The Outlaw Bride

by Sandra Chastain

  “Give me that nightshirt,” he said reluctantly, holding out his hand.

  Josie placed the white nightshirt in it and smiled, then pulled her lips into a fine line. The nightshirt was a small victory.

  Callahan found the bottom of the shirt and threaded it over his head. He might call her angel, but Josie Miller was a temptation. He joked about it, but it was a truth he ought to recognize and accept. He managed to get one arm inside the shirt, but the other one refused to lift itself.

  “Here, let me help,” she said, coming to his side. She threaded the shirtsleeve over his arm and the neck over his head, but smoothing the garment behind him wasn’t going to be as easy. “Do you think you could lift yourself if you put your arms around my neck?”

  “I’ll try.” He forced himself to a sitting position, hanging his arms around her neck and drawing his good side against her.

  Reaching around him was a stretch for Josie because he was so big, but she finally tugged the gown down his back and braced herself with her hands on the bed. He was too tall, too intense. The clean scent of her soap on his body was almost intoxicating, that and his male smell. Helplessly she leaned against him.

  He lifted himself against her and she jerked the nightshirt under his bottom, then reached away to brace herself. But his arms were still around her neck, and his hands were threaded through her hair.

  Josie’s breath caught in her throat, along with her voice. She gasped. “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what?” He fell back to the bed, pulling her with him.

  “Don’t …” But she didn’t know what to say.

  Callahan’s mouth covered hers, and Josie instantly knew what it was she wanted. Just for one moment Josie forgot everything she’d ever told herself she didn’t need or wouldn’t allow. In that moment she allowed herself to enjoy his mouth on hers.

  Callahan told himself he hadn’t intended to kiss her. He must have gone light-headed or he would never have done it. God only knew how long it had been since he’d kissed a woman. Since a woman’s mouth had opened shyly beneath his lips. But suddenly this one went stiff as a board and began to struggle. “What’s wrong?”

  “Don’t you dare try to take advantage of me, Callahan. I don’t kiss men.”

  He stopped trying to pull her back into his arms and softened his hold. “I’ve never taken advantage of a woman in my life, and I apologize if you thought I intended to now.”

  “Apology accepted,” she said. “Now, if you’ll just release me.”

  He rubbed her arms gently, moving up and down, touching loosely, reluctant to break the connection. “Why are you so frightened, Josie?”

  “I’m not frightened.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with kissing. You can leave anytime you’re ready. But I’d like to say thank you for all that you’ve done.”

  His hands slid down to her waist, pulling her closer. He felt the fabric of her dress, simple, unencumbered by undergarments that foolish women wore for the sake of style. Not Josie Miller. She was what she was, with no pretense. “I bet you don’t know how to kiss a man, do you?”

  “Of course I know how,” she snapped.

  But she didn’t. Deep down she was a shy, hesitant girl, not the in-charge doctor or the confident lawyer that she appeared to be.

  “Callahan,” she whispered, withdrawing in confusion. “You’re sick. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

  “If you mean I’m out of my mind, you’re probably right. You’ve been driving me crazy, touching me for the last few days. Now it’s my turn. You owe me at least one kiss, Josie Miller.”

  “But—”

  He kissed her again, and for a moment she stopped fighting.

  Lubina’s cheery voice came down the hall from the kitchen. “Miss Josie, your supper’s ready. I’ll come and look after Mr. Callahan while you eat.”

  Josie’s eyes flared and she jerked away.

  When Lubina walked into the room, Josie knew she’d been caught making a deal with the devil.

  6

  Normally, Josie fell asleep quickly and rarely dreamed. Tonight, she couldn’t be still.

  It was the heat, she decided. Not Callahan. Not the kisses, or how they’d made her feel. She needed to breathe the night air.

  Josie gathered the bottom of her gown, drawing it into a knot away from her legs, and padded through the house, across the enclosed courtyard. A full moon lit the valley, painting it with translucent silver. It was almost midnight, yet the heat was still ovenlike. The scent of roses hung sweet and heavy in the motionless air.

