No, Ellie knew that the emotions gripping Cheryl were real and wrought from the heart. She was genuinely worried about Mr. Pearce.
That was perfectly understandable. It was obvious to Ellie that there was an intimacy between Cheryl and the sheepherder that went far beyond the bonds of friendship. Far beyond propriety.
How could she do that to Reid? Ellie turned her back on Cheryl as she tried and failed to douse her spurt of anger.
“You still out there, Miss Cade?” Moss asked.
Ellie turned to the cook shack and the old man standing in the doorway. “Yes, as plain as the nose on your face.”
“If you got the stomach for it, I could use your help,” Moss said. “My hand ain’t as steady as it used to be.”
If she had the stomach for it? He had to be kidding. She couldn’t do more than fetch and carry for him. But with all eyes on her, including Reid’s, she demurred and stepped inside the shack.
Reid slouched on a straight-back chair, eyes narrowed and sensual mouth pinched into a flat line of fury. Blood oozed freely from a gash near his temple.
“What do you want me to do?” she asked.
Her pa nodded to a tin box on the table. “You good at stitching?”
“As in sewing?” she asked, her voice squeaking at the end.
“As in closing up a wound,” he said.
Merciful sakes…Ellie swallowed the sick sensation that bubbled up in her throat. He wanted her to stitch up Reid’s wound.
“Well?” he asked.
“I-I’m a good seamstress, but this—” She sucked in air in a room that seemed to suddenly be short on it. “I don’t know if I can.”
My God, how many times had she watched her mother tend wounds on her pa and the other outlaws? She’d sat there then and hadn’t flinched at the blood and cussing that went on in an outlaw camp. But then again she’d only been eight years old.
“Get it done, Moss,” Reid said.
“Best think twice about what you’re asking.” The old cook stuck out a hand that shook, not with fear but clearly with some sort of palsy. “Your head will look like a crazy quilt if I stitch you up.”
“It doesn’t matter—”
“Give me the needle and thread, Mr. Moss,” she said, shrugging off her coat and rolling up the full sleeves of her blouse. “Silk floss if you have it.”
“Got it right here.”
“I’ll need whiskey to sanitize it.”
“Whiskey will do him more good inside than poured on his head,” Moss said.
She glared at her pa, wondering why he was fighting her over this. Did he want Reid to be in pain?
“Then give him a glass, and a small one for me,” she said.
Moss shrugged, but it was his frown that hinted he didn’t think using whiskey to cleanse the wound was necessary. All the more reason for her to be the one to take care of Reid.
She threaded the needle, then plunged it in the scant half cup of liquor Moss provided.
“Booth, you and Shane ride over to Pearce’s and see if you can find any tracks,” Reid said, teeth clenched against the pain he must be enduring, or that he knew was coming.
“We’ll get right on it, boss.”
“You sure about this?” Reid asked Ellie after the two cowboys left.
“Of course.” And if she told herself that enough, maybe it’d be true.
It shouldn’t be that different to close a seam in cloth than it was to close a gash in a man’s head. Even if the head was a hard one. Even if that head belonged to a man who heated her blood with one look.
Her mother had learned to do this shortly after she’d married her pa. By damn, she should have inherited some talent from her parents. God knew it wasn’t cooking.
But did she have the grit for this? She was a teacher of young ladies. She’d been away from rough men and danger for most of her life.
She’d never had to help the man she loved, knowing she’d never be able to have more than stolen moments with him.
“Ellie?”
He said her name softly, like a caress.
It was what she needed to fling off her reservations and do what she must. She moved to stand between Reid’s legs so she’d be close and have good light. His warm breath fanned her bosom and his spicy scent encircled her, drawing her closer.
She masked her shiver of desire under a feigned grimace of revulsion and dabbed whiskey on the angry slash on his head. Reid’s rasp of indrawn breath echoed in the room and helped her regain her composure, if only a little.
