The girl looked up at them. “Hide.” Her voice was full of fear.
She ran down the hallway, her shoes nearly sliding on the shiny wooden floors. Sarah felt a frisson of fear snake through her. She met Whitman’s gaze and he looked as worried as she felt.
“What do you suppose scared her?”
“I don’t know but we need to find out.” Whit opened the door and peered out. “Stay here.”
Sarah snorted and followed him out the door. “What makes you think I would stay put?” She made her way down the small set of stairs, thankfully without falling on her head.
Micah and Eppie had left fifteen minutes earlier, so no one was around but Sarah, Whitman, and a frightened little girl.
Whitman was halfway across the backyard when a shadow darted between the carriage house and the trees.
“Did you see that?” she hissed.
“Yes, now get back in the house, woman. Now.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Sarah could protect herself. Whit should know that after all they’d been through.
There was no way she’d allow herself to be hurt again. Beneath her hand, the cane was warm against her skin. The deadly knife in her sleeve was comforting. Sarah was armed and ready for whoever or whatever threatened.
Whit was at the edge of the trees before Sarah reached him. He disappeared into the gloom, the leaves and sticks cracking beneath his boots.
She stopped and listened and heard a second set of feet in the woods.
“Whitman, look out!” She started toward where she’d seen him as fast as her crippled damn leg could carry her.
The sounds of a struggle bounced around the trees. By the time Sarah reached where she’d seen him, the sounds had stopped. The silence made every hair on her body stand on end.
“Whit?”
As expected, he didn’t answer. Blood rushed around in her veins as she readied for whatever battle was about to be hers. Someone had come to steal her life away from her and she wasn’t going to let it happen.
If Whit had been killed, then whoever it was would soon join him.
Sarah pulled the top from the cane and it made a swoosh of metal as the ten-inch-long blade was revealed. With her other hand, she slid the dagger from its pocket in her sleeve.
“Come on then! Let’s get on with it!” she called to the trees. “Afraid of a crippled woman?! Do you have a pair of balls or not?!”
A rustling noise came from her left. She watched as a figure appeared in the shadows of the trees, pulling something behind it.
Then she realized the something being dragged was Whitman. Another man had him by the arm and was pulling him through the leaves with no regard for the sticks and rocks beneath them.
Sarah checked her balance and tightened her grip on the weapons.
When the man came closer, the world shifted beneath her feet. There before her stood the man who’d raped her, crippled her, and cut off her finger.
Her heart stopped beating for just a moment.
The sheer terror of being beneath the man returned, and it felt as if she’d run into a brick wall. It stole her breath and turned her back into a seventeen-year-old girl hiding in the cobwebs of the root cellar.
The very last person she expected to intrude on her life was this man. This poor excuse for a human being who found pleasure in hurting others.
Sarah grew dizzy with lack of air but she was finally able to suck in a lungful. She knew the man was waiting for her to speak, but her voice was still stuck in her throat.
He was as big as she remembered, gap toothed and ugly but dirtier, with a full, greasy beard and a big stomach. The one thing that definitely hadn’t changed, however, were his eyes. They were as cold as death.
“Go away, bad man!” Miracle called from somewhere in the house.
“Come down here and I’ll teach you a lesson, you little shit!” The man rubbed a bloody spot on his temple. “That little bitch threw a rock at me.”
Miracle’s courage gave Sarah the time and the boost to find her own.
“Get out of here before I kill you.”
The idiot had the audacity to laugh. “Kill me? Listen, missy, I just about split your man’s head in two. I don’t plan on leaving before he’s dead.”
He kicked Whitman in the ribs and Sarah heard a sickening crack.
“I’m going to give you one more chance to leave, and then I’m going to enjoy killing you.” Sarah didn’t even recognize her own voice.
The threat on Whitman’s life, and on sweet Miracle’s life, had pulled the fear that had been lingering deep down inside Sarah and thrown it aside.
It was time to fight.
“What’s your name, sugar? I feel like I know you.”
This time it was Sarah’s turn to laugh. “You have no idea who I am, do you?” She pointed the dagger at him. “You came to hurt Whitman, didn’t you?”
He kicked Whitman in the back. “Hurt him? Nah, I came to kill him.” His smile would probably scare the fur off a squirrel.
Sarah knew Whitman’s life was in her hands. There was no one else around to help her except herself. She had to be stronger and more agile than she’d ever had to be.
“Well, isn’t that too bad. I’m going to kill you instead.” Sarah bared her teeth and readied herself for battle.
The stranger circled around her, watching her. She somehow found the balance she needed to keep turning as he walked. Sarah’s heart was beating so hard, she was afraid it would burst from her chest.
“You don’t look strong enough to kill a bird, much less a man like me.”
“You’re not a man, you’re an animal. Makes you easier to take down.” Her jab hit home, judging by the red flush that spread across his cheeks.
“You’ve got a smart mouth.”
“I’ve got a smart brain too. Better to defeat you with, you disgusting piece of dog shit.” Sarah felt better with each word that burst from her mouth.
“I’m going to enjoy watching you suck my dick with that smart mouth.” He lunged toward her and Sarah had only moments to react.
