Shameless

by Joan Johnston

  The exchange of kisses was tender, each of them offering the gentle touch of lips, but soon that wasn’t enough. Devon’s tongue traced the seam of her lips, and she opened to him.

  He brushed the strap of her dress off her shoulder, and followed the falling bodice with his lips until her naked breast fell free. His thumb brushed the nipple, and she moaned as her body responded to his caress. A moment later he had the other strap off, and his mouth left hers and captured her breast.

  Pippa didn’t know what to do with her hands, she just knew his mouth and teeth and tongue were doing things to her that left her whole body trembling with need. She caught his head and forced his mouth back to hers, driving her tongue between his teeth, wanting to be joined with him, wanting it more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.

  He reached behind him and opened the door to the dark, empty stall and backed both of them into it. She glimpsed a striped saddle blanket laid out in the straw before the stall door closed. He lowered her onto it and followed her down onto his knees.

  “Let me love you,” he said urgently.

  “Yes, yes, please.”

  Buttons pinged against the wooden stall as he yanked off his shirt. Then he reached for her dress to pull it off over her head, and she dropped back onto the rough wool blanket, naked except for a pair of bikini panties and her cowboy boots.

  Pippa felt a momentary qualm, and then realized he couldn’t see her body, at least not well, in the shadows. She kicked off her boots and toed off her socks. By then Devon had stripped himself naked and reached for her bikini panties, skimming them down her bare legs.

  He thrust once and they were joined.

  Pippa wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but it wasn’t what happened next.

  Devon paused, his body touching hers from breast to thighs, with his weight braced on his arms. He nuzzled her throat and said, “I’ve wanted to make love to you since the first moment I laid eyes on you.” He tenderly brushed a strand of hair away from her face. His face was shadowed above her, his eyes dark and mysterious. “Tell me what you like. I want to please you.”

  Pippa smiled, and then laughed with delight. She could tell Devon was smiling back at her, because his teeth gleamed white in what little light there was. “I like it slow and gentle.” She kissed his lower lip. “And a little wild.” And then she bit it.

  He looked surprised. And then he laughed and kissed her back.

  The lovemaking was both playful and carnal. Sensual and silly. Devon took his time, teasing and touching until her body was wired taut. Then he took her over the edge, falling with her until they lay together shattered and replete.

  What happened next was best of all. Instead of abandoning her once he was satisfied, Devon spooned her naked body against his—her hips against his groin, his arm across her breasts, his warm breath against the back of her neck.

  “This is nice,” she murmured.

  “Yeah,” he agreed. “It is.”

  They lay quietly together, and Pippa was almost asleep when Wulf howled. Immediately, the stallion’s hooves thumped against the walls of his stall, the owl hooted, and the fawn made a bleating sound.

  Pippa abruptly sat up, realizing belatedly what she’d done. She should never have made love to Devon without telling him first that she was pregnant. She’d felt compelled to comfort him, but she should have relied on her head, rather than her heart, to do it.

  Devon sat up as well. She shivered with pleasure as he kissed her shoulder. If she didn’t do something, they would be making love again. So far she’d been lucky. Devon hadn’t gotten a good look at her body, nor did she think he’d spent enough time caressing her belly to perceive the changes her pregnancy had wrought. Her breasts were larger than they’d been a month ago, and more tender, but he couldn’t know that.

  The first time they’d made love, he’d been excited and easily distracted and committed to making the sex good for her. The second time he might notice things he hadn’t observed before.

  Pippa reached for her dress and pulled it on over her head.

  “We should go,” she said, searching for her socks and boots. “Wulf’s going to keep howling until he knows we’re all right.”

  When he realized she wasn’t going to lie back down, he began searching out his own clothes and pulling them on.

  Pippa stopped what she was doing to watch. He had a beautiful body, his flanks sinewy and lean, his belly flat, his shoulders and abdomen ridged with muscle. She enjoyed watching the fluid motion of muscle and bone as he stepped into his jeans.

  He glanced over his shoulder and caught her watching and grinned. “Like what you see?”

  She laughed as she stood and began threading her fingers through her hair to remove the straw. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  Once he had his jeans zipped and snapped and his belt buckled, he crossed and pulled a strand of straw from her hair. She did the same for him. Their faces were close, and she saw that, although the tension had left his body, his eyes still looked haunted.

  She stood on tiptoe to briefly kiss his lips. “Come on,” she said. “Tomorrow is another day.”

  He laughed at her use of Scarlett’s line from Gone With the Wind. He threaded his fingers with hers and shoved open the stall door. He stopped where he was and stared.

  “What’s wrong?” She leaned around him to look at whatever had caught his gaze.

  Sultan’s head was completely over the stall door, his nostrils flared as he stared at Devon.

  “He’s not running away anymore,” Devon said quietly.

  “He knows he’s safe here.”

  Devon cocked his head at her. “Yeah. I guess he does.”

  Chapter 23

  AS HE’D ACKNOWLEDGED the truth about his birth, Devon had run the gamut of emotions, from rage to resignation and back again, until Pippa had offered solace for his damaged soul. Once back in the house, they’d stayed up late into the night talking about Devon’s mother, and the choices she and Angus had made. Mostly he’d done the talking, and she’d listened.