She wet her fingers in the whiskey and squeezed the gash together. His skin was cool, but the blood oozing over her fingers was warm and sticky.
Her stomach stuttered again and she swallowed hard, startled that the room had grown suddenly warm. Concentrate. At least four pairs of masculine eyes were watching her, wondering if she could do it.
She wondered the same. Concentrate. Four small stitches should close it and leave a barely noticeable scar.
The first stitch was the hardest to make. She glanced down at Reid’s face, dreading to see pain etched on his handsome features.
For a heartbeat, she spied vulnerability and longing in his midnight-blue eyes. Then he blinked and the emotions were gone, replaced by a wall of stoic masculinity.
Ellie took it for what it was—strength in the face of adversity. She turned her attention back to closing the wound. A second stitch. Then another.
Her brow beaded with perspiration in the close room. She heard each breath each of them took. She stopped herself from flinching at each creak of the floorboards when someone shifted their weight.
But it was the steady puffs of breath fanning her bosom that had heated her to an uncomfortable level. She didn’t have to look down to know Reid was watching her—that his face was inches from her bosom, that she only had to lean a bit closer for him to kiss her as she longed to be kissed.
How selfish of her. He was wounded and likely devoid of intimate thoughts. He wouldn’t dream of engaging in love play now.
Still, her nipples peaked and rasped against her chemise, sending tingles of need coursing through her. The heat off his widespread thighs seeped through her layers of petticoats and melted her resolve to remain unaffected by him.
Even while her mind said no, her body screamed yes. She wanted his hands stroking her from head to toe. Wanted his mouth to blaze an uncharted course over her body.
Ellie finished the last stitch and knotted it, proud each one was evenly spaced and smooth. “Do you have scissors?”
“You’ll have to look for yourself,” Reid said. “There’s nobody here but us.”
She glanced around the room and saw that her pa had left. “I was too busy to notice.”
Too overcome with naughty sensations was more like it. She leaned over the table for the scissors and pressed her leg against his.
Heat fluttered through her like a thousand lightning bugs, setting off little fires everywhere they lit. It was wrong of her to feel such driving need for another woman’s man, even if Cheryl Morris was more attentive to Kenton Pearce than the wounded man she was to marry.
Why, if Ellie were engaged to Reid, she never would’ve left his side. She certainly wouldn’t be torturing herself now with the longing to sit on his lap. Straddle him perhaps?
The muscles in her thighs tightened and thrumming pangs of desire centered between her legs. She couldn’t continue thinking this way, but she was helpless to stop the images from forming.
Yes, if Reid Barclay was her man, she’d ease down onto his powerful thighs. She’d run her hands over his broad chest. Her fingers would memorize every line in his face.
Her lips would press to his in a kiss that would know no end.
She’d love him with her heart and her body.
But he wasn’t her man, and he’d never be. For even if he wasn’t promised to another, she was still Ezra Kincaid’s daughter.
She knew firsthand where the truth would lead her. Heartache.
Chapter 15
Ellie dabbed whiskey on the scissor blades and damned the fact she was torn between the two men she loved. And why did she continue to torment herself over something she could never change?
She’d not sully something as beautiful as making love with Reid with a lie. The truth could break her heart, and end her pa’s life.
For one simple fact remained. Her pa was a wanted man. She had to keep his secret to keep him safe, and she wouldn’t enter into an affair with Reid based on lies.
“You all right?” Reid asked.
“I am now that this is done.” She snipped the floss and scooted away from him and the temptation she didn’t dare satisfy. “What happened at the Pearce farm today?”
Raw fury flashed in his eyes. “Erston hired those men to kill Pearce and burn him out.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yep. I talked to one of the gunnysackers, and he admitted that Erston paid him to kill Pearce,” he said. “I was sure he’d given up doing it and rode off, but when I saw sunlight glinting off metal near the tree line, I knew somebody was out to pick Pearce off.”
