“I always liked it when you kissed me,” she said. “I’d almost forgotten how it felt to have you that close to me, to inhale your scent and know that you wanted me.”
“Like now?” he asked, and his voice was harsh. His jaw firmed and she thought his teeth clenched. “You’re pushing it, Faith,” he said after a moment. “I’m not sure how long I can keep my hands from you.”
“Right now, I don’t want to be just your friend,” she told him. “Yet I think, on the other hand, maybe I need to know that you like more about me than my…” She looked down to where her breasts formed soft peaks beneath the fabric of her dress. Before her eyes, the crests became taut and hard, and she felt the sharp inhalation of breath he could not conceal.
“You’re handing me a puzzle to unravel, you know. I’m not sure what you want of me,” he said, and lifted his hands to circle her waist. “I know what I’d like to give you, but I don’t think you’ll allow that yet.”
“You’ve given me much today,” she said, rising again on her tiptoes to press her mouth against his, this time opening her lips to lend her breath to his. “I just want you to know that what we shared in the barn was important to me. Not only what you did for my mare and the filly,” she said, “but that you were willing to crawl amid the dirt and blood and subject yourself to the pain of having your arm clamped by Goldie’s straining. Because you saw a need and jumped in without hesitation.”
He returned her kiss, his lips parting to deepen the caress, yet his hands only clutched at her waist, and she felt his restraint. She closed her eyes as he nibbled at her mouth, as his tongue tasted the soft tissue beyond her lips, and then she leaned against him, turning her face upward.
“Faith.” It was a single word of warning, and she jolted in his grasp, standing upright as he removed his mouth from hers, his hands from her waist. “I’m going outside,” he told her. “If I stay here, I fear you’ll be angry at my next move.”
She hesitated, then nodded, acknowledging his choice. Sharing a bed with Max would solve nothing today, only confuse her more. And she’d had about all the dithering she could handle for one morning. She’d been unfair, approaching him and expecting him to accept her kiss and not reciprocate. Yet he’d obliged her, only calling a halt when he deemed it necessary.
Stepping back from him, she watched as he turned away, heard the screened door slam as he released it from his grasp, and then her gaze followed him as he strode across the yard to fling the barn door open with a sharp movement.
The man was strung higher than a kite, she decided, and she’d done it to him. Yet he’d walked away, something the old Max, back in Boston, would never have done. He’d have felt the need to conquer, the necessity to stake his claim had she ever approached him in such a manner.
There was no doubt about it. Max had changed.
The mare and filly were in the corral and Max was hard at work, opening two single stalls to form a larger pen in the barn. Faith watched from the doorway, her eyes on his every movement as he ripped off the boards and piled them to one side.
“I thought it would be better if they had a larger stall,” he said. “Maybe you’ll want to fence off a smaller part of the pasture for them.”
“No.” She shook her head and walked closer to where he worked. “After a day or so, we can put them with the other horses. I just want to keep a close eye on Goldie, till tomorrow at least.”
“She looked all right to me,” Max said. His grin was quick. “Of course, I didn’t really know what I was looking for, but there wasn’t much blood or anything to be seen, and she seems to have plenty of milk for the filly.”
“Too bad humans don’t recuperate as quickly as animals when they give birth,” Faith said dryly. “It takes a few days to recover when a woman—” She broke off as his gaze intensified on her, and she laughed a bit, embarrassed as she considered the topic of conversation. “I don’t suppose you want to hear a discourse on reproduction, do you?”
“That didn’t bother me,” he told her. “I was just remembering the day you gave birth to our son.” He tossed the broken board he held to one side, and straightened. “I don’t think I appreciated what you’d gone through. As I recall, you were all cleaned up and the baby was wrapped in a blanket when I finally made my appearance in the bedroom. You must have thought me uncaring, not to have been with you.”
