by Debra Cowan
Muttering under his breath, Davis Lee reached her in two strides and went down on his haunches several inches away, careful to keep his feet from the sharp pieces. “Let me see.”
“It’s not bad. Get the broom and I’ll clean this up. I want to tell you—”
“You’re bleeding. I’m not getting the broom.” He rose, bent over and picked her up under the arms as if she were a little girl.
When his hands slid down to her waist, she held on to his hard shoulders. “Watch out. You’re barefoot.”
“I’ll go around this side.” He stepped backward then walked around to the opposite end of the table, setting her down on the edge closest to the stove. He moved away to retrieve the lamp from the shelf in the corner behind her. “Let me look at it.”
“It’s barely anything.”
“It’s still bleeding,” he said pointedly. Placing the lamp on top of the nearby cupboard, he took her hand in his and shifted so that the light fell between them. He reached to the left and opened the small cabinet, pulled out a cloth and gently pressed it to her finger. “I don’t think there’s any glass left in it.”
No one had ever made her feel so precious. Despite being mad at her, he was still taking care of her. He frowned in fierce concentration as he held the cloth to the wound for a few seconds. Her gaze traced the play of light in his dark hair, the edge of his cheekbone, his stubble-shadowed jaw. “You’re always taking care of me.”
“That’s my job,” he said dismissively. “To help people.”
“No.” She curled her left hand into her skirts so she wouldn’t reach for him. “It’s the kind of man you are.”
He peered at her finger. “I think it’s stopped bleeding.”
“You’re the best man I know.”
“Why?” He raised his head, not looking angry now, but wary. “Because I don’t like to see you hurt?” he asked gruffly.
This man calmed a part of her deep inside that had been a teeming crush of bitterness and sadness and loss for the past two years. Her heart squeezed. “My father was the only other man I’ve known with such a big heart, who cared so much about people.” She lifted her hand to his face, her fingers skimming his bristly jaw as she murmured, “About me.”
His gaze searched hers. “Not even William?”
“No. I’ve never known anyone like you.” It was as if some buried instinct drove her to confess her feelings. “I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you. Ever since the other night,” she whispered, “all I can think about is…belonging to you in that way.”
He stared at her in arrested silence, the heat and hunger in his gaze sending a thrill through here. “Josie, when you say things like that, do you think I can turn away? Do you think I can ignore what you’re saying, what you’re offering—”
“I don’t want you to ignore it or turn away.” If he rejected her, she didn’t know what she would do. Swallowing hard, she said, “I don’t want you to turn me away.”
“Dammit.” His broad, warm hands cupped her shoulders as if to keep her at a distance.
She stayed very still. “Cody said you might spend the night in Abilene. I’m glad you didn’t.”
“I wanted to,” he said roughly. His nostrils flared slightly as his hold tightened on her. “But I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Or this.”
His mouth came down on hers. Hard at first, then gentling as he kneed her legs apart and stepped between them, pulling her close in one fluid movement. Her skirts frothed around him; the scent of honeysuckle rose between them.
“I have wanted you for so damn long,” he said hoarsely when he lifted his head. Careful of her bruises, he framed her face with his hands and brushed his lips across her mouth, her cheek, her forehead. “You’re the first woman in over two years I’ve cared about this much. When I thought you were leaving Whirlwind for good, I felt like I’d been walloped.”
“You did?” she breathed, daring to hope that perhaps she hadn’t ruined everything between them.
He nodded. “I’m glad you’re still here.” He kissed her again, slow and deep and increasingly intense.
She slid one arm up the solid length of his, her palm curving around his nape. Her other hand flattened on his chest, over the heavy thud of his heart. She couldn’t get close enough to his heat, the sleek angles of his chest, so different from hers. The feel of his arousal against her sent a jolt of need through her. One part of her desire-hazed mind still functioned, reminded her why she’d come. She knew she had to tell him now.
Struggling against the dark sweet draw of growing need, she flattened both hands on his chest, trying to slow him for a moment. But it wasn’t until she touched his face and held it that he broke the kiss.
He lifted his head, breathing hard, his eyes burning with blue fire. “What is it?” he rasped. His gaze riveted on her mouth, he skimmed his thumb across her bottom lip, wet from his.
He stared at her as if she were the first woman he’d ever seen and a consuming swell of heat spread from her heart to her toes. She could barely catch her breath. “I want to tell you about my family. About William.”
“I want you to tell me, too. Later.” He took her mouth again.
She might never have more than this with him. There was no protecting her heart now, no resisting this man who touched the core of her in a way no other ever had. His kisses turned her entire body boneless, numbed her mind. Her reason began to splinter. “Davis Lee.”
“Let me love you, Josie,” he breathed against her lips.
She was lost. “Yes,” she said on a ragged moan. “Yes.”
Her agreement unlocked something desperate inside both of them. She crushed her mouth to his, locked her arms around his neck. He slid an arm beneath her legs and lifted her, making his way past the stove. Heat from the fireplace drifted around them then ebbed away.
As he shouldered open his bedroom door, his hand found her breast. By the time they tumbled onto his bed, he had her bodice half-unbuttoned. “No blade?” he asked against her lips.
