The warmth and silence were both comfortable, and Talia found no need to try to make conversation. She would wait until he felt better, she told herself, and then she’d get to the bottom of things.
“Come sit with me,” Jake said quietly.
Talia hesitated a moment, then wrapped the quilt around her she’d left on the chair. She walked to the sofa and seated herself on the floor, though she noticed Jake had tried to make room for her to sit beside him.
She looked into the flames, but she could feel him watching her.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I—didn’t think about what I was doing the last time…when I was here before. I’ve made things hard on you.”
She didn’t reply. She couldn’t say anything, because if she did, she’d break down and cry. Of all the things he might have said, this was the least expected.
She turned her attention to the floor. “What do you mean?” Pride would not allow her to acknowledge the truth of what he’d said.
“Jimmy Ketchum and I ran into each other.”
Jimmy was the son of the mercantile owner, Ollie Ketchum. By the hard edge in Jake’s voice, Talia knew his encounter with Jimmy had been deeper than “running into” him.
“Jimmy…told me what happened after I left.”
“Nothing happened,” she said, a little too quickly.
He gave her a tolerant smile when she finally looked at him. “Talia…I know better.” He put a hand out and touched a silky strand of her dark hair.
With that touch, her backbone lost its stiffness and she wanted nothing more than for him to open his arms and hold her. She felt the appalling sting of tears, and she blinked to keep them from falling.
“Jimmy told me how…things happened—just like you were afraid of.” He sighed heavily, letting himself relax back into the softness of the sofa. His hand fell away from her hair, and Talia turned toward his retreating touch.
She managed to stop herself abruptly. After a moment she said, “There’s always talk about something or someone in a small town.” She gave him a slight smile, finally feeling the tears recede as she met his steady gaze. “You know that, Jake. Even when we were kids growing up, there was always gossip.”
“Oh, yeah? Like what?”
She shrugged. You and Betty Lou Handley were a fascinating topic, she wanted to say.
A smile tugged at his lips. “Were you thinking about gossip that surrounded me or gossip in general?”
Talia could feel the warmth rush to her cheeks. “I’ve had my share of talk as well, Jake.”
“But I was the cause of it.”
She couldn’t deny it. After five long months, it still hadn’t died away completely. And now, he was here again. Talia didn’t give two figs about how other folks talked about her—she’d grown accustomed to it. But, it still hurt Michael. She knew he’d defended her honor on more than one occasion.
“If it weren’t for Michael,” she said in a low voice, “it wouldn’t matter so much.”
With a muttered curse, Jake closed his eyes. “I never meant to hurt you—or him.”
She gave a wry smile. “I’m a bit tougher. He hasn’t learned yet how to turn away the cruelty of most people.”
But you have, she thought, studying the hard lines of his face. He needed a shave. And a haircut. She put out her hand, unable to stop herself from smoothing the tousled strands of dark hair away from his eyes.
He flinched at the unexpected gentle touch of her cool fingers.
“No need for regrets at this point,” she said softly. “What’s done is done.”
Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked straight at her. Her heart jumped, then pounded so that she was certain he could hear the beat of it from where he laid.
“I’ve never regretted one damn thing about that day, Talia. Not—not the thousand dollars…not the time we spent together..and certainly not the kiss.”
Talia caught her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying it. His words arrowed straight to her heart. She hadn’t regretted it either.
But she couldn’t afford to let him know how she felt. He’d be moving on soon. Again.
She nodded and looked down. How in the world could she think with him looking at her like that? “Well,” she said shakily. “That’s honest.”
“I regret what happened—for you—and for Michael. I just—” Here he broke off, unwilling to say more.
Her curiosity was bursting. “You just what?”