Chills tripped up her arms as she envisioned what had happened. “You got to Pearce first and took the bullet meant for him.”
“In a manner of speaking. I shoved Cheryl out of the way first. Pearce knelt to help her.” He heaved a sigh. “That’s when I was shot.”
“You could’ve been killed.”
“So could Pearce.” He frowned. “Or Cheryl.”
He risked his life for them, and what was his thanks? Why, they hadn’t even stayed around to ensure he was all right.
She crossed to the open door and looked out. Mr. Pearce’s horse was tethered to the cast-iron ring in front of the house.
She fisted her hands in her skirt. How deuced bold of Miss Morris to invite her sheepherder into Reid’s house. But then, last night proved Miss Morris went after who she fancied, for she’d strode into Reid’s room to sate her desires.
Today, Miss Morris seemed more interested in Mr. Pearce. Oh, yes, Ellie knew what those knowing looks cast at him meant.
The Englishwoman was dallying with both men. “We need to get back to the house.”
“What’s got you so riled?” Reid asked.
“I’m not angry,” she snapped, her peevish tone proving she was indeed provoked. “I just don’t care to spend the day here in the cook shack.”
Which was a lie. She’d love nothing better than to spend quiet hours here with her pa.
Reid stepped so close his leg crushed her skirt against her thighs. “Looks like Pearce is still here.”
There was absolutely no venom or annoyance in his voice. Was the man that dense?
Ellie said what was on her mind. “It isn’t seemly that she’s entertaining a man in the house.”
“Hard to stand on decorum out here in the West.”
She faced him, uncaring that her cheeks burned as hot as her temper. “That became evident after that episode last night. Really, I’d think your fiancée would be too worried about you to consider leaving your side.”
One side of Reid’s mouth kicked up in a grin. “I told you before this is an arranged marriage.”
“That still doesn’t give her the right to entertain a gentleman in your absence,” she said. “Especially after last night.”
“About that,” Reid said. “I didn’t invite Cheryl into my room.”
“That hardly matters—”
“Yeah, it does.” His big hands cupped her shoulders, and it was all she could do not to lean into him. “Nothing happened, Ellie.”
“Really, your personal affairs are none of my business.” She didn’t want to hear how he’d been caught making love to Cheryl. She certainly didn’t want to shake and stew with jealousy, especially now when he was so close she could grab him and kiss him like she longed to do.
“If I’d wanted to bed her, I’d have visited her room,” he said, his warm breath fanning her flushed face. “But the only woman I thought of seeing was you.”
A giddy rush of pleasure washed over Ellie at his words, which proved she was a lovesick fool. Had she learned nothing from her humiliating tryst with Irwin?
“Is that why you told me to lock my door?” she asked.
“Partly.”
His hands settled on her waist and he eased her from the door and prying eyes, branding her with his touch. Not one protest or admonition she knew a lady would employ to dissuade lotharios came to mind. Even the vow she’d made to stay away from him deserted her.
No, all that crossed her befuddled mind was that Reid was going to kiss her and she was going to enjoy it.
Oh, yes, she should protest. At the least she should slap the handsome face that was descending toward her instead of reaching up, grabbing his head and pulling him closer.
His mouth came down on hers with a need that stole her breath away, possessive and demanding that she give all. Not that she could deny him anything.
She opened to him, letting him have his way and doing a like amount of tongue dueling herself. Her palm slid over his chest to where his heart thundered. His big hand shifted to her breast, weighing, squeezing. The fact that she was standing here in her pa’s cook shack just flitted out of her mind.
Any man who could kiss a woman till she ached to shuck her clothes and inhibitions had to be a master in pleasing her in bed. And Ellie longed to feel him inside her, to know the joy of being thoroughly loved by a man who knew what he was doing—if only for a little while.
Next week she’d be at the ladies academy in California, endeavoring to teach young ladies to guard their virtue. To never behave as wantonly as Ellie was at this moment.
