He felt her hand upon his erection as she guided him into her eager slickness and she began to ride him. She was even hotter than the first time, but after his initial release, Clint could control himself better to prolong the sweet journey. He reached upward and filled his hands with her breasts. Every forward movement of her body rubbed her nipples against his palms.
She closed her eyes and her low moans filled the room. Her tongue swept across her lips in an erotic invitation to taste them once more. Clint wrapped his arms around her and drew her down atop him, then threaded his fingers through her hair and slanted his lips across hers.
Her belly rubbed against his, and her actions grew more frenzied. Then she convulsed around him and he captured her silent scream with a kiss.
Mattie felt his climax a few moments later as he arched up against her, and she welcomed his second gift. She sagged onto him, her sweat-dampened body sliding across his skin. Her senses were attuned to his rapid breathing, the heat radiating from his body, and the scent of their lovemaking.
Maybe she was bad because of her wanton passion—but at that moment, she didn’t care.
All she cared about was this man who had stolen her heart, and to whom she had given her body—with no regrets.
Mattie awakened slowly, blinking in the sunlight that streamed through the windows. A heavy weight across her stomach made her turn her head to see Clint sleeping peacefully beside her. He lay on his side, his arm around her middle and his handsome, angular face inches from her own.
She brushed a strand of hair back from his face, enjoying the intimacy with almost guilty pleasure. The vulnerability and gentleness in Clint’s face made her heart tighten.
“I love you,” she whispered. She couldn’t speak the words to him, but she needed to hear them aloud in her own voice.
Fragments of indescribable feelings and unexpected heights of pleasure tumbled back to her. They’d finally fallen asleep in each other’s arms after making love yet again. Each time, she hadn’t believed it could get better, but it had. Their bodies fitted together as if they’d been made for one another, and instinctively they each knew what brought the most pleasure to the other.
Mattie closed her eyes, reliving the moments in his arms, knowing she would live with those memories the rest of her life. Sadness caught her off guard, but she wouldn’t let anguish bury the happiness she’d experienced.
Opening her eyes again, she slipped out of the bed, grimacing at the soreness in her shoulder. It had been a small price to pay for preventing Clint from falling back into the well.
She picked up her gown where she’d thrown it last night and folded it, then dressed quietly, knowing Clint needed his rest.
Before he left.
Silently, Mattie washed her face, then dressed and brushed her hair. She tiptoed to the door and opened it cautiously, then paused to gaze at Clint, who continued to sleep. Her chest hurt and her vision blurred. She didn’t want him to leave, but the choice was out of her hands.
She slipped into the hallway and clicked the door shut behind her. Sticking her head in Andy’s room, she was glad to see he was still sleeping, also. The longer he slept, the less of the day she had to force him to stay off his injured ankle.
Mattie descended the stairs and glanced in the parlor. Her robe lay on the floor and she hurried over to pick it up. She clutched it to her chest and closed her eyes, reliving the magical moments of the waltz she shared with Clint. Her heart aching, she opened her eyes and carried the robe up to her room. She kept her gaze averted from the bed, where Clint’s long lean body was covered with merely a sheet from the waist down.
Going back downstairs, she started breakfast. Dakota whinnied from the corral and Mattie looked out the window. This would be the last day she’d see the mare prance around the enclosure. She pressed a hand to her mouth to hold a sob at bay.
She should be grateful her life would get back to normal after Clint left. Once he and his gun were gone, things would settle down into a familiar routine. No longer would her days be interrupted by a trip to the fishing pond or her nights disturbed by his presence under his roof. She should be pleased.
But she only felt lost and empty.
Mattie shook off her depressing thoughts and turned around. Her heart leapt at the sight of Clint lounging against the doorframe, his warm gaze on her. A collage of the night passed through her thoughts and her cheeks heated.
“Good morning,” he greeted in a husky voice that would have tempted the angels.
“Morning,” Mattie said. She averted her gaze from him and crossed the kitchen to the table. “I’ll have breakfast ready in about fifteen minutes.”
