The man was a bully.
After Warren left, he had also become Honey’s husband.
That thought still managed to send an arc of raw pain through his insides. It was the kind of pain that had nearly suffocated him. He’d saved himself back then by throwing himself into his studies and then his work at the research hospital in Philadelphia.
It was only recently that he had begun to think of his time out West without the old heartache tearing through him. He remembered instead the way he’d been awed and inspired by the grandeur and power of the Rockies. The way the mountain air had stirred his soul and the great, expansive wilderness could spread around a person for miles. He’d begun to crave the wide-open spaces, the sunshine, and the meadows.
He’d come out West again, seeking that feeling of freedom. He had not expected to see Honey. He’d convinced himself he never wanted to.
It was the biggest lie he’d ever told himself.
With gritted teeth he turned away, then downed the last of the coffee, welcoming the bitter path it took down his throat.
Shoving thoughts of the past out of his mind, he strode down the hall to check on his patient. The bullet had not hit an artery, though it had torn an angry path into the biceps femoris muscle that ran down the back of Luke’s thigh. Assuming he recovered from the blood loss and managed to avoid infection, there was still a possibility his muscle would not retain its full capability.
At present, Luke slept soundly. His breathing remained even and his body was not raging with fever. Yet.
Warren didn’t care when they intended to bring him back to town; he wasn’t leaving until he was certain the threat of infection had passed. After making sure there was no further bleeding from the wound site, he ventured back out toward the front room.
Honey was sitting at the end of the sofa by the fireplace with a cup of coffee wrapped in her hands, staring into the flames. She had added some wood to the fire and sat huddled, her legs tucked beneath her, her skirts drawn close over her feet, a woolen shawl wrapped around her shoulders.
Warren stopped in the doorway to watch her.
More than this, he soaked in the sight of her.
He wanted to hate her for marrying Freeman within only a few months of his leaving. But he could understand why she may have been seduced by the security and wealth Freeman offered.
Honey’s father had been a miner until he died in a tunnel collapse when she was a young girl. Her mother was a frail woman, susceptible to lung ailments, and though Mrs. Prentice had done what she could to provide for her two children, the small bit of income she earned from sewing was not enough. Honey and Luke both had to help out from a young age. And with Luke rebelling every chance he got, Honey was often left to make up the difference.
The first time Warren saw her was out behind the laundry where she worked most days. She had been hanging clothes on the lines to dry, and there was something so beautiful in the way the summer breeze lifted the gold-blond strands of her hair, falling free down her back. And the way she smiled as she hummed a tune he could barely hear. It was that smile that initially drew him nearer, but it was her warm brown eyes and the light constellation of freckles across her nose and cheeks that had him sticking around to strike up a flirtation.
She had been reserved and wary at first, but Warren had drawn her out, and soon she was teasing him for his city-slicker ways and what she called his “fancified” manners.
Their mutual attraction had been instantaneous and intense. Within a few weeks, he knew he wanted to marry her. A few weeks after that, she gifted him with her innocence on a night filled with romance and youthful passion.
Honey Prentice had completely stolen his heart that summer, and as he stared at her now, seven years later, he admitted to himself that despite her callous disregard, she held it still.
That realization was like a fist to the gut. But it was no less true. He felt it in every living cell of his body. Despite everything, he still loved her.
“Why are you here?”
Her softly muttered words jolted him out of his unexpected revelation. She didn’t turn to look at him when she spoke, and he wondered how long she had been aware of his presence.
“Your brother’s men—”
“No,” she interrupted sharply. “I mean, why did you come back out West?”
How could he explain that the land had called to him? That the only reason he had stayed away as long as he had was to avoid her. Avoid the memories.
“I wouldn’t have come, if I’d known you would be here.”
She flinched at his reply. Her shoulders curved inward and her chin dropped a notch before she forced it back up.
Warren wondered at the reaction. He hadn’t meant it the way it sounded. Then again, maybe he had. A part of him wanted to hurt her the way she had hurt him.
He came forward to retrieve his coffee cup and refilled it from the pot on the stove. Then he turned back to her, trying to remember his manners. “Would you like more coffee?”
She looked down at her cup before nodding silently and holding it out toward him.
“I will watch Luke through the night, if you want to get some rest,” he said as he replaced the pot and took a seat in one of the side chairs. Sharing the sofa with her would be far too intimate.
“I won’t be able to sleep anyway,” she answered.
She kept her focus trained on the flames as she sipped her coffee. Then, still without glancing his way, she asked, “I am surprised your wife would so willingly move out to the wilderness.”
“I have no wife.”
His reply brought her gaze flying to meet his. The sudden connection sent arcs of electric awareness through his body. She was surprised by his answer.
“Did she die?” she asked, her voice tight.
Warren frowned. “I never married.”
