Page 53 of Love’s Silver Bullet

“Speaking of women’s rights—”

He stole her words with a kiss that almost stole every thought from her head while hungry hands swept the length of her gown. “Mmm … my favorite nightgown on my favorite woman,” he whispered, lips wandering to suckle the lobe of her ear.

“Uh, excuse me!” She slammed two flat palms to his chest with a crook of her brow. “I better be the only woman, Finn McShane, or you will be in soooo much trouble.”

He sidetracked her with a husky chuckle while he slowly worked on the buttons of her gown, methodically unhooking each one. “I’m already in trouble, darlin’, because I’m head over heels in love with a woman I’d do anything for.”

“Anything?” she rasped, trying to ignore the warm chills when he feathered kisses along her collarbone while easing the nightgown off of her shoulder.

His soft laughter warmed her skin when he nestled his mouth into the curve of her neck, making his way down to the hollow of her throat. “Let me rephrase that—almost anything, Mrs. McShane,” he corrected while he rolled her onto her back, descending with a chuckle he immediately deposited in her mouth with a kiss.

A soft moan rumbled in her throat as he melted her to the bed with the same kisses that had always muddled her mind, stealing her focus.

By the time Libby could think clearly again, she was lying limp and languid in Finn’s arms a long while later, wondering how she’d ever lived without this man in her life. Every time they made love, she fell deeper and deeper, pretty sure she’d do almost anything for him too.

And his niece.

“Finn?”

“Mmm?” His thumb slowly grazed the thin nightgown back and forth on her hip as he held her, eyes closed and a half smile hovering on his lips.

“About that ‘woman you’d do anything for.’” She pressed a soft kiss to the open swathe of his granite chest. “Did you mean it?”

“With all my heart, darlin’,” he said, his sleepy tone hopefully boding well for a yes.

“Well … Sheridan will be leaving in three weeks, and Blaze still has that cast on his arm, so I was kind of wondering”—she lifted her head enough to peek up while she absently twirled a finger around a patch of hair on his chest—“or hoping, really … that you’d reconsider letting Clay teach her to shoot.”

His eyes remained closed while the faint smile on his lips went flat. “Libby, we’ve been through this several times. Blaze’s cast comes off next week, which is plenty of time for him to teach Sheridan what she needs to know.”

Libby stifled a huff of frustration. “But, Finn, I just don’t understand what you have against Clay Morgan. He seems like such a nice young man—”

“Whom Sheridan will never see again after he leaves, so there’s no sense in stirring the pot. Especially with a man who ogled her through dinner as if she were dessert.”

Libby flattened her palm on Finn’s chest lest she be tempted to yank a hair or two. “Oh, for crying out loud, Finn, men have ogled pretty girls from the dawn of man, and you certainly did your fair share before we got married, as I recall.”

“Yes, and that’s how I can read what’s on a man’s mind when he sees a pretty girl.” His eyelids edged up, reflecting a bit of the mule he always accused her of. “As her guardian, I am not going to let some fast-talking dandy—‘nice young man or no’—sweet-talk her into something she’s in no way ready for.”

“You mean something you’re not ready for,” Libby countered, sitting up to give him the full benefit of her disagreement with a jag of her brow. “That girl is almost a woman of nineteen, Finn, which means you’re going to have to learn to trust her.”

“It’s not Sheridan I don’t trust”—he pummeled his pillow hard before shoving it beneath his head, lips compressed as he turned on his side. “It’s the men she attracts. Case closed.”

“That’s a lie, Finn McShane, and you know it. Poor Sheridan hasn’t even had the chance to attract a boy since you lock her away like Rapunzel in a tower. Which is an insult not only to Sheridan, but to yourself. You have to trust you’ve raised her right.”

“Trust has to be earned, Libby,” he said with a scowl, giving his pillow a final whack. “Like I earned yours.” He closed his eyes.

She snatched her own pillow to give it a whop like she wished she could do to Finn. “Trust can’t be earned if one isn’t free to earn it, Mr. Mayor. And for heaven’s sake, she’ll be halfway across the country in three weeks, so you won’t be able to control her there …”

Finn grunted, and Libby knew he planned to try and do just that. Mother had already told her he’d talked to her father about his old friend at Vassar keeping an eye on Sheridan while she was there during the day. As well as Aunt Marie, with whom Sheridan would stay.

Striving for a calmer demeanor, Libby laid her hand on his arm, her voice far more soothing than before. “Really, Finn, what does it matter if Clay teaches her to shoot? It’s only for three weeks, darling, so what could possibly happen?”

“What could happen?” Finn’s eyelids flipped up. “What could happen?” he repeated with clipped enunciation. “She could end up in a nightmare marriage like her mother did, saddled with babies instead of a degree, miserable and alone because her philandering husband travels too much.”

He kicked the covers off on his side and bludgeoned his pillow again. “Or worse yet, pregnant out of wedlock and labeled a scarlet woman with her son a bastard until her souse of a husband finally upped and married her.”

Libby caught a harsh breath, remembering all too well the rumors people told about Finn’s sister when she’d moved away for a year, but Libby hadn’t believed them because eventually her “husband” showed up. “I … I’m sorry, Finn—I didn’t realize that.”

Huffing out a weary sigh, Finn drew her into his arms, laying his head against hers. “Libby,” he said quietly, “I promised my sister that I would make sure Sheridan and Shaylee got an education before they got married, and this is the only way I know how to do that, sweetheart.”