by Nadia Aidan
Chapter Seven
With all his heart, Shane wished he could have ignored her. He wished he could pretend he was asleep and that Cherie’s broken sobs, muffled against her pillow didn’t tear at his heart. But he couldn’t ignore her nor could he pretend. He cursed himself and whatever had transpired in the past eight years to wound the woman who slept beside him. And yet, as much as he hated whatever it was that caused her pain, he welcomed it. To know she wasn’t the same woman who’d left him behind—a practiced seductress with selfish intentions and little regard for others—chipped away at the ice that had been locked around his heart since the day he’d awoken in that jail cell alone.
He turned over when another sob pierced his ears, his callused hand brushing against her bare thigh. She stiffened beneath his touch, but he didn’t stop the caress of his hand, letting it lightly skim along her leg, pushing her chemise out of his way. She lay there completely still, and he leaned into her, burying his face against the crook of her neck. He breathed her in, kissing the smooth flesh along the column of her throat.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered between tiny kisses as he gently rolled her over beneath him. He tugged her chemise down the length of her body casting it aside, still kissing every inch of her flesh until he once again hovered above her.
Their gazes clashed, and he sucked in a sharp breath at the crystal beads that glistened on her long lashes. Cupping her chin, he whispered those two words of apology again then he dipped his head, claiming her lips with his.
His kissed her deeply, almost reverently as he let his body convey the depth of his apology. With his lips, his hands, he worshipped her until she writhed and panted beneath him. Her thighs fell apart, and he settled between them, the hard jutting length of his cock pressing against her dripping slit.
As he pushed inside her soft, wet body, he knew everything between them had changed. He made love to her slowly, lovingly, like a lover who cherished his woman would. He closed his eyes and drove deeper inside her, knowing that was exactly what he was—her lover, and tonight there was no doubt that he cherished her. The revelation ate at him. After all she’d cost him, he was still besotted with her, but there was no point in denying it any longer.
Her soft curves cushioned him as he thrust into her harder, his cock tunnelling deeper. She clenched her eyes tighter as she shattered around him, her dewy sheath filling up with the juices of her climax as she cried out his name on a ragged moan, her nails digging into his shoulders.
He was powerless to stop the heady rush of pleasure that surged through him, as her pussy clamped down hard on his shaft. He shoved his length into her on one, two, three strokes before he erupted.
“I hate that I still want you so desperately, that I’m still so weak when it comes to you,” he breathed against her neck on a shattered cry as he pumped her body full of his seed, the words tortured as if they’d been wrenched from his very soul.
He slumped against her, and when he could finally breathe, he rolled off her, pulling her into the circle of his arms. Neither of them spoke because neither of them knew the right words to say. They simply laid there, holding each other, until sleep finally claimed them both.
* * * *
Cherie fumed. “I am not your wife.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“Well then, why do you have a list of chores here for me to do,” she railed at him, shaking the piece of paper she’d discovered beside her bed that morning.
Shane’s lips thinned into a tight line, and she could tell she was trying his patience. “Because the terms of your sentence state that you are to serve all my needs, and that includes cooking, cleaning and pleasing me anytime I so desire.”
She didn’t miss how his eyes flashed with lust, but she ignored the answering heat in her belly.
“In case you’ve forgotten, I have a brothel to run.”
“I haven’t forgotten, but I suggest you turn over those duties to someone else for now, because I imagine you’re going to be too busy ironing my shirts, cooking my food and warming my bed.”
Those had been Shane’s final words before he’d stomped out of his home for work that day three months ago.
Cherie stopped in the middle of ironing one his work shirts, a wry smile on her face as she recalled their argument. That day the thought of being his domestic servant had made her hackles stand on end. But now? Now, things weren’t so bad.
She’d turned over the everyday running of Every Desire to Eliza, who’d been there almost since the day doors opened was one of the few she trusted to keep things in order, while she went in once a week to manage the books. The rest of her time was spent playing house with Shane, and they had somehow slipped into a routine which, surprisingly, she didn’t resent. Actually quite the opposite. She liked the steady, normality of her life, and for once, she wasn’t antsy or bored.
Her first task had been redecorating, and she’d enjoyed that immensely, although, it was taking Shane a bit more time to adjust to the new look, she thought with a wicked grin. But they both knew his home had needed a woman’s touch. She’d brightened up the place with softer colours and inviting pieces of furniture that made his home more charming and welcoming.
As much as he complained about her changing up the place, she knew he liked it, and more importantly, she knew he liked her in his space. She stilled at the words he’d spoken after breakfast a few days back as he’d kissed her before he’d left out for work.
“I just may have to keep you.” The words had seemed to startle him, and he rushed out of there, but not before she’d caught the red tinge of embarrassment in his cheeks. She’d smiled after him, desperately trying to ignore the fluttering in her heart and the tiny hope that he’d ignited. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t do this—that she wouldn’t let him behind the wall she’d erected around her heart, but she couldn’t deny that she wanted to be kept by him, too.
There was a knock at the door, and she set the iron aside to answer it. Swinging the door open, a smile spread across her face when she saw her visitor.
