“I’ll get it from Shane’s place, Dorie. I know where he keeps it.”
Dorie stared at Jeremiah.
“Well, I ain’t never took a shot myself, but I know where the bottle is.” Jeremiah lifted his chin defiantly and Dorie saw something of herself in that particular gesture.
Dr. Renfrow chuckled.
Dorie shot him a stern look, but the old doctor just kept on smiling all the way out her front door.
“I’ll see he gets something for the pain.”
The doctor climbed up onto his horse. “I’ll be back day after tomorrow. You send your brother if you need me before then.”
“Thank you, Dr. Renfrow. I will. But I’m hoping Shane won’t need any more help.”
He tipped his hat and took off.
Dorie hurried back into the house and entered her bedroom. She decided she’d put the finishing touches on the gown she’d been working on right here in her own room, where she could keep a constant vigil with Shane.
“Wonder what Mrs. Whitaker would think of you sleeping with Shane tonight, Dorie?” Jeremiah cast her a solemn look.
“Oh, for goodness sake, Jeremiah, the man is out cold. And…and I don’t think I’d get much sleep worrying over him all night if I wasn’t in here. Besides, Mrs. Whitaker doesn’t have to know the specifics of my care for Shane, does she?”
Jeremiah narrowed his eyes. “You want me to lie?”
“No, just sort of lasso around the truth a bit. We don’t have to mention me sleeping next to Shane.”
“I could take turns with you, Dorie. I could watch over Shane.”
Dorie chose her words wisely, not wanting to rile her brother any more than he seemed to be. Suddenly, her thirteen-year-old brother had become both her conscience and her judge. “You need your sleep, Jeremiah. Shane’s gonna need your help in the morning. You’re gonna have to ride out, fetch the Boyds and work his ranch tomorrow, at least for part of the day. His horses need tending and he’d appreciate you checking on his herd.” She didn’t add that Jeremiah was too sound a sleeper for her to trust him with Shane’s care. He’d probably wind up fast asleep next to the man within minutes. No, Dorie couldn’t trust anyone with Shane’s care but herself.
“I’ll do that for Shane, for sure.”
“He’ll be thankful. Now you go on. Get to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Jeremiah cast a final worried glance at a still and pale Shane, then bid her good-night.
Dorie had finished the gown she’d been working on an hour ago. Satisfied with her accomplishment, she’d folded the gown neatly and hid the garment, where she hid all the gowns she sewed, in a large cedar trunk just under the bedroom window.
She yawned, feeling tired and ready for bed. She pulled out her nightdress from her mother’s old armoire and turned her back on Shane. He’d been asleep most the day so she’d be assured her privacy, undressing in the far corner of the room.
Once done, she climbed in next to Shane, taking a cool cloth to his forehead. Moping his brow, she noticed his skin moist from perspiration. She prayed he wouldn’t become feverish through the night.
Finally she dozed, sleeping lightly enough to wake and check on Shane every hour or so. It was past midnight when she heard Shane groan, a deep guttural cry of pain. He squirmed and made slight movements on the bed, his face contorted with discomfort.
Dorie didn’t hesitate. She spoke to Shane quietly. “Open your mouth, Shane. I have something for the pain.”
Shane kept his eyes closed, but gave her an almost imperceptible nod. He opened his mouth slightly and Dorie put the whiskey bottle to his lips. She poured the liquor in slowly, drop by drop, gently commanding him to drink up.
Dorie kept up this cycle throughout the night. Each time Shane grunted in pain, she poured more whiskey down him, hoping to ease the sting of his injury. Finally, after several hours of mopping his brow, making him comfortable on the bed and dosing him with alcohol to relieve his pain, Shane slept.
And so did Dorie.
Shane opened his eyes to darkness. His head swam with fuzziness, and it took a moment for him to recall the pain on his side that nearly crippled him. That nagging ache seemed better now. His mind, however, was muddled, and as he turned his head to one side a glimmer of predawn light shone on a woman lying by his side.
An angel with coppery red-gold hair, wild about the pillow, and a lovely peaceful face slept beside him.
Dorie.
