Hearts in Defiance (Romance in the Rockies Book 2)

by Blanton, Heather

  Her shoulders relaxed and her lips softened. “The first time we served you dinner here in the hotel. I wondered if you noticed. At the time I told myself I didn’t care.”

  “You and your stubborn pride—”

  “So how do you like being back in your saloon?”

  He withdrew his hand, watching the gold threads slip away, and gave into the change of subject. “I hate it,” he said flatly, surprised by his honesty. “I hate every moment I am away from you. I’m almost tempted to get shot just so you can nurse me back to health again.” He smiled ruefully. “Almost.”

  Her soft pink lips twitched against a smile. He had a nearly overwhelming urge to take her into his arms and kiss her until her knees buckled, but Naomi was not a soiled dove. This was courting, something he’d never actually done before, and he was going to have to figure it out—if he went through with it at all. If he did, the amount of self-control required to keep the relationship honorable just might kill him.

  Resigned, he reached for her hand and placed it on his heart, pulling her closer.

  “I miss you.”

  Had he just said that? In the last twenty years he had made a game of saying things so lewd to a woman they could blister the lacquer on a new barouche carriage. It was amazing how this woman affected him. To hide his astonishment, he lightened his tone.

  “I miss the rattle of dishes and your sisters’ laughter in the kitchen.” He closed his eyes and inhaled. “I miss the smell of roast elk and biscuits baking …” The banter was no good. Charles McIntyre had turned into a romantic. He had to speak his heart and, strangely, the resolve made him feel stronger.

  He squeezed her hand and said, “But it is you I miss the most. What about you? Are you glad I’m gone from your bed?”

  Naomi’s breathing hitched at the question and something in her eyes smoldered. Her reaction lit fires in the core of his being.

  “You were a stubborn patient … but I miss you, too.”

  Her gaze traveled to his mouth and she tilted her chin up ever so slightly—the surest invitation to a kiss McIntyre had ever had. When he’d lain bleeding on the floor of her kitchen, she had kissed him. And when he awoke three days later to her at his bedside, they had kissed to seal promises for a future. Now, mesmerized by her, he leaned down to brush that inviting mouth once more. He paused, so close he could feel her breath. Groaning, he pulled away.

  He’d made himself a promise and meant to keep it. Disappointment and confusion warring on her face, he stepped back, letting her hand slip from his. “I have something special to show you.”

  ~~~

  Two

  McIntyre slid his hand out of its sling and took up a rein. Holding his breath, he snapped the leather and the horse jerked the buggy forward. The pain in his chest was brief, sharp, but gone almost instantly. A good sign, he assumed.

  “Are you sure you should be driving?” Naomi asked.

  “I think I can manage to take us an hour out of town.” He leaned into her, unable to avoid a little teasing. “But if I feel the need to rest, I’ll be sure to find us a quiet spot.”

  Blushing again, Naomi snatched her gaze away, but then slid closer to him and hooked her fingers around his arm. Her touch made him puff up like a rooster. He was proud to have a fine woman like Naomi by his side. Beautiful, courageous, decent.

  And those virtues yanked his bit every time he started getting ahead of himself. Truth be told, she deserved much more than the likes of Charles McIntyre.

  “Can you tell me where we’re going?”

  “No.” He maneuvered their buggy around a freight wagon and pointed the horse toward the western edge of the valley. “I have to show you.”

  Naomi bit her lip and narrowed her eyes. “A secret?” She tossed her hair over her shoulder and wagged her head. “For shame, I didn’t think you kept any of those.”

  ~~~

  At first, their path angled upward through thick pines. An hour out of town, the buggy crested a ridge and the road flattened out. Aspens filled the woods on either side of them, their leaves quaking in the spring breeze. Naomi stretched and arched her back. “Are we almost there? And where is there?”

  “Wagon seat wearing out its welcome, princess?” Grinning, he motioned forward with his chin. “Right around this curve.”

  Moments later, McIntyre steered the horse off the road, around a mammoth boulder, and brought the team to a stop.

