“What do you mean?” Rachel paused with a platter of meat and beans in her hands.
“Out in the storm, I swore I saw a light. Every time the wind would back off, there it was, shining in the distance. I kept making for it and wound up on your porch.”
“It worked, Sis.” Nathan was ecstatic. “It was supposed to keep spring from getting lost, and it helped Ranger McCain, too.”
The instant grace was finished, Nathan launched into an explanation of their Christmas tradition, eating and talking nonstop. Rachel was grateful. It kept her from having to join in the conversation. It was so strange to have a man at her table in her home that she couldn’t seem to think straight.
Every breath she took was scented with him. The oil he’d used to clean his guns, the lingering scent of starch from his shirt, even the leather from his saddle and boots, spiced the air. The low drawl of his voice as he talked with Nathan skittered along her skin and pulsed inside her.
As she cleared the dishes, she remembered the shock she’d felt at lunch, when she’d accidentally touched his hand. That never happened when she took Hiram’s arm.
“Are you all right?”
Rachel jumped when Jake spoke. He was so close she could feel his warmth seeping into her. For one tantalizing moment she thought he might put his arms around her. She swayed a little closer, then caught herself. What was the matter with her?
“What’s it like, being a Ranger?” Nathan framed the question around a mouthful of cake and icing.
Jake’s smile seemed forced as he set down his fork. “The work is important, but it’s never easy.”
“Why not?”
He picked up his coffee cup and wrapped both hands around it. “You’re on the trail almost all the time. You don’t get to see your family much.”
“But you get to shoot bad guys and Indians.”
“Nathan,” Rachel interrupted. “That’s enough.”
Jake’s cup hit the table with a crack. “Killing is nothing to take lightly. You never want to kill another man, no matter who they are. There are some who don’t care who they shoot, but they’re the ones who’ve lost their souls.”
Rachel watched the play of light on his face as he worked to hold on to his temper.
“If I killed every bad man when I saw them, I wouldn’t be here. The gang of cattle rustlers I’m tracking circled around behind me in the storm. I could have back-shot them lots of times over the past several months, but that’s not what a good lawman should do.” He stared at the flickering candle in the window. “That’s not what I do.”
Nathan was quiet for a long moment. “I understand—I think. ‘Thou shalt not kill.’ That’s what it says in the Bible. I guess I just thought that meant don’t kill the good folks.”
“No, son.” Jake took a sip of coffee. “It means all of them, even if they deserve it.”
Rachel rose and refilled their cups. Of course Jake had killed. He was a Texas Ranger. It was his job to hunt down lawbreakers and bring them to justice. If they fought him, he would be forced to kill... All the years of teaching by the Hudsons came flooding back, confusing her. Thou shalt not kill. But Jake had killed, was forced to kill. She could hear the Reverend’s voice in her mind, lecturing her on the Commandments, how they must be kept, that only the wicked and evil would dare to break one of God’s holy commands. But Jake wasn’t evil, she knew he wasn’t. He didn’t kill because he wanted to—he’d had no choice. She returned to the table, troubled.
The silence stretched until the child in Nathan came back to life.
“What are we reading tonight?” He scraped every bit of icing from his plate with care.
Rachel smiled. “How about a little bit of Tom Sawyer?”
“Good. I want to know what happens to Injun Joe.”
Nathan carried his plate and cup to the sink without being asked, and splashed water into the wash pan. Jake followed suit, and soon they were busy washing and drying dishes, all tension forgotten.
Rachel cleared the table, wrapped the leftover bread in a towel, and lit a lamp. Taking it with her, she went into her room and came back with a leather-bound book.
“I hope you don’t mind coming into the story partway.”
Jake glanced over his shoulder. “I’ll catch up.”
“We started this ritual the first night we were in Lucinda. On the trail, we would read the Bible by the fire. Abby, the owner of the boardinghouse where we stayed when we arrived here, had a few books in her library. Now, we have several of our own to choose from. Some were gifts to welcome us to town. Others, I received as payment for teaching the children, or for reading and writing letters for some of the miners. We read only a chapter or two a night, so it takes a while to complete a story.” She held the book out to her brother. “Nathan, will you start, please?”