“Can’t with this blouse…in my skirt pocket.” She helped him with the rest of her top, fighting her way out of the garment while his hand moved to her ankles.
He made quick work of the buttons on her boots. She toed them off as she reached behind her and unhooked her skirt, glad she’d again gone without a corset. Her fingers tangled with his as he unfastened her petticoat. He dragged it off along with her skirt, his hand going between her legs to cup her through the slit in her underwear.
Sliding her arms around his hard shoulders, she pressed into his touch, whispering his name. He pulled away, his features sharp with desire as he looked down at her, reaching for the buttons at the top of her undergarment. “I want this thing off. I want to touch you right now and I don’t want to rip it.”
Her breathing was as labored as his. “I have another one.”
His wicked grin sent her pulse cartwheeling as his fingers moved nimbly down her front.
He was freeing the last couple of buttons when her hand slid down his taut stomach into his trousers. His muscles clenched; his mouth found hers. She undid the top button of his pants then the next, nipping at his jaw, lightly biting his ear.
The finespun fabric of her combination parted. His callused hands were on her breasts, his thumbs teasing the hard nubs of her nipples. As his mouth closed over the taut flesh, she arched into the wet, velvet heat, moving her hand to push her undergarment off.
He helped, lifting her against him and stripping off the combination suit along with her stockings. His eyes were hot with a raw need she’d never seen in another man. The same need that burned in her blood. She wanted to be part of him, wanted him to be part of her. The only thing that mattered was this man. Right here, right now.
He swept a hand over her hip as their mouths fused. She released the last button on his pants as his work-roughened palm slid to her stomach then between her legs, delving two fingers into her silky heat. When he pushed deep, she nearly came of
f the bed.
The flat of his thumb massaged the knot of nerves between her legs and she broke apart. Seconds, minutes later, she reached down and stroked him hard, urging him to her. The feel of his hot rigid flesh against her slick softness destroyed her last coherent thought.
He rose over her. “I don’t want to hurt you. Is this your first time?”
“Second,” she whispered, waiting for his reaction.
“Still sure?”
“Yes.” She urged him forward. “Are you?”
“Yes.” He slid inside her then paused, his muscles quivering with restraint.
He didn’t seem bothered that she’d been with William once before. His hair-dusted chest heaved against her smooth one; his skin was sheened with sweat and shadow. Even in the dusky light, she could see his eyes blazing with such naked emotion that her heart ached. Her legs tightened around him. “Don’t wait, Davis Lee,” she begged. “Don’t wait.”
He moved deep and sure, steadily driving her up a dizzying peak; her hips met every stroke of his body. He laced his fingers with hers and brought their arms over her head, kissing her, possessing her, coaxing her to surrender every bit of herself. When she felt the tiny urgent pulses inside her, his muscles bunched and he went over the edge with her.
When his whole weight pressed her into the mattress, she held him tight, stroking the supple skin of his shoulders, the long line of his back. Moonlight washed over them. His breathing was ragged, his flesh slick on hers. He pressed hot, openmouthed kisses down the side of her neck. One hand curled possessively around her breast.
He smiled against her temple. “I didn’t even get to see your hair down.”
She laughed softly, still trying to catch her breath. “I can take it down now.”
“Let me.” He rose up on one elbow and worked her hairpins out then placed them at the bottom of the mattress.
Undoing her chignon, he threaded his fingers through the chestnut strands and brought the mass to his face, inhaling deeply. He shifted to give her a soft kiss then, as if he couldn’t help himself, another one.
She moved her hands over the tough sinew of his shoulders, the lean tautness of his hips, his rock-hard arms, touching and learning him the way he was her. He rolled to his side, taking her with him, holding her tight.
They lay like that for a long time. Lulled by the musky scent of their loving, Josie savored the feel of his arms around her, knowing this night might be only a memory, not the beginning of a future. Pale light filtered into the room and she drowsily made out a tall closet against the opposite wall. A pitcher and basin gleamed white on the washstand at the foot of the bed. The tangy scent of shaving soap teased the air. Far away, a cow bawled. Through the window she could hear the chirp of crickets.
She loved him. She knew he cared about her. Hopeful now, she knew there could be no more secrets between them. “Davis Lee?”
When he didn’t answer, she lifted her head. He was asleep. She pressed a soft kiss to his lips and snuggled into him. When he woke, she would tell him everything.
Voices woke her, low and definitely masculine. Josie opened her eyes, saw the tall closet fronted by a pair of dusty black boots. She recognized the room as Davis Lee’s. Memory flooded back and heat flushed her body. She rolled to her back, pulling up the sheet and quilt. Without his warmth, the bed was chilly.
She wished she’d woken before him. That would’ve given her a little time to deal with the anxiety knotting her stomach. The uncertainty of how he would respond was as unsettling as finally talking about something she’d kept to herself for two years.
Not knowing who was in Davis Lee’s front room, she wondered if she should get dressed then decided she should wait, for discretion’s sake. She lay still and quiet in the bed. The voices stopped and she heard the front door creak shut.
