Tori didn't look at him. She pulled Lily closer to her.
"I ast you a question. What did they do?"
Tori finally raised her cornflower eyes to his, glaring her hatred at him. "They killed our mother!" Her voice was a desperate, shrill cry. Her chin quivered.
"Yeah. I can see that. But what did they do to you?" Fallon plucked a blade of grass and began to chew on it. "Did they put their hands on you?"
Tori shook her head. "N-No. But that one, there with the gold tooth—" She pointed at Ralph Blalock. "—he said he was goin' to do somethin' if you didn't get back soon. He said—"
"You lyin' little bitch!" Blalock sprung forward from where he'd been standing with Gilpen and some of the others. "That ain't true, Drew! Don't'cha believe anything she tries to tell you! She's lyin'!"
Fallon came to his feet and drew his revolver, cocking it inches from Blalock's lanky torso. Blalock stopped, and raised his hands. Fallon grinned, his eyes never leaving Blalock. "What about it, Gilpen? Is the girl tellin' the truth?"
Archie Gilpen's Adam's apple bobbed convulsively, and finally, he said, "I-I reckon she is, Drew."
"You bastard!" Blalock started to turn, but Fallon's first bullet caught him in the chest, the impact hurtling him back. He hit the ground and rolled, as Fallon shot him twice more, then bent and put the gun to Blalock's right temple. He pulled the trigger yet again, and Blalock jerked one final time. At last, he lay still.
Fallon straightened, casually pushing some cartridges from his gun belt as he began to reload his weapon. His hard stare traveled around each man in the group, silently promising them death should any of them cross him. "Anybody else feel like taking me on?"
The men dropped their gazes from his, one by one.
"Anybody else feel like disobeying an Andrew Fallon order?"
The men slowly shook their heads, none of them looking directly at him.
"Y'all get these two bodies in the ground, then, and let's turn in for the night." He started to walk away, then as an afterthought, turned to Gilpen. "Archie, pull that gold outta Ralph's head. That'll be worth somethin' for my trouble."
* * * * *
The bath could be put off no longer. Kaed lay quietly, watching Jessica's nervousness.
"Jessi." When she looked at him, his bones liquefied. She wanted him. All question of how the night would end were answered as their eyes met and held over an achingly sweet moment.
Jessica sank her teeth into her lower lip, her fingers moving to the tiny row of buttons at the front of her day dress. She slowly began to work them open. "Kaed, would you, um, I mean, well, I need to get my bath now."
"I suppose that means I need to at least turn my head." His mouth was dry. It was hot in the cabin all of a sudden.
"Uh-huh." She kept right on unbuttoning the buttons, caught in his gaze. "And close your eyes."
Yeah, well it wouldn't matter if he did. He'd still see the picture she burned in his mind as she stood there opening those buttonholes.
Her fingers hesitated at the button just above the rich swell of her breasts. Kaed wet his lips, not turning his head or closing his eyes.
"Kaed?" Her voice was a husky whisper. That made him close his eyes. The sound of his name on her lips had him imagining doing all the things that a man did with a woman. All the things that were soon to come.
God. The heat was unbearable.
"Huh?" He slitted his still-swollen eyes open and saw she had released that button and moved down to the next one. He gritted his teeth.
"Turn…your…head." A teasing smile played about her mouth, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking, what he was imagining.
Turning away would be a good thing right about now. If he could only persuade his neck to cooperate.
"Yeah. Okay." He turned his face toward the window. Sort of.
"I'm trusting you."
Kaed sighed, frustrated. "I know." It was the one thing she might've said that would have kept him true to his word, that part about trusting. He couldn't betray that. "I've gotta move slow. Hurts."
"Don't—" The dress whispered to the floor.
"I won't," he gritted, the words bitter in his mouth. Then, he thought of something. "It's hardly fair, though."
There was a delicate splash as Jessica slipped into the water.
"What do you mean?"
He heard her trailing water across her shoulders and neck with the washrag, blissfully unaware of the effect she was having on him, and on a certain part of his male anatomy. He was aching for her. But he managed to make his voice casual.