She whirled to the right and sliced at him as he went past her. A blossom of red appeared on his shirt and Sarah growled in triumph.
She didn’t celebrate long, however, because he regained his balance and grabbed her arm. Sarah pulled the dagger up and stabbed his shoulder.
He howled and punched her so hard, she saw stars. Yet she didn’t fall.
“You bitch.” He punched her in the stomach and she sliced him in the neck.
Blood sprayed everywhere, including in Sarah’s eyes. She stumbled as he launched himself on her. His hands wrapped around her throat as she struggled for breath.
His weight kept her pinned to the ground as rocks dug into her back. The blood temporarily blinded her, but she could still see him in her mind’s eye.
The bastard had tried to strangle her before, so long ago, and she’d fought until she’d passed out. Not this time, however. This time one of them would die.
Whitman came into consciousness after a scream echoed through his head. His body screamed in protest when he rolled over. It felt as if he’d been stomped by a horse.
He heard another scream and realized it was Sarah. Whitman got to his knees and shook his head, willing away the spots. That proved to be a mistake when he almost passed out again.
A grunt and a man’s shout brought him back to the here and now. Sarah was in trouble.
Whitman looked up and tried to focus on the two figures struggling in front of him. A spray of blood told him it was a deadly battle and someone was losing.
With a mighty groan, he got to his feet and staggered over in time to see a man drag Sarah to the ground as he choked her. Whit fell to his knees and realized he wasn’t going to be able to save her.
He crawled to her, desperate to save the woman who owned his heart. “Sarah,” he croaked.
The man on top of her rolled off and Whitman howled in agony. He’d killed her. God, that
son of a bitch had killed his Sarah.
Tears rolled down his cheeks as he crawled across the dirt to her. Sarah was covered in blood and lying there as still as death.
Whitman’s heart was torn asunder with the knowledge he’d been in the dirt on his knees while she’d been murdered. When he got closer, he realized the man was Booker.
“No!” Whitman screamed when he realized his run-in with the former sergeant was what brought the man to Colorado.
To exact revenge.
To murder Sarah.
To take everything from Whitman.
Whitman reached her and tried to wipe away the blood from her face. She’d fought hard and hadn’t given up easily. Booker was a big man and obviously too much for a woman with a damaged leg.
He pulled her limp body into his arms and rocked back and forth. Sobs of agony were torn from deep inside him as he grieved for the woman he loved.
“She needs magic.” Miracle’s voice broke through the haze of grief.
Whitman tried to focus on the girl but he was still seeing double. “What?”
“Give her a magic kiss, Uncle Whit.” Miracle patted his cheek as if he were the child.
Whit stared into the girl’s brown eyes. “A kiss?”
Miracle shook her head. “She wake up with a magic kiss.”
He realized the child was seeing enough blood and gore to scar her for life. “Go back in the house, Miracle. You shouldn’t see this.”
Miracle stood up and put her hands on her hips. “Give her a magic kiss.” Her insistence finally made it through Whitman’s fuzzy, grief-filled thoughts.
He looked down at Sarah’s bloody face and touched her lips. That’s when he saw her lids flutter.
Give her a magic kiss.
Whit held his breath as he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. For a moment, it was as if he were kissing her dead body, but then, God shone down upon him and her lips moved beneath his.
She opened her eyes and looked at him. “Whitman, you look like somebody beat the shit out of you.”
He laughed and hugged her close, ignoring the pain thrumming through his skull and his ribs.
Sarah was alive!
“Told you. Magic kisses are special.” Miracle turned to look at Booker’s body. “Bad man dead now.”
With that, the amazing little girl went back in the house, leaving Whitman in the dirt next to a bloody dead bastard and with a very alive woman in his arms.
“I thought you were dead,” he whispered brokenly.
She snorted. “I’m too tough to die. That bastard never knew what he was up against. My blades are sharp enough to cut off someone’s head.”
Whitman laughed through his tears. “Are you hurt?”
“No, just bruised from the fall. He tried to choke me, but I cut his throat and he bled to death first.” She touched the back of his head gently. “Are you all right?”
Whitman nodded, then hugged her again. He’d almost lost her again, this time to a murderous bastard instead of his own stupidity.
But no more. The last demon to inhabit the blackness of their past was now truly dead.
Life would begin again for Whitman and Sarah.
After the sheriff had left with Booker’s corpse and Eppie had tended to Whitman’s wounds, there was a collective sigh of relief in the house.
Eppie convinced Sarah and Whitman to take a bath. There was a modern bathing room in the house, which had running water pumped in.
Whitman had used them in New York and Washington, but it was a special treat for Sarah. She had wiped most of the blood from her face and hands, but her clothes were stained with it.
She allowed Whit to carry her up the stairs, although she knew his ribs hurt and he wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Sarah was still amazed they were both alive and had come out of the deadly confrontation with wounds that would heal.
Now they needed to heal the wounds on the inside.
The bathing room had white and blue tile and an enormous claw-foot tub. Whit set her down on the stool and closed the door. He had a bandage wrapped around his head, which gave him a look of mystery. At least that’s what Sarah told him anyway.
