Reese

by Lori Handeland

  Atlanta snorted, lowered his head, and threw his nose back up, narrowly missing Reese’s jaw. Reese sighed.

  They’d found him. Again.

  “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Reese met two identical pairs of blue eyes, framed by shaggy mops of straw-brown hair—his latest shadows, the Sutton twins. Saving their lives seemed to have made him their new best friend.

  “Papa said we didn’t have to help in the store today on account of we almost died.”

  Reese rubbed his forehead. “That was nearly a week ago, and you didn’t almost die.”

  “That’s not what everyone else says.”

  Stepping out of the stall, Reese gave the horse a final pat. “Well, that’s what I say. Carrie was in more trouble, and Rico saved her. Why don’t you follow him around for a while?”

  “He likes girls.”

  “So do I.”

  The twins scowled at Reese for a minute before deciding to ignore that issue and follow him anyway. Every time Reese had turned around this past week—after the hour of two o’clock—he tripped over a twin. So far he’d managed not to lose his temper—or his mind. But the cold sweat trickling beneath his hatband, and also down his back, was becoming tiresome.

  “Go home.” He spun, and they bumped into his belly. “I’ve got things to do.”

  “Can’t we help? We want to be like you.”

  Faces flashed before his eyes. The adoring expression might be the same, but those faces were different than the ones before him now.

  And long dead.

  Reese turned on his heel and stamped away. For once, the twins did not follow.

  But the ghosts did.

  *

  Mary sat on the porch each night in case Reese walked by. Perhaps if he saw her he might wander over.

  She’d sat here every night since the incident at the creek, but she hadn’t seen Reese, except from a distance.

  Silly old maid, she was. Silly old maid, she would always be. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t dream of a handsome, dangerous man coming to call. What could it hurt?

  The sound of the women practicing each morning, long after she left for school, had been a welcome distraction. Together the people of Rock Creek and the six hired men could save this town. Mary just knew it.

  Teaching this week had been a monstrous task with the continued excitement of the children, but she’d managed. The Sutton twins came in every day with a new story about Reese. They seemed to be following him all over town—whenever they weren’t in school.

  That afternoon, Reese had waved his hat at them and shouted. They’d hung their heads and watched him walk off; then, moments later, they’d glanced at each other and scampered after him again.

  Mary shook her head at the memory. The twins had found a hero, and that wasn’t all bad. With a father like Baxter Sutton, she had worried how they might turn out.

  Although Baxter had been extremely nice to her of late—falling all over himself trying to help her whenever she went into his store—he still wasn’t much of a manly example.

  Mary did not believe cowardice was in the blood. But if all those boys saw was a father with no gumption, how could they learn to become men worth their salt?

  Though a hired gun wasn’t exactly the best choice as a hero, the twins could do worse than emulate Reese. He was still a remarkable man. Too bad he didn’t seem to care much for children.

  “Mary!”

  The whisper was soft, but the desperation in the voice made her jump to her feet, searching the darkness for whoever had spoken.

  Reese lurched into view around the schoolhouse. Mary didn’t pause to think he might be as mad as the cougar at the river; she ran to him.

  His hat was gone, his hair as wild as his eyes. His shirt was half-buttoned, his chest damp with sweat. His skin had paled, the usual warmth of his flesh gone clammy. He stumbled, and she caught him in her arms. Luckily, he did not sag with all his weight. She was a strong woman, but she would fall too, and then where would they be?

  Reese clung to her like a child, and like a child, she held him, whispering nonsense against his brow.

  “What is it?” she asked when his trembling subsided a bit.

  “Don’t let them see me like this.”

  Desperation again—in his voice, in his eyes. “Who?” Her gaze swept the shadows surrounding Rock Creek. “Who don’t you want to see?”

  “The men. They’ve never seen me like this. And they never can.”

  The men? His men? That was a relief. When he’d staggered out of the darkness, she’d feared a secret sneak attack by El Diablo. And if the Devil had sneaked past the Rock Creek six, there would be hell to pay.