  A wide, majestic valley yawned open before them, going on for miles. Rugged, snow-capped peaks bordered a series of flat, grassy plains and rolling, wooded hills. Hardwoods and pines darkened the lower elevations and painted the sides of the wide green Animas River that meandered through the heart of the valley. Overhead, a hawk screamed, the sound echoing into the distance.

  The view always made McIntyre feel as if he were gazing down from the edge of heaven. Naomi’s silence, however, surprised and concerned him.

  “Well?”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “But …?”He glanced down at her and was startled to see her eyes shining.

  “John’s accident,” she whispered. “He disappeared over a cliff like this.”

  McIntyre sucked in a breath and nodded. A wagon accident on the Million Dollar Highway had claimed her husband’s life, thus stranding her and her sisters in Defiance. His body was never recovered. McIntyre ached for Naomi, but he would be eternally grateful that things had turned out the way they had.

  Should he say he was sorry for her loss? This struck him as somewhat disingenuous. “I am sorry, but I’m also glad it brought you to Defiance.” That, at least, was honest.

  She blinked and quickly wiped away the tears. “Me too. So, what am I supposed to see?”

  “It’s mine,” McIntyre swept his arm across the vista, “all sixteen thousand acres.”

  She surveyed the view once again, looking appropriately impressed this time. “Are you going into the ranching business?”

  He set the brake, tucked the reins away below his feet, and then jumped from the wagon. “I am planning on many things.” McIntyre helped her down and led her to the overlook, stopping a few feet from the edge. The height was dizzying. He laced his fingers with hers and drank in the amazing vista as if for the first time. “I have, in fact, a lifetime of plans. I plan to build my ranch—my home—right down there on the river.” He gazed down at her, his heart affected by her in a way he couldn’t explain. “I don’t want to do it alone.”

  God, I don’t want to build a life without her.

  He slid his good arm around her and pulled the other from its support. With a light touch, he tipped her chin, and this time went through with the kiss. He started to pull away, but his resolve failed him. Their lips blended and McIntyre’s body jolted as if he’d been hit by lightning. Clutching her face between his hands, he kissed her deeply, with a frightening need.

  Naomi slid her arms around his neck, tightening her grip as if she was holding on to a rescuer. The world vanished, and McIntyre held her tighter and tighter, desperate to savor her and this moment. He wove his hands through the gossamer softness of her hair like a man starved for beauty. Standing on the edge of this cliff, the taste of her, the hunger of her mouth, the months of not being able to touch her, made his head swim, his heartbeat roar in his ears.

  She let her fingers comb through the black curls at the nape of his neck. She gripped his shoulders and clung to him, and he could feel her yearning. McIntyre understood for the first time in his life a need that went beyond his body and ignited a deeper desire.

  But his hands, trained by years of encounters with willing women, slid around to the front of her ribs. Almost instantly, mercifully, he registered the depth of the temptation and released her as if she was a wildfire bursting to life.

  He backed away, disgusted by what he’d almost done.

  Her chest heaving, Naomi stared back at him, her eyes filled with fear and desire. His self-control hanging by a thread, McIntyre realized they were
both fighting a raging blaze that stole his wits and fogged his judgment. He stood for a moment, hand outstretched to her in apology.

  “I am so sorry, Naomi.” Snatching off his hat, he turned away and ran his hand through his hair. “Forgive me. I swore I would never treat you like … one of my girls.”

  Everything has to be different with Naomi. She’s my chance to start over.

  “You kissed your Flowers like that?” She sounded both astonished and disappointed.

  He almost laughed, recalling how he had treated his prostitutes. “No, I did not. I’ve never kissed any woman like that.” Twirling his hat in his hands, he smiled from surprise. “Your kiss hits me like good whiskey—a jolt and a smooth burn.” He reached up to rub his neck. “And it’s been quite a while since I’ve had a, uh … drink.”

  He took a deep breath and tried to clear his head. The feel of her in his arms had snatched the earth right out from under his feet, and his balance with it. Focus, he told himself. Focus. He worked his jaw back and forth and reminded himself of what needed to be said, no matter the consequences. “Naomi, when you were nursing me back to health … all that talk, about God’s grace and forgiveness … Can you forgive as well, no matter the offense?”

