers through his brown hair. “I wanted to show you what I learned while you were gone.”
“I already saw it. It scared me. I don’t want to see it again.” He kissed her on the nose. “But,” he exhaled. “It was amazing. Just like everything else you do.”
She smiled up at him and batted her lashes again.
He chuckled then took a step back. His expression turned steely and wolfish as his gaze raked over her frame. “What’s this you’re wearin’?”
“It’s a leotard.” She twirled for him, showing off the tights and short shirt. When she faced him again, the heat in his eyes made her pulse race.
“Seems like you should only wear that for me while we’re in your bedroom.”
She winked at him, but before she could give him a flirtatious reply, her humble audience interrupted their conversation.
“Well, Trap Ferguson,” Charlotte Allen called as she strode toward them, “if you’re through manhandling my darling friend and neighbor, perhaps you’ll tell me how your drive went.”
Charlotte was responsible for much of the development and advancement of the Houston economy, and she also owned her own stock of longhorns.
“Just fine, ma’am. Didn’t lose a steer this time.” He leaned over and picked up his Stetson.
“That’s lucky,” Charlotte answered, smoothing down the drapes of her narrow skirt.
“No luck, ma’am. Just hard work.”
The older woman lifted her brow at him then turned to Elinor. “I’m going to return home, dear. I believe you have an escort back and don’t need my buggy.” She chucked Elinor under the chin. “You, hoydenish girl, you.”
Elinor laughed as her friend left. When she was alone again with Trap, she turned to him. “We can go home now if you want.”
His gaze darkened. “I want.”
“I’ll have to change first.” She gave a little twirl then looked at him coyly over her shoulder before heading for the dressing area where her regular clothing awaited. Her heart thumped in happiness for the evening and days to come. After a three month separation, she was ready to drown in him. If only she could be sure he would always return.
Coyote Jack’s Wild West Show
The Main Tent
Houston, Texas
Elinor Armstrong stood on a high board twenty-five feet off the ground, holding a fly bar in two hands, preparing for a full somersault in mid-air. The practice hours at Coyote Jack’s allowed her the opportunity to learn the acrobatic feat. And the people of the traveling show had graciously indulged her whim and had taught her, a Houston debutante, how to fly. Her partner swung from the opposite side, hanging upside down by his knees with his arms outstretched.
Her heart in her throat, Elinor pushed off and gained height as she’d been taught. Once she and the catcher had synced their swings, she let go of the bar, curled her body and flipped in the air before latching on to his muscular arms. She crowed with delight at another successful trick then let go of him so he could release her to the waiting mattresses below.
As soon as her feet touched the stuffed canvas, she rolled as she’d been taught then sprang up with a flourish. Claps sounded, and she spun to bow to her audience of one, but came face-to-face with a thunderous scowl instead.
“You just took years of my life,” Trap Ferguson growled.
“You’re back,” she exclaimed, her excitement shooting to the stars. Grinning, she launched herself at him.
He caught her easily, as he could since he was the strongest and most masculine man in Texas, but he only held her for a second before pushing her back and squeezing her shoulders. “What the hell was that?”
“I’m learning to be an acrobat.” She batted her lashes at him.
“The hell you are,” he roared.
She rolled her eyes and disengaged herself from his grip. “I’ve got to practice more. Wait until you see.” She turned to head to the ladder, but he grabbed the ruffles on the back of her leotard and stopped her. “Trap,” she cried and tossed a look over her shoulder.
He pulled and she had no choice but to stumble backward. “Let go, you big lummox.” She tugged at his grip, but had no leverage and had to work to keep her feet under her instead.
Once behind the stands, he whipped her around, and as she drew breath to give him a piece of her mind, he slammed his lips onto hers. The kiss consumed her immediately, as it always did, and she threw her arms around his neck and shoved herself against him. Her cowboy lover. The man who inspired her as no other ever had.
He held her so tight, she could barely breathe, but she didn’t care. She’d missed him so much. But she wouldn’t dare tell him the secret wishes living in the deepest parts of her heart. If he knew, he’d leave.
Her head swam with desire and desperation. Did he understand her longing? Did he know its true nature? Did he realize the hunger he caused affected her clear to her soul?
When they came up for air, he set his forehead on hers, breathing heavily. “Elinor,” he rasped.
At some point, his hat had fallen. She ran her hand over his beard then pushed her fingers through his brown hair. “I wanted to show you what I learned while you were gone.”
“I already saw it. It scared me. I don’t want to see it again.” He kissed her on the nose. “But,” he exhaled. “It was amazing. Just like everything else you do.”
She smiled up at him and batted her lashes again.
He chuckled then took a step back. His expression turned steely and wolfish as his gaze raked over her frame. “What’s this you’re wearin’?”
“It’s a leotard.” She twirled for him, showing off the tights and short shirt. When she faced him again, the heat in his eyes made her pulse race.
“Seems like you should only wear that for me while we’re in your bedroom.”
She winked at him, but before she could give him a flirtatious reply, her humble audience interrupted their conversation.
“Well, Trap Ferguson,” Charlotte Allen called as she strode toward them, “if you’re through manhandling my darling friend and neighbor, perhaps you’ll tell me how your drive went.”
Charlotte was responsible for much of the development and advancement of the Houston economy, and she also owned her own stock of longhorns.
“Just fine, ma’am. Didn’t lose a steer this time.” He leaned over and picked up his Stetson.
“That’s lucky,” Charlotte answered, smoothing down the drapes of her narrow skirt.
“No luck, ma’am. Just hard work.”
The older woman lifted her brow at him then turned to Elinor. “I’m going to return home, dear. I believe you have an escort back and don’t need my buggy.” She chucked Elinor under the chin. “You, hoydenish girl, you.”
Elinor laughed as her friend left. When she was alone again with Trap, she turned to him. “We can go home now if you want.”
His gaze darkened. “I want.”
“I’ll have to change first.” She gave a little twirl then looked at him coyly over her shoulder before heading for the dressing area where her regular clothing awaited. Her heart thumped in happiness for the evening and days to come. After a three month separation, she was ready to drown in him. If only she could be sure he would always return.
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