by Linda Broday
“Shh, no regrets.” She leaned back. With tender care, she touched the face she could no longer see.
She traced his eyes that could twinkle with laughter, glow with excitement, or heat her with a mere glance. The nose that couldn’t seem to stay out of her affairs. The high cheekbones and strong jaw that defined the man she knew.
Such a one could not willingly take another’s life.
Straying to his sensuous mouth, she outlined it with the barest of fingertips.
“You never told me how you got this scar.”
“You never asked.” He nipped at her dawdling fingers.
“I am now.”
“Mountain lion. I reckon I was ten at the time. Duel had just turned fourteen. We went hunting and got lost. From nowhere, this big cat jumped us. We shot, barely wounding it. The animal followed us all day, waiting for an opportunity. When night fell, it attacked. Nearly ripped Duel’s damn arm from the socket. I tried to fight it off and that’s when it ripped a big gash in my throat and caught my mouth.”
“Dear Mother Mary! How did you get free?”
“Duel killed it. I’ll never forget it though. That feeling of being stalked. Of not knowing when it would finish the job.”
A faint tremor rippled through him, and she knew he walked the same path now, fighting for his life once more.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It taught me a valuable lesson.”
Luke shifted away, but she still felt his nearness.
“Come lie down and tell me what deep, dark secrets you have in that head of yours,” Luke murmured against her temple.
Glory patted the straw until she found him, then lay back. “I hate to disappoint you. Nothing as bloodcurdling as your story.”
“That bad, huh? Well, everyone can’t be so lucky.” He lifted a length of her hair, curling it around a finger. “Anything ever make you crawl under the covers and hide? Tell me something I don’t know about Glory Marie Day.”
That she’d never met a stranger like him?
That he gave her a reason to keep going?
Or that she cared for him with her heart and soul?
She took a shaky breath. “I used to have a dog named Max. We had a bond, he and I. Max took sick one day. He lay there and suffered over a week. I wanted Papa to make him well. Didn’t understand why he couldn’t, ’cause my papa could fix anything. Max died in spite of all my tender care. He left me. Then Papa went away. Mama has gone, too, though in a different way. Hope will get married. After her, Squirt will go off to find her big adventure.”
And she’d be by herself. Without the man called McClain.
“You hide your scars on the inside. Don’t know which is worse, darlin’. My experience has shown one day it’s sunshine and roses, the next blustery and a passel of thorns.”
Such a heavy sigh from a scoundrel who wore rakish grins the same way he toted his forty-five—never far from either. This more serious side took her off guard. She knew how to steel herself against a sweet-talking cowboy. Or almost anyway.
“I wouldn’t have taken you for a philosopher.”
“Do you know how long a second is when you’re waiting for something important, and you can’t swallow because it’ll choke you? Then when you want the moment to last for an eternity, it passes in the blink of an eye.” Luke’s voice became hoarse. “This second is one of those.”
The hay rustled again, and she sensed he rested on an elbow, watching her. She lay unmoving, waiting with bated breath. She’d take whatever he could spare and consider it a blessing. Beggars couldn’t be choosers. Perhaps she’d used up her allotment of miracles.
“Lady, you’re going to make me do something I reckon I shouldn’t. But I never laid claim to good sense.”
His touch threw her in disarray for it brought a yearning so powerful it could destroy. Her skin burned with a fever.
Feathery kisses had her head swimming. Luke nuzzled her earlobes, worked down her jaw, then her neck. The palm he laid over her breast trembled. His touch awakened exquisite, sweet torment. Tears formed and inched down her cheeks. He did things to her she hadn’t earned the right for. That he would give this precious gift to a blind, destitute girl brought a bittersweet ache.
As he fumbled with the buttons of her shirt, she knew she’d stepped on that magic carpet again. Awareness brought paralyzing fear and a sense of crossing an invisible line. Once she let herself need, would she ever stop? And how many regrets would she have if she chose to live that way?
“Say the word and I’ll quit. But this is all I’ve thought of since you hauled my shot-up carcass home that day.”
“I want you, Luke.” There was no going back.
Anywhere not touching him was too far. She clutched a handful of shirt and pulled him closer. His mouth found hers in the same instant the air fondled her, sliding across her bared nipples. They rose to aching, rigid peaks. Shivers ran the length of her.
Tongues could bring the most amazing pleasure, she learned. Every movement of his head left a moist, sinful trail behind.
A mass of tingles waltzed up her spine. Her breath became ragged as she slid her fingers into his hair. Luke took a nipple further into his mouth, creating a swarm of flutters through her. Her heart raced with the pleasure of his touch.
This cowboy moved confident and sure, though not in an arrogant way. A man possessing extraordinary magic, he knew which flick or brush would elicit the right response. He went lower, sliding down her flat belly. And yet she craved more.
Glory had never undressed a man before and scarcely knew where to begin. She’d never dared think of such things. Haste turned her fingers to all thumbs. Yet she desired to lie naked with Luke on a bed of hay and couldn’t bear another second of torture.
A few seconds, a button or two more.