"I mean, you're going to help me bathe."
The dribbling water stopped, and he heard her breathing quicken.
"Yes, I know. But I don't need any help."
After a moment the splashing began again. He imagined she was washing her hair. "Jessi?"
She didn't answer, but he knew she was listening. He grew tired of the game. He wanted her to know what to expect. What was going to happen. To anticipate it as much as he did.
"Jessi, I want you." It took everything in him not to turn and look at her as he said it, to see the expression on her delicate features. "I'm going to make love to you tonight."
"I know." Her voice was a shaky whisper. They were both quiet, then she asked, "Does it hurt? Keeping your head turned, I mean."
Kaed smiled, then quickly sobered, hoping she hadn't seen it. "Yeah, it hurts." His words came out rough and edgy.
"Then maybe you'd better get comfortable, Marshal. But don't open your eyes."
Slowly, Kaed turned toward her, his eyes still closed. When he heard her pour the pitcher of rinse water over her head, he cracked them open a slit, knowing she'd be wiping the water out of her own eyes just then.
His breath caught. A peachy breast rose above the water, the nipple puckering in the cool air. Jessica wiped at her face, smoothing back her hair. She smiled, eyes still closed.
"You looked," she said.
He winced as he screwed his eyes shut tightly. "Why do you say that?"
"You had a funny sound to your breathing."
Kaed looked out at her from one swollen eyelid. Jessica smiled at his careful perusal. He opened the other eye, and she slid farther under the water.
Great. Three days, and this woman already recognized irregularities in his breathing patterns.
He gave her a slow grin. He could think of a few different breathing oddities she had yet to hear. Later on tonight. After the bath. "I didn't really look. I mean, I just…sort of."
Jessica worried her bottom lip with her teeth. "I need to get out of here and let you get in."
"Anxious?"
She smiled, and his whole world brightened. "No. Just cold."
He chuckled at her teasing. "Go ahead. Get out. I hate cold bathwater."
"With those burns, this temperature ought to be just about right." She waited, but he made no move to turn his head again. "Kaed—"
"C'mon, Jessi," he said gently. "Don't be shy with me."
"I don't even know—"
"Yes, you do. You know me by my heartbeat. You've lain close enough to me at night to memorize it, hear it in your sleep. You know when my breathing sounds different, for Chrissakes. You know me enough to trust me, and to trust your feelings for me. Don't you see, sweetheart? Time doesn't mean a thing." He touched his bare chest with his good left hand. "What means something is what you know in here, inside your soul."
Jessica sat quietly, watching him as he spoke. Finally, she said, "If that's true, Kaed, then you're right. Time doesn't matter. For us, it just stands still. Or maybe, our lives were meant to come together, to stay together from this moment on." She laughed softly, then became serious again. "I feel it, too. Whatever it is inside that draws us together."
She rose slowly from the water, and Kaed watched as she reached for the towel she'd laid on the chair earlier.
He let his hot gaze roam over her, from the slender column of her neck, to her ripe breasts, down to h
er flat belly. A droplet of water rolled down her stomach and skidded into her navel. The thatch of dark hair below glistened in the late afternoon light. His groin tightened painfully. He stifled a groan, but not completely, and Jessica looked up at him. She had been drying her back, and her breasts shook gently with the movement of the towel.
"You're killing me, Jessica."
A smile played about her lips as she reached for a threadbare robe from the back of the chair and shrugged into it quickly, belting it at the waist. Bending forward, she twisted her hair up inside the worn towel she'd been using.
She met his gaze. "Well? Are you ready?"
Was he ever. He ached for her, and there was no hiding the physical side of his attraction to her. But that wasn't what she was asking. He reached for the covers and flipped them back, revealing the entire depth of his need for her.
He watched her unabashedly, waiting for her reaction, as her eyes roamed across the broad expanse of his chest, across the thick matting of dark hair that swirled down lower and lower to his hard, gridded belly.
* * * * *
The size of his manhood stopped her gaze. She'd never seen anyone but Billy. Kaed was much larger.