Jake carried a fresh cup of coffee to the table. Nathan took the book from Rachel and sat next to him. He started to move away, but changed his mind. Having the boy this close wasn’t so bad. Nathan opened to the page that was marked, moved the lamp a little until he could see and began to read.
It was a story Jake knew, one his father had read to him before. Jake followed Nathan’s finger as it moved under the words in time with his voice. Though he paused on a few of them, the boy did a good job, and Jake smiled encouragement every time Nathan looked up.
Then Rachel took over. Her voice caressed the words, rising and falling in the rhythm of the action on the page, making the story come alive. When Nathan’s eyes grew wide at the description of the fight in the graveyard, Jake bit back a chuckle. And when the boy grew tired, sagging against him, he wrapped an arm around his slim shoulders, making room for him.
A band tightened around Jake’s heart as the child snuggled closer, trusting Jake wouldn’t let him fall. Rachel’s voice faded to a distant hum as he looked down at Nathan. How had this happened? It was the only thought that would form. How had one so small gotten into his heart so fast? He’d never let anyone into his heart before. It hurt too much when he left—and sooner or later, he always left.
Rachel set the book aside and came to stand by Jake. “I’d better wake him up or he’ll never make it up the stairs.”
“No need.” Slipping his other arm under Nathan’s knees, he lifted him easily and settled the boy against his chest. Motioning for Rachel to lead the way, he followed her up the narrow stairs into the attic. The lamp she carried spread a pool of soft yellow light around his feet, enough to see the tiny cot in the corner beside the chimney. He laid the boy on the bed as gently as he could and stood back as Rachel tucked him in.
She kissed the top of the boy’s head and covered all but the tip of his nose with several warm blankets. A sense of rightness settled over Jake, a strange feeling of protectiveness he’d never experienced. He didn’t understand, but for the first time in his life, he felt a need for a family of his own, a son. Jake looked away and struggled to bury the longing. No use wishing for what he couldn’t have.
When Rachel rose, Jake picked up the lamp and held out his hand. She hesitated before putting her fingers in his palm. She didn’t need his help down the stairs, but he used the excuse to touch her. He didn’t release her hand until they reached the warmth of the fire.
“It’s been a very exciting day for Nathan. He didn’t even make it through one chapter.”
“He worked hard today. So did you.”
“Not really. With the animals inside, we haven’t had to haul as much water and hay around as we normally do.” She glanced into the shadows in the direction of the makeshift enclosure. “We’ll have quite a time cleaning up after they go back out, though.”
“I’ll lend you a hand. It won’t take long.”
“Thank you, but it isn’t necessary. Nathan and I will manage.”
Jake wasn’t going to argue with her now. He joined her near the hearth, stopping close enough for her skirts to brush against his legs.
“How long have you been his mother?”
“I’m n
ot his mother.” She put a little distance between them, but Jake closed it again. She looked around, her eyes never settling, betraying her nerves. “Nathan is my brother.” She wound her fingers together, absently rubbing them as if to ease some stiffness.
“You are his mother in every way that counts. How old were you when you went to live with the preacher and his wife?” He followed her to the table and sat across from her.
“I was more than twelve, but not much. We’d just lost Mama. I couldn’t stay where I was, so I grabbed Nathan, a few essentials and ran—left. A week or so later, I came across them on the trail. I was desperate by then. Mrs. Hudson wasn’t a strong woman, so the Reverend agreed to let us stay. I cooked, mended, sewed, and learned to spin and weave to earn my keep. Mrs. Hudson took care of Nathan.” She looked up at him with pleading eyes. “Nathan doesn’t know he had a mother other than Mrs. Hudson. He doesn’t need to know.”
Jake nodded. “He doesn’t seem to miss her much.”
“He did at first. He was four years old when Mrs. Hudson died, but she’d been sick for more than two years by then.”
