by Jillian Hart
“Is that why you came home?”
“I came home for a visit and realized all I’d missed. Our younger sisters are just a few years behind her.”
“How old are they?”
“Twelve and fourteen.”
As he talked about his family she began to relax, appreciating his warmth and easy conversation as they ate their supper.
Finished eating, he set their plates aside and they settled back to watch the fire.
“It’s kind of pretty,” she said after a long pause of hearing nothing but the crackle of the wood.
“Yeah,” he agreed.
She looked up to find him watching her. He tucked a stray curl behind her ear, opening the lid on the thousands of butterflies living in her belly.
“I’m proud of you.”
Tears burned into her eyes. He couldn’t know what those words meant to her. She’d never been the recipient of such praise.
Her breath stalled as he leaned closer. The light brush of his soft lips over hers sent a wild torrent of shivers across her skin.
He pulled her closer, the pressure of his lips coaxing hers apart.
At the first touch of his tongue she trembled, and reached for him as pleasing bursts of wild sensation slammed through her. She returned the fleeting touches, and he groaned against her mouth, increasing the intensity of the kiss.
A real kiss, she thought. His hand slid down her back, caressing her body in the same languid, unrushed rhythm, thoroughly melting her against the hard surface of his body.
Saints and sinners, he feels good.
Lost in a haze of sensation, she explored the textures of his mouth, trembling as she threaded her fingers into his silky brown hair. By the time he eased back, she gasped for breath, her mind a haze of sensation as he pulled pins from her hair.
“Kyle?”
Long dark coils tumbled down around her shoulders.
“You have the prettiest hair.” He pulled her back into his tight embrace. She went eagerly, hesitation forgotten as she returned his passionate kiss. He surrounded her, consuming her, overwhelming her as he pressed her back against the soft cushions.
He shifted over her, his body caressing hers through layers of fabric, every flex of his hips sending a shocking pulse of fire throughout her body. She groaned against his mouth as desire escalated with frightening intensity.
His hand moved up the back of her thigh, caressing the sensitive skin above her stockings. His fingers slipped inside and she realized his hand was beneath her skirt, exposing her legs.
She shoved at his shoulders. “No!”
Surprised by the sudden jostle, Kyle blinked down at her, disoriented by the hard surge of desire ravaging his body as he stared down at Constance’s wide fearful eyes. He had her pinned to the sofa, her hair fanned out, the ache in his groin pressed to her soft core as he all but wrapped her leg around him.
“Oh, hell.” He sat up and brought her up with him. “I shouldn’t have moved so fast.”
She trembled in his arms, her gaze locked on his mouth, her breathing as hard and heavy as his own. Unable to resist, he brushed another soft kiss across her glistening lips.
“I suppose it’s safe to say we’re courting.”
She stiffened and broke away form his hold as she struggled to her feet. “No, we’re not.”
“The hell we’re not. Con—”
“It was just a kiss. I don’t… good night! ”
She shot from the room before he could argue.
That was a hell of a lot more than a kiss, he thought. Her bedroom door slammed as he struggled with a desire no woman had ever caused in him with just a few innocent kisses. His body burned, his fingers fairly tingled from the feel of her soft skin.
He tensed, realizing he’d been grinding against her as though he meant to bed her right there in the front room, when Stella could come home any moment.
“Damn it.” He’d only meant to kiss her. He should have known better. When it came to Constance, he only had one speed— reckless.
He’d frightened her. Hell, he’d frightened himself. He sat back and shoved his hands through his hair. Her scent didn’t help to cool his body. Her initial response had been anything but fearful. He’d tasted the proof in her kisses—she wanted him too.
He more than wanted her; he meant to marry her.
The silent affirmation surprised him—and eased a tension that had been building inside him with each passing day. He wanted to marry Constance.
He gave himself a good ten minutes to cool down before going after her.
“Constance?” He rapped softly on the door.
She didn’t answer. No light seeped under the door into the dim hall, but he heard movement.
“Honey, we need to talk. I’m coming in.” He opened the door to her dark room and Constance moved off her bed. Her room smelled like her, like fresh rain. She stood in a stream of moonlight pouring through the open window. The soft glow lit up her thin gown like a paper lantern, revealing all the gentle curves hidden beneath with such clarity he nearly groaned.
“Do you always dress for bed in the dark?”
“Yes,” she said, her tone angry.
She had a right to be angry. His actions had been disrespectful, as was openly staring at her supple body when she had no idea her gown was practically transparent in the moonlight. He walked to her bureau to light the lamp. Holding a match to a fresh white wick, it dawned on him how much time Constance spent in the dark. Every morning she’d been dressed and had her hair pinned up well before dawn.
He lit the wick and replaced the globe, casting light around the room.
“You shouldn’t be in here!” She stood beyond the foot of the bed, her arms locked over her chest. Her long hair was woven into a single thick braid, draped over her shoulder and the nightdress covering her from chin to toes.
“I’m not going to violate you, Constance. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I went too far and, well…I shouldn’t have.”
“That didn’t sound like an apology.”
“I’m not sorry I kissed you. Can you honestly tell me you didn’t want to be kissed?”
