“I’m not tired.”
As if to make a liar out of herself, she yawned.
“You going to stick to that lie?”
She shook her head and stroked her fingers over Wendy’s shoulder. “It doesn’t matter if I lie down, I won’t sleep.”
It was probably the first bit of unvarnished truth she’d given him. The woman spun half-truths with the intricacy of a spider spinning a web.
“Too much on your mind?”
She nodded again, and her attention wasn’t on his face but much lower. There was no telling what she was thinking from that look, but the way her tongue touched her lower lip, a hint of deeper pink on pink, gave him ideas.
He reached for his gun belt. “You want me to take them off?”
He would give a pretty penny for this woman to ask him to take off his guns, his boots, and his pants, until it was just the two of them skin to skin.
Shit. His cock twitched.
Her eyes flew to his. Shock, horror, and son of a bitch—it had to be his imagination that tacked desire onto the list of emotions he read in her expression.
Her gaze dropped down, then just as quickly jerked back up. Fresh tension laced the air. “No, I was just—”
With a slash of his hand he cut her off. He couldn’t do anything about his cock, but he could put an end to her fear.
“Do us both a favor and crawl into that bed and pretend to sleep.”
“I didn’t mean . . . I mean I can’t—”
He cut her off again. “Just because I appreciate a beautiful woman doesn’t mean I forget who I am.”
She licked her lips. His cock twitched again. He thought she’d retreat, but she didn’t. That chin came up and those soft, tempting lips pressed ever so slightly together. The woman had guts.
“And who are you?” she asked as if it mattered.
“Cole Cameron.”
He stood. She put her hand on his arm. Frissons of electricity skittered up under his skin.
“And what does that mean?”
He tipped her chin up, adding a bit more tension to the taut energy between them. “It means you and your daughter are church-pew safe with me.”
Questions he didn’t want to answer filled her eyes.
“Go to bed, Miranda. I promise I won’t touch you.”
“There’s no point.”
He stroked his thumb across her lips. In a subtle experiment he brushed his energy across hers, siphoning off some of the stress spiking within her. She didn’t blink or otherwise acknowledge the touch, but she did relax. “Tonight it’s safe to sleep.”
She blinked. Her energy withdrew, but she didn’t. “Because you’re here?”
The words formed against his skin in an intimate caress. She was challenging him. Showing him she wasn’t intimidated. He smiled and pressed his thumb a touch harder. He tugged her shawl up with his free hand, covering her breasts “Yes.”
It was the truth.
She dropped her hand from his arm, eyeing his smile as if it were a bad thing. Shit. Had it been so long since he’d smiled that he couldn’t do it anymore?
She stepped to the side, squeezing out from between him and the table. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
As soon as she was clear, she took one step and then another and another until the bed was at her back. The whole distance she didn’t take her eyes off of his. Like he was a rattler prepared to strike.
He didn’t like the comparison. “I told you I wouldn’t hurt you.”
“I know.”
But she didn’t believe it, and that just pissed him off. “Then act like it.”
She fussed, her hands moving over her arms and the skirt of her nightgown in a graceful dance. It was also as arousing as hell. He turned his back. “Just get in the bed.”
“You could go back outside.”
Thunder rumbled; it was not as close, but the rain was still steady. “In case you haven’t noticed, it’s pouring out there.”
“You didn’t mind before.”
Before she hadn’t looked at him like he was a rapist. Now he had something to prove. He wasn’t a threat to her. “I mind now.”
Her energy snapped with annoyance, and then there was a rustle as she slid into bed. When he turned back, she was watching him cautiously from under her lashes.
A twinge of something that could have been guilt flicked his conscience. Cupping his hand around the chimney, he blew out the lamp. Miranda’s energy jumped and focused. He pulled his hat down over his brow, slumped a bit down on the chair, and acted like he was going to sleep. He felt a little of the tension leave her energy, but it still seethed around him in wary twitches.
After ten minutes of lessening tension, she asked softly, so softly if he’d been asleep he wouldn’t have heard, “Did you really kill four Reapers?”
“Yeah, I really killed four Reapers.”
There was a rustle of the sheets. Was she turning on her side or her stomach? His imagination wouldn’t let go of either image. On her side he’d be able to follow the curve of her hip with his hand, over the fullness of her thighs, indulging in a bit of play in the hollow of her waist before wandering up to her breasts. On her stomach, that fine ass would be sticking up.
Shit. His cock thickened and strained against his pants. He’d been too long without a woman.
This woman.
He pushed the thought away. From across the room her breathing quickened. “What are you so damn afraid of, woman?”
“Losing control.”
That made twice she’d been honest. He gentled his voice. “Of what?”
“Everything.”
“Why?”
