by Jodi Thomas
Brant released her and stepped away. He yanked his gloves off and threw them on the bed. “He has used the resemblance for too long.”
Slowly, he offered his hand to her. When she accepted, he led her gently to the chair and sat down, pulling her onto his lap. “Cherish, you have to tell me everything you saw and heard last night. Daniel is mixed up and I’m not sure how to help him.”
“But if I do …” She hesitated. Now the firelight shone on Brant’s face. She could see his warm chestnut eyes, not Daniel’s cold ones. “Are you going to turn him in?”
Brant laughed. “That would be a real joke. I could just see how the sheriff would laugh if Brant Coulter tried to turn in Father Daniel for a murder. No, I could never let the law have him. Daniel would die in a prison. Even when we were children he could never pass through the tunnel without a light. I promised him years ago that I’d put a bullet in his brain before I’d ever allow anyone to chain him up in some dark place.”
“You care about him.”
“I owe him more than once for my life. He’s the closest I’ve ever had to family.”
“But he uses you. He has killed and allowed you to take the blame.”
Touching her hair, Brant answered, “I really didn’t care before I met you. I figured I would have died years ago if he hadn’t saved my life, so I kind of owed him one. Plus, I guess I’ve done enough wrong to be hanged without Daniel’s help. He couldn’t have used my reputation if I hadn’t started it in the first place.”
Cherish shook her head in disbelief. “No, not you. I’ll not believe ill of you. You brought Grayson back. He told me he would have died if you hadn’t helped him. You risked your life to help and you didn’t even know who he was.”
Brant shrugged. “I had my reasons.”
Cherish rubbed her cheek against his jaw. “You did it because you are good and kind. You’re the kindest man I’ve ever met and I love you dearly, Brant Coulter.”
Brant shook his head. He’d given up trying to convince her otherwise. She saw only good in him and somehow her sight changed him within. She was not a child but a woman who’d seen years of pain and war. He was no saint, but it did no good to argue with this lady. Her trust might be almost childlike, but there was nothing childlike about the body that leaned against his.
“I missed you,” she whispered as her bottom lip slid over his cheek. His face was smooth from a recent shave and he smelled of springwater and soap. “I’ve felt as though half of me was missing since you’ve been gone.”
He folded her into his arms. “I’m beginning to think I’m addle-brained. All I’ve thought of this past month is you. I’m going to show you just how much I thought of you.”
“By doing what?” she murmured as her lips traced the outline of his ear.
He pulled her against him. “By loving you all night long.”
Cherish laughed. “And if I scream?”
“Oh, you’ll scream, my love, with pleasure.” He lifted the curtain of her hair and kissed her neck lightly.
“No,” she cried as she pulled his mouth to her lips. She loved the feel of his mouth against her flesh almost as much as she loved his kiss. Tonight, she planned to have a banquet of both.
He stood with her in his arms and crossed the room. He dropped her onto the bed, then fell beside her. Her laughter made him smile, for he knew she’d had little to laugh about in the past few years. Now he could give her one more joy at least for a moment, if not for a lifetime. And pure joy was in his plan for the night.
He pushed her hair from her face and studied her, loving the way she looked up at him with such trust. “Don’t ever be afraid of me,” he whispered.
She pulled him close above her until her breath brushed his ear. “If you don’t keep your promise, you’ll have reason to fear me.” Her lips moved along the tender area below his ear.
“What promise, my love?” he whispered into her hair, already drunk on her nearness.
Cherish giggled and nipped at his earlobe. “To make me scream with pleasure.”
There were no more words then, for the only language either could hear was in the pounding of their hearts. At first his actions were rough with desire, but as he touched her willing body, his fingers grew gentle and his kisses deep and loving. She had a way about her that made him always want to be a little more than he was.
He suddenly wanted to please her, to give her a touch of the heaven that she’d given him. His fingers moved over her body, sliding into every curve, and gently molding passion’s sculpture. He loved the way she moved to his touch and cried softly from her very heart when he’d truly pleased her. The wonder that filled his head more than any liquor was the fact that she wanted him. They were a blending, not only of flesh, but of dreams and need. She took each feeling he gave her as if it were a wonderful gift she’d never known existed before, and in return she held back nothing. Her love made up for all the love he’d never known in his life. Her love made him whole.
When he entered her, her body reached to enfold him and he touched heaven as he had before in her arms. He pushed deep into her and felt her arch to meet him, her breasts flattening into the hardness of his chest. He held her to him, loving the feel of her softness and the smell of her flesh. With each thrust, he heard her mindlessly whispering the same word again and again. When he turned her head so that he could hear the word, her voice shattered all the barriers he’d built around his heart. For she whispered his name.
He caught her cry of pleasure in his mouth and kissed her gently as she floated back to earth. Their bodies were damp with sweat and hot from a fire they’d built of passion and need, but they didn’t pull apart. They held one another through the night as if there would be no tomorrow.
When light turned the room from black to gray, Brant stood and pulled on his clothing. He stopped, watching her sleep and wondering how God could make such a woman. He’d always thought everyone had both a little good and a little bad in them, but Cherish was perfection in every form.