“Why didn’t you stay after Mrs. Hudson died?”
“Reverend Hudson didn’t want a daughter.”
The words were whispered so softly Jake wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. “Didn’t want you?”
“He wanted Nathan. Even though he was very young, you could tell Nathan was an intelligent child. And the Reverend wanted a son to carry on his work and his name.”
“And you?”
She rose to pick up a rag and wipe at a nonexistent spot on the sideboard. Jake crossed to her, took the rag from her, tossed it aside, and captured both her hands, stroking her fingers to calm her.
“He wanted me,” she choked on the words. “But not as his daughter. He needed another wife, and decided I’d be acceptable.”
She tried to pull away but Jake held on.
“When I refused, he tried to...”
She didn’t have to go on. White-hot fury burned through Jake at the idea of Rachel fending off a man who’d been her parent for nearly four years.
The first glistening tears did him in. Without a second thought, he gathered her in his arms. She struggled against his hold. “Shhh, little girl. I’m not going to hurt you. I give you my word.”
She pulled away again, but the fight had gone out of her. Keeping his hold gentle, he tucked her head to his shoulder and let her cry out all the sadness and fear, the years of loneliness, the knowledge she wasn’t wanted.
When she quieted, he wiped the tears from her face with his thumbs. She didn’t protest when he smoothed a loose strand of hair away from her cheek.
“Better?”
“I’m sorry. I haven’t cried like that since Mama...” She closed her eyes, shutting off the memories.
“When the Reverend finally accepted I’d never marry him,” she continued, “he called me a Jezebel, a wh—whore, sent by the devil to tempt him from the path of righteousness. He dumped us in the first town we came to. Lucinda.” She turned a little to look at the fire. “I thank God every day for Abby. She took us in, helped me with Nathan, and convinced me I had talents enough to earn my own way without becoming...”
She was silent for a long time. Jake didn’t mind, since the view from where he was standing was most enjoyable. Her face was framed with golden hair that reflected the fire. Her ivory skin glowed in the dancing light. When she released her breath on a sigh, her generous curves molded a little more to his body. What a sweet package she was.
An urge to taste her filled him until he couldn’t think of anything else. Moving slowly so he didn’t frighten her, he bent his head and touched a kiss to her forehead. When she didn’t object, he moved a little lower, his tongue flicking out to smooth one honey-colored brow. Rachel shifted, but it was to get a little closer. His body began to hum in anticipation.
Skimming his lips along her high cheekbone, he placed kisses along her jaw, inhaling her sweet scent. Finally, he found her lips and covered them with his own. He kept the kiss easy, giving her the choice to end it. Her tiny moan knifed into him and he released the rein on his control. He covered her lips with his, fusing them together. His arms tightened, pulling her against his rapidly hardening body.
Her fingers fisted on his shirt, and he expected her to protest, considering the rough way she’d been treated in the past. Instead, she pulled him even closer, returning his kiss. Her initial hesitant response gave way to total abandon. With a quick twist of his head, he opened her mouth and swept his tongue inside. This time the groan he heard was his own. She was even sweeter than he’d hoped. Her taste filled him as he explored fully, inviting her to join in the dance.
Jake buried his fingers in her hair, loosening the severe knot and sending a river of gold cascading down her back. Springtime blossomed as the scent of lavender surrounded him. He smoothed the length of her hair, enjoying the curves of her body beneath. When he reached her hips, he pulled her into his own, letting her feel his reaction to her.
Rachel made a small sound of protest he barely heard over the raging of his blood, but it was enough. He instantly loosened his hold and she broke free. Standing a few inches from him, she stared at him in shock, her eyes huge in the dim light, her breasts heaving as she dragged in air. Her fingers shook as she touched her own lips. Without warning, her eyes filled with tears again and she bolted from the room.
Jake turned to follow her, stung by the panic he’d seen on her face, but she pulled the curtain across her doorway, shutting him out. It wasn’t much of a barrier, but he respected it. If she wanted to be left alone, he wasn’t going to force her. But he’d be a long time forgetting the look of devastation on her face.