Her gaze snapped back to his lazy, half-lidded perusal. He flashed her an even, white grin, bright against his sun-dark skin. "Well, by that look, I take it that I haven't disappointed you. Yet." Before she could respond, he glanced away and tried to sit up.
At his grimace of pain, Jessica hurried to his side, all other thoughts forgotten. He reached for her with his left hand and she took it, digging in her heels as he pulled himself to a sitting position.
He relaxed his grip slowly. He held his broken wrist out stiffly and passed his left hand over his face, as if to clear away the cobwebs in his mind.
Jessica bit her lip. She wanted to touch him, to comfort him, to let him know he could hold on to her. But she did none of those things. Billy Monroe had rebuffed her often enough for trying to touch him.
Kaed finally reached out and gripped the heavy washtub, then very slowly, he stood up. Jessica tried not to hover. He stepped into the tub and lowered himself slowly into the tepid water. His handsome features twisted in agony as he drew a shaky breath.
Behind him, Jessica stood motionless, afraid to move. But Lexi set up a fretful wail from her crib, galvanizing her into action. She turned away from Kaed, realizing that was for the best, anyway. He needed some time to adjust, and she could keep an eye on him while she fed Lexi, giving him a little privacy as well. She picked up the baby and balanced her on her hip as she prepared the oats for her supper. She cast Kaed a quick glance. His jaw was set, his lips pressed together in a firm line of determination that she had come to recognize.
"Don't move," she said softly. "Just sit still and soak. I'll help you as soon as I feed Lexi."
"Yeah. Okay."
By the graveled note in his voice, she knew just soaking wasn't the easiest thing he'd ever done. "I'll hurry," she said.
No reply.
She put on another kettle of water to boil for Kaed's rinse water, one arm wrapped tightly around the crying baby. She couldn't help sloshing some of the water onto her robe as she awkwardly handled the kettle with one hand, held Lexi with the other. Then, she sat at the kitchen table and began to spoon the oats into Lexi's mouth. When Lexi was finished, Jessica put her in her crib and turned to Kaed. He was sitting perfectly still, unable to relax against the back of the tub. He held his arm at an odd angle to keep it dry.
Jessica slowly sank to her knees on the rough plank floor beside the tub. She reached for a clean washrag, and waited for his protest. It wasn't long in coming, just as she'd expected.
"Just soap it up for me. I can take a bath, for Chrissakes."
She met his eyes, half tempted to let him try and fail. But she couldn't bear to do that. "Billy didn't like to be touched. Are you that kind of man?" She lathered the rag and began to soap his neck as she waited for his answer.
"Hell no, Jessi. I just feel..." He sighed. "Stupid."
Jessica smiled. "Hold still and let me clean around this cut on your cheek."
"I can—"
"No. You can't. You can't see it."
Slowly, Kaed relaxed as she finished with his neck and face, then started on the matted hair across his chest. Her face was only inches from his, and she suddenly became aware of his steady perusal of her, accompanied by the forced evenness of his breathing.
She raised her eyes to his dark gaze, and the washrag stopped moving. His look held hers for a breathless moment. Finally, the smile reappeared in his eyes, and on his mouth, and felt her own lips curving upward in response. She had seen that look of desire before, in the eyes of other men, but she had never welcomed it, anticipated it, as she did at this moment. Her heart slammed against her chest, and she was sure he could hear its fierce beat.
"See? No need to feel stupid." She looked away quickly. "You need a shave."
"I hope you have a steady hand."
She peered intently at the patch of skin she was washing. "We need to wash your hair."
"That should prove interesting. I guess before the night's over, we'll see what kind of contortions I can twist my body into—" He broke off at her shocked gasp, then he chuckled. "Jessi, I mean, washing my hair while I try to keep this arm dry."
She nodded. "Oh, yes. I-I knew what you meant."
He winced as she touched his ribs with the wet cloth.
"Sorry." She grimaced. "I'm trying to be careful."
He grinned. "I know. That's why any other kind of body contortions that take place tonight will have to be performed by you, Jessica."