“Your mother said it wasn’t seemly for a husband to see his wife that way.” For just a moment Faith regretted the clipped sound of her words, and then her chin lifted in defiance of the absent woman’s edict. “I wanted you beside me, but I didn’t have enough gumption to ask the doctor to get you.”
“My mother…” Max spoke the words quietly, then shook his head. “She told me it would be best to leave you alone with the doctor and his nurse. Said I would embarrass you with my presence.” He looked beyond Faith, out the open barn door to where the sun shone on the trees and bushes around the house. “I listened to her, more’s the pity. And never knew what I missed out on.”
“Don’t hit yourself over the head, Max,” Faith told him quietly. “Most men wouldn’t have been caught within fifty feet of a room where a woman was giving birth.”
“I had no such compunction about being with you when I got you in that condition,” he told her bluntly. “I owed it to you to be with you when the baby was born. Just one more time I missed the boat.”
Faith felt a jolt of compassion for the man. He was hurting. Even as he saw things in a different light, he was having to reevaluate his mother and her place in their existence, and the pain of his discovery was there to be seen on the stern, fixed features set in a grim mask.
“I’ve long since forgiven you for that,” Faith said.
His gaze lifted to hers. “As I said before, you’re a generous woman. And for that, I’ll be eternally grateful.”
She walked to his side and eyed the mess he was making of her stalls. “Well, let’s forget it for now,” she told him. “I’ll give you a hand and we’ll have this ready for the mare in no time flat.”
He nodded, pulling another board off and she took it, then carried it to the stack he’d accumulated. One by one, she toted them out the door of the barn to toss them on the burn pile, a safe fifty feet or so from the structure. In half an hour, he’d accomplished his purpose and had sorted through the straw to collect any forgotten nails. The edges of the boards were sanded off with a stray bit of sandpaper he’d found in her toolbox, and together they viewed the results.
“I’ll put together a gate for it,” he said. “In the meantime, I think a rope will be enough of a deterrent to keep Goldie in, don’t you?”
Faith nodded and tucked her hand through his arm. “We make a good team, Mr. McDowell.”
He looked down at her and smiled. “Thank you, ma’am. I aim to please.”
And you do, very much. The words were silent, but her heart was aware of the message as she returned his look. It thumped in her chest, and she was forced to look away, lest he see the emotion that spilled through.
She was in danger. And instead of fleeing from it, she was well on her way to embracing it openly.
They stood to the west of the pasture, where Max had decreed he should practice using Faith’s rifle. The straw stack was almost down to rock bottom, but he’d decided it still would provide a backdrop for his shells to reside, without worry about them traveling into the woods and being deflected by the abundant trees.
Faith loaded the rifle and he watched, taken by the smooth gestures she employed, aware of her confidence as she handled the long gun. “Who taught you to shoot?” he asked.
“Brace,” she answered, and Max was not surprised. It seemed the man had been on hand more times than not as Faith adjusted to her life in this place. And yet Max saw no trace of any more than a deep, abiding affection for the lawman in Faith’s demeanor. She’d welcomed him as a friend, and not allowed him to cross the line she’d drawn.
And the sheriff, gentleman that
he obviously was, had accepted her limits and continued to bask in the warmth of her smile and her presence.
“You’re very good at this,” Max told her as she handed him the loaded gun.
“Thank you,” she said, and smiled up into his face. “I’ve had to use it a few times.”
“Have you?” He considered her a moment. “Ever shoot a man?” And then he waited for her denial.
Instead, he was more than a little surprised as her smile faded and she nodded in reply. “Yes, I shot and wounded a man over a year ago, when Lin and I were on our own for a bit and a couple of gunmen came here looking for her and Amanda.”
“Amanda?” Max asked, wrinkling his forehead as he tried to place the name.
“She’s actually Nicholas’s niece, but she belongs to them legally now. Back then they were fighting for custody and Lin and I ended up in a gun battle with a couple of low-life ruffians from New York.”
“You were lucky to come out of it alive,” Max growled, aware that his heart thumped in a heavy rhythm and his chest was tight, as if a band were wrapped around him, not allowing him to draw a deep breath.
