White Deception

by Susan Edwards

  He started at her jaw. His fingers felt rough and clumsy, but her fingers kept him from opening his eyes. Reaching her ears, he smiled as he traced their curves, felt the soft lobes. In his entire life, he couldn’t remember touching a woman’s ears with the same desire and need—to see with his other senses.

  His thumbs trailed down over her cheeks, his fingers moving into her hair, then traveling over her head to feather across her brow, then her eyes. “Your lashes are long. Soft,” he murmured.

  Her fingers stroked his closed eyelids. “As are yours,” she whispered.

  He learned the slope of her nose, the satiny feel of her face, then his thumbs caressed her mouth. “Sweet,” he said.

  Her lips parted in response. He cupped her chin, his thumbs playing over her mouth, touching and smoothing as if he couldn’t get enough of her.

  “Mattie, I think I have to touch you.”

  “You are,” she said, her voice breathless.

  “Not with my fingers. With my mouth.” Then he opened his eyes, reached up to cup the back of her head with his hands, and drew her dose.

  Chapter Nine

  The wind roared through the meadow as Reed wrapped one hand behind Mattie’s neck and pulled her down until her lips hovered just above his. The storm brewing around them was nothing compared to his need for a kiss. Never could he recall needing anything as much as he needed Mattie.

  The stroking of her fingers, the feel of her fingertips sliding across his face—lingering, exploring and seeing him as no one ever had before—set him on fire. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with her sweet scent as the moisture of her breath fanned his mouth.

  Draped across the horse in front of her, he felt her trembling anticipation. Even his own body seemed to freeze; the moment before their lips touched seemed to last a lifetime.

  Reed resisted to urge to pull her down, to slant his mouth across hers and take and taste her furiously. Waiting was torture, but it was sweet—sweeter than honey, more exciting than anything he’d ever felt.

  And then her lips brushed his.

  Reed groaned, parting his lips and capturing hers. Both he and Mattie froze, became one, the breath of one becoming air for the other.

  Mattie sighed. Reed drank the exhalation.

  “I think I like this touching,” she whispered. Her lips moved against his, two of her fingers sliding down the lines edging his mouth.

  Thrusting his fingers through her hair, Reed wrapped the long strands around his palms. “Let’s touch more,” he whispered. Then he opened his mouth and covered hers again. Like a starving man, he learned the shape, the feel and the taste of her mouth. He nibbled, tracing the smooth curve of her full lower lip, the path of her upper.

  Each soft, breathy sigh drew him closer, deeper into her. He was drowning in her sweetness, in the darkness that fired the light that had dimmed deep inside him. The feel of her fingers brushing over his face drove him wild, yet the very gentleness of that touch, the shy, hesitant manner, told him she was taking her time and he kept himself in control.

  Normally, kisses didn’t stay sweet and pleasant for long. Kisses were the gate to other pleasures, deeper needs to be met, but Reed found himself content with this slow exploration. Mattie lifted her head slightly. He stared at the wonder in her face, the drowsy drooping of her eyes and the moistness of her lips.

  Protectiveness, need, contentment. He felt all these things. And Reed felt as though he could have stayed cradled against her forever. Shaken by the range of emotions coursing through him, he tried to draw back and sit up.

  Yet what did he think he was about? “Mattie—”

  “You are beautiful,” she whispered in awe.

  Reed groaned, and he reached up to take her exploring fingers into his hand. “We have to stop.”

  “Not yet.” This time she used his own hand to cup his face, her palm over its back, her fingers stretched out atop his. Reed’s head fell back, his chest constricted, his pulse pounding.

  He groaned. “You’re going to kill me.”

  Mattie chuckled. Wrapped in the heat and warmth radiating from the man in her lap, she forgot about everything but the color and wonder Reed had brought back into her life. She lowered her head.

  “Soft,” she murmured. “I never thought a man’s mouth would be so soft.”

  She touched the tip of her tongue to each corner of his mouth, then let her lips merge with his. She aped his earlier movements: tracing his lower lip, feeling the rough edge where pink flesh gave way to the start of stubble. Her upper lip felt the roughness of his skin, while her tongue found only smoothness.