He limped around the perimeter of the room, checking that the windows and door were secure, more from habit than necessity. Gritting his teeth, he stretched stiff muscles and flexed his sore arms. He felt old, worn out. He raised the lamp enough to see that the animals were all settled for the night. Griffin was dozing with one leg bent. As he stretched out on the mattress near the fire, Jake found himself envying his horse. Sleep was going to be a long time coming.
•♥•
Jake lay perfectly still, unsure what woke him. All his senses were tuned to the room, waiting, listening, until it came again. A soft, rhythmic thump and scrape. The sound was familiar somehow, but he couldn’t place it. He rolled to one side, palming his revolver as he rose, careful not to make any noise. It was coming from Rachel’s room. Fear for her stabbed through him, but he controlled it. On stocking feet, he slipped to her doorway. Moving slowly, he nudged the curtain aside with the barrel of his gun just enough to see inside.
Rachel sat on the edge of her bed, combing wool. She was fully clothed and wrapped in a dark cloak. The sound he’d heard was the tines bumping the board with each stroke. By the light of a single burning candle, he could see her breath puff out in the freezing room.
“What the hell are you doing?” He shoved the curtain aside and stalked in.
Rachel jumped, upsetting the wool comb she held. She grabbed for it, yelping in pain when she connected with one of the long, sharp tines.
Jake eased the hammer forward on his gun and tucked it into the waistband of his pants. “I asked a question.”
“C-c-couldn’t sleep,” she managed through chattering teeth.
He started to apologize for scaring her, then realized she wasn’t shaking in fear. Knocking the comb aside with his foot, he dropped onto his heels in front of her and took her injured hand in his.
“God, woman, you’re frozen.” He kept his voice down so they didn’t wake Nathan, but it was a struggle. “What the hell is wrong with you? Do you want to catch pneumonia? Who’ll take care of your brother if you get sick?”
He looked around for a blanket and realized the bed frame was bare. “Where’s your mattress?” When she didn’t answer, he took her chin in his fingers and waited until she looked at him.
“You—�
� She took a shivering breath. “You’re sleeping on it.”
The single word he snapped out left no doubt of his opinion of her answer.
Rising to his feet, he lifted Rachel in his arms, easily overwhelming her struggle to get away. “Hush. You don’t want to disturb Nathan, do you?” When she started to argue, he covered her lips with his, silencing her with a kiss. The fire that simple touch started in him could have melted the snow in the whole county. When she snuggled closer, and her lips clung just a little to his, he figured it was warming her up, too.
Shouldering the curtain out of the way, he carried her to his bed, lowered her onto the mattress, and covered her with every blanket he could reach. “Stay put.” Grabbing chunks of wood, he built up the fire until it blazed, filling the room with warmth.
When he knelt beside the bed once more, Rachel had curled on her side, her face toward the heat. A single sigh shuddered through her as her shivering began to ease.
“Why didn’t you just tell me I was in your bed?”
Rachel stared at the fire instead of looking at him, but the blush staining her cheeks told him she’d heard.
“Go to sleep, pretty girl.” He smoothed the hair from her face, cursing when she flinched from his touch. “I won’t touch you. I give you my word.”
The tears glistening in her eyes kept him from saying more. He wanted her to explain them, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer. Stalking to the corner of the room, he dragged his bedroll from the pile of his gear, crossed to the hearth and bedded down near her feet. Long after her breathing deepened and leveled out he lay awake, trying to convince himself he wanted nothing more than to get far away from the stubborn woman who slept nearby.
CHAPTER FIVE
Rachel came awake slowly, unwilling to allow the reality of morning to disrupt her dreams. Such nice dreams of a warm spring day and babies, and she and Jake...
She sat up with a gasp, her cheeks warming with the memory of her dream, then stared in confusion. This wasn’t her bedroom. Where was she? And who’d made coffee?
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