She sat up, keeping the sheet over her breasts as she shoved the tangled mass of her hair over her shoulder. After a long minute, she heard the soft thud of footsteps, but Davis Lee didn’t appear in the doorway. Curious, Josie slid out of bed, holding the sheet wrapped around her. She tiptoed to the door and peered around the frame to make sure he was alone.
He was. Wearing only his trousers, he stood in the middle of the room. His back was to her and he stared down at something he held. He lifted a hand to the nape of his neck, the muscles in his arms and shoulders rippling. She stepped out of the bedroom. “Good morning,” she said softly.
He turned. There was a piece of paper in his hand, but it was the rigidness of his body, the guarded look on his face that held her attention. Concerned, she took a step toward him. “What is it? What’s happened?”
He stared at her, his eyes dark with something she couldn’t define. His words were measured, controlled. “Ian McDougal murdered your parents.”
Her heart skipped a beat. How had he guessed? It didn’t matter. She was going to tell him anyway. She pulled the sheet tighter around her nakedness. “Yes.”
“And William.”
“Yes.” She nodded, suddenly immobilized by an icy, invading sense of suffocation. “I was going to tell you last night—”
“Tell me what? Why you came to Whirlwind?”
There was no missing the hurt, the accusation in his silky, razor-edged words. What was on that piece of paper? Where had he gotten it? “Yes.”
“Let me tell you. You came for Ian’s trial.”
She nodded cautiously. “To see that he gets justice.”
“And I’ll make sure he does, one way or another.” Davis Lee stepped closer, his eyes flinty with suspicion. “Since you know I want him punished as badly as you do, I have to wonder why you wouldn’t tell me that’s your reason for being here. Unless there’s more, which I assume there is.”
“Davis Lee—”
“So I asked myself, ‘Why would Josie not want me to know that her parents and fiancé were murdered by the worthless sonovabitch sitting in my jail?’” His voice was as hard as the hubs of hell. “Because you came to kill him.”
“Yes.”
“And you were gonna use me to do it.”
“No!”
Chapter Sixteen
“I’m not using you.” Josie’s heart slammed into her chest as she stared into eyes that were flat and remote. “I mean, it may have started out that way, but it’s not like that now.”
“That’s rich. I don’t know why I didn’t see it.” The black fury in his face sent a quiver through her. “When I confronted you in the alley, you’d been watching the jail for four days so you could figure out my comings and goings.”
“Yes.”
“The day I caught you in my jail, were you there to kill him?”
She wanted to look away, turn away, but she didn’t. “Yes.”
“Well, you sold me a bill of goods, didn’t you? Made me believe you wanted shooting lessons.”
“You were suspicious of me every moment,” she cried.
“For good reason.”
“I really did want the shooting lessons.”
“Not really,” he said, his voice hard-edged and sharp.
“I did. I wanted to learn how to use a gun,” she said firmly.
“To kill McDougal in case you couldn’t use your scalpel.”
She hesitated then nodded.
“I started putting it together after you asked Jake to take over your shooting lessons. It didn’t slip past me that, of all the men you could’ve asked for help, the one you asked was my deputy. The one other man who had access to Ian almost as frequently as I did.”
“I admit that.” Wary of the seething anger that he barely restrained, she asked quietly, “How did you learn all this?”
“I haven’t had both eyes closed. I wired the sheriff in Galveston about you,” he said savagely. “After that snakebite. You’d already gotten my attention by moving into the hotel room that looks right down on my jail.”
“That was a long time ago.” She knew she had no right to feel betrayed, but that didn’t stop
the hurt she felt at his mistrust. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Isn’t that what I should be asking you? I sent more than one telegram, waiting for Galveston’s telegraph machine to start operating again after the hurricane. I still haven’t heard from Sheriff Locke.”
“But you have a telegram in your hand. How—”
“This is from my cousin. I wired Jericho in Houston and asked him to ride to Galveston. He talked to Sheriff Locke there, who knew you. Not just because your father was well respected, but because you frequented his office every week asking for news of the McDougal gang.”
Her head spun, her thoughts raced. She had wanted to tell Davis Lee the truth, but now that he knew there was no relief in it for her. Only a low drum of apprehension.
“And when you heard that three of the McDougals had been killed, and Ian was awaiting trial here, you came to Whirlwind. How am I doing so far?”
“All of that is true.” When she had arrived, using Davis Lee’s access to the prisoner had been her plan, but not any longer.
“Every minute you’ve spent with me has been for the purpose of getting information about or access to that lowlifer.”
“No. Not for a long time, Davis Lee.”
“Yeah? How long?”
“I’m…not sure.” She tried to recall when her feelings had changed, when he had become more important than justice for her murdered family. “I think it was the first time you kissed me.”
“Really? Maybe it was the night I told you about one of the worst things that’s happened in my life? Or what about last night? You can say your feelings for me changed then,” he said bitterly. “That you didn’t sleep with me for any other reason than you wanted to.”
“That is the only reason! I wanted to be with you. I still do. I—” Love you. She snapped her mouth shut, angry at herself for not telling him everything last night, at him for turning what they’d shared last night into something calculated and base. “What happened between us had nothing to do with McDougal and you know it. Don’t try to say it didn’t mean anything.”