  Mattie pulled away. She liked very much what she’d “seen” and felt and tasted of Reed.

  “Not yet,” he whispered, taking back control as his mouth slanted over hers. “We can’t stop yet.” At his gentle urging, her lips parted and Mattie sank into the most incredible sensation—floating in a sea of pleasure.

  But then all gentleness fled. Reed kissed Mattie without reserve. He nipped, licked, stroked and suckled. When the tip of his tongue slid into the corner of her mouth, she parted her lips, having an idea what he intended. And it wasn’t gentle.

  She’d seen her parents kiss—they’d been in love and not a bit ashamed of showing that love. But Mattie had had no idea how wonderful a rough kiss could be. She felt weak yet strong. She could do anything, be anything.

  Deeply she drew Reed in, tasted him, felt the roughness of his tongue, its slick underside as she used her own to taste, feel and learn this very intimate part of the man that she somehow knew would be her future. Time stood still—until a sudden clap of thunder above their heads startled them apart.

  Reed shot up. Caught off guard, Mattie fell back. Raven shied violently, both from the thunder as well as the sudden movement on her back.

  Mattie shrieked as the horse jerked forward. She reached out, her fingers latching on to the front of Reed’s shirt, but it was too late. The horse did a quick sidestep, and they both tumbled off.

  * * *

  Reed hit the ground, wrapping his arms around Mattie and rolling, trying to bear the brunt of the fall. Unsure of where the horse was, he covered her body with his in protection.

  A glance over his shoulder made him sigh with relief. Her horse had not reared out of control as his had, but had just startled and shied. She was looking at him as if in wonderment at what he was doing on the ground.

  Turning his attention to Mattie, to be sure she was unhurt, he stared down into her startled face. “Your horse did not flee as mine did,” he said.

  Mattie’s hand slid from his shoulders to his chest. “Raven is trained to stay with me. She will not leave unless I give the command for her to do so.”

  Reed pushed up onto his hands. “The storm is about to hit. Let’s get back.”

  But he stared down into Mattie’s face. Her eyes were dark—twin pools with a shining like moonlight dancing deep in their depths, and her hair was a black cloud spread out beneath her. A storm of her making raged inside him. He lowered his head, unable to resist. This time his body melted into her softness, her breasts pillowing his chest, her hips a welcome cradle for a part of him that he’d long thought dead and lifeless.

  Mattie.

  He’d been dead until the touch of this woman who saw so much she scared him.

  She fascinated him.

  Their kiss deepened. All else was forgotten. Danger, visions, the past—nothing existed but this. Him. Her. Them.

  A sudden drenching cold shocked him. Above his head, the clouds had burst open. Rain pelted his back; he felt a faint tremble beneath him and assumed Mattie was cold lying on the ground. In seconds, they’d both be soaked. A rumble spread across the heavens, followed by a bright flash of light.

  Reed jumped up and pulled Mattie to her feet
. To his surprise, she was laughing. She stumbled into his arms.

  “I think I like kissing you,” she gasped. Her palm cupped his cheek.

  “I like kissing you, too, but we’ve got to get out of the storm.” Staring down into her face dripping with rain, wreathed in mirth, he felt something tumble deep inside of him.

  “What are you doing to me?” he whispered. With a shaking hand, he scraped her hair back from her face.

  She sobered, reached up and drew his head down to her. “Giving you life,” she said, and kissed him. Once. Briefly. Too briefly.

  Reed closed his eyes. The impact of that kiss meant more to him than the longest, deepest, most intimate of kisses. Or perhaps it was the words she’d whispered that loosened something precious he’d thought lost to him—hope.

  A soft whistle cut through his thoughts. Reed jumped out of the way as Raven nosed him aside, trying to reach her mistress.

  Mattie swung up onto the back of the horse.

  “We must hurry,” she said. “If we leave right away, we may catch up with my family by tomorrow morning.”