Shane glanced about the room, too confused to figure where they were. He’d never seen this room before, or so it seemed. Then his gaze wandered over to the night table, where he noticed an inch of whiskey left in a bottle. Suddenly he knew why his side felt better while his head jumbled like jumping beans.
He was drunk.
And lying in bed with Dorie.
Shane felt a stirring below his waist.
He looked at Dorie’s sleeping form and, unable to resist, he reached out to touch her cheek.
She opened her eyes. “Shane,” she breathed out. “You’re awake.”
“Just barely, honey.”
“That’s good, Shane. Real good.”
“Why are you in bed with me?”
“I’ve been caring for your, uh, injury.”
“Plying me with whiskey?”
“That, too,” she whispered. “Dr. Renfrow said to give you whiskey for the pain.”
Shane cracked his lips apart in the smallest smile. “I’m feeling no pain now.”
“I’m glad.” Dorie’s sky-blue eyes danced.
“God, you’re pretty,” he said, his addled brain shutting down. He really felt no pain now and all his inhibitions took flight. The sweet stirrings in his body intensified and, ignoring the warnings at the back of his mind, he whispered, “Come closer, Dorie.”
Dorie didn’t hesitate. She scooted closer to him. Her female scent invaded his senses and he gazed down as early light cast a glow on a nightdress that silhouetted Dorie’s womanly body. “What is it, Shane?”
“This,” he said, bringing his mouth to hers. He claimed her lips with gentle firm pressure and her generous response nearly rolled him from the bed. She made soft sounds and wiggled closer. Shane continued to ignore the fuzzy warnings in his head.
He drove his fingers into her hair, threading through the silky texture at the same time he drove his tongue into her mouth. They kissed that way for long moments, openmouthed and frenzied. The ache to his side didn’t compare to the growing ache below his waist.
Heady sensations washed over him. He couldn’t remember a time he felt so damn good, so glad to be a man and so damn happy to be alive and in bed with a beautiful woman. Shane slipped the nightdress off Dorie’s shoulders. He kissed her there and moved his lips lower, until he found the soft creamy texture of her breasts.
She cooed, “Oh, Shane.”
“Tell me to stop, Dorie,” Shane said, his mind not wrapping around the idea, but a muddled sense of decency coming through.
Dorie didn’t want Shane to stop. She recalled the night in that shanty when she’d kidnapped him and the wonderful way he’d made her feel then. She’d dreamed of him so many nights after that and daydreamed of being with Shane this way. She’d never given her body to another man and doubted that she ever would. It would always be Shane Graham. “Don’t…stop, Shane.”
He tugged harder on her nightdress and it fell to her waist, exposing her chest to him. “Damn beautiful,” he said, reaching out to touch her.
His fingers grazed the tips of her breasts, and her belly tightened. Heat surged and she tingled all over. “Oh, Shane.”
Shane caressed her lovingly, his hands sure and gentle on her skin, but when he bent his head and kissed her, moistening her globes with his tongue, sweeping white-hot sensations spiraled down past her belly. She ached in secret places and found she needed to touch Shane in response.
She caressed his chest, stroking her fingers through fine curling hairs, feeling his strength and learning
the texture of his body. She’d touched him earlier, when she cared for his wounds, but this was different. This was powerful and potent and all-consuming.
He kissed her hard on the mouth this time, and his whiskey breath tasted heady, filling her with need. “Shane, is this what it’s like when a man claims a woman?”
She spoke the words straight from her heart, eager to know it all now—eager to find satisfaction and completion in Shane’s embrace.
Shane stopped kissing her. He blinked then blinked again. Pain contorted his face and Dorie thought his wound might have ruptured again. She feared the bleeding had begun anew.
“What is it, Shane? Your wound?” She reached out for him, but he held her arm away.
“It’s not the wound on my side, Dorie. Damn it, it’s the hole in my brain.” Shane flopped his head down onto his pillow, his eyes wide-open and clear now as new morning light filtered in.
“I don’t understand. You were kissing me, Shane. And I didn’t mind. I liked it and—”
“Quiet, Dorie! Don’t say another word. I’m sorry, damn it. So sorry for touching you.”