  “Yes, I think so,” she said, her caution evident. “The Lord knows I’ve had to ask for forgiveness enough times.”

  “All right,” he said more to himself than her. He took another deep breath, pinching the sweat above his lip. “Mine is a sordid past, Naomi, and I believe certain aspects of it may affect you directly. A man doesn’t run a brothel for years without … well, without …”

  He had made so many mistakes, and soon Defiance would throw them right in her face. She had to know.

  “I’ve been with my share of women.” He half-turned to her, but couldn’t look at her. “I didn’t realize until I met you that I’d never made love to any of them, never been in love with a single one.”

  He heard her swallow. “Charles, I don’t think I need—”

  He slapped his leg with his Stetson and straightened up. “Let me finish.” Feeling like a man about to step before a firing squad, he took a deep breath and turned to her. Sunlight spilled through the aspens and shimmered over her hair like a lace tablecloth. She watched him intently, her catlike stare alert, but he saw fear there, too, and hated himself for being the cause of it.

  “When I turned fifteen, my father took me to the largest brothel in Atlanta. We stayed for three days.”

  Naomi’s jaw loosened. “Really, I—”

  “That’s the way it has always been with the women in my life, Naomi. I’ve used them, plain and simple. Treated them like a commodity, as you’ve so often accused me.”

  She held her features still, but the muscle between her eyebrows twitched almost imperceptibly. The knife was in. Now McIntyre needed to figure out how not to twist it.

  “You are the first woman …” He took a step toward her as he searched for words. “You are the first woman I have ever cared for more myself. I want you so much, it’s all I can think about. And yet, I don’t want to touch you until we’re married.” He lifted his face to heaven and fanned the air with his hat. “God knows I have never felt like that before. I had never even thought about denying my passion,” His gaze dropped back to her, “until you.”

  Jamming his hat on his head, he marched toward her. His sudden, determined stride sent her back-stepping till she bumped into the wagon. McIntyre reached out and clutched the railing on each side of her, trapping her. “The stagecoach routes are opening up. People will be traveling again.” A crease in her brow revealed her confusion, and he cursed himself for being so inept at this.

  Just spit it out.

  “There are women who may come to Defiance. Women who will expect … my hospitality.” In every sordid way imaginable. “And that will hurt you.” He tightened his grip on the wagon, the force turning his knuckles white. “If I could, I would take another bullet instead of putting you through that.”

  ~~~

  Naomi shook her head and stared down at her clutched hands, trying to get rid of the sick feeling in her gut. “Don’t say that … I don’t understand what you are saying, but please don’t say that.”

  “I’m saying we all gave ourselves to strangers …”

  He tried to look into her face, but Naomi avoided him. She needed a moment. A lump forming in her throat, she wondered if he was saying good-bye. She couldn’t bear to lose him too.

  “It’s the kind of thing that destroys people, Naomi, if they can’t get past it. Ghosts come out of the woodwork, reminding you time and again of the terrible things you’ve done.”

  She looked at him then and was saddened by the guilt and shame playing out across his face. She’d once thought his black beard, always trimmed to perfection, gave him such a mischievous demeanor. Now, his sparkling brown eyes showed signs of defeat, and pain etched itself in his creased brow. His bravado gone, here was a man stepping up to give the devil his due.

  Wishing she could take away his pain, she touched his cheek. “What are you saying really? That you don’t think we can be together because of who you were? I’ve told you, your sins are in the past, Charles.”

  “No! No they are not.” He shook his head, and softened his tone. “I deeply regret that you may be forced to deal with the things I’ve done, but my past is definitely not dead and buried. Most likely it will dog us forever. I need you to understand that … so you can choose.”

  Reeling from everything he’d said thus far, good and bad, Naomi dropped her hand and absently fiddled with the wedding band she still wore. He rested his forehead against hers, the movement pushing his hat back.

  “Naomi, I don’t want you to end up hating me.”

  Still spinning her ring around her finger, she bit down on her lip and ruminated on his confession. Or was it a warning? So what if a couple of these old flames showed up? What if they flaunted their past relationships with Charles right in front of her? What would she do?

  Pull out some floozy’s hair.

  But more importantly, what would he do? She looked up. “Ghosts from your past cannot hurt anything but my pride.” She laid her hand on his heart and spoke slowly. “You can break my heart. But still I wouldn’t hate you.” She grinned. “I might shoot you, but I would not hate you.”

  They laughed softly together, and then Naomi shook her head. “Seems to me the real question here is what you are going to do if any of these women show up.”

  “I am done with them.” The uncompromising tone in his voice gave her hope. “I’m done with that life. I’ll make it clear the moment any of them set foot in Defiance.” He clutched her hand and moved a breath closer. “I give you my word I will honor you, Naomi, and what you mean to me.”

  She heard a fierce determination in his voice and prayed it was born of love and not fear that he would fail.

  He brushed her bangs aside and searched her face. “You make me believe …” He shook his head, an incredulous smile tipping his lips. “You make me believe.”

  “Then let them come. I can take it.”