“Well I’ll be damned. Cade said Shane had turned you into his little wife, but I woulda neva believed it had I not seen it with my own eyes.”
Cherie shook her head at the nickname her friend used for her husband, Wayne Kincaid, which they both knew he hated, just as they both knew Montgomery was the only person who could get away with it.
She stepped aside then to let Montgomery in and closed the door to give her a warm hug.
“What are you doing here?”
“Came to check on my best friend. I told you, I called my husband all kinds of a liar.” Montgomery sucked her teeth. “Damn it, you know I hate admitting when he is right. He gets all smug and cocksure.”
Cherie smiled. “I bet. Come in. Are you hungry?”
Montgomery’s warm brown eyes flashed. “He’s got you cookin’, too? Now, I have seen it all.”
Cherie shook her head as she pushed a plate of corn muffins towards Montgomery. “You know this is just part of my sentence. If I had my choice, I’d be back at Every Desire, and you know it.”
Montgomery’s eyebrows arched. “Do I?”
Cherie frowned. “What do you mean?”
Montgomery’s eyes swept over the room, a small grin teasing the corners of her lips. “This place is a vast improvement over Shane’s notion of home decorating.” Her eyes snapped back to Cherie. “And look at you. I swear I’ve never seen you happier, and Cade says the same about Shane. Says he wears a silly smile on his face most days, and Cade has even caught him whistling a time or two.” Montgomery’s eyes twinkled with knowing. “You’re in love—the both of you are—but then I knew you always had feelings for this Shane character,” Montgomery finished quietly.
Cherie fought against the wave of melancholy that washed over her at just how deep her feelings were for Shane.
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry,” Montgomery cried as she rushed over to Cherie to wrap her in her arms. “I di
dn’t mean to dredge up painful memories.” Montgomery drew back, her palms clasping Cherie’s face, forcing Cherie to meet her gaze. “I just thought that now that you have found each other again and that you’re both happy that you can try again.” Montgomery sighed. “I know how much you want a family…”
Cherie’s smile was weak. “But we weren’t trying then. That was an accident—a wonderful one,” Cherie added at the piercing look in Montgomery’s eyes. “But Shane doesn’t want to have a baby or any kinda family—at least not with me—and he’d be horrified if he knew a whore had given birth to his child all those years ago.”
“Cherie—” Montgomery said sharply, but her name was muffled by the sound of the front door slamming shut.
Shane swore his heart stopped as two pairs of frightened eyes swung in his direction, but he only saw one hazel set as he walked with measured steps inside his home.
“Montgomery, can you give Cherie and me a moment alone?”
She looked between the both of them, her gaze wary as she nodded. “Sure. Cade’s expecting me anyway, so I better head home,” she muttered hastily and slipped out the door, closing it shut with an ominous thud.
Shane’s hands clenched tight, and it wasn’t until something sharp pierced his flesh that he realised he still held the flowers he’d brought home for Cherie. He dropped them onto the kitchen table as if holding them a moment longer would sear his flesh. He must have looked like a lovesick fool—the same fool he’d been in that jail cell eight years ago. And to think, he’d gone and fallen in love with her all over again. He felt like an idiot, and he cursed himself for trusting her a second time when he knew she was nothing but a fraud and a liar.
“Forgive me, Cherie.” His eyes flashed with bitterness. “I don’t quite know where to begin. It’s not every day a man discovers a woman had his child and never once thought to share that with him in the eight years since they last saw each other.” He folded his arms across his chest. “So I don’t know. How should this conversation begin?”
She moved towards him, but when he drew back, she stopped.
“I know you’re angry—”
He stiffened, her words further igniting his fury. “Angry? Not even close. I’m disgusted that you’re such a liar. I hate that you’re such a manipulator. So much so that I can barely stand the sight of you.”
He brushed past her and stomped inside his bedroom, slamming it shut. His body shook with fury, and when his door slowly creaked open, he turned to her, struggling not to unleash the full weight of his anger upon her.
“Go away, Cherie—”
“I didn’t discover I carried your child for many months after that night.” She spoke softly, her voice shaking, even as she braved the pure rage that burned in his gaze. Any other time, he would have been proud of her defiance, but right now, he cursed it. He didn’t want to hear her farce of a story, but even so, he still stood there silent, allowing her to spew whatever lies she thought would placate him.
“I was stunned, of course, to learn we’d created a child that night, but I was also so happy.”
Her eyes filled with tears, but he steeled himself against the emotion he saw there. He knew from experience she was an actress of the worst kind
“All I ever wanted was to have a family—”
“And you got your wish. You married some old fool, raised my child with him until it got to be too much of a burden. So who’d you dump our baby off with? What relative or friend did you saddle with raising our child when you realised raising a baby was harder than laying flat on your back?”
Cherie closed her eyes as a deep, bone-numbing pain settled in her heart. Any hope she’d had that they could reconcile the demons of their past and move forward vanished with his callous words. She unknowingly touched her hand to her belly, steeling herself to simply form the words that even now tore at her soul.