She gasped.
The hardness of his chest met with her tender skin. The delicious friction added another layer to the moment they’d carved from dead dreams and disappointment.
His heated, swollen need throbbed against her bare thigh. Luke’s touch moved lightly across her stomach, down her legs, then into her wet opening. There he paused, letting her absorb the strange caress.
When he slipped a finger inside the tender folds, sensation pulsed over her in thick waves. She embraced each one and pressed herself tightly against his hand, praying the night would never end.
Dear Mother Mary!
Damp tendrils clung to her face. Something consumed her that she had no name for. She only knew she wanted more. She had to quench the flames that threatened to scorch her soul or else they’d not stop there, but engulf the whole of her.
“Relax and enjoy it,” Luke whispered against her ear as he climbed on top of her and filled her with his hardness, stretching the walls of her body.
A burst of unimaginable pleasure rippled through her and she gasped with the unexpected joy the feelings brought.
Glory thrust her arms around his neck and arched to meet him. Salty tears and love married on her tongue in one crowning moment. A cry rent the air in the mating of her flesh with his.
She rose on the waves in a frenzy of heavenly heat and rapture. Higher and higher until the sensations gave way in an explosion of pure white light.
She found a way to put out the fire.
Luke rolled to the side where they lay quivering, gasping for air, perspiration creating a sheen on their bodies.
After several minutes passed, Luke raised to kiss her with gentle reverence. “Have mercy, lady! I ain’t ever been to Glory Land, but I have now.”
And in what a fashion, he might add.
Luke drew her against him and they lay, their passions sated, drifting in a sea of bliss.
Suddenly he raised his head, making sure he hadn’t mistaken the noise. “Listen.”
Unmistaka
ble pitter-patter on the roof told him he hadn’t taken leave of his senses. The rumble of thunder amid the deluge appeared out of place on the drought-stricken plains.
“I never thought…oh, blessed rain!” Glory laughed.
Her jubilance almost shrouded the wretched misery gripping his guts. Time to leave soon.
“Yep, a cloudburst all right.”
“For two cents, I’d run out and stand in the middle of it. It’s been so blasted long.”
And he’d gladly get soaked with her for half of that.
“You’d best get dressed before Punkin comes barreling through that door.” He hated the gruffness that snuck into the warning. His breath came ragged and harsh.
“Just think how her tongue would wag.” Glory fumbled for her shirt.
“Yes, indeed.”
Dim light through the loft door played across gentle features that had seen tender years cut short by too much work and turmoil. He’d give nigh anything to bring back the stolen smiles and laughter.
If his plan worked…
Twenty-one
A gully washer appeared to have pitched camp on Day land. It appeared the good Lord’s wagon had overturned and the load of potatoes rolled out. Rashes of lightning through the cracks momentarily lit up the interior of the barn.
Luke tucked in his shirt and buckled his holster, wondering whether the crash truly came from beyond the doors.
Maybe it was the sound of dread lodged in his heart.
Trick yourself into believing it’s nothing more than a mere storm. You have to or you’ll go mad.
Another brief bolt gave him a glimpse of Glory. She dressed slowly, pulling on each item of clothing as if it were one more burden placed on her weary shoulders.
A cough dislodged the lump in his windpipe. “I’ll climb to the loft. I should be able to find what I left.”
She didn’t need to know he’d already found it.
Nope. Because keeping her wasn’t part of the bargain he made with himself. Watching and not being able to claim her for his own would…well, let him just say it wasn’t something a man could do. Might as well yank out his innards and stomp on ’em. Hell, at least leaving might save something.
“Don’t forget to watch for snakes,” she called softly.
Feet of lead tended to move very slowly. Several feet away, he propped himself against a stall, staring at the vision of her. Far enough.
He’d lied, but Glory would never know. Each flash of light bought a second more of heaven.
Dressed now, Glory called, “Did you find what you’re looking for?”
Everything and more.
Luke wiped traces of wetness from his eyes and retreated farther so she wouldn’t guess he’d been watching.
“Yep. Sure did.” Forced lightness didn’t come easy. He’d need practice if he kept this up.
She appeared relieved when he dropped beside her. Luke reckoned she’d not grown as accustomed to the shadows as she let on. Or could be the storm created the jitters.
“I left before saying goodbye last time.” He absorbed the fragrance of her to take with him.
“A bad habit of yours.” Her composure showed signs of cracking.
Damn.
The important matter he’d forgotten, a bit of paper, scraped his palm even though he held it with great care. He lifted Glory’s left hand.
“I meant to give this to you then but I was afraid.”
“You, McClain? I thought only snakes scared you.”
“A whole mess of things scares my socks off.” Most of all riding off, knowing he’d never return. Either six feet under or making himself at home down Mexico way, this was the end of the trail.
He slipped the cigar band on her middle finger and laid her hand back in her lap.
“What is it?”
“A token to remember me by.”
“You speak as though you won’t be…”
The catch in her voice punched him in the gut. He shouldn’t have come. No one would emerge a winner. Even as he whipped himself, he knew no power on earth could’ve kept him away. He found the frank assessment bitter. She’d pay the price for his selfish desires.