“Yes, we were, and I was thankful I’d been taught well how to fire this thing.”
“Lin wasn’t just trying to josh with me then, when she claimed to be right handy with a shotgun, was she?”
Faith shook her head. “No, she wasn’t. She shot the second gunman and took a bullet herself. I thought Nicholas would throttle the men with his bare hands. Probably would have if they hadn’t already been bleeding like stuck pigs.”
Max felt a cold chill creep up his spine. “I suppose I didn’t think about you facing that kind of peril here,” he said slowly. He lifted the gun to his shoulder and sighted down the long barrel.
“Squeeze gently,” Faith said from beside him. “That thing has quite a kick, so don’t give it a chance to bounce off your shoulder.”
He aimed carefully, then squeezed the trigger, narrowing his gaze as the target he’d set up in front of the straw was torn asunder. “Well, I guess I’m not a total washout,” he said with a feeling of satisfaction.
“Try it again,” she told him. “Get used to it.”
“It’s really easier to hit a target with this than with a handgun,” he told her after several more shots had effectively shredded the target.
“You have a better range,” she said. “A handgun is only good close up. I feel better with my rifle in the house. I can pick off a bird on a limb halfway across the pasture if I want to.”
“Sharpshooter.” He looked down at her and felt a thrill of pride at her accomplishments. He’d married a young woman of society, albeit an orphan with but a single, younger brother living, plus the aunt and uncle they’d both lived with. At the time, Max had thought himself a Sir Galahad of sorts. Now he viewed her with different eyes and recognized she’d become a woman to be respected.
“Thank you for the lesson,” he said, bending his head a bit, as if he bowed to her greater skill. “I appreciate the use of your gun. I’m glad to know I’m not a complete dunce when it comes to this sort of thing.”
“I doubt you could be called a dunce in any area of life,” she said quietly. “You’re a brilliant man, Max.”
“Maybe,” he said quietly. “But not smart enough to keep my wife happy, was I?”
Chapter Seven
“I heard you have a new foal, Faith.” Brace stood near the porch, hat in one hand, holding his horse’s reins in the other. “Thought I might drop by and take a look, if you don’t mind.”
She stepped out onto the porch and greeted him with a smile. “You heard right, Sheriff. Nicholas is tickled to death with his filly.”
Brace looked past her and lowered his voice. “I wondered if you’d mind writing a letter for me. My family back East is bent on sending out a woman for my benefit, and I need to let them know I’m capable of finding my own wife.” He looked subdued, and Faith felt a moment of distress on his behalf.
Mrs. Metcalf, the storekeeper’s wife, read his mail to him, but more than two years ago the sheriff had asked Faith to answer his occasional letter and look over any documents he felt might be important. Brace could neither read nor write. He knew some letters, could write his own name and recognize numbers, allowing him to deal with the bank president when he made a deposit to his account.
She might have offered to help him learn, back when she lived closer to town, in the cabin at the eastern edge of Nicholas’s property. Now she decided that it might be better if someone else took on that task. Brace had become more enamored of her than she felt was wise, given her marital status.
“Come on in after you’ve seen the filly,” she told him. “I’d be happy to help you. You know that.”
“Walk out with me, will you?” he asked quietly, and she nodded in agreement, lifting her skirt to step down to the ground.
“Is something wrong?” she asked in an undertone.
He shot her an inquiring look. “That’s what I was gonna ask you. I don’t want to interfere between husband and wife, but you didn’t look too happy with that fella you’re married to showing up here the way he did. I just thought it might be a good idea to check things out.”
“I’m fine,” she said firmly. “Max is staying for a while, just so we can sort things out.” She was careful to keep a good space between them as they walked to the barn, lest the “fella” in question appear around the corner of the corral and misunderstand the situation.