She stretched and reached for him. When her fingers didn’t find him, she opened sleepy eyes. “‘Morning, my love,” she whispered, unaware of how beautiful she was and of how the sight of her warmed his blood.
“I’d better go,” he answered as he leaned toward her and lightly kissed her passion-swollen lips. “It will be light soon.”
“Will you come back tonight?” She stretched and the covers fell below the curve of her neckline.
He’d meant to tell her no. There were a million places he’d be safer than here. But looking at her now he could only answer, “If I’m alive, I’ll come back to you.”
Cherish slid from the bed and pulled her wrapper around her as he pulled on his boots and shirt. “I’ve been thinking,” she said casually, as if their future were as easy as every couple’s to plan, “we could go to Colorado and live. I’ve heard men say that there’s work in the silver mines up there. No one would know us. We could start a new life.”
Brant slipped his finger from her chin to between her breasts, pulling the material aside until he could see the swell of her mounds. He didn’t want to take the hope from her eyes, even though he knew that there was nowhere he could go that would be far enough to outrun his past. Someone would find him if it took a year, or even five. There was too much money riding on his head to allow him to slip away.
“You’d go with me?” he asked as his fingers explored beneath the material of her wrapper and lightly brushed one breast.
Cherish closed her eyes with pleasure. “Yes,” she whispered.
She would have closed the distance between them, but he held her away as he spread his palm over her softness and ran his hand along the velvet beneath her wrapper. His voice was low and filled with desire. “Tell me that you love me.”
“I love you,” she answered as he pulled the wrapper free.
Again she would have advanced, but his hand held her away. His fingers took great pleasure in moving over the curves of her body.
“And you’d go anywhere with me?”
“Anywhere,” she answered with her usual clear decisiveness. She raised her arms out to him.
Brant could not hold her back any longer. He moved into her embrace with all the passion of a lifetime of need. “Then go with me to heaven now, for there is no place where I could be happier than here with you in my arms.”
Suddenly, she was against him, as loving and wild as he’d ever dreamed she’d be. She was a feast to his senses and he’d been starving for her all his life.
He lifted her off the floor and carried her back to bed, knowing he should be miles away by now, but willing to risk his life for one more hour with her.
Chapter 28
Grayson sat back against the headboard of the bed and relaxed. He’d just spent the past hour getting dressed and the simple chore exhausted him. But he wanted to be standing when Maggie came back from settling Westley’s affairs. It had been a week since he’d arrived on her porch and he was sick of the inactivity. Maggie was worse than a mother hen with one chick. It was no wonder Hattie lost her mind after being bedridden for months. He was about to lose his after only seven days. His only goal today was to make it to the chair on the front porch so he could see them coming up the hill, then to stand as she walked up the steps.
Only two guests had come to the house during his recovery. One had been the lawyer to ask Maggie to drop by his office. The other, Holliday, to tell them how happy she was to hear about Westley’s demise. She’d even stopped in to visit with Hattie for a few minutes, but the old woman no longer acknowledged anyone in the room. The disease in Hattie’s body had closed her mind and it would only be a matter of hours before it stopped her heart as well.
Holliday cried when she saw Hattie, then blotted her eyes carefully so she wouldn’t smear her face paint. Like most of the ladies of the evening, she’d gotten her start at Hattie’s Parlor back before the war.
Holliday had stayed for tea, which Maggie served right on the front porch for everyone to see.
Grayson had watched them from the slits in the boarded-up window. He swore he could see Holliday putting on more airs by the minute. Maggie had a way of making those around her change, even without saying a word. By the time they’d finished tea, the old girl of the streets was strutting like she was the mayor’s wife.
The only conversational topic of interest to Grayson was Holliday’s mentioning of how the drunks still talked of a treasure hidden in the house, but she’d said fewer and fewer believed the tale. Westley had believed the lie and lies don’t die as easily as men.
Grayson lowered himself into the porch chair and smiled as he wondered if Maggie would offer him tea today. He’d made it outside and was quite proud of himself.
His glory was short-lived however, for when Maggie saw him sitting on the porch, he could hear her yelling from the bottom of the hill.
When she stepped into the yard her anger was full-blown. She marched toward him. “How dare you get out of bed before you’re told! You could have done a great deal of damage.”
Grayson laughed. He’d learned to love her outbursts almost as dearly as he loved the way she kissed him good night each night with promises of what would come when he was well. “Stop yelling at me, woman. You’re always trying to keep me in bed.”
His good mood only fired her anger. “I liked you much better before you started talking, Yankee,” she answered. “At least then I didn’t think you were an idiot who tried to kill yourself by getting out of bed before you should.”
Bar came through the door absorbed in the piece of pie he’d just stolen from the kitchen. He glanced up and noticed they’d squared off at one another again. With the ease of a dust devil, he twirled around and vanished back into the house. He could hear all the argument he wanted to from any location half a mile around; he didn’t have to stay within throwing distance of Maggie.
