by SpursFanatic
Tarin nodded as she sat up in her chair. “You are right. He is the strongest person I know.”
Nodding, Kit rose to her feet and escorted Isabel out the door. Alone with Rafe, Tarin laid her cheek against his, her tears falling onto his chilled face.
“I do not need school, a career, or riches, Rafe. All I need is you.” She placed a butterfly kiss on his temple. “Stay, Rafe, please. I love you.”
######
He stood beside Rafe’s hospital bed, bathed in rays of dazzling white. Rafe started, not out of fear of him - he radiated pure joy - but shock that He was there at all.
His beating, blood-red heart hovered above His chest rather than within it, expanding a little with each heavy thud. It emanated a love so strong, so powerful, it filled Rafe’s weak body to near bursting.
Rafe had always imagined someone would come for him upon his death. But after what he had done over the last ten years, he never expected He would be here.
‘Are you sure you have the right person?’ Rafe asked Him in his mind.
His answering smile was warm as He stretched His hand towards Rafe, offering a blissful, painless freedom his tormented body craved. Rafe could feel the blessed relief, the peaceful ecstasy draw him. It would be so easy to give in, to take His hand and go. The pain, the scars would be no more. He would be perfect…
Then she appeared.
Floating beside Him, she was more flame than dense, her wavy, copper hair shining like the sun. Her luminous beauty blinded him, her blue eyes glowing like lit sapphires. She looked so much like Tarin Rafe wondered if she was a trick of his eyes.
Shaking her head, she smiled before holding her hand in front of her mouth and blowing in his face.
The scent of roses showered over him like a million raindrops, filling his nose with the sweet aroma of a garden. He recalled the scent the night Beau and Rosa rescued him from the Comanches.
Realization made him smile. “You have been with me all along, haven‘t you?” he said without words. “You’re Tarin’s mother.”
Nodding, she smiled lovingly at Tarin who still sat beside his body in the hospital room. When her mother turned back to Rafe, her smile had vanished.
He extended His hand again to Rafe, His smile warm. Rafe reached for Him, the desire to take His hand obliterating all thought. Tarin’s mother floated between them, a frown marring her lustrous face.
“Tarin needs you,” she told him without moving her lips.
Rafe looked back at Him. His hand promised Rafe absolute ecstasy, no pain, no scars, no worries.
He looked back at her.
Life on earth promised Tarin. And He knew how much Rafe loved her.
“I can’t put her through this,” Rafe told Him. “I will gladly endure any suffering if you will allow me to stay.”
Tarin’s mother gave a brilliant smile before slowly fading into the clouds. He remained, His hand still extended. Rafe did not move, unsure whether He intended to take him after all.
Gliding closer, He laid his palm against Rafe’s chest. Blinding rays shot from his chest in a swirl of color. Rafe gasped at the glimpse of eternal rapture His touch revealed. Rafe’s soul yearned to stay, pulling towards Him of its own volition.
Rafe could feel the healing power seep through him as He pushed once, sending Rafe falling back to the bed.
“Rafe!” Tarin cried, frantically shaking his shoulder.
The sound of Rafe’s sudden gasp caused her heart to stop. She had heard stories of the dead’s final breath. Many had the death rattle, others one last gasp of breath.
No, it cannot be…
“Please,” Tarin said, as she squeezed his hand, urging him to give her some sign of life. “Stay.”
Suddenly, he rolled to his side with a deep groan, pulling her with him. Tarin ended up half lying on the bed, her face inches from his. She could not believe her eyes.
“I have been dying to get you in bed for months.” His dark brown eyes sparkled with mischief. “Now that I have you, I can’t do anything with you.”
Relief washed over Tarin like a tidal wave, making her lightheaded. Pulling her feet onto the bed, she stretched out beside him and kissed him all over his face. “The doctor said you were going to die!”
A peace she had never seen there before shown in the depths of his dark eyes. He did not try to cover his scars
or flinch when she touched his mangled skin. The peace seemed odd in a man that sat near death moments ago yet, he appeared relaxed, content, as if waking from a nap.