“He didn’t appreciate me being here with you the day he arrived,” Brace reminded her bluntly. “I suspect he thinks I’m trying to—” He halted abruptly, as if he thought better of what he’d been about to say, and Faith nodded.
“He wondered if you might not have designs on me, but I assured him you didn’t,” she said smoothly. Her smile was friendly, but reserved, and Brace only nodded.
The barn door was open and the large stall empty. “I think Max took the mare and filly out to the pasture,” Faith said. “He thought he’d try them with the other horses today. He’s a bit protective of them both.”
“Is he now?” Brace followed her out the back door of the barn and across the corral to the pasture gate. “And why is that?”
Faith related quickly the events of the filly’s birth, and again felt a thrill of pride as she recounted Max’s efforts. “I don’t know what I’d have done if he hadn’t been here,” she said simply.
Brace seemed properly impressed. “Maybe I’ll feel more kindly to him, then,” he said soberly. They leaned side by side against the rail fence and watched as Max walked across the pasture, the filly romping at his heels. He had a rope tied loosely around her neck, and Brace grunted in surprise.
“Well, I’ll be,” he said, shooting a quick look at Faith. “Isn’t that foal kinda young to be leadin’ around on a line?”
“Nicholas suggested it, and Max agreed to give it a try,” Faith said. “There’s a school of thought that advocates early training of foals, having them get used to a lead line while they’re still very young.”
From across the wide expanse of knee-high grass, Max lifted a hand and waved to acknowledge their presence. “You gettin’ along all right with him?” Brace asked boldly, and then looked away as if he recognized he’d overstepped his bounds.
“We’re fine,” Faith told him, ignoring his blunder. “I don’t want you to worry about me, Brace. Max is a good man. We had a lot of problems, but they weren’t all his fault. And I’m finding out that we need to mend some of those fences.”
“I can’t imagine you being a bad wife,” Brace blurted out, and then halted, a flush climbing his cheeks, as if he had spoken out of turn. “I just want you to know that any time you need me, all you have to do is send a message and I’ll be here.”
“Thank you,” Faith said, aching for the man’s embarrassment. She stood upright, dropping her arms from the top rail and smiled at him. “Are you ready for me to help you write that letter?”
“Yeah
,” he said agreeably. “It won’t be a long one. Just a few lines to let them know I don’t need a woman so bad they have to ship one out here.”
“There are several ladies hereabouts who’d welcome a look from you,” she said quietly. And it was true. The man was good-looking, with a job that paid well, and a house in town that needed a woman’s touch.
“None I’m interested in.” His words were short and clipped and Faith wisely changed the subject, drawing him out about the letter she would be writing to his family.
“What did the sheriff want?” Max asked, washing up at the sink as Faith placed supper on the table that night. He’d ignored the topic for most of the day, after watching the tall figure ride off after half an hour in the house with Faith. It had been a long thirty minutes, and Max had sat under a tree in the pasture while the two of them had done their business uninterrupted.
Now he asked the question that had burned at the edge of his mind for several hours. And turned to watch as Faith finished placing bowls and plates in their places. She took silverware from the drawer and doled it out next to their dinner plates, then lifted a platter of pork from the warming oven, placing it before him at the table.
“If I give you the carving knife, will you cut up the meat for me?” she asked.
“Faith? I think you’re ignoring me,” he said quietly. “Or is there a secret to your rendezvous with Sheriff Caulfield?”
“No secret,” she said lightly. “He just asked me to do something for him.”
“Mending?” Max sat down and picked up the knife and serving fork she’d provided. The meat was tender and barely needed the touch of the blade to cut it into slices. “Or is this something I don’t need to know?”
He reached over to place a generous serving on her plate, and the knife and fork remained upright in his hands.
She looked at him, as if exasperated by his insistence. “Eat your supper, Max,” she said after a moment of silence. Lifting the potatoes, she dished a serving onto her plate, then pushed the heavy pottery bowl in his direction. “Help yourself,” she said shortly.
Texas Gold (Mills & Boon Historical) Page 11
