Depending on the Doctor (Nevada Bounty Book 2)

by Margaret Madigan

  I watched him watch me. “Stand up,” he said.

  “Emmett…”

  “Stand up, Lydia. You asked me for a towel. Now take it from me.”

  My insides did all kinds of acrobatics. It felt like a beehive had taken up residence, except the hive had burst, and the bees swarmed inside my belly, while the thick, warm honey spilled down into my nether region. Everything throbbed down there with liquid fire.

  I was afraid, but inexplicably excited, too. I shouldn’t be excited about being naked in front of a fully clothed man. But I was.

  “Before the blizzard blows the building down, Lydia.”

  “Close your eyes,” I said.

  A smile crept across his face. “I don’t think so.”

  The look in his eyes said he was hungry to see me, like he wanted to see me, nobody else. A fresh jolt of heat struck me, unleashing a boldness I didn’t recognize in myself. I wanted him to see me.

  I uncrossed my arms and braced my hands on the edges of the tub, using them to push myself up. I stood in front of him, naked and dripping wet, for a handful of heartbeats before I flushed. I took a step forward.

  “No,” he said. “Don’t move. I want to look at you.”

  I blushed even harder and looked down. But I stayed put.

  His gaze caressed me as if he’d actually touched me and my nipples hardened at the thought of it. My skin tingled under his attention.

  “Jesus, Lydia. You’re so beautiful.”

  His voice was a strangled whisper. I looked up at him and his expression was as naked as my body.

  I stepped forward into the towel, and he wrapped it around me, pulling me into a hug. I put my arms around his neck and buried my face in his shoulder. Rough and warm, he smelled of dirt and the sweat from hard work.

  “You need a bath, too,” I said into his shirt.

  “Are you inviting me in?”

  I pulled back and looked up at him. “I…don’t…the water’s cold now.”

  He chuckled. “I was kidding. Sort of. I’d actually really love to take a bath with you, but if I did I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you.”

  “You want to put your hands on me?” It was an idea so far from anything I’d ever imagined possible, that the words were out of my mouth before I realized how ridiculous they sounded.

  He slipped a finger under my chin and lifted until I was forced to meet his gaze. “You have no idea how much, my dear.”

  Before I could respond, he leaned down and brushed his lips against mine. It was light and brief, and it surprised a little sound from the back of my throat. He answered with a sound of his own that spoke of desire and possession, then he kissed me.

  His lips were firm and warm. His whiskers tickled. My insides turned completely liquid, and when he slid his tongue along the seam of my lips, an implicit request for entry, everything inside me slid down between my legs in a molten cascade and suddenly all of me wanted to open up to him. To let him do whatever he wanted to me. My blood sang for him with every heartbeat.

  Then a cold splash of fear hit me. What was I thinking?

  I wasn’t thinking, that was the problem.

  Yet, somewhere in the back of my mind I remembered Daisy talking about how it felt to be with a man.

  I pulled away before I could open my mouth and let him in.

  I cleared my throat. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

  He watched me for a long moment. I saw the struggle in his eyes—kiss me again or back away. Back away finally won and I let out a breath.

  He went to the fireplace to bank the fire. “Get out of there and get dressed. We need to get back to the cabin. The blizzard is getting worse.”

  “You can talk while I dress.”

  “You’re not going to like what I have to say.”

  My stomach twisted. “Why. What did you do?”

  I dried while he talked.

  “Keep in mind that you’ve already made choices for both of us without consulting me first.”

  He reached for my coat, which I’d hung on a hook by the fireplace.

  I dressed quickly. “Okay…”

  He turned to face me, holding my coat for me. I slid my arms into the sleeves. “Last night Clyde cornered me. He asked me if we were married.”

  I sat on the hearth to lace my boots. “What did you tell him?”

  “That we weren’t, but we were on our way to be when we ran into him.”

  I stood and buttoned my coat. “I suppose that makes sense.”

  He urged me toward the door and just before opening it into the whistling wind, he said, “I’m glad you think so, because we’re to be married tomorrow.”