  “Evening, Miss Josie.” Wash’s voice came out of the darkness.

  Josie let the gown fall. She’d forgotten the old man was nearby. Though she was fully covered, her white nightdress made her stand out like a ghost in the moonlight. “Evening, Wash. Any word from Bear Claw?”

  “Not yet, ma’am.”

  “You don’t need to watch the house, Wash,” Josie said. “I’m sure my patient is no danger to me.” Her voice was a lot more confident than her convictions.

  “The sheriff said Dr. Annie would have my hide if I didn’t,” Wash protested. “So I take a turn about every so often.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured, grateful that the darkness hid the flush on her face, and kept walking.

  Independence Day had come and gone. In another week Dr. Annie and Dan would be back, and she would have to face their censure if they didn’t approve of her actions. But that was something she would worry about later. Right now she just wanted to find a cool spot. There was no dew on the grass, no moisture beneath her bare feet. The earth seemed parched.

  No sign of the black-and-white stallion either.

  At the riverbank, Josie paused, listening to the whispering of the current as it beckoned to the wild creatures who sought its coolness. She stepped into the water, and the hem of her nightdress tugged away from her, hanging on her ankles and pulling her forward.

  She felt very strange tonight, out of touch somehow with this land that had adopted her and given her a new beginning. She didn’t like the uncertainty of change unless she controlled the change herself. She had spent too many years turning herself into a woman who could make her own choices and carve her own way, as Dr. Annie had done. And, if the truth were told, she’d chosen a profession that gave her the right to be outspoken.

  Sims Callahan signaled a change that was not of her own making. She looked up. A falling star streaked across the inky sky.

  Perspiration rolled down her face and between her breasts. The heat grew, not only from the stillness of the night, but from inside her own body. Desperately, she reached down, cupping the cool water in her hands and splashing it on her face and neck. Not enough.

  She took a few steps out into the river and sank down to her knees, welcoming the sharp edges of the rocks on which she rested. Pain wasn’t new to Josie. Pain had driven her life and reminded her that no matter how far she’d come, beneath the Miller name and the fine clothes she wore, she was still nobody. She’d tried her best to become a lady, to five an orderly life in appreciation to Dan and Annie. But the truth was, underneath, she was still Joe, the street urchin.

  Her gown soaked up the river water and clung to her body. As it cooled down the heat, she felt her muscles begin to relax, her body breathe. Water tagged the rocks and seemed to laugh and move by. Life should be like that; a temporary meeting with an obstacle before sliding away and going on. She loosened her hair from its braid and leaned back, submerging her face in the water.

  Josie shivered. This tingly feeling was with her constantly now and had been ever since Sims Callahan had come into her life. She wished she’d never met him. She wished he weren’t an outlaw. She wished …

  Callahan tossed, hot and sweaty. His skin stuck to the sheet. But the heat increased the smell of Josie. The room, even the linen beneath him, was filled with her sweet scent. He closed his eyes and imagined her in bed beside him, her bare skin against his, her breasts, full and pin
k, waiting to be sucked. The thought of Josie, just beyond the walls of his room, was torture.

  If only he could get up and walk around, he’d put Josie out of his mind. He forced himself to his feet, and by taking slow, careful steps, he reached the covered courtyard. The scent of flowers that filled the night air was so overpowering that he could hardly breathe. A horse nickered softly, and from the mountains in the distance came the call of a coyote.

  He waited until he’d marshaled enough strength to move again and made his way to the wall beneath the courtyard roof.

  The moon was as bright as a million lamps, and Callahan felt exposed, even though he was hidden in the shadows.

  What in hell had possessed him to kiss her again, and why was he worrying about it now? He ought to be worrying about Ben. But it was Josie who had him wearing a ruffled nightgown. Josie had officially turned his innards into clabber.

