“I only caught a few words here and there in between your mumbling.”
“Pearl—”
She sensed the end of his patience, and in his present state, she worried over angering him and making him use up all his strength, strength he needed to get well. “You mentioned someone named Aloysius, Earl Stanbridge, and then—”
“Just say it, Pearl. Dragging it out won’t make the telling any easier.”
He was right. “You kept mentioning blood money and paying for the earl’s damned estate.”
He frowned then shrugged.
“Was it a secret?”
He shook his head. “Not all of it makes sense, just my mind rambling. Damnation!”
“Oh, well, then what’s wrong?” She hated seeing his face frowning. Such a handsome face; he should smile more often.
“Hmmm?”
“Is something wrong? Do you hurt?” She clasped her hands together, then fisted them at her sides. “Shall I fetch Doc?”
“No. It’s not that.”
She waited, and he continued, “Not everyone believed my brother was dead at first. Especially father’s solicitors.”
She squeezed his hands, urging him on. “Why would they doubt you?” It sounded strange that lawyers would care.
“According to our father’s will, so long as neither my brother nor I claimed our half of the inheritance, the solicitors would continue to be paid a fee for their services, drawn directly from our inheritance.”
“Do you think they were behind his death?”
“I don’t know. The next morning, my mother collapsed when father’s solicitors demanded Michael’s body be taken and examined by their physician to determine if they could find any sign of foul play.”
“Dear God! The bastards!”
“Precisely.”
“What did you do?”
His eyes narrowed, and he stared off into space. “Nothing. I was too busy drinking myself blind.”
Pearl’s heart clenched painfully in her breast. “You weren’t there.”
Pain, shame, and self-loathing swirled in the depths of his eyes. “I was there, but I’d passed out in my father’s study and was of no use to her.”
“Did they take your brother’s body?”
Anger replaced the other emotions. “Yes.”
“And did they find anything?”
“No.” He paused. “But the shock my mother suffered could have been avoided.”
“They had no right—”
He turned his haunted gaze to meet hers. “According to our father’s will, they say they did.”
“Why would your father do something like that? Didn’t he trust you?”
The look in Davidson’s eyes was her answer. “He swore it was to protect us from fortune hunters.”
Pearl sensed it was more than that. “He was worried about someone in particular, wasn’t he?”
“Our cousin on mother’s side, Aloysius Stanton, next in line to the earldom.”
“But you’re from Boston.”
“And my father was a very wealthy man. An American by birth who earned his wealth, unlike my English cousin.”
“Didn’t he work hard too?” Pearl didn’t know anyone who had a lot of money, or who came from across the ocean.
“He’s a true English gentleman,” Davidson explained. “They never work. They exist to ride, hunt, and play cards at their clubs.”
Pearl had no idea any such life existed. She shook her head. “What did you do?”
“I dragged Runyon back to the place where Michael fell and searched the area. We found two other sets of hoofprints in the still damp earth, and broken branches.”
“Anything more?”
* * *
Lord love her, she sounded worried for him. “No.”
“Did you go back more than once?”
He nodded. “It became my obsession. Looking for clues.”
“Why did you come all the way out here?”
He stilled her hand where it stroked his arm. “I couldn’t stand not knowing who was behind his death.”
She shifted closer to him on the bed and stared off into space, resting her hand on the knee closest to her, lost deep in thought. “I knew a set of twins once.”
He waited for her to finish.
“It was strange, like when one had a thought, the other one finished it. You had that kind of connection with Michael, didn’t you?”
He nodded. “We were always close. No one understood me like my brother did.” Davidson could tell she didn’t understand, but wanted to. “The night he fell from his horse, an empty hollow was carved out of my soul. I’m half a man, Pearl, and I’ve lost the better half of me.”
She slipped a hand carefully behind his back, pulling him close to her heart. “So that’s why you came all the way out here, to get as far away from the pain as possible?”
Had he? Or had he been running from the speculation that he’d kidnapped his brother and tried to have him shanghaied?
“I don’t believe you could have harmed your brother.”
She sounded so confident. It irked him, then angered him. “Why don’t you think I’m capable of violence?”
Impossibly, she burrowed further into his embrace. “Well, I do, but not against someone you love. You’d only use violence to protect someone you cared about.”
Her belief in him was humbling and not entirely deserved. He’d tried to take her ranch away from her. But in his defense, he hadn’t known she didn’t want to sell, or that she hadn’t been the one to place the advertisement in the newspaper.
A creaking floorboard had her slipping from his embrace. “I’ll be right back.” She walked to the door. “Amy?”
Through the open door, Davidson saw the young woman pause with her hand on her own bedroom door.
“I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“You didn’t. We were just talking.” Pearl stood with her profile to him, trying to reassure Amy.
The young woman crossed the hallway and stood beside Pearl. “He’s going to be all right, isn’t he?”
Pearl smiled, and the tension squeezing his guts eased. Her smile lit up her whole face. That one smile went a long way toward reassuring him he was going to fully recover physically. But mentally? He watched her hug Amy tight. “Yes.”