  “We can’t know why they did what they did,” she’d argued. “People make mistakes.”

  But he hadn’t been feeling tolerant. “I don’t have to forgive either one of them.” The more he ranted, the more unhappy Pippa had looked, so that when they’d finally gone to their separate rooms, he’d found it impossible to sleep.

  Now that he knew he had a biological father out there somewhere who’d had an affair—or at least a sexual liaison—with his mother, he couldn’t stop thinking about him. He’d stared into the darkness, his mind alive with questions.

  This morning, he wanted answers.

  Who was his biological father? Had it been a fling? Or had his mother been in love with the man? Where was his biological father now? Did he know about Devon? Did Angus know who he was?

  At the crack of dawn, Devon left a note for Pippa and headed for the Lucky 7. When he stepped down from his pickup at the back door to the Flynn ranch house, he ran right into Brian. His older brother had been staying at the ranch when he wasn’t on duty at the firehouse because his ex-wife had gotten their house in the divorce. Brian was still licking his wounds and hadn’t yet bought himself another place.

  “I thought you were off this week,” Devon said.

  “I am. I got called in to fight a forest fire in one of the national parks.”

  “It’s awful early in the season for that, isn’t it?”

  “It was a dry winter, so there’s plenty of kindling out there. And there’s not enough snow on the ground anymore to slow down a fire—especially one that somebody set. What brings you here, little brother?” Brian asked.

  “I came to get some answers.”

  Brian met his gaze and said, “You know it doesn’t matter, right? You’re my little brother, and I love you no matter what.”

  A sudden lump clogged Devon’s throat. He swallowed over the painful knot and said, “Did you know?”

  Brian g
rinned and punched him in the arm. “That you were a little different? I’ve always known that.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “About Mom? No, I didn’t.”

  There was a bitter twist to Brian’s lips, and Devon recalled that his brother had divorced a wife who’d cheated on him. So maybe he understood a little of what their father must have felt.

  “I knew Mom was unhappy for a while before you were born,” Brian continued, “but I never knew why.” He slipped an arm around Devon’s shoulder. “I guess I do now.” He suddenly flipped the brim of Devon’s cowboy hat up with his other hand so Devon had to grab it to keep it from falling off.

  “Hey!” Devon protested, freeing himself from Brian’s grasp. “Cut it out.”

  “Good luck getting any information from Dad,” Brian said. “If he hasn’t talked about it for twenty-eight years, I don’t expect he’s going to let the cat out of the bag now.”

  “The cat’s already out of the bag,” Devon pointed out. “Matt took care of that.”

  “Yeah, I guess he did. Why do you suppose he revealed a secret like that?”

  “He wanted to cause trouble for me so I’d send Pippa home.”

  Brian eyed him sideways. “Since the two of you left the barbecue together, I guess it didn’t work.”

  “I love her.”

  “You barely know the girl. How can you be in love with her?”

  “It just happened.”

  “Does she love you?”

  “Not yet.”

  Brian whistled. “Good luck with that.” He glanced at his watch and said, “Gotta go. Be careful, little brother.” He reached out and flipped the brim of Devon’s hat up again, this time managing to get it to fall completely off. He raced for his truck, laughing, and had the engine running by the time Devon retrieved his Stetson from the ground. Devon waved his brother goodbye with the hat and then put it on and pulled it low on his forehead.

  He had some business inside with his father. Check that. Some business with the man who’d pretended all his life to be his father.

  Devon left his hat and his coat in the kitchen and went searching for Angus. He found him sitting in his office behind his desk. The door was open, and when Devon knocked on the frame, Angus looked up and said, “I’ve been expecting you. Come in.”

  Throughout Devon’s life, punishment had been meted out by his father from behind that desk. He wasn’t about to stand in front of it like a child who’d misbehaved. He wasn’t the one who’d done something wrong. He crossed to the wet bar, and even though it was early, poured himself a drink. “Do you want me to make something for you?”

  “I’m not thirsty.”

  Devon took one sip and realized a drink wasn’t going to make this conversation any easier. He set it down on the bar and turned to face the man who’d raised him. “Who is my father?”

  “I am,” he snapped.

  The answer startled him. Had Matt been wrong? “Matt implied—”

  Angus waved a hand to cut him off. “Biologically, you’re not mine,” he said. “But I brought you up, and you’re as much mine—and as much a Flynn—as any of my boys.”

  The painful lump was back in Devon’s throat. He hadn’t realized how badly he’d needed to hear his father speak those particular words. But they didn’t wipe out a lifetime of slights. “You didn’t treat me the same.”

  “It wasn’t for want of trying.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “When she knew she was dying, your mother made me promise that I wouldn’t hold what she did against you. But it wasn’t easy. Every time I looked at you, I saw him.”

  “I look like him?”

  Angus nodded. “But you’re really just like her.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your mother was always bringing home injured wild things and nursing them back to health.”

  Devon felt his eyes filling with tears and blinked to force them back. He swallowed hard and said, “Why did she do it?”

