The Wren

by Kristy McCaffrey

  A second dreary day came and went.

  Her feelings for Matt were more serious than apparently even she was aware. And what had he said to her? He’d always been fond as hell of her. Wasn’t that romantic.

  But when did she decide she needed romance?

  On the third day, after helping Rosita in the kitchen and Susanna with general cleaning in the house, Molly headed out to the stable to spend time with Pecos. She didn’t think her mood could possible get any worse, but one glance at the rider approaching and she knew she was wrong.

  Against the glow of a bright orange sunset and the chilled air of dusk, the horse slowed. Molly knew instantly it was Davis Walker. She stood rooted in place, morbidly curious to see the man who was her birth father.

  Dismounting, Davis guided his horse behind him and moved towards her. When they stood a few feet apart, he removed his hat. Blue eyes viewed her from an angular and weathered face, and gray stubble covered his cheeks and chin. Molly wondered if she looked like him.

  “Molly, isn’t it?” he asked hesitantly.

  Nodding, she wasn’t certain what to say. She wasn’t certain if she even wanted to speak to him at all.

  “I’ve been thinking since Jonathan came to see me a few days back. I’ve been thinking about when I saw you with Matthew. I was hoping you might be here.”

  Molly remained unresponsive.

  “You know me, don’t you?” Davis asked speculatively.

  She finally found her voice. “Why do you say that?”

  “You’re a Hart, aren’t you?” Davis’ gaze was intent, concerned, almost worried. “You’re the middle girl, Molly Hart.”

  There was no point in denying it, but neither would she confirm it. She watched him, her impassive gaze masking the pain threatening to bubble to the surface.

  “Sweet Jesus,” Davis muttered to himself. “It is you. I couldn’t believe it, but then Jonathan came to see me and started rehashing all that business about the night the Hart ranch was attacked. And then I remembered seeing you with Matthew. There was something about you. Now I know why. Where the hell have you been all this time?”

  “I don’t see how it’s any business of yours.” Molly’s flat voice carefully hid her emotions.

  “I’m thinkin’ it is my business.” His expression seemed crestfallen, almost sad.

  But that couldn’t be, Molly decided. This man was responsible for the attack on her family. He was a ruthless, mean, and immoral man. But he was also her father. God, she felt ill.

  “Your mother was very important in my life, and so were you. It really rattles me you’re alive.” He almost seemed sincere. “You can’t imagine how devastated I was when Rosemary was killed, and then thinking you were also dead. I figured my sins had come back to haunt me, and maybe they still are. But I’m an old man now; maybe it’s time for me to repent.”

  “I’ve no interest in hearing your confession.”

  “I think you must.” He shifted from foot to foot, moving his hat from hand to hand. He was uneasy. Molly didn’t like seeing Davis Walker as a man who could be vulnerable. It made it harder to hate him.

  “I loved your mother,” he said gruffly. “We went way back, before she ever married Robert Hart. It’s a long story.” Clearing his throat, he continued, “She broke my heart, a thousand times over, and still I could never hate her. She came to me for a time—I fear it was out of pity—but it made no difference to me.”

  “You don’t have to tell me this.” Why on earth was he confiding in her now? Why should he care that she know his side of the story?

  “But I have to,” he replied. “You’re alive—you’re here for a reason. There isn’t a day goes by I don’t think of Rosemary. That I haven’t thought of you.”

  Molly finally understood. Davis knew he was her father.

  “What is it exactly you want from me?” She couldn’t keep the anger out of her voice any longer. “Do you want me to call you Pa and welcome you with open arms?”

  “You know?” he asked, startled.

  “Believe me, I wish I didn’t.”

  “Rosemary told you? She vowed you were Robert’s daughter, but I knew you weren’t. She refused to let me near you.”

  “Is that why you killed him?” Her fury could no longer be contained. “Is that why you killed Robert Hart and my mama? Do you think you can get away with it, even after all this time?”