He moistened his lips, and despite the fact she knew he was hurting, she couldn’t bear to let him off the hook. For five months she’d thought of nothing but laughing dark eyes as his voice rang out with the absurdly high bid for her box lunch; the way he’d strode to the bidding table and plunked down his money, his eyes never leaving her. And the kisses that followed. The kisses that were supposed to have been a quick peck on the cheek, and nothing more. Only, he’d kissed her on the lips thoroughly and completely—not once, but twice! And the words spoken between them, low-whispered words that the townsfolk had strained to hear, had just added to the scandal.
But he only shook his head. “I’m sorry, Talia.” It was all he could manage before pain, weariness, and the loss of blood took him into blackness.
****
Talia let go a sigh of frustration. Why had he come back? And why had he come to her door? As aggravated as she had been at him in July, a part of her—a very large part—had to admit she’d been heart-stoppingly thrilled earlier to see him on her doorstep. Or, had she merely been worried when she’d seen he was wounded?
Something wrapped around her heart and squeezed. Though Jake would never admit that he needed anyone, he’d come to her.
Her thoughts drifted back through the years. Jake was three years older than she, and in their growing up days, had seemed to have a hard time with school. It wasn’t because he wasn’t smart, she knew. So often, Miss Davis would ask Jake to go sit beside Talia, so that Talia might offer him any extra assistance he might need. And though he’d seemed to struggle, as soon as he sat down beside her, he began to have an easier understanding of the subject matter. Talia didn’t mind; Jake was not like some of the other older boys who loved to play pranks on the younger girls.
It wasn’t until several days into the school term when Talia noticed that Jake had no lunch pail. Shyly, she’d offered him a part of what she’d brought, but his stubborn pride wouldn’t let him accept.
“I’m not hungry,” he’d said, over and over, until one day, Talia had offered him an extra roll her mother had put in her pail.
“I guess it wouldn’t hurt,” Jake had said casually. “Your mama would be plenty mad if you took that roll back home ’stead of eating it.”
Talia had nodded solemnly. “Yes. Yes, she would.”
Jake had eaten the roll quickly, wolfishly, and then he’d looked embarrassed.
“Did you like it?” Talia had asked, wanting him to say he’d enjoyed the roll…because she had made it. It was her first time to make the yeast rolls alone.
He’d shrugged, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “It was okay, I guess,” he answered gruffly.
How crushed she had been! Almost as hurt as she’d felt when he’d taken his leave from her after the fireworks, years later, allowing her to face the town gossips alone. He hadn’t realized he’d destroyed everything with his swagger, his money and his careless kisses. He’d robbed her of her dreams, and her reputation when he’d left town so abruptly. She’d never teach school in the new building his money had provided, all because of the kiss. An outlaw’s kiss. The irony settled around her like a shroud.
Worse yet, she finally had to face one more fact. After seeing him at her door tonight, she had to admit that he’d made off with something more important, even, than her reputation.
Jake Morgan had boldly stolen her heart, and she had no idea what to do about it.
****
Jake slept fitfully, caught in a silken veil of dreams and reality that he coul
dn’t seem to cut through. He’d tried hard to stay lucid, so he would be able to talk to Talia.
Had he warned her? He didn’t know if he’d told her about Ray Leonard. He could have followed, but Jake felt damn near certain that Leonard had caught one of his bullets, too. They’d just traded lead. And in this blizzard, Leonard couldn’t have tracked him. At least, he didn’t think so.
Fire seemed to burn inside him consuming him. Fever, he knew, in the moments when he felt himself nearing wakefulness. But then, he sank into the depths of sleep once again—sleep that wasn’t wholly natural.
He tried to fight it. He was wasting time, and he wanted to talk to Talia. He needed to let her know he wasn’t here to use her. He’d thought of her night and day for the past five months. Though he’d told himself to stay away from her house, that damn dog, Jingles, had come from out of the woods and Jake’s horse, Cactus Jack, had fallen into an easy partnership with the border collie. The result had been that all his good intentions had fled. Talia’s home was nearby, and ol’ Cactus Jack needed to get out of the weather. Jake had to admit, he wouldn’t have lasted another half-hour, himself. And even if he had, where would he have gone?