  The howling wind swallowed her response. I’d taken the coward’s way out. We could have stayed and talked more, but with the ghost of her lips on mine, I had to admit that if we’d stayed I wouldn’t have wanted to talk much, so leaving was the best idea. I should have told her the worst of it, but I hoped to keep the whole pregnancy thing out of it. She seemed to accept the scenario I’d given her, and I wanted to leave it at that.

  Just in case, though, I’d spent any free moments I’d had during the day laying my hands on supplies and secreting them into a corner of the barn to hide them for a time in the future when we could escape. I hadn’t managed much—a couple of blankets, a canteen, a bit of food. I’d need a little more time to collect what we needed.

  I had found a good hunting knife in the barn, and slid it into my boot before Lyle had caught up with me. He’d been an annoying shadow most of the day, but I’d managed to shake him often enough.

  Lydia and I made it back to the cabin and when we burst inside and slammed the door behind us, the whole gang stared at us. We may as well have been on stage in front of an eager audience, with no performance prepared.

  From their faces, I figured Clyde had been talking. I had to hope all seven of them could keep a secret. I figured, given their occupation, the chances had to be better than average, but gossip was a different story. Gossip was tempting.

  I helped Lydia with her coat.

  “Why are they staring at us like that?” she whispered.

  “Clyde probably told them about us getting married. Don’t worry it’ll be fine. Why don’t you go help Billy with supper?”

  She gave me a suspicious, squinty glare, but headed for the hearth anyway.

  It would be a long blizzard if I had to figure out how to manage Lydia and all seven outlaws, and avoid any of them saying the words pregnant, baby, or any reference to them.

  Clyde and Dom approached me. “It’s all set up,” Clyde said. “Dom’s agreed to perform the wedding tomorrow. Did you talk to her?”

  “I did.”

  “And?”

  “She’s not happy about it. Wants to wait.”

  Clyde shook his head. “Women just don’t understand.”

  I glanced at Dom. He shrugged. I was pretty sure Clyde didn’t understand, but I wasn’t about to say so.

  “Well, she did have certain expectations for her life, and getting pregnant out of wedlock, then getting married by a disgraced priest—no offense Dom—in an outlaw hideout, probably weren’t among her dreams,” I said. “If you could give her a couple more days to get used to the idea, she might be more likely to accept it.”

  Maybe in a couple more days the blizzard would have cleared, and we’d have enough supplies to leave.

  “No. We’ll do it tomorrow,” Clyde said. “It’ll be a nice distraction during a blizzard.”

  I hope he didn’t expect our wedding night to be part of the distraction.

  “Supper,” Billy said.

  Lydia served out plates, and the men stood in line to receive them, then settled at the table. Billy placed a plate of bread on the table, along with a slab of butter.

  Once we were all seated, nobody talked much as they all tucked into their food, but tension filled the air. Or maybe I just anticipated the worst.

  “Good thing you cut all that woo
d this morning, Wilder,” Lyle said. “Looks like we’ll need it for the next few days.”

  “How long do you think this blizzard will last?” Lydia asked.

  “Hard to tell,” Lyle answered. “Winter in Wyoming is tricky. Could be a couple hours and done, or could last for three or four days.”

  “I remember a blizzard about five years back that lasted a solid week,” Pete said. “I ran with another gang then, and we got caught out in the open when it hit. What with the flat prairie, you could see it coming miles away, kind of like a sandstorm in the desert, but cold and snowy instead. We tried to outrun it, but before we could get to the nearest shelter, it hit us.”

  “What did you do?” Lydia asked, and I blessed her for her sincere interest because it diverted everyone’s attention for a while anyway.

  “Well, we changed course and headed for these same Bighorns, but further south. For a while the visibility was so bad we rode blind. We stopped the first night and forced the horses down in a tight circle and we all huddled in the middle. That was the longest night of my life. Thought I’d freeze to death.”

  Lydia’s eyes were big as saucers. “You all survived?”