  She might have been a wild street urchin who’d clawed her way to the top, but now Josie Miller was a member of the most prominent family in Laramie. Long ago he’d given up the right to care about a woman, especially one who’d achieved so much. There was nothing left inside him but the charred remains of a man who had lost too much, too fast. That life for Sims Callahan died when the plantation back in South Carolina had burned.

  Callahan slid along the wall to the bench beneath Josie’s window and sank down. He unbuttoned the front of his nightshirt. The hot night air dried the perspiration beading his chest. He’d been practicing moving about at night when everyone was quiet, but this was the first time he’d left the house on his own two feet. He wasn’t positive, but he thought he’d been here for about a week. Now for a few moments out here tonight, he felt free.

  But he couldn’t fool himself. He wasn’t free. He was tightly bound to this house and this woman by more than just wounds. Wanting her had made Callahan admit to a side of himself that he hadn’t acknowledged in a long time. A deep longing, a need to belong, to have someone to touch, someone to connect with physically.

  Frustration closed over Callahan, a frustration all the worse because he couldn’t see a quick way out of the aftermath of wounds so incapacitating that he couldn’t yet mount his horse and search for his brother without help. Suddenly, from the darkness, came a sound. Someone was walking in the courtyard. Bare feet moved across the hard earth like the kiss of a spider building its web. Sound turned into substance when a figure wrapped in sheer white fabric moved into the moonlight. Golden hair turned silver. Gown translucent, nearly nude. The woman looked like a marble statue he’d once seen in a museum. Except this woman was real.

  She came closer, walking slowly, her arms crossed over her breasts. Then she stopped, not two feet from where he was sitting in the darkness. Her arms moved away from her body like unfolding wings. She began to sway. Her feet moved slowly, lifting her body as she danced on her toes.

  Josie.

  Callahan had never seen anything so beautiful. There was no music, except the magic of the inner song that moved her. More graceful than he’d ever thought possible, his clumsy Valkyrie became the angel he’d called her.

  He must have made a sound, for she suddenly stopped.

  “Wash?” she asked in a whisper. “Who’s there?”

  “The devil,” he answered, more roughly than he’d intended.

  “Callahan? How’d you get out here?” She ran toward him in quick mincing steps.

  “I walked. I needed to move. Where have you been?”

  “To the river. I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Neither could I. Please, sit down.”

  She hesitated, then sat beside him and leaned back against the house.

  “You’re wet,” he said. “God, how I’d like to lie down in the river, feel the fresh cold current roll over me.”

  “It’s too far. Would you like me to prepare a basin of cool water for you to bathe yourself?”

  I’d like you to lie with me, in that river, beneath the moon. “No.” His voice was tight and low. “It wouldn’t be the same.”

  “Here, let me help you get back inside.”

  “Yes” was all he said.

  She leaned over and gently slipped one arm around his chest and the other on his hip. “Ready?” she asked a little breathlessly.

  He could have told her that he could do it himself, but he didn’t. “I’m ready.”

  Callahan knew he shouldn’t lean against her, but he couldn’t stop himself. At least that way he couldn’t see her nipples peeking through her sleeping garment. Despite her wet clothing, she radiated an energy, an inner turmoil that fed the heat and the sweet scents of the night. She moved closer and her breasts pressed against his bare chest, nipples beaded like icy pebbles. Sweet torture.

  “I have to let you go,” Josie said, struggling to handle his weight. She let go of one arm and moved her hand to his chest where she felt the rapid beat of his heart beneath her fingertips. Unconsciously, she leaned against him, as if she were the injured one and he was her strength. It was as if they were the only two people on earth. But they weren’t, and he wasn’t strong enough to stand.

  “Let me move around to your side,” she said. “You can lean on me and the wall.”

  “Not yet,” Callahan said, pulling her against him. And then he was kissing her again, just as he’d wanted from the start. A surge of passion swept over him, washing away every restraint, enveloping them both in its power like the current of that river he’d longed for. His hands slid down her back, cupping her intimately against him. Her womanly needs seemed to match his own.