  Davis stood very still, a stunned expression on his face. “I didn’t kill Robert, and I sure as hell didn’t kill Rosemary. Is that what you think?” His hands shook. Once again, she wished she hadn’t noticed.

  “It doesn’t matter what I think. All that matters is the truth. You’ll be held responsible for all you’ve done. In the meantime, I don’t want to see you, or be around you, or be reminded of what you are to me.”

  “Molly, I didn’t kill your mother, and though I’ll agree I had my differences with Robert, I never wanted him dead. Sure, there were times I wished he would go away, but not like that. I haven’t always been the man I hoped to be, I know I’ve hurt others with my actions, but I’m not a murderer.”

  “If you’re looking for forgiveness, you won’t get it from me.” Molly fought back a threatening tide of tears. “I’m ashamed to have any relation to you!”

  “Well,” he said more forcefully, “I’m not ashamed. You’re a part of Rosemary and me. I’ll never believe that was a mistake.”

  Mounting his horse, he paused to watch her. Then, he turned the animal and rode away into the night. When Molly was quite sure he was gone, she willed her trembling legs to take her to Pecos’ stall. It was a long time before she returned to the house.

  The next morning Nathan Blackmore arrived and joined Molly and Susanna for breakfast.

  “I know Matthew will be sorry he missed you,” Susanna said, buttering a piece of toast. “You’re welcome to stay until the men return.”

  Nathan smiled, the scar on his face pinching his cheek. Sitting across from him, Molly thought him a very nice-looking man, despite the now-healed injury. Dark hair, warm brown eyes, a strong bearing. But whether he was nice-looking or not, she’d felt a sharp twinge of disappointment when he’d ridden up to the main house earlier. For a moment, she’d thought he was Matt.

  “I’ll hang around a few days and see if they turn up,” he replied. “Then I should probably be moving on.”

  “To California?” Susanna asked.

  He nodded, drinking the last of his coffee. Frowning, Molly noticed his entire plate—full of food minutes ago—was now completely empty. Men ate so fast in these parts. Using her fork, she moved her eggs from one pile to another.

  “My sister had a baby recently. Thought it was time I paid her and her husband a visit.”

  “My sister Emma lives in San Francisco,” Molly commented. “Maybe I should go with you.”

  Nathan looked surprised by the offer.

  “Now Molly,” Susanna interjected, “I really think we ought to wait until we hear from your Aunt Catherine before making such a long journey.”

  “And I doubt Matt would want me ridin’ off to California with you,” Nathan said.

  “Why should he care?” Molly asked, wincing at her sarcastic tone. She really should be more careful when she spoke in front of Matt’s mother.

  “Yes, why should he indeed?” Susanna murmured.

  Standing, Nathan pleaded, “I’d best keep my mouth shut until Matt’s here to defend himself. Ladies, if you’ll excuse me. I’ll see if I can’t do some chores around here to lighten your burden.”

  “That’s very kind of you, Nathan, but certainly not necessary,” Susanna replied.

  “No trouble. It’ll keep my hands busy and my mouth shut.” He left the room and seconds later the sound of the front door opening and shutting filled the quietness of the dining room.

  Susanna sat back in her chair. “Nathan’s a good sort. I can see why he and Matthew are friends.”

  “If you’ll excuse me—” Molly st
arted to rise.

  “Wait,” Susanna put a hand on her arm. “Are you in a hurry to leave here?”

  Molly settled back into her seat. “I don’t know what I’m in a hurry for.”

  “Davis was here last night. What did he say?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know how to feel about any of this. He knows who I am, he knows he’s my father, and he claims he had nothing to do with my folks’ deaths.”

  “I see. Is this why you want to leave Texas?”

  “Susanna, where do I belong?” The longing in her voice startled her. “I can’t stay here forever, no matter how much your kindness makes that possible.”

  “Well, of course you can. I can’t think of anything I’d like more.” Susanna hesitated. “Is it Matthew?”

  Unsure how much of her heart to share, Molly conceded only part of it. “He does confuse me.”