Her breath seemed to catch in her chest and distress spread across her features. Before he could question her reaction, she rose to her feet and walked to the corner of the kitchen, as far from Warren as she could get.
Confused, he did the only thing he could. He followed her.
Four
He came up behind her, and every nerve in Honey’s body ignited with fire and life while her mind fought to find steady ground within the emotional storm his words had caused.
He never married.
It made no sense.
His letter had been clear and explicit. Enough to shatter her heart to pieces with only five lines. Five lines that she had read over and over for months on end to convince herself that the love she’d held so dear had to die.
The love had to die or she did, because she simply could not endure the pain of it, the soul-crushing sense of loss.
And now he said he’d never married.
Had it just been an excuse not to come back for her? A lie to cut the ties?
Fury raged like wildfire beneath her skin.
“Honey?”
She jolted at the sound of her name on his lips. His curiosity was clear despite his even tone. She had once found such comfort and peace in his voice, which like everything else about him had seemed created in perfect harmony with herself.
But now, hearing him say her name in that calm and questioning way was intolerable. She spun around to face him.
He stood barely a step away and she sucked in a tight breath at what his nearness did to her. Every scathing word she wanted to throw at him died in her throat. Her heart thudded so heavily and recklessly within her that it drowned out her thoughts.
His black brows tugged low over his eyes. He stepped closer, and though she tried to back away, to keep some distance between them, her back was already pressed against the counter behind her.
“Honey,” he said again, this time in a barely audible murmur as he lifted his hand to brush his fingertips across her chee
k in a quiet, tingling caress.
She held perfectly still, fighting against the treacherous will of her body, which wanted to lean into him, fall into his strength, and give herself to him as she had done so passionately before.
But she wasn’t that girl anymore. Her innocence and trust had been obliterated by his abandonment and everything she’d faced since. So she held herself stiff and unmoving. Enduring his touch and refusing to give in to the urgings within her.
He swept his fingers down the side of her throat, stopping when his fingers pressed to the erratic flutter of her pulse, as though measuring her heartbeat.
“Where did your softness go?”
His whispered question brought her anger back in a rush. “You took it with you when you left.”
Planting both hands against his chest, she gave him a shove and stepped to the side. But he hooked his arm around her waist and pulled her back until she was once again trapped between him and the counter. This time, he was not all gentle concern. Frustration had risen in his hard, beautiful features. His hands now pressed against the counter on either side of her, caging her in, keeping her in place to feel the heat of him. Everywhere.
When he spoke, it was through clenched teeth. “I told you I would return.”
“Seven years later?”
His brows lowered in a dark scowl. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
“I know it’s not what you made me believe,” she corrected. “How you must have laughed at the stupid little country girl who thought a fine gentleman like yourself might want her.”
His frown deepened. His jaw muscles clenched. “I did want you, Honey.”
The words created a swirling mixture of pain, regret, and intimate yearning. She shoved down the yearning and focused on the rest. With a jut of her chin she replied, “Yes, I know. For a little fun before you went back to your studies.”
“What on earth are you talking about?” he growled, his anger escalating along with hers.
“The truth, Warren. Something you apparently refuse to acknowledge even now.”
“Oh, I know the truth.” He made a show of glancing around them. “Where is your husband, Honey?”
She’d heard the question so many times, and always spoken with the same scathing judgment as Warren had just used. She answered automatically, in the way she’d always done. “He’s dead.”
As soon as the flat, emotionless words left her lips, something flashed bright and deep in his eyes.
His desire for her had always been tender, almost reverent. But despite her innocence and youth, she had sensed the deeper passions beneath his gentlemanly behavior, and she had practically begged him to make love to her that night under the stars.
What she saw now in the silver-blue windows to his soul held little resemblance to that gentle, loving passion. It was the unabashed hunger of a man holding nothing back.
And everything she’d ever felt about him came rushing back in one overwhelming wave—all the pain, heartbreak, anger, confusion. All the dreams, the passion, and the longing burst free.
Dammit, how she wanted him.
The press of his large male body. The warmth of his breath against her face just before his mouth crushed over hers. She even wanted the anger that transferred from his kiss.
It fueled her.
So that was how she kissed him back. With seven years of pent-up hostility over the lies he’d told her and the shattered dreams he’d left for her to sweep up into some sort of life worth living. She brought her hands to his head, her fingers curling into his thick black hair as she held him there to take every bit of aggression she could put into that kiss.
She had not expected how easily anger could dissolve into pure passion.
After the first taste of his lips, the first glide of his tongue as he accepted what she gave and returned it in equal measure, the heart-aching familiarity of his kiss transformed her fury into a desperate craving.
And when he shifted his hands from the counter to wrap his arms tight around her waist, locking her against him in a hold she had no wish to break free from, she knew where this was heading. And the acknowledgment only heightened her desire.