“Don’t be sorry,” she implored. “Just don’t be!”
Shane spared her a glance. He shook his head and helped lift the nightdress up, adjusting it into its proper place on her shoulders. “Pain and whiskey weaken a man, Dorie. But my head’s clear now and I’m as sorry as a man can be.”
Dorie was beside herself. She didn’t want Shane’s apology. She wanted him. All of him and she didn’t care if it wasn’t proper or fitting or ladylike. She glanced down his body to where the proof of his desire was obvious from beneath his long johns. Dorie had never seen a man in this state, but her instincts told her what it meant.
Shane wanted her, too.
Dorie drew in a breath. She bit down on her lower lip, then opened her mouth to speak.
“It’d be wrong, Dorie. Real wrong. I’m gonna marry Marilee. And where would that leave you?”
“You shouldn’t have to marry Marilee.”
Shane grunted. “A man does what he has to do to survive.”
“Do you get…this way when you kiss her?”
Shane let out a belabored sigh. “Dorie.”
“Well?”
“No, okay? I don’t get this way with Marilee, but it doesn’t matter. Now, you’d best get out of this bed. Jeremiah’s bound to walk in on us now that the sun’s up.”
Dorie nodded. “You’re right. He’d have a conniption seeing us like this.” Dorie rose from the bed and straightened her nightdress. She’d never understand Shane but she was sure glad he wasn’t more injured. Even if he’d just broken a piece of her heart, she wanted to see him healthy, just like before.
“I can’t say I’m sorry enough, Dorie.”
“There’s no need,” she said, her face downcast.
“But there is a need to thank you for caring for me. That longhorn got the best of me and I’m mighty sure you saved my life.”
“It was Jeremiah who found you.”
“Then, I’ll be sure to thank him, too.”
Dorie walked toward the door. “I’ll be back later, with some broth.”
“I’m not hungry.”
She turned to Shane. “Dr. Renfrow said you needed nourishment.”
“Dorie, about the only nourishment I need right now is at the bottom of that bottle.” He pointed to the bottle of whiskey. “Hand it to me, please.”
Dorie nodded and handed the bottle to Shane. She had a feeling he’d drink himself into oblivion with what remained of the liquor. And it wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing.
She wished she could do the same.
Dorie simmered broth on her cookstove. She added a few onions and carrots for flavor, but figured if Shane woke up, his stomach would rebel if she tried anything fancy. It’d be enough if she could get him to drink the broth for now.
“Is he awake yet?” Jeremiah asked, entering the kitchen, putting his hat onto a hook and taking a place next to Dorie by the stove.
“He was awake for a time this morning. He’s sleeping now.”
“It’s a good thing that he woke up, right?” Jeremiah spoke with nonchalance, but Dorie knew how worried he’d been about Shane.
“It’s a very good thing. Shane’s going to be fine in a day or two.”
Dorie didn’t know if the same held true for herself. She’d been the object of Shane’s desire for a brief moment and her heart and her body would never be the same. Shane had kissed her like he’d meant it, and touched her most private places. He’d made her feel womanly and desirable and she refused to believe it was the whiskey and pain that caused him to behave so. She wouldn’t believe it. Not for a minute.
Shane had wanted her and no amount of apologizing would change that fact. Shane Leopold Graham, for all his denials to the contrary, for all his claims of drunkenness and injury, had indeed wanted Dorie McCabe. She’d hold on to that fact for the time being.
If only he hadn’t committed himself to wedding Marilee Barkley. Or rather, committed himself to her father. Tobias Barkley had the means to ruin Shane. And he’d do it, too. He had money and power to spare.
Just like the Parkers. They had the ability to ruin Dorie’s life. They would take Jeremiah away, if her plan to fool them into believing she and Jeremiah had a fine life didn’t work. Dorie let out a deep sigh.
If only she and Shane were truly married, instead of just pretending. They’d spend their time raising Jeremiah, a herd of cattle and maybe a baby or two of their own.
If only…
“You’re burning the broth,” Jeremiah said, grabbing the wooden spoon from her hand. He stirred the soup and narrowed his eyes. “What’s got you all dreamy-eyed, anyways?”