Talia had welcomed him, as he’d known she would. As he’d hoped she would, anyway.
Her green gaze had been filled with worry when she’d recognized he’d been wounded. But before that moment, there had been something else. The instant she saw him and recognized him, there had been a leap of joy in her eyes—then, the concern and urgency to get him in out of the cold and see to his wounds.
But she’d never been able to completely hide the warmth of caring when their eyes met. He remembered that, even back when they went to school together for awhile…
It had been like coming home, the minute he’d come through the door. The smell of the little pine Christmas tree that stood in the corner of the front room permeated his sleep. It was what he’d always imagined a Christmas tree would smell like—not just like any pine tree, but a smell of spicy, delicate magic. The scent of happiness and dreams—something he’d never had in his life.
Talia had soothed his hurts and kept watch over him. This was, perhaps, the only place on earth right now where he could feel safe.
As if she’d read his scattering thoughts, he felt her hand come across his tangled hair, with a gentle caress before she drifted away from him.
He wasn’t sorry he’d come here. But he knew, somewhere in his mind and heart, he should not have shown up on Talia’s steps—it would only cause more rumors to fly if anyone found out, and in a small place like Rock Creek, people knew everything.
He opened his eyes slowly. The dim light in the room let him know dawn, such as it was, would be here soon. The fire still burned, and he knew Talia must have stayed awake all night. Who else would have done such a thing for him in his life? No one that he could think of.
His bleary gaze fell upon the Christmas tree. Tomorrow would be Christmas Eve. He’d never been one much for gift-giving, but now he felt at a loss. He had nothing to give Talia, or Michael, either.
Hell, he didn’t know the first thing about celebrating Christmas. A pang of longing shot through him. He’d missed a lot, growing up the way he had from pillar to post. He’d been shuffled among resentful relatives when his mother had passed away, and had never known his father. From the time he’d turned eight, he’d lived with his grandfather, a surly old cuss that had taken him in out of necessity and wasn’t about to let him forget it.
He shook the memories away and closed his eyes, drinking in the scent of pine and the fresh linen of his pillow casing; listening to the spurts of silence and pellets of ice, punctuated by the soft tones of the mantle clock chiming. And trying to push down the hope that Natalia Rose Delano might find it in her gentle heart, somehow, to care for him.
****
Talia climbed the stairs quietly and looked in on Michael. He slept, curled into the bed under a pile of blankets and quilts.
She moved down the hallway to her own room, shutting the door behind her. She felt chilled to the bone, but she needed to dress for the day and get on with her tasks. Christmas was here, and she was determined to make it a good one, for Michael’s sake.
Resolutely, she changed into clean clothes and brushed her hair. Staring into the mirror, her brushstrokes slowed, then stopped. “Why did you have to come back here, Jake Morgan?” she whispered softly. “Haven’t you done enough already?”
Of course he had. Anyone could look at her and see that she cared about him more than she should. She always had. And when he’d kissed her like that, and bid so much money—there was no doubt people were going to talk. Hadn’t she, herself, expected something more than those hot kisses and time spent together? She glanced away guiltily. She shouldn’t have—not really. But for him to ride away the next day with no word at all until now…showing up bloody and wounded at her doorstep nearly six months later…
Talia laid the brush aside. He would not make a fool of her again, wounded or no. Completing her morning toilette, resolve stiffening her spine, she opened the door and headed for the stairs. She would not allow herself to care again. It was time to bake.
****
“How’s Mr. Morgan?” Michael asked from behind her.
She didn’t face him. The chocolate cake batter needed her attention. She forced herself to keep an even tone. “Sleep well?”
“Yep.” Michael came on into the kitchen and stood close to her.
“Mr. Morgan’s going to be fine,” she said crisply, finally glancing at her brother.
“We’ll have to figure out something to give him for Christmas, Talia,” he said in a low voice. “We can’t have Christmas with no gift for him.”