  ~~~

  Naomi gently showered the row of tiny green corn sprouts with the watering can. Never much of a gardener, she had to admit that the pleasant spring sun, the smell of damp earth, and the promise of corn ears dripping with melted butter did at least make the chore bearable. It also put her in a mind to reminisce.

  Back home in Carolina, the weather broke quickly. Spring meant warm dirt between your toes, and quick cool showers that opened the door to suffocating humidity. She recalled several spring plantings, walking with John as he plowed the dark earth. Sleeves rolled up, her hair tucked in a straw hat, she would happily amble alongside him, hunting for arrowheads in the freshly-turned earth. He would steer his Belgian, Sampson, with skill and confidence, the big horse an equal to John’s brawny build.

  She let a wistful smile break. Simple, sun-washed days. Life with John had been peaceful and predictable.
Her oak, he had covered her with his strength and steady love. Charles, on the other hand, made her feel as if she were standing in an open field, waiting for lightning to strike. When he turned those spellbinding, consuming eyes on her, the air around them thrummed with a charge that quickened her pulse. And when he touched her, she felt heat shoot from his fingers down to her soul.

  “You’re going to drown those sprouts, Naomi.”

  “What?” She blinked, saw the small river flowing down the row, and jerked the water can back. “Oh! Good grief.”

  Mollie laughed, and Naomi wondered at the sound. The girl had been a weak, pale, broken Flower in Charles’ brothel, which he had called the Garden. Now a contagious smile radiated from her and her pretty petite face, not downcast anymore, glowed with true peace. Naomi had seen God work in people, but in Mollie, he had created a fair-haired angel with a heart so full of Jesus, it was humbling to be around her.

  Her sins, which are many, are forgiven, for she loved much.

  “Good thing you came along when you did,” Naomi said, hugging the watering can.

  “That must have been some daydream.”

  Naomi started to wave away the thought, but it led to another and she peered sidelong at Mollie.

  The girl took a step back. “What? I don’t think I like that look in your eye.”

  Mollie had been somewhat forthcoming about life in the Garden, but she had shared more with Hannah. Now Naomi saw an opportunity to gain a little understanding of Charles.

  “Do you think Charles has changed?”

  The girl sucked in a breath as if Naomi had asked her to raise the dead. “Oh, I don’t think I’m qualified to answer that. I don’t know his heart. I just know what I’ve seen.”

  Naomi studied the corn at her feet and scratched her nose. “He warned me about women who might show up in town this summer. Women he’s been … intimate with.” Jealousy gnawed at her. Angry over feeling so vulnerable, she shifted her gaze back to Mollie. “He said if I couldn’t bear up under it, under his reputation …” Naomi shook her head, groping for a way to explain his concern, and now hers. “He’s afraid he’ll hurt me. And he’s worried I might end up hating him.” Her jaw tightened as she imagined an encounter with any of his former lady friends. “I cannot imagine looking any of these women in the eye, Mollie.” She—and probably Mollie—knew it wouldn’t end well. Naomi wasn’t exactly known for her patience or compassion. God still had quite a bit of work to do on both fronts, as far as Naomi was concerned.