Her energy gathered. “Why do you have to ask so many questions?” she snapped.
“Because no one will give me any answers,” he snapped right back.
There was another long expulsion of breath. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“So tell me.”
He could hear her hair rustle on the sheets, feel the flare of her energy as she denied him.
“I’m not allowed to talk about it.”
“Says who?”
“Says Isaiah.”
“The same man that’s letting this Clark fellow bully you.”
“He’s not ‘letting’ anything. I’m the one that agreed to the union.”
“Why in hell would you agree to anything like that?”
“I told you.”
“Yeah, I heard you last time. You need a strong man to protect your daughter.”
“Yes.”
“Protect her from what?”
He felt the flex in her energy that preceded the evasion.
“What every mother’s afraid of. The wrong time. The wrong man. The wrong place.”
“Reapers.”
So soft he almost didn’t hear. “Yes.”
In the wake of that truth the silence was deafening. He waited, but she didn’t say more. Wendy murmured in her sleep. Thunder rumbled in the distance. He could push for more or let it go. He opted for the latter. The woman was strung out tighter than a kite string in a high wind.
“Where you from, Miranda?”
Her energy swirled in a flurry of panic. A reaction he was more used to in criminals than in a woman. But still she answered.
“Virginia.”
“Not much of a drawl for a Virginian.”
“Northern Virginia.”
He made note. “So how’d you end up out here in the back of beyond?”
“My husband, Wendy’s father, wanted to come west to start over. There wasn’t much left of our home after the North’s act of aggression.”
“You mean the war.”
“I call it like it was.”
“So you’
re a Southerner.”
“You just got done saying I didn’t have an accent.”
Did she think she could confuse him? “Yes. One more piece of the puzzle that is you.”
“I’ll thank you not to see me as a puzzle or a challenge.”
“Are you telling me or asking me?”
There was a rustling that indicated a shrug. “Both.”
He smiled. He did like a woman with a bit of fire.
“So you’ve got Southern sympathies but no Southern accent; you were married but have no husband; you obviously come from culture, yet you’re stuck in the back of beyond in this territory in some of the harshest terrain with a group of monsters called Reapers.”
“It’s none of your business what I am.”
“May not be my business, but there’s enough to you to make a man curious.”
“I’ll thank you not to be curious.”
“Too late.”
“My life is no concern of yours.”
“Not unless I choose to make it so.”
And he just might. The woman intrigued him on all levels for no particular reason he could put his finger on beyond the fact that she had the most delicious energy that’d ever rubbed against his. He’d seen prettier women, he’d seen more voluptuous women, but he’d never met a woman that made his cock hard just thinking about the touch of her fingers on his. Add to that the fact that she had sass and fire and she was in a bit of a pickle, and well, she was downright irresistible.
“I can feel you thinking over there.”
“What kind of feel?”
“I can just feel it, and I’m not your concern, and I don’t want to be your challenge, and I don’t want to be the puzzle that you have to fix. I have enough problems without adding you to the mix.”
“More problems than just Clark?”
“If it were just Clark, I could have solved it myself.”
Interesting. “How’s that?”
“I’d kill him.”
The woman was getting more intriguing by the second.
She flopped over and sat up in the bed. Wendy stirred.
“Careful, you’re going to wake your daughter.”
She huffed at him for the helpful hint.
He smiled, knowing she couldn’t see it in the shadow from his hat.
“Is it just me you enjoy provoking, or is it a general habit?”
“Might be generalized. But I’m pretty much focused on you tonight though.”
“Because you think I owe you?”
“Because you’re there and I’m here, neither one of us is sleeping, and I’m curious.”
“My God, it’s a wonder nobody’s shot you before now.”
He broke out laughing at that. “A few have.”
“You need enemies with better aim.”
“If I had enemies with better aim, little Wendy would be sporting a broken jaw.”
That shut her up quick.
“I’m not a threat to you, Miranda.”
“You are. You’re just too stupid to know it.”
“The only other person that’s accused me of being stupid is your daughter.”
“I’m surprised more haven’t. I thought it would go hand in hand with a bullet in your ass.”
“Language, language.”
“I stopped worrying about the basic courtesies a long time ago.”
“Right about the time you hooked up with the Reapers?”
She didn’t bother to deny it. “Yes.”
“Since we’re on the subject, how did you come to be with the Reapers?”
“It wasn’t by choice.”
“Kinda figured that. Were you always a Reaper and just didn’t know it? Were you hiding out among humans?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Why the hell not?”
“They’ll kill me.”
That truth hung between them. Fuck.
“You really are in trouble, aren’t you?”
“Yes. And you’re not helping. So, please, come morning pack your stuff, get out of my house, get out of this village, and disappear.”
“That would make you happy?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll think on it.”
