Tyrone laughed softly and kissed the top of her head. He found it easier to speak of his feelings as he sat there just holding her, not looking into her eyes. Shyness and uncertainty, he supposed, although he hated to use those words in regard to himself. It was rather sad that, with the one woman he truly cared about, his usually glib tongue seemed to be tied up in knots.
“Ah, Deidre, I’m a coward.” He placed his hand on the back of her head when she started to lift it, and gently held her down. “I want you. I want you by my side. The closer we got to Paradise, the more I realized I couldn’t just set you aside and thank you kindly for the pleasure. I’m ashamed to say that Justin and Stephen saw it before I was really prepared to admit it to myself. They both said I’d be a fool to let you go. I want to go to bed beside you each night, see you at the breakfast table each morning, plant my children in you, laugh with you, argue with you, and grow old with you.”
“All right.” There was still no declaration of love, but Deidre felt certain a man did not want the things Tyrone spoke of from any woman unless he felt something deeper than desire.
Tyrone cupped her face in his hands and tilted it so that he could look into her eyes. “Did you say yes?”
She nodded. “Yes, I will marry you.” She felt his grip on her face tighten slightly, then watched him take a deep, unsteady breath.
“Now I’ll ask you the same question you asked me—why?”
“Well, it’s certainly not because you were a virgin.”
He laughed briefly, then brushed his mouth over hers. “Why?”
Deidre stared into his dark eyes, trying and failing to read the emotion there, an emotion that had turned them a turbulent black. What she did sense was a need in him, a need that had him tensed and waiting for her reply. She sighed. They were to be married. Maybe it was time to swallow her pride and bare her soul. After all, if you couldn’t tell your own husband that you loved him, who could you say it to? she mused.
“Because, cad and seducer though you are, arrogant and irritating though you can be, I love you.”
She squeaked in surprise when he suddenly hugged her almost too tightly. As she wrapped her arms around him, she decided the strength of his reaction to her words was a good sign. It hurt that he did not immediately reply in kind, but the strong emotion she felt in him gave her some ease. At least her feelings were appreciated and welcome. Any hint of arrogance or amusement would have slain her, made her feel exposed and humiliated.
“Ah, Deidre, I wish I had the skill to smother you in pretty words, sweet words that’d bring the tears to those beautiful eyes, but I seem to be tongue-tied.” He stood up with her in his arms and walked over to the bearskin rug in front of the fireplace. “There is one thing I feel compelled to do, however.”
“You want to do that now? Here? In the front parlor?” she asked as he set her down on the rug and sprawled on top of her.
“You’d rather do it in the kitchen?” Tyrone undid her robe and ran his unsteady hand down her side.
There was a taut urgency in Tyrone that began to infect Deidre. He was trembling faintly from the strength of it. She undid his robe and he yanked it off, tossing it aside. Hers quickly followed. Instinct told her that his passion had been stirred to this fierce height by her words of love. Perhaps, she mused, this was the only way he knew to show her how deeply her declaration had affected him, the only way he knew to express his own feelings. She would prefer words, but decided she would be a fool to dispel this highly emotional moment with demands and complaints.
His touch enflamed her, and soon she was past thinking about what it all meant. His every caress, every kiss, conveyed a sense of cherishing her as well as his own fierce passion. Despite the raging need that flowed from his body into hers, he took his time, leaving no part of her untouched or untasted.
He was unrelenting, yet she did not sense anything domineering or unkind behind it. It was as if he simply wanted to drown her in pleasure, as if he rewarded her in some strange way. He brought her joy with his clever fingers and deep, searing kisses. She had barely finished shaking from that gift when he did it again with his mouth. This time she fully expected him to join her, but he crouched over her, watching her as her release swept over her, flattering her with heated, scandalous words.
“Tyrone,” she groaned, clutching at him, her body still tingling with repletion, yet crying out for him. “I want you with me,” she whispered, desperately needing the joining of their bodies, especially now after she had opened her heart to him.
Although he shook with need, he hesitated, then eased their bodies together, stopping the moment they were fully joined. He was amazed at his control. Every nerve in his body was screaming for him to move. The way Deidre clung to him, her lithe body squirming against his in eager invitation, was threatening to send him blindly over the edge. But there was one more thing he wanted before he gave them what they both craved.
“Say it again,” he urged, brushing his lips over hers. “I want to hear it now, while we’re as close as a man and woman can be. Say it, Deidre.”
“I love you,” she said, and cried out softly in a mixture of surprise and delight as he began to move inside her.
His thrusts were swift and deep. Deidre was astonished to feel yet another release closing in on her. He slid his arm beneath her backside, holding her closer, and she aided him in that goal by wrapping her body even more tightly around his. When the shivers of release began to flow through her, he was there with her, matching her delight with his own, his voice blending with hers as they crested passion’s heights together.
“Ah, Deidre mine,” he murmured against her ear as they lay sprawled on the rug, too spent to move and still trembling faintly from the power of their shared release. “I love you,” he said, finally able to spit out the words he now knew had been resting in his heart for a long time.