“All the more reason to get you through medical school, mi dulce.” He kissed her palm before cradling it between them. “We have too many fools in practice and are now one physician short.” Kissing her forehead, he asked, “Are you well? What did they do to you?”
Looking away, Tarin shook her head. “I am well. Dr. Kent tied me down and forced opium down my throat while his wife and daughter looked on.” She looked up into eyes full of life - and anger. “Do not fret. I am fine. I feel for the child, though. There is no telling what she has seen in her short life. Patrick is making arrangements for her grandparents to sail from Atlanta to collect her.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” He squeezed her hand again.
“No, Rafe,” she replied, pulling the blanket up over his shoulder, “I did not allow you to be there for me.” Swallowing hard, she added, “I want you here for me now. Everyday. I want to be your wife, Rafe. If you will still have me.”
The grin that lit his face made her heart race.
“Rafe?” Stopping just inside the door, Patrick rushed around the bed with Rosa in tow, Beau quick on their heels. Her father and Father Finnegan followed them inside.
Tarin jumped up, embarrassed to be found in bed with Rafe. She felt her face heat. Heaven above, her father and a priest had seen her in bed with a man!
“Is everything settled with the Kents?” Rafe asked Beau and Patrick as he sat up with a groan. He tugged her back to his side.
Beau nodded as he shook Rafe’s hand. “Yes. The police will allow his wife to attend the funeral tomorrow before placing her in jail.”
“We have sent word to the grandparents to retrieve the child,” Patrick added, handing Rafe the robe hanging on the coat rack. “She will stay at the church orphanage until they arrive.”
“Thank you, both,” Tarin interjected, helping Rafe slide his arms into the sleeves. “I know it was difficult for you.”
“What was hard, Tarin,” Beau said, his ice green eyes hard beneath lowered brows, “was seeing you and Rafe near death.” He looked over at Father Finnegan. “Thank God, you are both well.”
The priest smiled as he shuffled a Bible between his hands. “Yes, miracles do happen.”
Rafe grinned. “I know you came here to give me last rites, Father, but I have been given a reprieve. Can you marry us, instead?”
Tarin’s heart shot into a full gallop.
“Of course.” Father Finnegan nodded with a smile.
Pulling her to him, Rafe kissed the breath from her lungs in front of everyone. “Is that agreeable to you, Lady Worthington?”
Excitement shot through her like lightning, making her body tingle all over. She couldn’t contain her smile. “Most definitely, Mr. Sutherland.”
Smiling, Henry headed for the door. “I will go find your mother, Rafe. We must get you two married post haste. With your history, we have no idea what could happen before days end.”
Chapter 18
The scent of lavender assailed Rafe as soon as he opened the bedroom door. He’d given his wife an hour to ready herself for their honeymoon, while he had a congratulatory cigar with Beau and Patrick. They had questioned his ability to perform his husbandly duties due to his wounds, but He had quickened the recovery process.
Rafe was more than ready to bed his new wife. He just hoped she was ready to face his scars.
“Tarin?” He shut the door behind him.
A gas lamp brightened beside
the bed. She sat up, the covers dropping to her waist. Her glorious copper hair hung loose around her shoulders and she wore one of his shirts. The sight sent a thrill of excitement through him, a fierce possessiveness in its tow.
“What are you doing in one of my shirts?” He walked over to the fireside table and set down a bottle of bourbon.
“It seems my new husband would not allow me to go home and retrieve my lingerie.” Smiling, she brushed the hair from her eyes. “I was beginning to wonder if I was going to spend my wedding night alone.”
Rafe cocked a brow. Not likely.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, with a yawn.
Excited, aroused - and nervous as a boy with his first girl. “The bourbon has taken off the edge.”
Stretching her arms, the laces on the shirt gaped, revealing one of her bare shoulders. The sight of her in his shirt, in his bed, made him crazy with want. A primitive, base instinct urged him to take her now. But it was their wedding night and she was a virgin. Rafe wanted their first time together to be satisfying for them both.