  His tongue sought the opening of her mouth, inviting, insisting, and she let him in, allowed him to taste her, to make love to her mouth as his body joined in the rhythm. His left hand moved downward, seeking and finding a full breast. She held her breath for one long moment.

  Callahan found his way inside her nightdress and was soon rewarded by the touch of her bare breast. The tremors she set off as she caressed his chest almost undid him. He pressed his throbbing body against hers, refusing to let go, not without touching her—there, where he longed to be, inside her.

  He slipped his hand lower and reached for the hem of her gown, lifting the wet garment. Then he pressed his hand against her womanhood, slipping his fingers into the V of her thighs. She shuddered at his touch.

  “Callahan,” she gasped, and tried to pull away. Callahan pressed his lips against hers once more, not gently this time, but with all the urgency he felt. After struggling for a moment, she met his motions thrust for thrust, tightening her muscles and arching her lower body. There was a deep moan and then a shudder. Her release came with a rippling intensity that surprised him and left Miss Josie Miller wide-eyed and stunned.

  “What …” she whispered, “what did you do to me?”

  “I just loved you, darlin’.”

  “But …”

  Josie seemed frozen for a moment. As the last throb of her body dissipated, she shook her head and turned around, pulling his good arm over her shoulder and reaching behind her to clasp his back. “Lean on me,” she said. “If you can’t walk, I’ll drag you.”

  They made their way along the wall. Once inside, she eased him onto the bed, then stumbled toward the open window.

  Neither of them spoke for a long moment.

  Finally, she said, “I don’t want to talk about what just happened, Callahan.”

  “Good. Talking never does justice to loving.”

  “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call it that. In fact, I’d appreciate it if you never mentioned it again.”

  “I won’t mention it, Josie. But it happened, and it won’t ever go away. Every time we look at each other it will be between us.”

  “Then I won’t look at you,” she snapped, and turned around.

  “Well, fine,” Callahan said wearily. “But understand that tomorrow I have to get out of here. And you’re going to help me. If you don’t, this will happen again. Except the next time, it won’t be my hand that loves yo
u. Do you understand?”

  She gasped and in a second was gone.

  Callahan was more than willing to put what he’d done behind them, too—but his body would take more convincing.

  Love was something out of a storybook for Josie. After all, she’d spent her childhood in a house of prostitution, seeing too much to believe that she’d ever want a man. She’d never believed in the wild, overwhelming kind of lovemaking she’d just experienced until now.

  And there was the issue of babies. Lovemaking made babies, and Josie never intended to have them. She felt awkward when she was around little ones. It had taken her a long time to hold her little sister.

  Josie flung herself down on her parents’ bed, but quickly rebounded when images of Dr. Annie and Dan making love flooded her mind. Of course they made love. They’d conceived a child, Laura.

  Dr. Annie and Dan were so close that one could start a sentence and the other would finish it. What they shared was discreet, but Josie had seen the way they looked at each other, and she’d seen Dan give Annie an intimate pat on her bottom or a kiss when he thought they were alone. That had to be love.

  Love was many things—from her aunt and uncle’s lusty, I-don’t-care-who-knows openness to Dan and Annie’s quiet sharing. But it was not what she had seen from the men who visited her mother, seeking temporary satisfaction for only themselves.

  Tonight, Callahan had given her pleasure without asking anything in return. And he’d called it loving her.

  He’d been right about what had happened between them. Their need for each other was too strong to be ignored. It moved of its own volition and touched the other, spreading like a prairie fire burning out of control.

  As the sun came up over the Laramie Mountains, Josie made a decision. She had to take drastic action. She would have to let Callahan go.

  Josie found Bear Claw in the kitchen the next morning when she went in search of breakfast.

  “Good morning,” she said, having learned long ago that the Indian moved at his own speed. She’d find out why he was here when his stomach was full.