Talia smiled, giving a final whisk of the spoon in the batter before she tipped the bowl and began to pour it into the pans. Michael was right, of course.
“I wanted to be sure he lived before I gave it too much thought,” he said seriously. “But I guess if he’s gonna make it, and we need to figure it out.”
Talia put the cake pans into the oven, then turned to face her brother. She laid a hand reassuringly on his shoulder, seeing the lingering doubt in his eyes. “I believe he’s going to come through this in good shape, Michael. I couldn’t have helped him without you last night. I know it was—hard for you.”
Michael shook his head. “I just never seen that much blood.”
“Saw,” she corrected automatically.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “It was a lot.” He brightened. “Wait’ll I tell Bobby and Reggie—”
“No,” Talia said sharply. She resisted the urge to bend the few inches to speak to him eye-to-eye, as a child. He was growing into manhood. “Michael—promise me you won’t say anything about him being here.” She tried to keep the panic from her voice. She couldn’t have rumors start flying all over again.
Understanding dawned in Michael’s eyes. He nodded. “It might get him killed, if whoever shot him found out…I won’t say anything to anybody.”
Talia’s breath stopped. She hadn’t thought of that at all. She’d been more preoccupied with vicious rumors that would hurt Michael. The need to protect and defend his sister would only become stronger the older he got. She’d not given another thought to whoever had wounded Jake. The thought of it scared her. Who had it been? And what if he had tracked Jake here?
“Go get the shotgun down, Michael, and be sure it’s loaded.”
He nodded sagely. “We gotta be careful. If he comes, we’ll be ready.”
She gave him a quick pat, and turned to the yeast dough she had rising. It was past time to punch it down. “Well, let’s not borrow trouble. Christmas is here, and it’s a time for goodwill among men.”
“If they have goodwill in ’em,” Michael tossed back at her as he started out of the room. “That’s what Papa used to say.”
There was a wistful edge to his voice as he spoke Talia understood. It seemed it was harder around the holidays. She missed their f
amily dinners—the preparation and excitement and the anticipation of seeing loved ones once again.
Five years past, they’d lost Mama and Papa both to influenza. Talia had carried on, vowing to raise Michael herself, that they would not be separated. Many men had offered for her hand. A young woman, all alone, left to raise a seven-year-old boy would most certainly need and welcome a firm male hand to take the reins up.
But Talia had refused them all. She had been afraid, at first. Terrified. But it got easier with the passage of time. And she’d been so close to reaching for her dream of becoming a teacher.
The way Jake had kissed her had ruined those plans. He’d kissed her as if—as if she belonged to him. But he hadn’t stayed to claim her.
She punched the dough hard as she thought of it. She could still feel the way her lips had tingled under his; the way her heart had flipped and turned. All in front of the entire town of Rock Creek.
“You mad at that dough?”
The familiar, rich baritone voice behind her startled her. It was as if she’d conjured him with her thoughts. She whirled to face him.
Jake stood in the kitchen doorway, bare from the waist up, his dark hair tousled. A grin spread across his face, lighting his coal-black eyes as he watched her flustered reaction.
“You—You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that,” she answered tartly, but it was more than a few seconds before she looked away from the magnificent sight of him. “And you shouldn’t be up and around, anyhow.”
Jake didn’t move. “Can I help?”
Talia gave a short laugh. “Yes. Go back to the fire and lie down. Don’t catch your death of a chill walking around with—with no shirt on.”
Jake took a step toward her, then another, until he stood so close behind her she could feel the heat radiating from his fever-hot body.
“I don’t think there’s any chance of that, Talia. Me…catching a chill.” His voice was low, the vibration tickling her ear as he spoke. She closed her eyes. If she turned around, she’d be in his arms. She drew in a deep breath to steady her nerves. Her hands stilled on the mound of dough.
Outlaw's Kiss Page 2