God help him.
Walking over to the dresser, he bent and splashed water on his face. He hadn‘t been with a woman in nearly a year. And whether she said so or not, the scars could not be stimulating for her.
“Rafe, you were near death today. I still do not know how you are walking around as if you received nary a scratch. There is no pressure to consummate the marriage tonight.”
Rafe whipped his head around. She knelt on the bed facing him, an arm wrapped around one of the posts. Her bare breasts were clearly visible beneath the thin cotton of his shirt, her smooth legs showing beneath the hem.
The hell there was…
Leaving the bed, she padded towards him barefoot. Her legs were long and shapely, her full breasts bobbing with each step she took. His new wife completely captivated him.
Her beautiful, green eyes were round with worry when she stopped in front of him.
“You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”
The smile that lit her face was like none he had seen from her before. Filled with innuendo, she lifted a corner of her mouth as she tugged him towards the bed. Staring at him through lowered lashes, she bit her bottom lip as she carefully pushed him to sit down on the mattress.
“Are you certain you are well?” she asked, bending to remove one of his boots.
Rafe placed a hand on her arm. “Tarin, stop. I don’t expect you to wait on me.”
She gave him that knowing smile again. “That is good. I had not planned to make it a habit.” She pulled off one boot, then the other, before trailing her hands up the hem of his pant legs and massaging his bare calves. “Your muscles are like stone.”
They weren’t the only muscles like stone at the moment. Rafe feared he would actually break if she touched him the wrong - or would that be right? - way.
Rising to her feet, Tarin climbed onto his lap and straddled him. Rafe’s heart nearly failed. Just the thought of her open and ready, just inches from his crotch, made him break out in a sweat.
“Did you know that I love you…“ She placed tiny kisses along his throat, before tugging at his earlobe. “…and desire you madly?”
Although he knew she loved him, a part of Rafe still wondered how she could desire him. Yet, this damned perfect seduction she had orchestrated was real. But how? Why?
And dammit, where did she learn to do this?
Unbuttoning his shirt, she trailed her hands down his arms as she lowered it behind him. Her brows furrowed in concentration as she carefully removed it and tossed it to the floor.
A chill ran through Rafe as he sat fully exposed before her. “How can you desire me, Tarin?”
She looked up from his chest. Her eyes were round, solemn. Quite possibly more green than the emerald burning a hole in his trouser pocket.
“I cannot explain my emotions, Rafe. Only express them.” She fanned her fingers through his hair. “But I can tell you that my need for you overwhelms me.”
He watched in fascination as her shaking hands grabbed the hem of her shirt. With slow movements, she pulled it over her head and flung it on the bed behind him.
His heart stopped, his body hardening to the point of pain.
She was perfect. Her breasts were high, full, and clearly aroused, her skin creamy white and smooth. She had a small waist that widened to a hollow stomach and slightly rounded hips.
He struggled to breathe.
Looking into her eyes, Rafe saw the vulnerability hidden behind her determination. The woman had spirit. She was a virgin and had bared herself to him. He knew the courage it took, knew how much she had put on the line.
She had evened the stakes. For him.
God above, he loved her.
Cupping her head in his hand, Rafe crushed his mouth to hers. She deepened the kiss, not he, opening for him as she pressed her soft, full curves against his chest. Moaning into her mouth, he drank what she offered, running his hands up and down the smooth, silky skin of her back.
Without breaking the kiss, Rafe laid her back on the mattress and stretched out on top of her. She was so soft, so willing - and impatient.
She broke their kiss, her breathing labored. “Will you never remove the rest of your clothes?”
Barking out a soft laugh, Rafe rose to his feet and pulled off his trousers. She had said the scars didn’t matter. He was about to see if that held true. If he saw one inkling of horror, he would stop. He wouldn’t hold her to her word.