Amy hugged her hard then let go. “I could go put the kettle on and slice some of Daisy’s soda bread.”
Pearl smiled. “I’m sure he’d appreciate that.”
From where Smythe lay, he silently agreed. The last time Daisy had baked Maggie’s grandmother’s recipe, he’d eaten half the loaf himself.
Amy headed down the stairs. “Should I slather it with jam?”
Pearl paused in the doorway to her room to answer. “Could you butter the pieces and bring the jam pot and the honey? I’m not sure what he’ll be up to eating.”
Amy laughed and skipped down the steps. “I’ll leave it by the door.”
Smythe watched Pearl smooth back the strand of midnight hair that had fallen across her brow. She was delightfully disheveled and walking toward where he lay in her bed. Taking a mental inventory of his injuries, he decided a little discomfort would be worth another lesson in passion. He would have to convince her he was well enough.
But Pearl had other ideas. She bustled about the room, straightening the bedclothes, then pouring another cup of water and handing it to him.
Inspiration hit, and he fumbled the cup she handed him, hoping she’d lean toward him.
“Damnation!” Cold water splashed on his bare chest. That wasn’t exactly what he’d intended.
Pearl was at his side in an instant, cupping her hands around his, steadying the blasted cup. She looked up into his eyes, and he saw worry darkening the gray of her eyes to the color of summer storm clouds.
“Pearl.”
One word, but so filled with emotion. He wanted to tell her not to worry, that he felt better by the minute, but his tongue got all tangled as h
e looked into her tear-bright gaze.
“Don’t cry.” He shifted the cup into her hands and swept first one tear away, and then another. Smoothing his hands on her lovely cheeks, he marveled in the softness of her skin. It felt like one of his mother’s prized roses. Velvety soft and cool to the touch.
She sank onto the bed, clutching the cup. Closing her eyes, she whispered, “I was afraid you’d never wake up.”
Her admission rocked him. He slid his hands from her face to her neck. “Would you miss me?”
She nodded.
They’d only known one another a few short weeks, and already he felt he’d known her for ages. She understood him. Believed in him. Desired him. But did she love him?
“More than I’d thought possible,” she whispered.
His gaze shot up to meet hers. Had he uttered the last question aloud?
She nodded again, this time fixing her gaze on his.
He slid his hands along the line of her strong shoulders and down her arms, testing the muscle beneath the softness of her skin.
Her eyes turned a deeper gray.
If he didn’t kiss her sweet mouth, he’d go insane. He slipped his hands around her back and pulled her flush against him. They both moaned, he in pain, which he ignored, and she—well, he hoped the sweet sound she made was from desire for him.
Before she could protest, he bent and touched his lips to hers. Soft, plump and cool. By degrees they heated to his touch. He growled low in his throat. The woman in his arms was setting him on a slow boil. He increased the pressure of the kiss, letting his tongue slide along the seam of her lips.
He heard the door open, but couldn’t break away, wouldn’t release the woman in his arms. The soft snick of the door latch closing set that worry aside. He slid his tongue against her lips a second time.
This time she sighed and opened for him. He plunged deep, tasting the answering desire he’d stirred within her. Pearl moaned softly and pushed back from him. “You need to rest.”
“You said I’ve been in your bed for three days,” he protested stroking a hand along the top of her shoulder, trailing his fingertips down to her elbow. “Pity I don’t remember any of it.”
His wicked grin brought an answering smile to her lips. “I almost lost you, you thick-headed man, and I don’t intend for that to happen again.” Before he could stop her, she scooted away from him and off the bed.
He reached for her hand. “Will you stay with me?”
The look she sent him was filled with longing. “I’ve been here every night since Reilly carried you upstairs.”
His stomach knotted. “Reilly?”
“Amy and I tried to move you, but we couldn’t without banging your head or knees on the floor.”
“Pearl,” he said softly, “I don’t want to talk about Reilly. I want you to stay with me tonight. I’m coherent tonight.”
He watched her trying to decide and smiled to himself as a shiver of what he hoped was desire snaked up her spine.
She walked back to his side and cupped his face in her hands. “You need to rest. You’re wounded.”
“I’ll rest better with you in my arms,” he insisted.
Pearl traced the strong line of his jaw, and then placed a chaste kiss where her fingers had lingered. “I’ve a powerful need to make love with you, Davidson.” Her eyes were dark with desire. “I don’t think I’m strong enough to let you rest.”
He pulled her back down on top of him and held tight. “If I rest now, I’ll be able to make love with you once the girls are at their chores.”
“The girls! Good Lord! Amy!” Pearl flushed bright red, squirming to look over her shoulder. “Didn’t I leave the door open?”
Smythe grinned. “Yes, but Amy closed it.”
“She saw me in bed with you?”
“You were sitting on the bed and kissing me back,” he said with a shrug. “I opened my eyes and saw the door closing. She didn’t see anything that would scar her for life.”
Pearl looked down into his eyes. “Oh. All right, then.” She sighed deeply, settling against, him. “In that case I’ll stay.”