She passed him to lift the skillet off the hook on the wall and place it on the stove. Clint’s hand settled on hers, his heat scorching her knuckles.
“You should have woken me when you got up,” he said, his warm breath fanning across her neck.
“You needed the rest,” she replied, keeping her gaze averted from his.
He cupped her chin and raised it so she had to look at him. Concern shaded his eyes and brought a lump to her throat. “You aren’t—”
She shook her head. “No, it’s not that.” She paused and laid her palm against his freshly shaven cheek. Her breath faltered. “Never that.”
Clint’s brow furrowed. “Then what?”
“I’ll miss you,” she replied without hesitation, then forced a smile. “But I understand you can’t stay.”
The creases in his face deepened. “Sometimes I wish I understood.”
“What do you mean?”
He sighed and his hand fell to his side. “I was a lawman, Mattie.”
A shock rippled through her and she stepped back. “What?”
Clint turned away from her to stare out the window. “I was a U.S. marshal. My wife wanted me to quit since I had to travel so much, but I couldn’t.” He shrugged. “I cared more about my job than Emily. I was on my way home from picking up a prisoner when she was murdered.”
Mattie took a step toward him, but she stopped when he turned stiffly.
“If I’d quit my job like she asked, she wouldn’t be dead,” Clint said. “It was my fault, Mattie, and I don’t have a choice in this. I owe her for not loving her enough.”
Mattie crossed her arms to hide her trembling. She didn’t know what to say. She’d believed him to be a gunslinger and he’d been a lawman, like her husband.
And he’d loved his job more than his wife, just as Jason had.
“I should’ve told you before, but there are some things a man has a hard time admitting,” he said. He laid his hands on her shoulders. “Even if I find Emily’s killer, I can’t promise I’d be able to protect you and Andy, any more than I protected her.”
Mattie bit her lower lip. They didn’t need his promise—they just needed him. “I didn’t ask for any promises.”
He smiled sadly. “No, you didn’t.”
Mattie drew away. “I’d better get breakfast ready before Herman comes in.”
She felt Clint’s gaze on her back, but she didn’t dare look at him for fear he’d see the lie in her eyes. Though she hadn’t asked for a promise in so many words, she had with something more precious. And his actions last night had told her he had strong feelings for her, too—though they weren’t powerful enough to make him break another promise.
But he wouldn’t be the man she loved, if he did.
Clint finished his coffee. “I’m going to check on Dakota.”
Mattie nodded, but didn’t turn to watch him leave.
The back door opened as Mattie was putting the bacon and eggs on the table. She glanced up, expecting to see Clint, but it was Herman who shuffled in. Disappointment brought a frown to her lips. “Morning, Herman.”
The old man frowned. “Don’t look so happy to see me.”
Mattie blinked, then chastised herself for being so selfish and smiled. “I’m sorry, Herman. I was thinking.”
“He’s still down b
y the barn.”
She smiled self-consciously. “Am I that obvious?”
“Yep.” Herman plopped himself in his regular chair. “Wearin’ your heart on your sleeve ain’t healthy, Mattie. Have you told him?”
“He knows.” She glanced out the window toward the corral, then added quietly, “In his own way, he knows.”
“Some men are fools, Mattie. And I can say that ’cause I’m one myself.”
“So you’re finally admitting it?” she teased.
Herman snorted. “Respect your elders, girl.” He squinted at Mattie. “You ever wonder why I stuck around here?”
“You liked Andy and me?”
“No, before you come here.”
Mattie sat across the table from him. “Why?”
“Ruth. I loved her since the day I saw her, forty-eight years ago. Only problem was, she was married to another man.”
Mattie’s mouth dropped open. A few moments later, she remembered to close it. “Did she know?”
“She belonged to another man.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Herman took a deep breath and his faded eyes glistened with moisture. “She knew.” He rubbed his nose. “We had one night together in all the years we loved each other, and I ain’t never forgot that time.”