  Angus took a deep breath and let it out. He met Devon’s gaze without speaking for a long time but finally said, “Fiona paid me back for cheating on her by cheating on me.”

  Devon had never heard his father admit to any flaw in his character in the past, so he was astonished to hear him confess to infidelity now.

  “You wonder why I hate King Grayhawk?” Angus said through tight jaws. “Well, you’re a big reason why!”

  The blood left Devon’s face in a rush. “What?”

  “That meddlesome sonofabitch told your mother I had a mistress. Fiona asked me to end the relationship, and when I wouldn’t—”

  “You wouldn’t?” Devon interrupted.

  “Your mother decided to pay me back by having sex—in my bed—with a cattleman from Texas named Shiloh Kidd.”

  My father’s name is Shiloh Kidd. He’s a cattleman from Texas. He took advantage of my mother, which makes him a bad man. Or maybe not. Maybe my mother took advantage of Kidd, luring him into her bed to get revenge on my father.

  “Why didn’t you end your affair when Mom asked?” Devon asked. “Why would you risk your marriage for a mistress?”

  “Because I love her.”

  Devon felt anger building at the enormity of his father’s transgression against his mother, which had resulted, ultimately, in his birth. “You loved another woman—and kept her as your mistress—while you were married to my mother, and you have the nerve to blame her for having sex with another man?”

  It suddenly dawned on him that his father hadn’t used the past tense. “You love her? She’s still a part of your life?”

  “I still love her,” Angus said.

  Devon realized the subtle distinction in what his father had said. “If you love her so much, why haven’t you married her?”

  A flash of pain crossed Angus’s face. Instead of replying to the question, he said, “In the beginning, there were reasons why Darcie and I couldn’t get married and reasons why I had to marry your mother.”

  “Such as?”

  “Nothing that matters now,” he said, waving a hand to brush aside Devon’s search for more answers. “It wasn’t until after I married your mother that I realized I wasn’t willing to give Darcie up. In the end, Darcie was willing to share me with your mother. We were careful. We were discreet. I loved your mother, never doubt it. I loved them both.

  “Everything went fine for years—until King found out. He was furious with me for…for something I had done to him. So he made a point of telling Fiona what was going on.”

  Devon noticed that Angus had neglected to mention what it was he’d done to King. It must have been something heinous for King to retaliate by revealing to Devon’s mother that Angus had a mistress.

  Angus’s voice grew harsh as he continued, “Your mother, understandably, wasn’t willing to share me with another woman. She demanded that I give up Darcie. When I wouldn’t, she slept with some stranger who showed up at the ranch and made sure I found them together.”

  Devon tried to imagine how much hurt and rage and pain his mother must have suffered to perform such a vindictive act. “So where is this mistress of yours now?” he persisted. “Why haven’t you married her in all these years?”

  Angus met Devon’s gaze and said, “She doesn’t want her son to know that I’m his father.”

  Devon’s knees buckled, and he sank onto the closest surface, which happened to be a leather chair. His voice wasn’t quite steady when he said, “So I’m not the only half brother in this family.” He looked into Angus’s piercing blue eyes, wondering how he could have kept so many secrets for so many years. “If I found out the truth in the end,” Devon pointed out, “it seems likely he will, too.”

  “Darcie married another man to make sure that never happens.”

  “You still love her, even though she’s married to another man?”

  “It’s thanks to King that we’ve lived our lives separately. I hate King Grayhawk for what he did to
my sister. But I despise him for what he did to separate me from Darcie and, in the end, from your mother.”

  “Yet you don’t blame Darcie for marrying another man and concealing the fact that she bore you a son?”

  “I’ve gotten pretty good at hiding what I’m feeling.”

  Devon thought that was the understatement of the year.

  “Darcie didn’t want her son ever to be called a bastard. I understood that.” He met Devon’s gaze with bleak eyes. “And I was married to your mother. So I had no choice but to accept Darcie’s decision.”

  Devon had never imagined his father’s love life was such a tangled web of deception and damage and loss. “Why are you telling me all this?”

  “Because I hope my experience can save you from the same fate.”

  “I’m not in love with two women at the same time,” Devon retorted.

  “No, but the woman you’re in love with is in love with another man.”

  Devon’s heart stuttered. He hadn’t imagined his father could say anything that would shock him more than the secrets he’d already disclosed. He felt like a rawhide rope was being cinched ever tighter around his chest.

  When he could finally draw a breath to speak he said, “You’re wrong. Pippa’s not—” He cut himself off, trying to remember exactly what it was Pippa had said. She’d been deceived by the man she loved, who’d turned out to be married. She’d never said that she’d stopped loving him.

  “His name is Tim Brandon,” Angus continued. “He’s the father of the child Pippa’s carrying.”

  It was a good thing Devon was sitting down, because that statement would have flattened him.

  No. She would have told me.

  And then he remembered all the times last night when Pippa had started a sentence and then stopped. The guilty look on her face when he’d urged her to finish her thought, before she’d lowered her eyes…and remained mute. He’d figured she was having regrets about what had happened in the barn, and he’d stepped in to fill the silences and keep her from saying that she wished they hadn’t made love.