Smythe pressed his lips to her forehead and breathed deeply. The woman he loved was wrapped in his arms, and neither the bullet nor the fever had killed him. Life was good. He closed his eyes, vowing to get at least an hour’s worth of rest. He’d need every ounce of his strength to make love with Pearl later.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Pearl snuggled closer to the heat, bumped her nose against something hard and opened her eyes. A massive wall of muscle met her eye. She blinked and rubbed her eyes. Must be dreaming. The muscle moved and she heard the sound of air being sucked into a pair of lungs.
She pinched herself, she had to be dreaming. “Ouch!”
Then she remembered where she was and whom she was with. “Davidson?”
“Hmmm?”
He didn’t move, but she needed to see his face in the early morning light. Just to reassure herself he’d be all right. She leaned back, but he wouldn’t let her move out of his arms. He was waiting for her to look at him.
“You look better.”
“I feel almost normal.” He ran a hand up and down her spine, lingering against her curves, pressing her more firmly against him.
She licked her lips and asked, “Are you rested?”
His crooked grin went straight to her heart. He shifted so they lay on their sides facing one another. His eyes were slumberous and filled with the dark desire—for her.
She wanted to taste that desire, share his passion, trust that he would honor his pledge never to hurt her. She’d lain beside him before he’d been shot and he’d kept his promise, not to press for more than she was willing to give him. He’d held her close through the night and cemented her feelings for him. She loved him.
After nursing him through three days of wound fever, they fallen into an exhausted sleep, curled into one another as innocent as children.
He’d taught her that a man could be trusted to keep his word. He’d shared mind-boggling kisses with her that set fire to her very soul. He’d stood alongside her and her girls to protect her ranch. How could she not give him what she sensed he wanted…needed?
She didn’t delude herself for one moment thinking he’d marry her, but she could repay him for his kindness and trust, giving him the gift of herself. Surely she could share this one act with him.
Maybe the pain she remembered so vividly would pass quickly enough that it would be forgotten. Maybe if he kissed her until she was mindless, she could get through the pain and he could hold her to his heart.
He pulled back and stared down at her, bracing himself, putting all of his weight on one elbow. A heady mix of lust and passion flared in his warm brown eyes, darkening them until she couldn’t tell where the color ended and his pupils had dilated.
“I swear to God, I won’t hurt you, Pearl.”
He pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“I know you won’t mean to,” she said, closing her eyes.
He kissed her left eye. “I won’t hurt you.” He kissed her right eye.
“I’ve never offered to my husband what I’m offering to you,” she whispered, slipping her arms around his neck. “I trust you Davidson.”
He pressed his lips to her forehead. “I want you, Pearl.” He loosened her grip and eased her hands from around his neck. “But I can’t take the chance that I’ll add to your burden—or another mouth for you to feed.”
She realized from the way he was shifting away from her to lean against the headboard that he meant a baby.
“You don’t need to worry that I’ll try to keep you here, claiming to be pregnant,” she whispered, sitting up. “I’m barren.”
Her words sliced through him. How could she think he would ever let her go? Not being able to have children would not stop him from staying with her, loving her, marrying her. He had no intention of loving her and leaving—he was staking his claim to her heart.
“You will marry me.”
Pearl stiffened against him, every muscle in her body tightening into one massive knot of tension. “You don’t really want to marry me,” she whispered.
He felt something wet hit his arm where he’d wrapped it around her. Was she crying?
“What the hell do you mean by that?”
“Any woman will do in a pinch.” She quoted the phrase as if she’d heard it a hundred times.
“That sonofabitch!” He tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him. “If he wasn’t already dead, I’ll kill him for what he did to you.”
Her tears unmanned him. “Don’t do this, Pearl. You are worth far more to me than just one night of pleasure.”
Her tears spilled over, running down across her cheeks. “You’ll leave—once I give myself to you. But I’ll have this one night to remember.”
He was astounded that she truly believed what she said. “Why would I leave?” he demanded. “I’ve got the woman I love in bed with me, a ranch that needs a man’s touch, and four girls who need someone to watch over them so they don’t end up running away with some no-account cowboy.”
Pearl’s mouth lifted on one side, and his heart melted. Her crooked smile was just one of the many things he loved about her. “Honey,” she drawled, “there isn’t any other kind of man out here but cowboys.”
He pulled back from her. “Then what am I?”
“A dude from back East, pretending to be a cowboy so I’d fall so deep in love with you, I’d beg you to take my ranch.”
He searched her face. “Do you truly believe that all I want is your bloody ranch?”
She was silent for so long, he was afraid that was exactly the case. But then her hand reached up to stroke the side of his face, and her words went straight to his aching heart. “I believe you came here to hide from the pain of your brother’s death and the ugly accusations those stupid people in your so-called society back East started.”
She brushed a kiss to his collarbone. “I also believe that you know more about passion and desire than is right or proper for an unmarried man.”
His snort of laughter was echoed by hers and was so loud, they didn’t hear the knock at the door, until it came a second time.
“Are you two about finished celebrating life, yet?” Amy demanded.
The Irish Westerns Boxed Set Page 64