He waggled his finger at her. “Now you sit right there while I get the bath ready.”
“Yes sir.” She saluted and made a face at him.
While he ran the hot water, Sarah watched. True to her word, she didn’t move from the stool. Her body ached in places she forgot about. A bath would be heavenly.
As the tub filled, Whit pulled off his shirt, revealing a rainbow of bruises on his chest. She sucked in a breath and gestured for him to come closer.
When he was near enough, she reached out and kissed the bruises she could. He touched the top of her head and sighed.
“Magic kisses.”
She smiled against his skin and looked up at him. “How about you undress me too, oaf?”
He knelt down in front of her. “As you wish, my lady.”
Whit took off her clothes slowly, kissing her exposed skin as he went. Sarah had never felt more cherished or more loved. He stood her up to remove her skirt and drawers, leaving nothing but her hair to cover her nude body.
He was eye level with her legs when he looked up at her. “Magic kisses.”
When his lips touched her ropy scars, Sarah couldn’t contain the tears. She’d cried so much the last week, she was surprised there were any left, but they arrived just the same.
Whitman had been all she hated, resented, and avoided. Now he was everything she loved, wanted, and needed.
He stood and shucked his trousers, then scooped her into his arms. “Your bath is waiting.”
Whit lowered her into the tub slowly and the warmth of the water enveloped her sore, tired body. The tub, built for two, was even large enough to fit Whitman.
He climbed in behind her and soon she was surrounded by heat and man. Two tantalizing combinations.
Whitman had silently bathed her long ago in Kentucky, apologizing to her with his hands, letting her know he cared for her well-being.
This time it was so much more. It was a symphony of soap and hands, massaging, soaping, and rinsing until her skin squeaked beneath his strong fingers.
He played with her nipples until they ached, then left them to land his hands between her legs. The day had begun with sadness and it was ending with love and sex.
She couldn’t have asked for anything more.
He spread her legs as far as they’d go, then dipped his fingers into her pulsing pussy. He found her eager clit easily and began circling it, teasing her.
The other hand dipped lower and two of his fingers slid into her. She gasped as tingles raced up her skin straight to her nipples.
“God, you feel good.”
“Mmm, so do you, kitten.” He nibbled at her earlobe. “When I first met you I thought you hissed like a cat. Now I know you purr like one too.”
Sarah arched into him, eager for the pleasure he gave her. His cock was hard against her back. She wanted to taste him, to bite him, to feel him enter her.
He fucked her with his fingers while he played her clit like a musical instrument. Faster and harder until she came, splashing water and pressing against his staff behind her.
Stars swam behind her closed lids as his hand gentled, bringing her back to earth.
“If you don’t fuck me now, I’ll never forgive you.”
Whit chuckled against her ear. “God, I love you, woman.”
She harrumphed and shifted against his cock. “I mean it. Now, Whitman.”
“As you wish, my lady.” He stood, the water sluicing from his nude body. His erection stood tall and proud above his firm balls.
She couldn’t help herself. Sarah turned around quick enough to grab the base of his staff and pull him into her mouth.
He groaned and braced himself against the wall on his left. “Jesus Christ.”
“No, I told you before, it’s Sarah.” She laved the head, pa
ying close attention to the underside, tickling him with her tongue. “You taste good, Yankee.”
He managed a croak in response.
Sarah chuckled, pleased to have the large man at her mercy. It was empowering, it was amazing, it was incredibly arousing.
She squeezed the base as she lowered her mouth, alternately nibbling and licking as she went. A slow, excruciating pace designed to make him wild.
He groaned and shook beneath her touch.
“Feel good?”
“You know it does,” he gasped. “I thought you wanted me to fuck you.”
Hearing him talk dirty to her just made Sarah that much hornier. She quickened her pace, loving the feel of the steel encased in satin in her mouth. He started moving with her, fucking her mouth, and Sarah felt his balls tightening beneath her hand.
If she didn’t stop, the fun would be over for a while, and she wasn’t ready for that yet.
With one last suck, and a lick on the head, she released him. He fell back against the wall, sucking in a breath like a bellows.
Whit opened his eyes and met her gaze. “Damn, you are incredible.”
She grinned. “I know. Now let’s get dried off so we can get down to business.”
“Give me a minute to get my breath back.”
Sarah laughed and reached out to run a finger down his still rock-hard erection. “Don’t take too long.”
Whit jumped out of the tub and grabbed her, splashing more water all over the room. “Your brother will probably know what we were doing.”
“I don’t care. He’s an adult. And besides, they have a three-year-old child and aren’t married.” She shivered. “Now let’s get dried off so we can get heated up.”
Within minutes, they were both dry and wrapped in fluffy towels. Whitman peeked out the bathing room door and then looked back at her.
“All clear.” He picked her up again and walked toward the guest room.
Luckily for them, they reached the door without seeing anyone. Sarah turned the knob and they ducked in.
Whitman set her on her feet and pulled the towel off her. Her nipples instantly pebbled just from him looking at them.
“Looks like I’m being called.” He set her on the edge of the bed and dropped to his knees so her breasts were at eye level.
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