  Susanna laughed. “Oh, dear. I feel in an awkward position here. If it were any other man, I’d ask you to tell me exactly what’s happened, offering any advice I could, but because the one in question is my own son I’m afraid it would appear I was meddling. So I’ll just offer this bit of advice. Be patient—a man’s heart can take time to come around, much more than…other inclinations. But most important, follow your heart, Molly. And if it leads you to California, then we’ll support you completely.”

  “Thank you.”

  Susanna leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. “We’d best get out to the stables and help Nathan. It’s never good to let a man think he can run from women that easily.”

  For the first time since Matt left, Molly laughed.

  * * *

  Later that night a storm blew in, the rumbling sounds waking Molly where she slept on the floor. Unable to go back to sleep, she listened to the forces of nature outside, worried that Matt was out there, somewhere. All of the ranch hands were out there, she reminded herself, but Matt occupied her thoughts, always.

  The flashes of light and claps of thunder put her in mind of the first night she and Matt had been together, at the abandoned remains of her family home, a place she had lived in for only a few years. But, for whatever reason, it was the home of her heart, the one she remembered. The one she judged all others by.

  Pushing the covers back, she rose from her bed on the floor and walked to the window. Shivering from the cool night air, she wished for the longer gown Susanna had given her. For the past several nights she’d gone back to wearing one of Matt’s borrowed shirts, her reasons rooted entirely in comfort. It certainly had nothing to do with the man whose broad shoulders had once filled it.

  She heard a tapping sound. Thinking it was nothing, she folded her arms tightly in front of her.

  There it was again.

  Looking back to the door, she frowned. It sounded like a knock. Thinking it must be Susanna, Molly moved across the room and opened the door.

  Her breath caught at the sight of a man, dripping wet and looming over her.

  Matt.

  Her heart leapt into her throat. Dazed, Molly didn’t know what to do. The urge to throw herself into his arms warred with simply asking him why was here.

  “I heard about Davis,” he said. “I was worried about you. I came as soon as I could.”

  Unable to speak, Molly stared. They were alone in the middle of the night at the threshold of her bedroom. Surely, she wasn’t misreading his signals.

  “I can’t stay away anymore,” he said, his voice low, resolute, single-minded. “I don’t want to.”

  She could hardly believe he was here; she’d missed him so much in the last few days.

  “Then stop trying.” In the intimate darkness, relief poured through her. Latching a hand onto his belt buckle, she pulled him into the room and shut the door.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Matt brought Molly’s barely clad body against his and kissed her with all the pent-up passion and frustration he’d been fighting these past weeks. He wanted her, he needed her, and he could no longer deny it.

  She met him just as forcefully. Knowing how inexperienced she was, he was both humbled and excited at her response. Ruthlessly discarding every reason why he shouldn’t do this, he wondered how he’d had the willpower to stay away from her for so long. His body was close to the breaking point already, and he’d hardly touched her at all.

  He would have her tonight, completely, without any barriers. The thought of that completion made him shudder, but he willed himself to slow down.

  Holding her face in his hands, he whispered against her mouth, “Please tell me you want this.”

  “Yes.” No hesitation, no fear in her voice. Her openness and trust amazed him.

  “We have all night. There’s no hurry.” But he didn’t know if he was trying to convince her or himself.

  “It’s taken me ten years to find you,” she said, insistent. “I don’t want to wait any longer.”

  Her mouth came to his and he consumed her, tasted her, memorizing the feel of her lips, the softness of her face, and the graceful curve of her neck. She was a dream to him, beautiful and perfect.

  Her fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt. He stripped it off then ran his hands under the hem of her garment, cupping her buttocks. He tugged the bloomers down her legs, then slid his palms to her breasts, smiling at her sharp intake of breath. In one fluid movement he removed the last of her clothing, leaving her bared to him.