“I gave birth to a beautiful little girl who died three days later. I named her Shannon Emily Duckett, after you,” she whispered as she lifted her gaze to his.
The look in Cherie’s eyes made his heart seize, joining a grief he’d never felt in his entire life. She’d had his child only to lose her three days later.
“I got married a year later, hoping to have the family I’d so longed for, but it wasn’t to be. First my baby, then my husband. I thought I was cursed. And it wasn’t until I met Montgomery and we became friends that I found the will to go on. Her fire matched mine, and we made a life for ourselves out here, but even with all that, it’s been a struggle. I’ve often wondered if I just wasn’t meant to have the two things that would ease the hole in my heart.”
Her voice broke, and Shane reached out to her but let his hand drop when she shrunk away from him and turned to leave the room.
He cursed under his breath. Again, he’d failed her. Again, he’d rushed to accuse her of something that she wasn’t guilty of. He followed after her. He didn’t deserve her forgiveness, but he was determined to beg for it until he somehow restored her faith in him.
He caught up to her and spun her around.
“I’m sorry—”
“You keep having to apologise, but if you would just trust me, the way I trust you.” She pulled away from him. “If you would just stop hurting me, you wouldn’t have to.”
The shame and remorse he felt were so great that when he opened his mouth to speak, he couldn’t seem to find the words. He tried again but stopped at the sound of a firm knock against his door.
He cursed when Cherie stepped around him and walked towards the bedroom. This was the worst time to have a visitor. He could feel her slipping away from him, and all he wanted was to spend the rest of the day trying to mend their frayed and broken relationship.
He flung open the door, ready to tell whoever it was to get lost.
“Deputy Marshal Duckett?”
Shane narrowed his eyes at the three men in neat grey tweed suits and matching caps. Pinkerton. They were from the detective agency based out of the East that was known to handle difficult cases in the territories.
“How can I help you?”
“Months back we received your telegraph that you’d apprehended the fugitive Cherie Parkins, but then there was no word from you.”
Shane stilled as he inwardly cursed. That damned telegraph. He’d sent it off the morning he’d hauled Cherie to jail—before he’d spoken with Wayne. He fought the urge to sneak a glance to his right, towards his bedroom. He just hoped Cherie didn’t decide to come out all of a sudden.
“There was no word because I made an error.”
The detective at the door narrowed his bushy grey brows over sharp eyes.
“An error? What kind of error?”
“I jailed the wrong girl.” Shane didn’t even flinch under the man’s scrutiny nor did he bat an eye at the lie he told. “Her name was Cherie, and she looked like Cherie Parkins, even worked at the brothel, but after further investigation I discovered she was not the Cherie Parkins from San Antonio.”
“And you’re sure?” The detective’s expression was speculative.
“Positive and my boss, Marshal Wayne Kincaid, can confirm this.”
“We already spoke with him, and that’s what he said about you.” The detective frowned as he scribbled something on the pad in his hand before he looked up again. He pinned Shane with a probing stare, but after several charged seconds he relaxed, seemingly accepting Shane’s statement when he tipped the brim of his hat with his hand. “Well, sorry for interrupting you then. If you come across Cherie Parkins, send another wire.”
Shane nodded. “I will.” He was amazed he didn’t choke on that lie. “Have a nice day.” He closed the door as the three men moved off his front porch towards their horses. As he stared out of his window, he didn’t let out a full breath until they disappeared from sight.
“You could have turned me in.”
His gaze snapped to Cherie, who stood in the doorway to his bedroom, her eyes full of questions. He made his way ove
r to her.
“Why didn’t you?”
As soon as he stood before her, he swept her into his arms, ignoring her shocked gasp just before he crushed his lips to hers. A storm of emotions flooded him, but none were stronger than the relief he felt and the love he had for her in his heart.
That had been a close call. He had no idea what he would have done had they insisted on searching the place. He could have lost her today, and if he couldn’t set things right with her now, he wasn’t so sure he wouldn’t lose her after all. His scars from the past made it hard to trust, to love, but the fact that he’d lied to a government agent, put his career and very freedom on the line for her, told him that as unbelievable as the thought was that he could love and trust this woman after everything that had happened between them, there was no doubt that he did.
He lifted his head and cupped her cheek, a smile spreading across his face at the dazed look in her eyes.
“Why would I turn you in when you’re already serving your sentence?”
She stiffened. “Of course. And you get so much more out of me serving time with you, warming your bed and cleaning your home, than you would if they hauled me off to prison.”
“Obviously.” He smiled then. “But I’m thinking we should modify your sentence a bit.”
Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, he lost his nerve at the naked anger in her gaze. He had no idea how she felt about him, not truly. He had a hunch, but after what he’d said to her…
He steeled himself for whatever resistance she put up. What they shared had weathered eight years and a rocky few months. He was determined to make her see that no other man would ever be able to fill that empty hole she spoke of earlier, just as he knew no other woman had ever been able to fill that void in his heart that had been there since the day she’d walked away. She loved him—he knew it. Just as there was no doubt that he loved her.