  “No. We lost two men and a horse that night. But the next day the wind let up enough to see better and we made it to the mountains and found a cave. All of us squeezed inside. We managed a small fire and waited out the storm.”

  Lydia reached across the table and patted Pete’s hand. “Well, it’s lucky you survived,” she said, then gave him a stern look. “Though it might have been an opportunity to re-evaluate your choices in life.”

  He had the good sense to look chastised, though I had to smile at how Lydia could be captured by a gang of desperados and shortly thereafter become so comfortable in their midst that she could scold one of them for being a desperado. And he took her seriously.

  I shook my head and took another bite of bread.

  “You’ll make a good mother,” Slim said.

  I almost choked on the bread in my mouth. All the other men at the table turned to glare at him.

  “What?” Slim said. “She will.”

  Lydia gave him a sweet smile. “That’s kind of you to say, Slim.”

  I swallowed and exhaled. “This is a great supper, Lydia.” I said, hoping to distract everyone.

  “Thank you.”

  Everyone fell silent again, working on cleaning their plates. It stretched uncomfortably, the only sounds in the room the crackle of the fire, the scrape of spoons on tin plates, and the howl of the wind outside.

  Until Lydia spoke up.

  “Clyde, about the wedding tomorrow—”

  “We’re looking forward to it,” I said.

  She shot me a look that normally would have shut me up, but this time I was willing to do just about anything to keep her in line, including walk out into the roaring blizzard.

  “Well, yes, but I’d really rather have a nice church wedding.”

  I held my breath. So far she hadn’t tread outside of the story as Clyde knew it.

  “It may be a while before we’re able to get out of here, especially if this storm dumps a lot of snow on us,” Clyde said. “Besides, Dom here’s a priest, so you’ll be married all official. If you want to do it again in a church later, you can do that.”

  Lydia looked at Dom, reappraising him. He smiled and shot her a quick salute. She looked like she’d smelled something unpleasant, then turned back to Clyde.

  “If he’s a priest, what’s he doing here with you?”

  “Long story.”

  “I’m rather fond of stories, as it turns out, and as you mentioned, with the blizzard blowing outside, we can do with distractions.”

  She folded her fingers together under her chin, and alternated her gaze between Clyde and Dom, waiting.

  Dom cleared his throat. “Well. My people are Italian. It’s traditional where we come from for youngest sons and daughters to join the church, become priests and nuns.”

  Lydia nodded, as if the idea was familiar to her. By now, everyone else paid attention, too.

  “As the youngest son of a poor family, it was my duty. At least that’s what my parents said. I’d never really cared for religion, but I did what they expected.”

  “Were you born in Italy?” Lydia asked.

  “Yes, ma’am. But we came to America when I was a young’un. We lived in New York City. We were poor, and I ended up stealing to help us survive. I guess it was in my blood by the time Mama insisted I join the priesthood. I tried real hard, but in the end I couldn’t follow the rules, and I found all the ceremony and the strict, grumpy old men exasperating. So I left.”

  “How’d you end up with these men?”

  Dom lifted and dropped his shoulder in an indifferent gesture. “One night I’d had enough, so I stole a bunch of money from that Sunday’s collection and left. Went out and got drunk, had a couple of whores, and felt better than I had in years. I finally hopped a train and headed west. Met Clyde in a bar in Chicago.”

  Lydia held his gaze for a moment, then lifted a skeptical brow. “But you’re still a priest?”

  “He’s still a priest,” Clyde said, interrupting. “And he’s going to marry you tomorrow.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Lydia said.

  “Doesn’t much matter. It’s still going to happen.”

  “I don’t mind waiting,” she said. “There’s no hurry. Besides, my brother’s a minister, and I’m sure he’d like to perform the ceremony.”

  The whole conversation with Dom had me nervous, but at least it distracted everyone. When the topic shifted back to marriage, I had a suspicion things would go south fast. Most of the men were interested by Dom’s story, but Clyde was tense, and Lydia, damn her curiosity, kept picking away at things trying to get to the bottom of it. She couldn’t leave it well enough alone.