Mattie kept her expression calm. Did he suspect what had happened between herself and Clint?
“Why didn’t you leave? It must’ve hurt terribly to see her with another man.”
“It woulda hurt worse if I never saw her again. When her husband died, I asked her to marry me.” Herman tried to smile but failed. “You know what she said?”
Mattie shook her head.
“She said she didn’t want to burden me with an invalid wife.” Herman sniffed. “Hell, it didn’t matter to me if’n she was bedridden or not. I loved her, but she was a proud woman. Never gave an inch.” His hunched shoulders rose and fell with a sigh. “If you love him, don’t let your pride get in your way.”
Mattie wanted nothing more than for Clint to stay, but she loved him too much to ask. “It’s his pride that’s in the way, and I won’t ask him to stay if he doesn’t want to.”
Herman reached across the table and laid a blue-veined hand on hers. “Just like Ruth—too pigheaded to see what’s right in front of you.” He squeezed her hand. “I only wanna see you happy before I join her.”
Mattie’s eyes filled with tears and she laid her hand on his. “With any luck, by the time you join Ruth, Kevin and I will be happily married.”
“Married, maybe. Happy?” He shook his head. “I ain’t so sure about that.”
Mattie didn’t know how to deny his words without lying.
Clint’s lean figure appeared in the doorway and Mattie’s breath caught. Had he heard their conversation?
“I hoped you saved some food for me,” Clint said.
“Why would we do that?” Herman asked. “Seems to me if you don’t show at the table on time, you’re plumb out of luck.”
“We just sat down,” Mattie said.
“Good.” Clint slid his hat off to hang down his back, then sank into a chair. “How’re you feeling this morning?” he asked Herman.
“I’d be feelin’ better if the world wasn’t so full of stubborn cusses,” Herman replied with a scowl.
Startled, Clint glanced at Mattie in question.
“He woke up on the wrong side of bed,” she said.
“At least I was in my own bed,” Herman grumbled.
Mattie choked on her coffee and her face flamed. So Herman wasn’t nearly as oblivious as he made out.
Clint narrowed his eyes at the old man. “Our business isn’t any of yours.”
“Don’t go gettin’ all huffy. I ain’t one to blab around town and start tongues a-waggin’.” Herman aimed his fork at Clint. “’Sides, someone has to stick around to make sure Mattie’s good name ain’t run through the mud.”
Mattie sidled a glance at Clint and a blush stained his cheeks. Herman’s pointed remark struck home with blunt accuracy. But Mattie didn’t need anyone defending her.
“I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I did it before I met either of you, so let’s just eat and forget this conversation ever happened,” she said.
Herman grumbled but kept his counsel to himself. Clint cast Mattie a puzzled look, but also remained quiet.
They finished breakfast in strained silence, then Mattie gathered the dirty plates.
“Ma!” Andy hollered. “Can I get up?”
Mattie’s gaze caught Clint’s, then she hurried to the bottom of the stairs and called up, “You stay in bed. I’ll bring your breakfast up.”
“I’ll take it up,” Clint offered when Mattie returned to the kitchen. “I have to say good-bye to him anyhow.”
She nodded quickly and filled a plate with bacon, eggs, and toast, then handed the dish and a glass of milk to Clint. “Thank you.”
He nodded, took the breakfast from her, and headed to the staircase. She listened to his footsteps up the stairs, her heart squeezing with sorrow.
Clint climbed the steps, feeling as if he were ascending a gallows. He dreaded saying good-bye to the boy nearly as much as he dreaded saying farewell to Mattie.
He entered the room and Andy brightened. “Mr. Beaudry.”
“Mornin’, sleepyhead,” Clint said, with a fond smile.
“I haven’t slept this late ever,” Andy admitted. “Is Ma still mad at me?”
“She was never mad at you, just worried.”
Andy let out a relieved sigh. “I suppose, but she shouldn’t worry so much. It’s not like I’m a baby anymore.”
“I don’t think mothers ever stop worrying about their children. I know for a fact my ma still worries about me.”