  Her relief was short-lived, however. Reese managed to gain his feet. His tortured expression made her breath catch.

  “Please,” he begged. “Let me come in.”

  She hesitated, not because she didn’t want him in her home; she wanted him there badly. But what she wanted, what she needed, what she dreamed, meant nothing in the face of his panic. She had never seen Reese show fear. Yet he was afraid of his men seeing this weakness—as only a strong man could be.

  Mary set her shoulder beneath his arm. “Come with me.”

  He let her lead him, which scared her more than anything else. What had happened to cause Reese to tremble and sweat and beg?

  They gained the porch and stumbled to the door. Mary managed the doorknob, but once inside, Reese’s legs gave out, and he fell onto the rug in the hall.

  She kicked the door closed and followed Reese to the floor. He murmured words that sounded like a prayer, and she leaned in until his breath brushed her cheek.

  “Smells like linseed oil and sunshine. Better than smoke and death. The guns hurt my ears. Too many faces, too young to die.”

  The war, Mary thought. There were so many men who had been crippled by it, and not just by losing a limb or an eye. Some had lost their minds, their hearts, their souls.

  What had Reese lost? And how was she going to give it back to him?

  Mary sat on her heels. Reese clutched the carpet. She brushed his damp hair away from his forehead, and his sigh drifted toward a sob. So she kept stroking his hair, something she’d wanted to do for a very long time. As the moments passed, they inched closer and closer until his arms were about her waist, his face pressed to her belly.

  If anyone saw them she would be ruined, despite the layers of clothing and the hard shell of a corset that kept her from feeling his warmth where she wanted to feel it the most. Still, his lips were pressed to a part of her where no man’s lips had been before, where none would ever be again. But Mary could not push him away, not even to save herself.

  She hummed a tune from memory and played with his hair. The peace that washed over them both was worth whatever happened later.

  Far too soon Reese shifted, then stiffened. Slowly, he sat up, and when he did, they were face-to-face, nose-to-nose, lip-to-lip.

  She kissed him. She couldn’t help herself. He might not love her, but he needed her. No one else ever had.

  Slowly, she moved her mouth over his. With gentle touches of her tongue, with movements of her lips, she tried to make him forget everything but her. She feared he would deny her what she craved—the chance to comfort him in the only way she knew how.

  Then he sighed and met her tongue with his own. Soft strokes, tiny nibbles at the fullness of her lower lip, the glide of his fingertips along the back of her hand, then the joining of palm to palm.

  “Mary,” he murmured. “I shouldn’t have come.”

  “Where else would you go?”

  She lifted the hand he did not hold and placed it against his chest. The thud of his heart echoed the pulse in her palm. Their gazes met; his slid away.

  She touched his face and tilted his chin until he looked into her eyes again. “Whatever happened, it doesn’t matter. It can’t be worth this agony. Tell me what hurts you so.”

  He jerked free of her touch, his body v
ibrating with tension once again. She feared he would stand up, walk out the door, and leave her holding nothing. Instead, he threw himself into her arms and buried his face in the curve of her neck.

  “Don’t make me tell you. At least not right now.”

  Reese held her too tightly, but she couldn’t pull away. Especially when his damp face stuck to her equally damp throat. It wasn’t that hot in her house.

  Mary cupped his face, lifted, then pressed her lips to his wet cheeks. No tear tracks, perhaps she was wrong.

  What did it matter if he cried or not? Did the lack of tears make him any less upset? Would the tears make him any less a man?

  She had been foolish to believe she could manage her feelings or his. Some things were unmanageable. As she held Reese in her arms and he clung to her, Mary’s lonely heart fell in love.

  Silly old maid. She’d loved him long before now—maybe from that first moment in Dallas when he’d asked if everything included her and he’d seemed as if he meant it.