  Clyde glanced at me and held my gaze. I held it as best I could. He didn’t trust me, I saw that clearly enough, I hoped he didn’t call my bluff. I supposed it was too much to hope for, so I reached down and pulled the knife out of my boot, just in case.

  Clyde slid his attention back to Lydia. “I’m sure your brother will understand. After all, it may be spring before we’re able to get out of here, and we all want you married before the baby’s born.”

  I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Shit,” I whispered, then opened my eyes.

  Lydia cocked her head, clearly confused about what he’d said. “What baby?” she asked. But then she shot me a look that said she understood perfectly, just a second too late to take the words back.

  “Good job, Clyde,” I said, trying to sound as sarcastic and casual as possible, while gripping the handle of the knife in my lap. Maybe I could still salvage the situation. I’d told him she was humiliated, so there was a chance he’d conclude she just wanted to deny the pregnancy.

  Clyde didn’t buy it. He’d seen the confusion in Lydia’s face, and he’d seen the way she looked at me, the acknowledgement of her mistake clear on her face. His expression turned dark and fierce as the storm outside.

  “You’re not pregnant, are you, Lydia?”

  To her credit, she tried to save the situation, but it was too late. “Yes, actually I am. I just didn’t want anyone to know.” She tried for indignant. “I can’t believe he’d be so uncouth as to tell anyone.”

  Clyde stood, sending his chair tumbling behind him. He sat at the head of the table, with Lydia next to him, her back to the fireplace. He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to her feet, drawing his pistol at the same time and jamming the muzzle against her temple. I sat across from her, between Pete and Clyde. I stood, too, showing him my knife. I stepped closer to Clyde.

  “Let her go.”

  “I should have killed you both. Guess I’ll have to fix that mistake.”

  Lydia squeezed her eyes shut, obviously expecting Clyde to kill her first. He surprised me by swinging the gun to aim it at me.

  I dove to the side at
the same time Lydia screamed and grabbed at Clyde’s gun hand. The gun went off and a bullet burned as it sliced through my side; but I was still alive, which was more than I’d expected.

  I rolled away to catch my breath.

  Clyde must have assumed I died, because he turned his attention to Lydia.

  “Your turn, you little lying whore. But first, I think I’ll take a turn with you. It’s the least you owe me.”

  He shoved her to the hearth.

  “Clyde, you don’t want to do this,” Dom said. “It’s not right.”

  Clyde snarled at Dom. “Keep your morals to yourself. The two of them made a fool of me, now they’ll pay for it.”

  The rest of the men had found their feet by now, but they seemed confused, as if they were so used to following Clyde and doing his bidding, that when faced with stopping him from doing something, they didn’t know how.

  “She was just trying to protect herself,” Billy said.

  Clyde leveled his gun at Billy. “You want to be her protector, Billy? You saw what happened to the last one.”

  He waved the gun in my general direction before bringing it back to Billy, who looked sick with guilt, but still didn’t move a muscle.

  “I didn’t think so,” Clyde said.

  He turned his attention back to Lydia and reached down to hike her skirt up. With his focus on her, I pulled myself up to a crouch. Billy saw me, but I put my finger to my lips to hush him.

  “Please don’t, Clyde,” Lydia said.

  Lydia sounded small and afraid. I couldn’t see Clyde’s face, but I could imagine it—a disgusting leer. I gripped my knife tight, and got ready to spring.

  “Hey, Clyde,” I said.

  He turned his head to see me, and at that moment, Lydia reached into the fireplace right next to her, grabbed a log and with a banshee scream swung it like she was trying to drive a railroad spike in one strike.

  Clyde went down in a heap, holding his head and groaning.

  Lydia threw the burning log aside, hissing in pain. She had to have burned her hand badly, but she still kicked Clyde in the ribs for good measure.

  “Keep your filthy hands off me you pig.”

  Slim chuckled.

  “And what good were you lot?” She asked the rest of the men. “You’d have just stood there and watched while he raped me. What kind of men are you?”