He pulled the hat down a little bit lower on his face and settled in the chair. He could feel her glaring at him, probably plotting a way to demand a promise rather than a “think on it.”
His smile grew a little broader as she slumped down in the bed. He stretched his long legs out and crossed his feet at the ankles, letting the fire warm the soles of his boots.
His stay might just be getting a little interesting after all.
7
Interesting was the next morning when Wendy bounced out of bed at the crack of dawn, ready to make a mad dash for the outhouse, and he was feeling about a hundred years old from sitting in the chair all night.
She froze, her nightgown swirling around her legs when she saw him. Her eyes, so like her mother’s, grew as big as silver dollars. He stood.
“Mommy?” she whispered.
He couldn’t blame her for the fear. Between the trip here and the night in the chair, he was as stiff as a board and not moving with his usual ease. He might just be getting old.
“It’s all right,” he told her with a smile that felt more like a grimace and likely looked like one, too, if her reactions were anything to go by.
Wendy took a step back and that chin of hers came up.
“You leave my mommy alone.”
It seemed to be the child’s battle cry. “Your mommy will always be safe with me.”
She looked at him, and her lip slipped between her teeth as she absorbed that.
“I’ve go to go potty.”
That’s what he’d figured from the way she was shifting from foot to foot.
Miranda moaned and rolled over but didn’t wake. He wasn’t surprised. She’d spent most of the night, arm draped over the side of the mattress, watching him.
“Let’s not wake your mommy. She’s tired.”
For a second more Wendy hesitated, but with a grimace she nodded. He knew what that grimace meant. They were running out of time. “Do you think you can make it?”
She shook her head.
“Where’s the chamber pot?”
She shook her head again and started to bob. There was no more time for discussion. Scooping her up, he made a dash for the door.
He got her to the outhouse in the nick of time. Or so he thought, but when he put her on the ground, she didn’t go in.
“What’s wrong?”
Standing, legs crossed, tears in her eyes, she just looked at him.
“What?”
To his horror she started to cry. Big, fat tears that ripped at him.
“Dammit, what?”
“You’re not supposed to swear.”
“And you’re not supposed to pee your pants.”
“I didn’t!”
Yet. The “yet” was imminent.
“Then what’s the problem?”
She opened the door and pointed inside. It took him only a minute to spot the problem. There was a big ass spiderweb on the ceiling. And even he had to admit the occupant didn’t look friendly.
“That is one ugly spider.”
She nodded.
“I can see why you’re afraid.”
“I’m not a scaredy-cat!”
Obviously a sore subject. He grabbed up a stick off the ground. “Only a fool is never afraid.”
She jumped back as he leaned into the outhouse and scooped the spider, web and all, onto the stick.
She screamed when he came back out, the spider dangling. “Kill it! Kill it!”
He looked at her. “Go get your business done while
I send this fella off to better parts.
She didn’t move.
“Unless you want me to put him back?”
She was in the outhouse in a flash, braids dancing, the door slamming behind her. He chuckled and walked the spider off into the tall grass.
“Sorry, fella. But you wore out your welcome.”
He lobbed the stick deeper into the brush.
It would be nice if he could take care of all his problems so easily. And for the first time in his memory it wasn’t Addy’s face that flashed into his mind but Miranda’s. Shit.
From the far edge of the village came the sounds of raised men’s voices and grunts. And cheers. Not a battle then. The outhouse door banged.
“Mister Cole?”
He turned back to Wendy. “Right here.”
She held up her arms as he approached.
“Feet cold?”
She nodded.
It was as natural as anything to pick her up. “How long has that spider been there?”
“A week or so.” She curled her arm around his neck. “Why didn’t you kill it?”
“Because it didn’t do anything wrong.”
“It scared me.”
“I know.” He shifted her higher and headed back to the house. “But you could have asked your mom to remove it.”
“She’s afraid of them, too.”
Miranda was afraid of a spider, but she thought she could handle Clark? He set Wendy down on the stoop. “Isaiah, then.”
“Mommy says we can’t bother him all the time.”
“Interesting.”
The door opened. Miranda stood there, looking sleep tousled and relieved, her shawl tucked tightly around her as she frowned at them both. “Mommy also said you aren’t supposed to leave the house without telling her.”
“It was an emergency,” Cole explained.
Wendy nodded. “I had to go pee.”
Miranda caught her daughter by the shoulders and drew her close. “We don’t speak of such things in mixed company.”
“Oh.”
“It’s all right,” Cole said.
Miranda shook her head. “No, it’s not.”
Wendy leaned back against her mom and looked up. “He got rid of the spider.”
“Huh?”
“The spider in the outhouse.”
“Is that why you’ve been having . . . problems?” She shook her head. “You should have told me.”
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