Neither noticed the boy as blue-gray eyes clashed with indigo. She stood in front of his chair, tall and slender in her new navy dress. She was daring him to argue; he could taste it in the air between them.
Grayson raised one eyebrow. “You win. I’ll go back to bed, but you’ll have to help me.”
Maggie hesitated a moment, knowing it was unlikely he’d give up so easily. Slowly, she helped him to his feet. His powerful arm covered her shoulder as he allowed her to take only part of the weight from his wounded leg. When they passed through the door frame, he stopped, raising his hands to catch the frame, and blocked her on both sides.
They stood for a moment, touching. He could feel her pressed against him from shoulder to knee and there wasn’t a place where she didn’t feel wonderful. “Maggie,” he whispered as he leaned even closer, “I’m strong enough.”
She didn’t pretend not to understand his meaning. Her arm still circled his waist and he felt like an oak beside her. There was nothing soft or weak in this man. Not even his injuries had made him less virile in her eyes.
When she didn’t answer, he leaned against her, pressing her back against the door frame. Even through their clothes she could feel the heat of his body. “Come to me tonight with your hair down, my Maggie.”
“No,” she answered, lifting her chin. “I’m not the kind of woman who crawls into a man’s bed in the middle of the night.”
“Then marry me,” he answered, and his words shocked him almost as much as they did her.
“Certainly not. I only buried a husband this week. I can hardly marry again so soon.”
“You buried him four years ago. He only finally died this week.” Grayson’s hand moved over her shoulder, caressing her slender arm.
Maggie’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “Also, I’m not sure I could marry a Yankee after spending the past years mending the men the North shot.”
Grayson slid his hand from her arm to her fingers. “The war’s over. Let it end between us.”
She looked up at his wonderful eyes that blended the colors of the North and the South. The war had never been against the North for her. It had only been against pain and death. She could lay it aside, but could he? He might want her, but she knew part of the reason he’d remained by her side was because he hunted the southern outlaws who were somehow tied to this house.
“I’m not sure,” she whispered, and for the first time he saw how very much she needed him—almost as much as he needed her.
His knuckles brushed the side of her face. “Marry me.” He breathed the words against her cheek. “Marry me and live with me the rest of our days on this earth. It doesn’t matter if we live in the North or the South as long as we are together.”
Just before his lips reached hers, Cherish called from Hattie’s room. The moment snapped between them and was lost. She wanted to pull him back until there was only the world of the two of them, but she knew she had responsibilities. Maggie quickly helped him to his bed. As she turned to rush to see what was wrong with Hattie, Maggie heard him mutter that he wished they were alone again on the trail. For a moment she closed her eyes and would have given her house for an hour alone with him.
Grayson lay back and watched as the women came and went from the old woman’s room. He didn’t have to ask to know Hattie’s time had come. As the hours passed he knew she was fighting death, even though she no longer had the mind to ask why.
Finally, just before sundown, Grayson pulled his way along the hallway to her door. There he saw Cherish and Maggie sitting on either side of Hattie’s bed, doing what little they could to help. Bar was asleep in a chair in the corner.
After several moments of silence, Hattie mumbled, “Is my daughter here yet? Is my daughter here?”
Cherish and Maggie exchanged glances before Cherish took the old woman’s hand. Maggie nodded as Cherish whispered, “I’m here. I’ve come to take you home with me.”
Hattie smiled and took a deep breath. When she let the air escape, she let go of life. Everyone waited for several minutes before moving. Then the living stood and did what the living mus
t do.
Grayson walked out on the porch. He had never even spoken to the old woman, but somehow her passing saddened him, bringing back all the memories of loved ones’ deaths. He looked at the night sky and tried to remember what his wife had looked like, but the years and the miles he’d traveled blurred her face. He’d thought he’d never feel anything again, until he met Maggie.
Bar ran down the hill to order the second coffin in a week. Cherish helped prepare the body, then vanished into her room.
It was well after midnight when Maggie sat on the edge of Grayson’s bed to say good night. “Are you asleep?” she whispered, and her voice sounded tired.
“No,” he answered, covering her hand with his. She was only a shadow, but he could feel a trembling of need in her touch, a need all have to hold the living when Death walks too near.
She was silent for a long while, feeling the warmth of his hand covering hers. “I don’t want to die alone, childless and among strangers.” She bit her lip to fight back the tears, but she knew the only way she’d find strength was to admit her weakness. “Sometimes, I’m so afraid. It seems like everyone I care about leaves me. I get so tired of always feeling so alone.”
Grayson silently pulled her down beside him and held her against his heart. He wanted to tell her all the words that he’d been thinking of while waiting for her, but none would come. It had been ten years since he’d talked of love and lifetimes together.
Slowly, he brought her hand up and kissed her palm. Then he spread her fingers over his heart and whispered, “Go to sleep now, Maggie. I’m with you.”
She cuddled against his shoulder and did as she was told for the first time since he’d met her. He held her gently all night, wondering how he’d ever found such a woman. Somehow, he knew it was going to be far more difficult to whisper words of love than yell words of anger at her. But he’d best be practicing both, for she would always give as much as she demanded of love.