“What are you doing in here?” she asked, the tremble in her voice making him feel like the lowest of creatures. She’d trusted him, and he’d blown it.
“Trying to salvage my mistake. I’ve wanted to kiss you all week and have been fighting an attraction that only gets stronger with each day. I told myself I wouldn’t act on those feelings, that I don’t want marriage, but tonight proved denial isn’t working.
I want you, Constance.”
She gaped at him, and Kyle realized he sounded about as cavalier as a barbarian.
“Hell, that didn’t come out right. Honey, I want to be with you—I like being with you.”
She swallowed hard, the wariness in her golden eyes unchanged.
Damnation, where were the right words when he needed them? Problem was, he didn’t want to just sweet-talk her, he wanted to win her as she’d won him.
He strode to her bed and sat on the edge. “Will you come over here? I swear I won’t pounce on you.”
Her furrowed brow suggested she’d rather sit in a skunk’s den, but her foot slid forward. Her gaze wary, she eased onto the edge of the bed, not about to be kowtowed by him. Damn, but he admired that about her. She’d trusted him, had forced herself to face her fear, and now he was being a damn coward himself. He wanted her to stay, in his life, in his bed.
“The thought of you moving even a half mile away… I don’t want you to go. And well, I was thinking… Will you marry me?”
Tears filled her eyes as she shook her head.
Her silent denial shocked him. He knew damn well she’d been fighting the same attraction. “Why not?
“I’ve never felt for a woman what I feel for you. Marry me. ”
Constance fought the urge to say yes. She loved him so much. “I can’t,” she said, pressing her nightdress down a bit further so the skirt covered her
ankles. There were some advantages to dressing and undressing in the dark—she didn’t have to see her legs.
His thumb glided over her cheek, brushing away her tears, which only made them flow faster. His fingers moved beneath her chin, urging her to meet his gaze.
“Honey, I won’t be put off by your legs.”
“I am,” she said.
“I think you care for me.”
“I love you,” she said, the words escaping her lips.
He smiled and her heart melted. He leaned in, stealing her breath with a light kiss on her lips. “I showed you my scars.”
“It’s not the same.” The deep burns had left her shins rippled and pitted.
“I don’t believe you,” he said, his slow smile equally annoying and endearing as his arms moved around her. “Let me see.”
“You don’t know—”
“Then let me see.” He reached across and pulled her legs over his lap. She gasped as he touched the hem above her ankles. “Can’t be worse than my memory of your blistered and broken skin.”
She pressed her face to his shoulder.
“Constance?”
“Go ahead,” she said against his shirt.
Kyle didn’t hesitate. She tensed as her gown brushed across her knees. His long fingers gently grazed her scarred shins.
“Such beautiful new skin,” he said, his husky tone adding to the shivers already coursing through her body. “You’re beautiful, Constance. All of you.”
His lips brushed her cheek, her forehead, finding her lips. She didn’t try to fight the heat blossoming through her.
He eased her back against the pillow. “Marry me.”
His heart swelled as she smiled up at him.
“I…” Movement at the window behind him drew her gaze.
Eyes black as coal looked back at her from beyond the glass—
the smiling face from her nightmares.
She screamed and clutched at Kyle.
He turned, pushing her behind him as a revolver materialized in his hand. “What’d you see?”
She gripped his shirt. “He was there! You told me you captured him!”
“Who?”
“Chandler!”
Chapter Ten
Kyle’s blood ran cold as he glanced back at the dark window.
“Honey, Ned Chandler was hanged in Montana. You sure lighting those fires wasn’t too much for you?”
“I know his face!” She pushed off the bed and shoved her feet into the slippers. “It was him!”
A crash sounded at the front of the house, glass shattering.
Constance gripped at his arm. He tucked her against his side and rushed to the front room.
Glass shards from the broken window glistened across the floor.
He pushed her against the wall, beside the cover of a hutch.
“Stay here.”
He eased the door open, the strong scent of kerosene raising the hair on the back of his neck. Farther out, the circular glow of a lit cigar moved like a firefly in the pitch of night. The orange dot brightened as someone drew on the cigar.
Ned. He knew even before the familiar voice sounded from the darkness.
“Welcome home, Darby.” He stepped forward in the glow of the porch light, and Kyle’s grip flexed on his gun.
“Shoot me and my boys will drop you, leaving your lady all alone. I’ve never been one to travel alone,” he said, flashing a cold grin.
True enough. Ned always had his entourage close by.
“What are you doing this side of hell?” He didn’t have any other question for a man who should have been hanged two years ago. He’d read the execution papers!
“Guess you was too busy killin’ my kinfolk to attend the execution.”
Kyle couldn’t deny the fact. He’d thought he’d rid the world of their entire murderous brood.
“You’re not the only one who can take on a new identity, pretending to be someone you’re not. A year of answering to the name Duncan, and they let me walk right out,” he said with a laugh. “Duncan was kind enough to take my noose. I figured you’d come home at some point.” His expression darkened. “It does pay to be patient. I never did finish my business with that little filly.”