  Mary had no illusions that Reese might love her, but he wanted her. Perhaps, just once, that would be enough. If she had to spend a lifetime alone, at least she would have a single night with the man she loved.

  She had wondered what she could do to give him back what he had lost. Maybe giving herself would do. Regardless, her body was all that she had.

  “Reese.” She pulled his hands from her waist and stood, not letting go of him lest he run. “Come with me.”

  Still disoriented from whatever he had been through in the shadows of his mind, he followed her like a child, down the hall to her room.

  In the doorway he hesitated. “I should go.”

  “Soon.” Mary reached for the cloth next to the washbasin. After dipping it into the tepid water, she returned and wiped his hot face, then his damp neck. Reese moaned.

  “Shh,” she soothed. “Let me make you feel better.”

  It was a testament to his state of mind that he did not argue but merely leaned against the casing and closed his eyes. She continued to wipe his heated skin, but too quickly the cloth became as hot as his flesh.

  She led him to her bed. “Sit.” She pushed him, but he resisted. “Sit, sit, sit!” she said, as he always did. “You’re too tall for me to reach.”

  Reese raised a brow at her tone, but he sat. Mary brought over the bowl of water and continued to wipe his face then the back of his neck. As he continued to let her, she became bolder, sliding the cool cloth over his chest and surreptitiously releasing more buttons on his shirt.

  Her back began to ache, hovering over him, so she placed the water on the floor and went to her knees. As if she’d opened the door of a stove, his heat brushed her face. Mary skimmed the cloth over his belly. Muscles jumped beneath her touch, and she stared at them, fascinated.

  Reese swore, grabbed her hand, and tossed the cloth into a corner. Seemingly of its own volition, her free hand reached for the ridges of his belly. Her fingertips grazed through the hair that covered his golden skin. He grabbed that hand too, and held both away from him. “Are you crazy?”

  She stared into his face, tight and harsh but no longer in pain. Instead, his green gaze burned as it touched her mouth. She licked her lips.

  He shook her. “Look at you.”

  She glanced down but didn’t see anything amiss. When she lifted her head, her confusion must have shown for he made a sound of impatience deep in his throat.

  “You need a keeper. You can’t ask a man like me into your bedroom, bathe my chest, touch my skin, then get down on your knees in front of me—” He cursed again and let go of her hands as if she were a leper.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You don’t. That’s the problem.”

  “I want you to teach me.”

  “Teach?” He covered his eyes with his long fingers and laughed, though the sound was far from amused.

  “Yes, teach me what happens between a man and woman. Show me the things I don’t understand. Someone has to. I want that someone to be you, Reese. Only you.”

  She curled her palms around his thighs. His breath rushed through his teeth on a hiss before his fingers encircled her wrists.

  He seemed angry, and for a moment Mary was afraid, not of Reese but of what she was doing to him. He’d been hurt enough, and if she was hurting him more, she would never forgive herself.

  “You’re making a mistake if you think I can kiss you and touch you and teach you but not take you. I’m not as tame as I appear, and I’m not the man I’d hoped to be.”

  “You think too little of yourself.”

  “And you think too much of me.” He moved one of her hands from his thigh to the hard length between them. “This is what I feel for you.” He pressed her palm to the ridge. “Sweet, virginal Mary.” He released her. “Now run away and hide.”

  He leaned back, as if expecting her to do it, but he was the one mistaken. Instead of running, she ran a fingertip up, then down, the pulsing heat beneath the black cotton.

  He snatched her wrist again. “What’s the matter with you?”

  “You wanted me to touch you.” She tugged on her wrist. “Let me touch you some more.”

  He gentled his hold, though he still held her hand away from his body. “This isn’t working. I wanted to scare you away.” She snorted and raised a brow. He almost smiled. “Mary, we can’t. Someday you’ll get married, and then—”

  “I won’t. I know who I am, what I am.” A thought occurred to her, and she glanced into his face with trepidation. “You want me, don’t you?”