Dorie wiped her hands on her apron and turned away from her brother. “Just, uh, thinking how things should be.”
“You mean you’re daydreaming about Shane again?”
She whipped around. “I don’t daydream about Shane.”
“Sometimes at night, I hear you in your sleep. You say his name.”
“I do not. And why are you spying on me anyway?”
“Not spying, really. Just checking on you.”
Dorie’s eyes softened on her brother. “You check on me?”
Jeremiah took a swallow and stirred the soup faster. “Well, I hear you talking up a storm. I got to make sure you’re all right, don’t I?”
Dorie smiled and walked over to Jeremiah. She put her arms around him and squeezed. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Jeremiah,” she whispered.
Jeremiah’s eyes misted and he turned away so Dorie wouldn’t see. “I don’t want to find out, Dorie.”
“You won’t. I promise.” Then she smiled with newfound enthusiasm and determination enough to see her plan through. “It’s all gonna work out.”
She ladled the broth into a bowl and picked out a large spoon from the cupboard, then draped a kitchen linen over her shoulder. “After I check on Shane, why don’t you pay him a visit. You can tell him how his livestock is doing. I’m sure he’d appreciate knowing you’re looking after things for him.”
“I will. I’ll come by to see him later.”
Dorie nodded and headed for Shane’s room.
Perhaps a real lady would find shame in what she and Shane had almost done this morning. Perhaps she should feel disgrace over their encounter. And maybe, too, she should experience mortification at having to face Shane again. But Dorie didn’t feel any of those things.
She couldn’t wait to see him, awake and alert.
She couldn’t wait to see him healthy.
She couldn’t wait to continue on with their lessons.
Dorie entered his room with a tray in her hands. “Oh!” She gasped and nearly tripped over her own feet when she saw what Shane was up to.
Chapter Six
“Shane, you take your pants off straightaway. And get yourself back in bed!”
Dorie rushed over to set the tray on the ni
ght table, infuriated at the scene before her. Shane had one leg inside his pant leg, while he balanced on the other. He struggled and she witnessed the twisted contortion on his pale face. She caught up to him just in time before he lost his balance and toppled over. She took the brunt of his weight, but the impact was far too much for her and they both tumbled down onto the bed.
Shane cursed up a storm as Dorie lay there, breathing hard, staring up at the ceiling. “What in heaven are you trying to do?”
“That’d be obvious.”
“Okay, forget that question. Why are you doing it?”
“I can’t lie around here all day. I’ve got a ranch to run, livestock that need feeding.”
Dorie raised herself up from the bed to face Shane. She glared down at his stubbornly set face. “You almost died out there on that range yesterday, Shane Graham. And now it looks as if you’re bleeding again.”
Shane touched his bandage, coming up with blood on his fingers. “Damn it.”
“And I’ll thank you to watch your language around a lady.” She lifted a haughty chin at him. If she’d learned anything from Mrs. Whitaker’s instruction, it was that a man should always show a lady respect.
Shane remained silent, his frustration visible on his pained face.
“Now hold still a minute. I’m gonna pull your pants off and sit you upright, then I’ll have to sop up this blood and redress your wound.”
Dorie did exactly that. With utmost care she removed Shane’s pants, pulling them off carefully, but making sure to keep his long johns in place. Then she helped him sit up on the bed. “I’ll be right back.”
Within minutes, she had fresh dressing for his wound, a bowl of water and the salve that Dr. Renfrow had given her. She unwrapped his newly soaked bandage and applied enough pressure to stop the rest of the bleeding. Then she applied the salve and redressed his wound with a fresh bandage. She wasn’t too gentle, either. Shaking her head, her anger escalated. “Would you just look at this, Shane? You were doing so well. The wound was healing fine. Lucky for you the stitches didn’t pull out. I stopped the bleeding and put the salve on again. You’d better not try another fool thing like getting up on your own and dressing yourself. Dang it, Shane, what’s Dr. Renfrow gonna think when he sees you haven’t made any much progress. Why, he’s gonna think that Dorie McCabe is a fool woman who doesn’t know how to care for an injured man, that’s what.
Abducted at the Altar Page 7