He’d been at the stockyard. Had he even suspected Ned was alive he wouldn’t have allowed Constance to stay in his house.
“You always was the Good Samaritan. Victoria was supposed to seduce you, but you just had to marry her.”
He scanned the darkness, fully aware of the cigar in Ned’s fingers, the fuel on his porch and knowing at least two others stood in the darkness. The camp Günter found had been theirs.
He had to get Connie out of here.
“Bet you even plan to marry that little cripple.”
Rage flared as he stared into Ned’s dark eyes.
“Doubt she’d be letting you under her skirt if she knew you set her on fire.”
“I didn’t tie her to the bed!”
“No, you just set the house ablaze. How’s it feel to be on the inside?”
He tossed the cigar, and flames burst across the porch, the rush of heat hitting him like an ocean wave. He slammed the door and turned for Constance. She stood a few paces behind him, her eyes wide with horror. He grabbed her and sprinted for the back door.
“Kyle!”
“Hold on to me!” he shouted, spying flames at a side window as he raced through the hall. They’d surrounded the house. Her legs locked around his waist. Spotting his leather jacket over a kitchen chair, he grabbed it, wrapping the thick leather around her. “Don’t look,” he said as he opened the back door.
Fire climbed the posts on either side of the back stoop.
Connie’s hold tightened. His gun drawn, he leaped over the burning stairs. Firelight glinted off something to his right. Kyle fired, shooting a man about to take aim as he came round the side of the house. The man reared back, the bullet taking him down.
Another flash came from the other side as the second outlaw stepped beyond the house. Unprepared, he barely had his gun raised when Kyle dropped him with a single shot.
Seeking the shelter of the darkness beyond the flames, he turned and ran. Reaching a tight cluster of massive redwoods near the outhouse, he set Constance on her feet. She shivered as he tucked her back into the shadows.
“Kyle.” He saw the reflection of tall flames in Constance’s wide eyes as she looked to the east.
Oh, God. They’d lit the stable.
“The horses!” she cried.
Muffled shrieks carried on the light breeze, his mares screaming, frantic with fear.
“Can you get them?”
He pressed his gun into her hand. “Stay here. If anyone comes near, shoot ’em.”
She gave a vigorous nod. “Hurry.”
By the time Kyle cut through the woods, the stable doors were fully ablaze. Watching for Ned, he opened the wide gate to the corral and ran to the first side door. The second he popped the latch a mare broke free, screeching as she charged out with clouds of smoke. He hurried down the stable, pulling all the latches, the thick smoke choking him by the time he reached the end. In the last stall, Sunshine didn’t come out.
He tied his bandanna over his mouth and rushed inside, the thick smoke blinding him, stinging his eyes as he stomped on the falling embers. The roof was fully aflame. Smoke whirled like clouds.
Good God. How much fuel had they used, and where was his colt?
She whinnied from somewhere inside.
“Sunshine!”
A fist broke through a dark swirl of smoke, connecting square on his jaw. He hit the ground and the foal ran past him.
“I got your sunshine,” growled Ned.
Kyle pushed up as a boot slammed into his gut.
“That’s for Billy!”
Kyle rolled aside and jumped up. Ned moved back, his image fading in and out of black swirls like a light-haired devil.
“We keeping score? Because I’ve got a list a mile lon
g of all the folks you wronged. So come take your lumps.”
A rope landed around Kyle’s shoulders and tugged him against the center post. The whole burning structure creaked.
“You’re not leaving this stable.”
Kyle twisted, grabbed the end of the rope and tugged. Ned stumbled forward, right into his fist. A second blow sent him flying through smoke and embers, landing flat on his back.
Kyle tossed the rope off. “If you need to be hand delivered to hell, I don’t mind taking you, Ned.”
Ned scrambled back, his dark eyes widening with a flicker of fear. “If that’s how you want it.” He stood up and charged at him.
Kyle blocked his weight and slammed his right fist into his gut.
His left fist pounded Ned’s chin. The next blow rattled his jaw.
Ned hit the ground and didn’t get up.
The roof overhead groaned. He looked up as embers showered down. A section of flames and wood came crashing down. He tried to lunge back but something struck his head. Pain exploded through his skull in a flash of light.
Constance moved through the woods, watching the flames rise higher on the stable. She’d seen Sunshine run out but no sign of Kyle. No one stood outside. As she made her way to the corral, she noticed a spray of embers twinkling like night stars on the ground, as though they’d exploded from inside. Smoke poured out as massive flames lit up the night sky.
“Kyle!” She fanned the smoke obstructing her view. “Kyle!” she screamed again. Heat radiated against her face, fear choking her as she remembered the lash of flames against her skin. Her eyes burned as she peered through the side doors. Beyond the center stall she spotted him, on the ground, unmoving, his blond hair and blackened face clear in the bright flickering light. She called his name. Horses whinnied in the distance. Kyle didn’t move.
He’s not dead. She had to get him out!
She ran to a water trough in the corral and set down the gun to shrug off his big coat. She dunked the wool and the leather before dragging it over her head. Keeping her gaze on Kyle’s unmoving body, she tried to block out her fear as she ran to him.