  He hesitated, as if to deny it, and her heart fluttered; her stomach roiled. No one had ever wanted her, not even her parents. But after staring into her eyes for a long time, he sighed, and the fingertips of his free hand brushed her cheek. “Of course I do. I just don’t want you hurt. I’m still leaving. Whatever happens between us isn’t going to stop that.”

  “I never thought it would. I need you, Reese, and I think you need me. Just once, let me have this. Let me have you and you can have me. No one else need ever know.”

  Before he could refuse her again, she leaned forward and pressed her mouth to the fascinating ridges of his belly, brushed her cheek against the softness of his hair, let his scent flow through her and into her, then ran her tongue beneath the waistband of his pants.

  He growled and shoved his hands into her hair. Hairpins scattered, pinging against the ground like frozen rain. He pulled her mouth to his and kissed her hard, then fell back on the bed, dragging her after him.

  This was what she’d wanted; this was what she’d dreamed of. Reese in her bed, his mouth on hers, his hands against her skin. Yet the force of his need frightened her.

  One moment, she was atop him, the next, he gently lowered her to his side. As he kissed her, he fumbled with the buttons along the front of her dress. He could not seem to free a single one.

  She wanted his hands on her. She wanted his mouth where no one else’s had ever been. She lifted her hands, covered his. He trembled, then went still.

  “You asked if I wanted you.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “I want you so bad, I haven’t been able to think of anything else since you found me in Dallas. I’ve dreamed of touching you like this, and now I’m shaking so badly, you’d think this was my first time.”

  “It is your first time.” He raised his head and frowned. “With me.”

  His smile was the first smile of joy she’d seen on his face. She couldn’t help but reach up and touch his lips. He kissed her fingertips, and her eyes stung.

  “Let me take off a few layers. Women’s clothes are meant to be a prison. They hold us in.”

  “And keep us out.”

  “There is that.” She stood, turning away as she released the buttons on her bodice.

  “Mary?”

  She glanced over her shoulder and saw him light the lamp. A golden glow filled the room, washing over Reese as he reclined on her bed. He was so beautiful.

  “Cou
ld you turn around?”

  She’d led the man to her room, touched him intimately, begged him to teach her things she did not quite understand. Now he wanted to watch her undress.

  Why not?

  She shrugged the garment from her shoulders. The dress slid down her body, pooling at her feet. She found she could not look at him. Instead she concentrated on her task, tugging the strings of her corset loose and pulling the whale-boned device from her body, then tossing it to the floor. The thud echoed in the silence of her room.

  As she bent to unlace her boots, her hair fell across her face. With an impatient huff, she straightened and blew the strands out of the way. Reese stared at her as if she were an exotic creature that had stepped out of a picture book.

  “What?” she asked, startled at the intensity of his expression.

  “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

  She turned aside. “Don’t tease me now.”

  A sudden rustle, a sharp creak, and he stood too close. His hands descended upon her shoulders, heat against her chill, yet still she shivered. He turned her about so that her back rested against his front. Where her chemise did not cover her shoulders, the hair of his chest tickled.

  “Look,” he whispered.

  The mirror over her nightstand was just big enough to hold them both—Reese… and a woman she’d never seen before.

  Untamed golden hair curled about her face, the mass giving an illusion of roundness to the usual sharp planes of her nose and cheekbones. He slid a finger down that nose. “These freckles do sinful things to my insides. I’ve been wanting to put my mouth on them just to see how they might taste.”

  Her hated freckles, he adored, which made Mary see them just a bit differently. Her blue eyes shone against the flush of her cheeks, and the pale skin of her chest sloped to the rounded fullness of her breasts.

  His hand slid over her shoulder; a single dark finger circled the fading bruise from the rifle’s kick and made her remember when his mouth had traced the same path. She forgot that quickly enough when his finger traced the edge of the lace, then slid into the valley between her breasts. As she continued to watch, transfixed, his hand dipped inside and freed one rose-tipped breast, cupping the softness in his hardened palm.