Her gaze shot to meet his once more. "Kaed—"
He nodded toward the wall where the razor hung, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Let's see what kind of barber you are."
She stood, removed the towel from her head, and laid it across the back of one of the kitchen chairs. Absently, she raked her fingers through the tangled strands of her damp hair as she took the cauldron of water from the fire and carried it over to the washtub.
"Why does Standing Bear call you Fire Eyes?"
Jessica smiled at the unexpected question. "Tilt your head back." She knelt behind him on the floor, lathering his face carefully before she answered.
"When Billy and I first came here, we didn't know there were any Indians within a hundred miles of this place." She took up the razor and started the first steady swath up his neck. "One day, we had gone out into the field to plant corn. We looked up and there were forty or fifty of them all around us. I dove for the repeater—Billy's pride and joy." She brought the razor up under Kaed's chin, careful of the healing cut, and rinsed the blade. She gave a short, caustic chuckle, remembering.
"I'm sure I was a sight to see—dirty, exhausted—standing in the middle of the field with that Henry. It holds fifteen cartridges, about a third the number I would have needed to have wiped them all out. Luckily, I came to my senses before I ever pulled the trigger."
She drew the blade upward again. Kaed smiled. "So you were what stood between your husband and the Choctaws, huh? What did they do?"
Jessica grinned. "Guess I must've scared them away."
"Right."
"Or maybe they just rode out into the cottonwood trees and had themselves a good laugh." She shook her head. "Either way, I was never so relieved in my life when they went."
"You showed bravery," Kaed said. "They admire that. If you'd been fearful, there's no telling what the outcome would've been."
"They must've just felt sorry for me, then. Billy was down on his knees begging them to let him live, just take me if that's what they wanted. Put your head down so I can rinse the soap out."
Kaed gave her a sharp look as she matter-of-factly turned and began to temper some of the hot water in the rinse bucket. "He was going to give you up to them? Without a fight?"
She gently pushed his head down and poured the rinse water over his sleek, dark hair, then began to towe
l dry it. "What you have to realize about Billy, Kaed, was that he didn't love anyone as much as he loved himself." Her voice was brittle. "He didn't need anyone else, certainly not me, for anything, and he let me know it regularly." She fell silent.
Kaed took a deep breath. "Billy Monroe was an ass." He looked up into her face, and she gave a faint smile.
"Yes, he was. That's why I try to put him out of my mind as often as I possibly can. Let's see about getting you out of the tub and back to bed where you belong."
Jessica laid the towel aside and met his gaze. In the brown, gold-flecked reflection of his eyes, she saw a thread of uncertainty. Her heart stopped beating for a moment at the pause of vulnerable hesitation in Kaed's expression, and she realized how badly he was hurting. So badly, that he was wondering if he could manage to stand up again.
She busied herself with hanging the razor back in its place and putting away the soap. "You can do it, Kaed."
He snorted. "Well, I guess there's no choice. I'll do it or sleep in the washtub, won't I? Maybe I shouldn't've been so—"
She stood beside him. "I'm right here. There's nothing we can't do together." She reached out and touched his bare shoulder, brushing aside a droplet of water.
"Jessi." He spoke her name like a prayer as he lifted his head to look into her face. The lines around his eyes and mouth were deeply grooved, his expression set. Jessica knew it was from the restless nights and the pain he fought even now, just sitting, his ribs still newly-mending.
"Give me your hand." She stretched her own hands out to clasp his.
He hesitated a moment, refusal on his lips and in the depths of his eyes.
Jessica drew a deep breath. "Give me your hand, Kaedon Turner. You're not Billy Monroe. You need me right now, so you may as well just recognize it. Give me your hand."
Silently, he reached for her with his left hand. Jessica clasped it tightly and began to pull.
Gasping for breath, he stood up, and stepped out of the tub.
Chapter Twelve
Jessica moved around him quickly, drying him, her fingers gliding over his skin. His legs shook as he stood still. He wouldn't make it much longer. She wrapped the fluffy cotton length around his waist, careful of the raw bullet wound, and took his arm to steady him.
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