  Reed’s mouth dropped. “I thought we settled this. We are not going anywhere.”

  Mattie tipped her chin up and stared off into the distance. “You still don’t believe me about what I saw?”

  “It’s not a matter of whether I believe or not. I was hired to do a job.”

  Her eyes flashed. “Was kissing me part of it?”

  “Dammit, Mattie, kissing you had nothing to do with the job.”

  “Then believe me; take me to find my siblings before it’s too late.”

  Reed approached her horse. “Look, let’s talk about this tomorrow,” he said, sure she’d see reason after she had time to think clearly.

  As though she could not only see but could cow him with her furious glare, Mattie sat taller. Her hair billowed around her, the wind pulling at her skirts and her face gleaming with rain. She looked part of the elements, not a victim of this spring storm.

  “You have learned nothing,” she said, her voice low and tight. “You speak words meant to deceive me, but I hear the truth. You do not trust me.”

  Her horse shifted. Reed wiped the rain from his face. “If it’s trust you want, then you have to trust me.”

  “How can I trust a man who is blind?” she asked bitterly. Whirling her horse she shouted, “Home, Raven.”

  Reed ran after her. “Mattie! Come back here!” he shouted. She didn’t listen.

  He slid in the mud and landed on his backside. Standing, coated with grime, he stalked back toward the O’Brien homestead, his mood as dark, dangerous and savage as people always assumed him to be.

  * * *

  Brenna lay flat in the grass, a pleased grin on her face that the wetness of the storm couldn’t diminish. A scolding, even a punishment from her mother for soiling her dress so badly, was worth what she’d just seen. She’d followed Mattie and Reed, watching from the brush along the river a short distance from the meadow separating the families’ two parcels of land. She’d been hoping to learn something incriminating, as Mattie could not be allowed to marry her brother. It was too dangerous. For all of them. She’d been hoping to see something she could use to make Gil jealous and angry enough to call off the wedding. Her pa wanted the marriage between the two families. Wanted it as badly as Brenna couldn’t allow it.

  And she had learned something. When she’d seen Mattie and the bounty hunter stop, she’d moved in and watched. She’d been worried at first, for Mattie and Reed were arguing. Then she’d seen him fall. Then they’d kissed. For a long time.

  Her gaze grew dreamy as she thought of the one man she herself longed to have kiss her. But he wouldn’t. The man didn’t even know she wanted him like that. It was her secret.

  It had to be a secret. The risk of him learning, of anyone learning, what she knew was too great. Besides, Matthew never saw her—not truly. And that was by design. People didn’t see her because she didn’t want them to.

  It was better. Safer. For she had secrets—knew some terrible things that ate at her soul. She was better off alone, and now Gil and Mattie would be apart too.

  Chapter Ten

  The morning storm gave way to blue skies and a bright yellow sun the shade of corn silk. Anticipation hummed through the land as the air warmed.

  Deer nipped at the tender, wet grass, their young frolicking in the meadow, and rabbits stood on their hind feet, ears twitching as they washed the last of the storm from their fur. In the pasture, a mother horse and foal raced along the fence, heads and tails arched high.

  Even the birds rejoiced in the warm afternoon, rewarding all who took the time to listen to their birdsong. But there was one who didn’t appreciate the beauty of the day.

  Reed didn’t see the emerging creatures or hear the songs floating on the gentle breeze. He didn’t feel the peace of spring. Inside him a storm still raged. Grabbing another log, he set it on a stump, lifted his axe and brought it down with all the built-up frustration and anger coursing through him. His bare torso gleamed with the sweat of labor, and his eyes burned with fury. Hefting the axe over his shoulder he glared at the house. At her. The log split cleanly in two as he brought the axe down.

  The pile of firewood to his right grew. His muscles bulged, tiring, but he kept going. If he stopped, Reed feared he’d stomp up those damn steps and kick the damn door down.

  She’d locked him out. He’d knocked on the door, but she’d refused to answer.

  He’d pounded, he’d shouted. Silence was her reply.