  A flash of lightning illuminated her glistening skin and high round breasts responded to his touch. Kneeling, he kissed just below one, grasping her hips, then moved his mouth across her ribcage and to the enticing curve of her abdomen. Resting his forehead against her, he drank in the sight of the dark cleft of hair between her legs.

  “You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

  Taking a steadying breath, he stood and crushed her mouth to his. Her breasts grazed his chest and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer with her completely unadorned like this. Putting his hands under her arms, he lifted her to the edge of the bed, entranced by the intense need written on her face. She wasn’t afraid of him and for that he was mighty grateful.

  He removed each boot, careful not to strain his almost-healed foot, then unbuckled his gun belt and shed his pants. Facing Molly once again, he waited to see if she was concerned by his nakedness, but she merely twined a hand into the mat of hair on his chest while tentatively running the other along his left thigh. He didn’t need more of an enticement than that. Kissing her, he swept his tongue deep into her mouth, his hand grasping the back of her head. Nudging her legs apart, he stepped between them.

  Hard and ready, he fought for one last shred of patience, laying her back onto the bed, her legs still hooked over the edge. Bracing himself with one hand on the soft mattress, he used a finger to penetrate her, her eyes widening in shock as her hips rose. Slick and wet, she was more than ready for him. He entered her with two fingers.

  “I want to make sure I don’t hurt you,” he said, straining.

  Withdrawing his fingers, he knew he couldn’t wait any longer. With one thrust he pushed completely into her and a gasp caught in her throat. Pulling her hips to the edge of the bed, he used the angle to press as deep into her as he could get. Hardly moving, he leaned over and kissed her neck and collarbone. Her hands clasped his back as her body trembled beneath him.

  He kissed her deeply, their tongues mating and mingling, and still he didn’t move. The pleasure was excruciating and a part of him didn’t want it to end, but Molly quickly lost patience with his slowness.

  “Matt,” she breathed, “please.”

  He reached down and brought her legs around him, then slid his hands to cup her backside. Only then did he move, driving into her. Within seconds his climax came, intense, consuming, obliterating his sense of time and place. Obliterating his sense of self.

  As he poured the last of himself into her, he felt the convulsions deep within her own body, her own completion as she clung to him. Encircling his arms more fully aro
und her, he held her tightly, holding her close as she lost herself in a passion uniquely theirs. Slowly, he came back to the present.

  “Damn,” he murmured against her neck. “I’m never gonna be able to stay away from you now.”

  “I don’t think I have the energy to move,” she whispered.

  “Just give me five minutes, then we can go again.”

  “Really?” she asked breathlessly.

  He laughed softly. “Actually, I think I’m ready now.” He tested that statement with a short in-and-out movement. Yep, he was ready. Pushing onto his forearms, he gazed down at her. “There’re other ways we can do this. If you’re sore, that is.”

  “You have the advantage, since I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  He was about to tell her she had the advantage, and always had he suspected, but being here with her, like this, literally took words and breath from his mouth. Leaning down, he nibbled at her lips. “We’ll take it slow.” And that was the last coherent thought he had that night.

  * * *

  Just before dawn Molly awoke, lying on her stomach as Matt’s fingertips ran lightly down her back. His lips soon followed, and he didn’t stop until he ran the length of her legs. Need stirred deep within her again, shocking her with its intensity. She hadn’t expected that she would enjoy making love so much, that she would give herself so freely in this way. Matt made her feel she was the most adored woman he had ever been with. Later, she would worry whether that was true or not.

  With a happy groan she rolled onto her back, and Matt’s mouth quickly set to work exploring the front of her body. She had no idea her breasts were so sensitive, no idea that his touch between her legs could pull from her a desire so fierce she would tremble and claw at him to satisfy it.

  But come together they did, as profoundly as the first time they had just hours ago, leaving them sweating and heaving from their exertions.

  Matt lay between her legs, his cheek itching against the skin just above her left breast. Molly ignored it, running her fingers through his hair.

  “It’s almost dawn,” he said into the silence of the room, his breath warming her bare skin. The storm had finally stopped. “I need to leave.”