“Most likely I’ll not see you again.”
“Does it pertain to the robberies and Mrs. Tucker’s murder? If so, I don’t care. Whatever you are or have done can’t change the way I feel.”
“Even should you discover I’m guilty?” he asked softly.
“Nothing…on this earth can ever change my heart.” Glory grabbed his arm. “Promise you’ll come back. Please.”
“Can’t. What I do is too dangerous for you to know.”
She bit her knuckle until Luke expected to see blood. Probably in desperation to still the tremble of her lip. Lord knew he fought the same band of steel that threatened to squeeze the life from him. He’d reached into the wretched depths of his soul, a place where nothing but truth dared enter. He found the harsh reality of what he saw a weighty cross to bear.
She felt her hand. “But what did you put on my finger?”
“A cigar band, a symbol of my feelings for you that you can hold. Shoot, maybe you’ll even tell folks the cowboy who came calling wasn’t such a bad sort after all…should circumstances take a turn.”
How they could get much worse he didn’t know, for surely death couldn’t impose the type of misery gripping him now. He winced, forcing breath into his raw lungs.
“This danger…let me help you.”
Luke chose to ignore the plea that shredded his control. He’d rolled the dice before he turned toward Day property and they’d come up double sixes. It was too late to change course.
“If I win, your father will be a free man.”
“And if you don’t?”
A jagged flash revealed her ashen face. He’d already lost what he spent his whole life looking for. Sucking what little air remained, he gathered her into his arms.
Then she tilted her face.
Have mercy! If anyone had said looking at someone through tears could form halos around their head, he’d have called them crazy fools.
He kissed the sightless, stonewashed eyes. Then the tip of her nose. Despite his intent to stop there, he could not. A groan rumbled in his throat. Trembling under her spell, he teased the curved mouth with tiny flutters of his tongue before he feasted fully on the beauty.
Just then Patience bounded inside. “He’s gone! You can come back inside.”
Damn that girl! Luke raised his head. “Over here.”
Best end it now. He moved back and let go of his hold before he took leave of the drop of sense he had left. Before he pulled her back to the hay. And before he forgot he had a long way to go before the dawn.
“Mr. Luke, you don’t have to hide anymore.”
Little did she know.
Puddles formed at the girl’s feet as rain slid from the bright-yellow slicker. A similar one for Glory draped from her arm.
“’Preciate it, Punkin.” He tweaked her nose. “Gotta make tracks.”
“Ain’t you staying the night? The storm’ll drown you.”
Under these circumstances, he considered drowning an improvement.
“Luke?” Glory’s strangled cry almost broke him.
“Can’t. It’s gotta be this way, darlin’.” He cupped her face in his palm. “Shh. Let Punkin take you back to the house. Don’t worry about me. Just keep picturing your papa sitting in his own parlor. He will be soon. Trust me.”
“But—”
His lips smothered her complaint. Slow and deliberate, he took everything she gave. And when her mouth parted, he thrust his tongue inside to savor one last taste. A man racked with guilt, he pushed her toward the door.
“Now scoot. I’ve got things to do.” He turned, settled his hat firmly on his head, and took a fi
nal look around the place that would linger in his memory until he departed this earth. Then, he closed his eyes against the awful pain that dropped him to his knees.
* * *
The morning came much too soon to suit Glory. She drew herself into a small ball, cursing the day that saw fit to turn a deaf ear to her prayers.
She recognized the footsteps entering the alcove, choosing to ignore the intrusion.
“Are you sick?” Hope’s concern filtered past the grief.
Glory lifted her head from the tearstained pillow. The feather mattress sank as her middle sister perched on the side. Ill? That didn’t begin to cover this purgatory she’d fallen into. “Can’t a body lie abed without everyone asking why?”
“You didn’t come to the breakfast table and I wondered.”
The thought of food didn’t sit well. “Not hungry.”
“Aren’t you coming to church with us?”
Sitting through a sermon on varying degrees of sin held no appeal whatsoever. “I don’t think so.”
“You’ve been crying! Did something happen last night?”
“Luke’s gone.”
Despair crawled from that inner catacomb where shattered dreams went to die.
“He’ll be back.”
“No, not this time. He said goodbye.”
“If it’s only a quarrel, you can make amends.”
Dear God, she wished it were that simple. Disbelief riddled her hope. It was a small miracle she could continue to breathe with a heart that had stopped beating. Her and Luke’s disagreement? Only in the killing of two lonely souls. She fingered the cigar band he’d placed on her hand, the token of his caring.
“Nothing like that. Now, can you leave me?”
Hope lay on the bed and stroked Glory’s back. “You’re the glue, the driving force, that holds Mama, Patience, and me together. We can’t let you give up on life simply because you got a raw deal. I refuse to do that.” A quiver filled her voice. “If you’re not strong enough to fight, I’ll do it for you until you can get some starch back in your spine.”
Patience spoke, throwing herself on top of both her sisters. “And me too.”