  Splitting another log, he tossed the pieces to the side. One went too far and landed in the water trough. Burying the blade of the axe in the stump, he walked over to the rippling water and fished the firewood out.

  He’d refilled the trough after returning, carrying bucket after bucket of water from the river up to the yard. Then he’d filled the water barrels, which had for some reason been covered during the storm. Two hours had passed. He’d tried to talk to Mattie again. Same results. If he wouldn’t take her and go after her brothers and sisters, she had nothing to say to him.

  Women! Damn them.

  Kneeling, Reed plunged his head into the cold water of one barrel. Standing, he shook his hair, sending droplets of water in all directions. The rivulets running down his chest and back cooled the heat of the sun on his flesh, but they did nothing to ease the torment of Mattie’s words.

  “How can I trust a man who is blind?”

  Blind? Hell. He knew manipulation when he saw it. At least she hadn’t used tears. His insides shifted. Anne had used tears very effectively. Reed had never been able to handle her tears—not when she’d been a young girl, his adoptive sister, and not later when she’d become his wife.

  It had been her tears that had made him run off and marry her when her father, his adoptive father, refused to allow it. Her tears had kept him working for the man. In fact, for all the years he’d known Anne, her tears had brought him to his knees.

  Except at the end. No matter how much she’d cried, he’d refused to swallow his pride and make things right between him and his father. Not even for her would he beg forgiveness.

  Then it had been too late. His tears had mingled with hers when she’d died in his arms. Taking the axe back up, he grabbed another log. The sound of metal slamming into wood echoed around him but couldn’t drown out the turbulence inside him. He couldn’t even drive it from his body.

  Another hour passed. He stopped to glare at the closed-up house. “Damn, stubborn woman,” he shouted.

  He waited. Nothing. Not even the flicker of a curtain at the window.

  He wiped at a bead of sweat running down the side of his face. “Fool,” he muttered.

  Not like she’s going to be peeking out to see who’s shouting. He was the only one here an
d she was doing a pretty good job at pretending otherwise. And that was pissing him off.

  Picking up an armful of split wood, he carried it to the woodpile and stacked it. One trip became two. Then three. Loading up the fourth load, he dropped the wood when he saw the approach of a rider. Wiping the sweat from his face, he waited.

  Recognizing the sheriff, Reed didn’t relax. Instead he stalked down to meet the man. “What do you want, Tyler?” he asked. Here was the source of all his frustration.

  Sheriff Tyler must have noticed Reed’s dark mood. He stopped but didn’t dismount. His gaze swept the yard. “Where’s Mattie?”

  “In the damn house.” Hands on hips, Reed glared up at the lawman. “What’s the matter, don’t trust me?”

  Lifting a brow, Tyler stared down at him. “If I didn’t trust you—though you’ve given me little reason—you wouldn’t be here now.”

  Reed narrowed his gaze. “Why?”

  Tyler dismounted. “Not sure why you’re in a fight-picking mood, Reed.”

  “Answer the question. Why the trust?”

  The sheriff started leading his horse up the drive to the O’Briens’ tidy yard. “You could have disappeared a year ago and walked away from this damn mess. You didn’t. You went after the Grangers. Got three.”

  “Four,” Reed corrected.

  “Counting the one killed here. The point is, you didn’t walk away once I let you go. You’ve put your own life on the line to avenge my brother’s death, and gone after those responsible.”

  “Revenge, Sheriff,” he barked. “That’s not so noble.”

  Tyler led his horse to the trough. “Yet you returned. Got involved.” He speared Reed with a considering look. “And you played quite the hero last night.”

  The words dropped like a stone in Reed’s gut. “Hero, hell. You and I both know I’m probably responsible for the crap that’s been directed against these kids.”

  Tyler nodded. “Yep. But you’re here. Doin’, not waitin’.”

  Reed wanted arguments. Hell, he wanted a good round of pounding fists. He gathered up the load of wood he’d dropped. “Don’t make me out to be a saint. I’m here because of guilt—and my own need for revenge.” He stalked back over to the woodpile.