Stripping down to nothing, Rafe watched Tarin’s reaction as he lay beside her. He saw no reluctance, only exotic green eyes swirling with desire and eagerness. He had only a moment before she turned to him and took up where they had left off. She threw a leg over his hip and pulled closer.
Following her lead, Rafe strummed her body at his leisure, kneading and caressing every curve and hollow. She responded to him with such abandon, her moans and gasps exciting him into a near frenzy. Pleasuring her with his hand, he watched her wildly, beautifully come apart in his arms.
Recovering from her climax, she smiled up at him in wonder. Rafe grinned. Damn, he was one lucky bastard.
He flinched at her first touch on his chest, but slowly relaxed as her hands hypnotized him with their gentle strokes. She pleasured him with the same passionate spirit she put into everything else. While he guided her hands and mouth, Rafe encouraged her boldness and curiosity until he found himself near climax - and he hadn’t entered her yet.
Gritting his teeth, Rafe climbed on top of her. Waiting to enter her warmth, he tried to relax them both by stopping to stroke the hair back from her flushed face.
“I’m sorry I have to hurt you.”
He saw none of the apprehension and fear he expected. The shaking he had witnessed earlier was gone. Her legs were spread wide, welcoming him home.
“The hurt ‘tis only temporary and well worth it, if your prowess so far proves true.“
He laughed before giving her a brief kiss. “You put a lot of pressure on a man.”
Shaking her head against the pillow, she replied, “No pressure, only love.”
Rafe sobered, realizing her words were genuine. To accept him as he was, she had to love him. What woman would tolerate his brash ways and scarred body?
Bracing himself on his hands, he entered her slowly and nearly lost it. She was so ready for him, so warm and moist, it felt too good to be real. Thrusting forward, he broke her barrier as he crushed his mouth to hers.
She was finally his.
Rafe tried to love her slowly, leisurely, and did so for a while, hoping to give her time to adjust. Yet, soon he sat at the point of madness and couldn’t hold back any longer. Increasing the pace, he followed her moans and whispered words until they were both slick, breathless and near completion.
“Oh Rafe, I cannot-what are you doing to me?…” she cried.
Arching his back, Rafe emptied himself inside her as the scent of roses showered down aro
und them.
The room stood silent, save for their waning breath. Rafe held Tarin against his warm, hard chest and stroked her hair. He smelled of spice, bourbon and perspiration, his unique scent enveloping her in familiar comfort.
It felt good to be held. Tarin could not remember the last time someone had really held her. Frowning to herself, she realized it had been her mother, over twelve years earlier. It struck her how she had come to live without it, yet craved it now that she had Rafe.
Snuggling closer, she sighed. She never wanted to leave.
Suddenly, Rafe sat up. Tarin gasped. Jumping off the bed, he sauntered around the bed and picked up his trousers.
“Pardon me,” she announced, “I was thoroughly enjoying myself, just now.”
Laughing, he reached inside the pocket and pulled out a green velvet pouch. “You are a demanding woman.“
Tarin couldn’t help but admire his tall, muscular physique as he made his way back around the bed. He was incredibly masculine and virile. She couldn’t wait to get her hands on him again.
He lay down beside her with a smile. Leaning over him, she feathered her fingers through his thick, dark hair. “Did you know I have been a long admirer of your backside?”
Raising a brow, he grabbed the hand in his hair and kissed her palm. “So, you have had unladylike thoughts in my presence. I knew it.”
“Oh, absolutely,” she replied, with a wanton grin.
Growling low in his throat, Rafe bent and gave her a long, open-mouthed kiss. She could get spoiled having a man with such advanced talents at her leisure.
Pulling away, he dropped the pouch in her hand. The strong scent of roses struck her speechless.
“You smell them, don’t you?” He gave her an I-told-you-so smile.
She couldn’t believe it. Her mind flooded with memories of her mother, as though someone dropped painting after painting before her eyes, each a scene from her most cherished thoughts.
Holding the pouch to her nose, she inhaled deeply.
Nothing.