Deidre tensed, her heart pounding with the fear that she had just imagined those long-awaited words, and the joy that they were no dream. When he finally eased the intimacy of their embrace, she caught him off guard, shoving him onto his back and sprawling on top of him. He gave her a half-smile, and she was surprised to see that he looked nervous, almost shy.
“You love me?” When he grimaced faintly and turned his attention to idly toying with her long hair that hung around them like a thick, bright curtain, she framed his face in her hands and forced him to look at her. “Do you think it was easy for me to bare my soul?” she asked softly. “You seem to have agreed to hear the words. I do, too.”
“Yes, I love you.” He laughed softly when she sank down on top of him, trying to hug him with her whole body. “I love you, Deidre Kenney, soon to be Deidre Callahan. Are you crying?”
Since she was blubbering all over his naked chest, she decided that was a stupid question not worth an answer and, instead, asked, “When did you know?”
“A better question would be, when did I admit to it. I think a part of me knew from the start. Love and marriage was not what I thought I wanted, however.” When she shivered, he sat up, taking her with him and collected their robes. “Passion I understood, although the strength of what we shared made me uneasy from time to time. Sad to say, this fool did not see the light until we got here.” He shook his head as they donned their robes and he led her back to the settee. “It’s hard to explain. I saw you in my bed and it looked, well, right. Then I put the ring on your finger. That was when my feelings became clear to me. The reason I think part of me has known it for a while is because that revelation neither startled me nor made me want to run for the hills.”
“Yes, you were slow,” she said, grinning at him as he poured them each some wine, and she snuggled against his side as they sipped it.
“And when did you know, Miss I-am-so-damned-clever?”
“Just why do you think a well-brought-up virgin would let you seduce her?”
“Because I’m so damned good-looking? Ouch!” He rubbed the spot where she had pinched his th
igh.
“There is that, but, trust me, I was warned repeatedly about your sort. Even though it frightened me, even though everything I was taught told me to keep you at a distance, and even though I risked throwing away all chance of a family, I still quickly fell into your arms. That should have given you a clue.”
“It didn’t feel so quick to me.”
“It was only a matter of days.” She looked at him. “Just why would you be so cynical about love and marriage?”
“Two sad and sordid incidents in my misspent youth.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I nursed my sense of injury for years. The sad thing is, once I realized what I felt for you, they seemed a pathetic reason to turn so suspicious, to guard my every feeling. I think it was more my pride and my vanity that was hurt than my heart.”
She kissed his cheek. “It served its purpose. It kept you free for me to find.”
“And just why were you waiting on the vine for me to steal? I can’t believe every man in Missouri is blind.”
Deidre blushed faintly at the implied compliment. “There were not too many who wanted to hitch themselves to a poor Irish girl. We weren’t dirt poor, but there was obviously no fine dowry of land or coin to be had. I was courted a little, but either the man sparked no interest in me or I only sparked annoyance in the man. A few seemed to think I looked like a delicate flower and would behave accordingly, until I opened my mouth.”
Tyrone laughed, ignoring her mild scowl. “And showed them that, although you looked like a soft rose, you had some very big thorns?” He brushed a kiss over her forehead when she nodded. “I rather like the thorns, for all I bluster and bellow when they prick me. It adds spice.”
“I’ll remind you of those words the next time you are glaring at me.” She stared into her wine and said softly, “I have been so afraid that we would reach Paradise and you would send me away, or I would have to leave just to stop myself from becoming some pathetic doormat for you to wipe your boots on.”
“I am sorry that my confusion caused you pain,” he said, feeling guilty, for he knew he had never given much thought to her feelings through it all.
“It’s done and the prize was well worth it.”
For a while they sat sipping wine and cuddling in contented silence. Deidre still felt a little stunned and knew it would be a while yet before she fully accepted and believed in her good fortune. As she stared at the Christmas tree, then out the window, she sighed. There was still one shadow on her happiness.
“It will be Christmas tomorrow,” she said quietly, “and I’ve never been away from home at Christmas.” She frowned as she realized how easily Tyrone could misinterpret her words. “Of course, this is my home now. I wasn’t—”
He turned her face toward his and kissed her. “I know what you mean, or, more precisely, who.”
“You have someone still out there, too. I’m being selfish thinking only of my cousin.”
“Then I’m guilty of the same selfishness, for I’m thinking only of Mitchell. It’s a little hard to add to that worry by fretting over someone you’ve never met.”
“True. Do you still think they are together?”
“Yes, I do, though damned if I know why. Our bumping into each other was improbable. To have Mitchell find Maura as well is impossible, or should be. Yet, I can’t shake the feeling that he has.”
“It would be wonderful if they both arrived in time for Christmas.”
“Mitchell certainly intended to try, just as I did. Just remember, you got here safe and sound. So can Maura.”
“Tyrone, will it be all right for Maura to stay with us?”
“Of course, if she wants to. Will what she wants make any difference to our plans?”
“No, not really, selfish wretch that I am. Maura is the last of my family and I will do all I can to keep her close to me, but we both knew, or, rather, hoped, to marry some day. Right now, I just want to know that she is safe. She’s such a lady, so sweet-natured and kind. I’m just afraid I have thrown a lamb out into the wolf pack.”