Stopping this sensual attack was the sane thing to do. But she let out a surrendering moan instead and shifted closer to him.
Surely she’d know soon if he was as physically aroused as she, but the layers of clothes robbed her of that discovery. And then he pulled away and smiled down at her, the hand at her waist tethering her to him while he rubbed one hardened nipple into an aching bud.
“I leave my door unlocked.” He kissed her forehead, the gesture so tender it brought tears to her eyes. “You’re welcome anytime.”
With that, Reid Barclay ducked out the door and strode to the house. He held his head high, and his tight behind beckoned her to follow and fondle to her heart’s content.
The audacity of him to work her into a frenzy of need and walk away! Of inviting her into his room tonight.
Why, she should be spitting mad that he’d insulted her honor so. She should despise him for being an admitted cad who wanted to dally with Ellie right under his fiancée’s nose.
But she was none of those things.
No, Ellie Jo Cade had decided then and there that despite the danger, she was going to take him up on his offer.
Hubert was waiting for Reid at the back door, his dour face revealing that he was none too pleased with the turn of events. If he only knew the conclusion Reid had come to, and what he’d been doing with Ellie.
“Mr. Pearce has taken his leave,” Hubert said, the tone implying it wasn’t a moment too soon.
“Where’s my lovely fiancée?”
Hubert laughed without humor. “In her room, sir. We were fortunate that Mr. Erston is on his jaunt to Maverick, though I am sure we won’t enjoy the reprieve from his company much longer.”
“Wearing you down, is he?”
“Like a rasp on a worn sole.” Hubert squinted at Reid’s head. “I understand Miss Cade tended your wound.”
“Yep. Did a fine job.”
Took his thoughts completely off that niggling headache and onto his cock. Damn, but he’d feared that part of him was dead. It had been ever since he’d agreed to marry Cheryl.
But now, even the fact that he’d go through with the marriage didn’t make his cock wilt like a field flower in the sun. Nope, Ellie had cured him. If he could just figure out a way that she could continue administer
ing her healing touch to him when this unpleasant business was behind him.
Speaking of which, it was time to lay his cards on the table. “Ask Miss Morris to join me in my office.”
“Yes, sir.” But Hubert didn’t budge. “Is there anything else you require?”
“Let me know the moment Erston returns.”
Hubert nodded and trudged off.
Reid strode to his office, dropped into his chair and winced. He’d have to watch those quick moves for a day or so. Nothing strenuous. Though he might have to go at the vigorous exercise he had in mind for tonight a mite slower.
He leaned back in his chair, folded his hands behind his head and grinned at the plaster medallions on the ceiling. With Ellie, slow was a good thing. Yep, he fully intended to savor her for as long as he could. And then some.
Cheryl slipped into the room and paused, staring at him as if waiting for him to summon her closer. No doubt that’s how Erston had treated her all her life.
“Come in and have a seat,” he said.
She did, and for a change she met his gaze. “Shouldn’t you be in your room resting?”
“No time for it,” he said. “Erston will be back soon, and I want this settled between us before then.”
She stared at her clasped hands and sighed. “Very well. Go on.”
Reid sat forward and eyed his intended. There was a new tension in her face that hadn’t been there before. Though Reid would like to think concern for him had caused it, he suspected her angst was over a certain sheepherder who nearly got himself shot dead today.
He shook his head. For once, he and Cheryl had something in common—they lusted after someone other than each other.
“What’s going on between you and Pearce?”
Reid expected denial. Hedging at the least.
But this was Cheryl, and in the short time he’d known her, he appreciated the fact she was a straight shooter.
“I love him, and he loves me,” she said.
He let her confession soak in for a minute or so. “Is that why you helped him escape England?”
“Yes. I couldn’t let Burl ruin Kenton.” She shivered. “Or worse.”
A Cowboy Christmas Page 19