“But you’re a grown-up.”
Clint shrugged. “It’s a woman thing. I don’t think we’re supposed to understand.” He set Andy’s plate and glass of milk on the nightstand. “Why don’t you sit up so you can eat?”
He helped the boy up and arranged the pillows behind his back. “How does that feel?”
“Okay. Why can’t I get up and eat downstairs?” Andy asked.
“You’re supposed to stay off that ankle, remember?”
He moved his leg under the blankets. “But it feels okay.”
“That’s because you’re not standing on it. Remember what Dr. Murphy told you—no running around or fishing for a few days.”
Andy wrinkled his nose. “He’s worse than Ma.”
Clint balanced Andy’s plate on the boy’s lap. “Is that all right?”
Andy nodded and picked up his fork, then shoveled some egg into his mouth.
“Why do you think Dr. Murphy is worse than your mother?” Clint asked curiously.
Andy rolled his eyes as he took a bit of bacon. “He thinks a sliver is gonna kill me.”
Clint chuckled. “He’s a doctor. It’s his job to worry about people.”
“I s’pose.” The boy paused. “Ma wants to marry him.”
Jealousy sucker-punched Clint and he exhaled sharply. Though he knew the doctor would make a better husband than him, he couldn’t help the possessiveness that washed through him. “He’s a good man.”
“I guess.” Andy didn’t sound convinced.
“He’ll take care of you and your mother better than I could,” Clint said, uncertain if he was trying to assure himself or Andy.
The boy didn’t say anything, but the long face told Clint plenty. He watched the boy clean up his plate, then took the empty dish and set it back on the nightstand.
Clint laid a hand on the boy’s thin shoulder. “I’m leaving today.”
Andy jerked his head up, his eyes wide. “Why?”
The disappointment in the boy’s expression dropped a lead ball in Clint’s gut. “I have something to take care of.”
“Then you’ll come back?” Hope lit his face.
Clint could have lied, but to give the boy false hope woul
d have been unfair. “I doubt it.”
Andy’s expression tumbled and his lower lip trembled. “I don’t want you to go.”
Damn, the kid made him feel like shit. “If I had a choice, I’d stay, but I don’t. I have to leave.”
“Why?”
“Because I have to.” You’re a coward, Beaudry. He met the boy’s gaze. “I’ll miss you.”
Anger filled Andy’s expression for a moment, then it crumbled into sadness. “I’ll miss you, too.”
Clint didn’t know who made the first move, but he hugged the boy close to his chest. For a long moment, they remained locked in the embrace, then Andy pulled away.
A single tear tracked down the boy’s face. “Be careful, Mr. Beaudry,” he said solemnly.
When Clint had arrived in Green Valley four weeks ago, he never suspected he’d be leaving a large part of himself behind when he continued on.
“I will. You’re big enough to help your mother around here now,” Clint said, barely able to squeeze the words past the lump in his throat.
Andy nodded. “Once I’m better, I’ll help her more. I promise.”
Clint pushed to his feet and stared into the hazel eyes of Mattie’s son, which held a maturity he’d never noticed before. Maybe it was his close brush with death yesterday, or the realization that he was becoming a man and his mother needed him.
Or maybe both.
“Good-bye, Andy,” he said.
“’Bye, Mr. Beaudry,” Andy said, his voice shaky.
Clint forced his feet to carry him out of the boy’s room—and out of his life forever.
Chapter 15
Clint entered his room for the last time and paused. It suddenly felt foreign to him. He didn’t belong here. Not anymore.
He pulled his saddlebags out from under the bed and jerked open the dresser drawer that contained his few belongings. He stuffed his extra underwear and socks into one side of the saddlebags, then tightened the straps and reached for his gun in the bottom of the drawer.
Instead of donning it, Clint studied the well-oiled sheen of metal and leather. He could clean the gun blindfolded and knew the heft of it instinctively, yet as he stared at it, the Colt suddenly seemed as unfamiliar as the room.
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