“I hope she’s safe, too, for your sake, if nothing else. So you can have a good Christmas.”
Deidre set her wine down and slipped her arms around his neck. “It’s a very fine Christmas already. Maura coming home safe will just be icing on the cake. I love you, and you can’t begin to imagine how good it feels to finally say it out loud.”
“Oh, I think I can. I love you. Forever,” he whispered against her mouth.
“Oh, yes, Mister Callahan, for at least that long.”
Maura’s Christmas Secret
Chapter One
“SWINE! SCUM! RELEASE ME this instant or I will have you both gelded!”
Maura Kenney struggled in the beefy grasp of the drunken cowboy dragging her into the alley. His equally filthy and drunken companion staggered along with them. She knew what they wanted. She knew she ought to be terrified and she was, deep inside. At the moment, she was mostly enraged.
“Maybe you ought to shut her up, Hank,” said her captor’s companion, his words so slurred with drink they were barely understandable. “Someone could hear her.”
“In this part of town, Lyle?” Hank tightened his grip slightly when Maura nearly managed to slip free. “If anyone hears this bitch caterwauling, they’ll just think she’s one of the saloon whores in a fight.”
She could not believe this was happening to her. Dressed in deep mourning, she had gone to church to pray for her uncle’s soul and had obviously walked through the wrong side of town. They should post signs, she thought crossly. And, she could not believe these fools would look at a skinny redhead dressed in black and feel blinded by lust. Maura decided she should have prayed for a little protection while she was on her knees in the little church.
“Let me go or I shall make you very sorry,” she snapped, digging her nails into the backs of her captor’s dirty hands.
“Yeah? You and whose army?” drawled Hank. “You’re just a bit of a thing. If you was a fish, I’d toss you back.”
It amazed Maura that, despite the gravity of the situation, she could feel somewhat insulted. “Then do so, you baboon.”
When the man staggered up against a wall, his bleary-eyed friend Lyle moved to stand in front of her. “Can’t,” he said. “Ain’t got the money for a whore, but I am feeling powerful randy.”
“My heart bleeds for you,” she said, the anger she felt making her voice hard.
Furious, she kicked out at the man, then watched in a strange mix of glee and horror as he stumbled backward and fell to his knees, choking. She had meant to kick him in the face or even in his soft belly, but she had gotten him square in the throat. The fact that it had so completely incapacitated the man was something Maura knew she ought to remember. It suited her better to kick a man there than in the shocking place Deidre had once told her to.
And now they had her considering the best way to do violence to a person. She was a lady and they had her screeching words like some soiled dove from the docks. They were touching her as if she was one of those wretched women. It was not easy to continue to behave like a lady when she was not being treated like one.
“You done killed Lyle,” roared Hank, and he shook her.
“I should be so lucky,” she replied, but her voice was unsteady from the force of the shaking she had just endured.
Hank twisted around and slammed Maura up against the side of the building, easily pinning her there. She could squirm, occasionally punch or kick, and even bite now and then, but she simply could not break free or force him to let her go. Maura thought of all the hours her mother had spent teaching her manners, poise, and grace. It would sorely disappoint her mother to see all of that refinement disappearing layer by layer beneath the attack of these drunken louts. When Hank pulled open her bodice, popping several of the tiny black buttons, Maura felt yet another layer of civilization shred right along with her dress. She fought him even more ferociously, her temper soaring and blinding her to everything exce
pt a need to hurt this man. Even while a small part of her reeled in shock, Maura called the man every vile word she could think of. Such violence kept her from thinking too much on how little chance she had of escaping this situation.
* * *
“Swamp slug!”
Mitchell Callahan paused right in front of the saloon doors. That was an odd thing for a woman to be yelling out on the streets of town, especially in this part of town. If any woman who was a regular visitor here wanted to spit foul words at a person, she would come up with something a lot more vicious and disgusting.
“Son of a bitch!”
Now, that was far more like it, he mused. He looked at the saloon doors and sighed. He had come here because he was restless and thought an hour or so with a willing woman might ease that. It had been a very long time since he had been with a woman, so long he had considered using a whore despite his fastidious nature. Just thinking about it made him take another step closer to the saloon doors.
“Damnation, Lyle, stop whining and get over here and help me hold this bitch!”
“I will pull your lungs out through your eyes!”
Interesting, he thought, and grinned faintly. He could not ignore what was happening in the alley next to the saloon. It could be just a disgruntled whore, squabbling with some of her customers. That did not explain why the man needed help holding her, however. No woman should be manhandled. He shrugged and started around the corner to lend a hand. If it was one of the saloon girls and she was reasonably pretty and clean, the night might not turn out so badly after all.
There was little light in the alley and it took Mitchell’s eyes a moment to adjust to the gloom. What he saw, however, made him curse. The bigger of the two men had a tiny lady pinned to the wall and the other man was weaving his way over there to lend a hand. It appeared as if the little lady was wearing a very prim black dress, but Mitchell told himself that had to be a trick of the light. She was putting up a valiant fight, and that was all the invitation Mitchell needed to lend a hand.
A Stockingful of Joy Page 13