She broke from the kiss to gasp for breath, and though she tried to avoid his gaze, it caught her anyway for a brief flashing moment. What she saw there nearly changed her mind.
She didn’t like the intensity in his expression. It made her feel the distrust and betrayal between them more acutely. She didn’t want to think of that.
She wanted him as much as he wanted her. But this time, she did not have stars in her eyes. She was well aware of the realities of life. If she took him to her bed, it would have no promises for the future attached. She would never make that mistake again. But she could claim tonight and indulge in the fierce, overwhelming desire only he had ever inspired.
As her body hummed with sexual anticipation, Honey pressed her hands against Warren’s chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath her palms. This time, he stepped back, and she turned and started toward the hall where there was an empty bedroom. Before rounding the corner, she looked back at him.
He remained where she’d left him, standing in the kitchen, looking after her. His body was rigid and his expression was strained, but his eyes…
His eyes sparked bright with hunger.
Honey met his gaze for just a second before continuing down the hall to the bedroom.
She didn’t have to say it. He had always known when she wanted him.
She lit a small lamp on the bureau, creating a quiet contrast of golden light and subtle shadow. A ripple of intense awareness ran through her at the sound of Warren entering the room. She turned to see him standing with his back to the closed door, staring across the room at her.
No, she didn’t want to think. And then, thank God, she didn’t have to.
He closed the distance between them in two long strides and caught her face in his hands. Pressing his mouth to hers, he scooped one arm around her waist and started walking her back toward the bed.
Yes.
Just this. The passion and the fire. It’s all she wanted. Nothing more. Nothing less.
She dove into the heat that swirled around them. Tangling her tongue with his, tugging at his clothing. Low sounds of need issued from her throat.
But no words. Words would only interfere. This was a time for feeling only. And she felt so much.
The rough and hurried way he released the buttons of her dress. The slide of his hand down her naked back when he finally got her clothing pushed down to her hips. The smooth feel of his bared chest pressing against her breasts after she pulled his shirt up over his head.
And his mouth as he kissed a hot and searing path down the side of her neck, across her bare shoulder, and then lower, when he wrapped his arms around her hips to lift her up so he could take one full breast in his mouth.
Pleasure flooded her body, making every inch of her ache with need.
It was familiar.
And it was easy. So easy.
They fell together onto the bed and somehow managed to shrug out of the rest of their clothes until they lay naked together. Flesh to flesh, heart to heart.
She couldn’t stop touching him. Her hands flying over his body, relearning the contours of muscle and bone, discovering how he’d changed and how he was exactly the same.
When he nudged his thigh between hers, she gasped at the rush of excitement it inspired. Her belly danced wildly, sending deep arcs of pleasure and longing down between her legs, where her body craved his presence. The flare of hunger in her blood was like nothing she’d felt before. Stronger than it had ever been in her youth. Desire pulsed through her, taking over everything, demanding more.
And he gave it. Without any whispered words of love she wouldn’t have believed anyway. He settled his hips between her
thighs and entered her with one rocking thrust that had them both arching back. His breath was harsh and shallow as he withdrew from her slowly then charged forward again.
Honey’s entire being strained at the rush of sensations. She gave herself over to it. It had been so long since she knew such a loss of control. She welcomed it with an abandon she might regret later. But not right now.
Right now, she surrendered to the storm of passion consuming them both.
She drew her knees up, allowing his thrusts to go deeper. Her eyes were closed tight and her arms were wrapped around his back as his mouth sealed on hers. This kiss was deep and demanding. The movement of his body over her, inside her, drew upon her last reserve. In a bright, consuming flash of light, pleasure exploded from her center and flew to the farthest reaches of her awareness, and she flew with it.
As the pulsing pleasure receded, Warren continued to glide in and out of her body in slow, beautiful strokes that sent little tingling sparks along her nerves. Her eyes fluttered open to see that he had propped himself up on his elbows and was looking intently at her face.
Something in the shining depths of his silver-blue eyes ensnared her and she could not look away. An invisible tether stretched between them, originating from a spot frighteningly close to her heart. The connection was as undeniable as it was unwanted.
Weakened and vulnerable after her release, Honey fought against the threat of tears clogging her throat. She was helpless to resist the draw of his gaze, but she didn’t want him to know how deeply he touched her.
His brows lowered, briefly shadowing the light in his eyes as his jaw clenched tight. He gave one last possessive thrust that reached clear to her soul before his entire body went rigid. He pulsed deep and strong within her, but never took his gaze from hers as his pleasure finally claimed them both.
Five
Warren shifted, carefully drawing his limbs away from Honey’s warmth. He risked a glance to confirm what he’d suspected—that she’d fallen asleep almost as soon as he had withdrawn from her. Her skin was a soft gold in the low light, her features were relaxed and gentled by sleep, and her long blond hair was a tousled mess across the pillows.
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