Maureen McKade (28 page)

“Kisses are a lot like whiskey. If you drink it before its time, it’ll burn all the way down. But if you wait for a little while and let it simmer, it goes down a whole lot smoother.”

“I hate to tell you this, but I’m already a bit warm.” Her eyes twinkled.

Matt smiled. “Then I’d best get to it before it spoils.”

He bent his head and covered her mouth gently. He caressed her honeyed lips, paying them homage with his own form of adoration. She twined her fingers
through his hair. His pulse pounded in his head, and lightning coiled in his stomach. Groaning, he drew away before he lost control.

Libby studied him with a heavy-lidded gaze, then reached up with a questing hand. She trailed a gloved finger down his scar and he started. Libby laid her palm against his cheek. “I think your kisses are better than all right.”

A weight seemed to disappear from Matt’s shoulders, and his lips quirked upward. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to tempt a man?”

She giggled. “You make me sound like Eve in the garden of Eden.”

With a lightness he hadn’t experienced in years, Matt chuckled. “We’d better get up before we melt a hole in the snow.”

Matt stood, extending his hand to Libby. Without hesitation, she accepted his assistance and Matt pulled her to her feet. She didn’t withdraw from his grasp, and he squeezed her fingers gently. Libby’s warm smile sent a ray of sunshine to the depths of his soul.

Dylan rejoined them and opened his fist, revealing two blue buttons. “Can I use these?”

“They’re perfect,” Libby said. “Aren’t they Matt?”

He smiled and nodded, his gaze on her. “Perfect. If Miss O’Hanlon is done with the head, we can get your snowman put together.”

Libby pointed to the ball she’d made. “How’s that?”

“It’s perfect,” Dylan echoed. “C’mon and help me, Sheriff.”

Matt winked at Libby, and he and Dylan placed the ball of snow on top of the two larger ones. Matt lifted the boy and Dylan pressed the eyes into the packed snow.

Libby angled her head and studied the creation. “I think it needs a nose and a mouth.”

A scavenger hunt ensued, and fifteen minutes later, the snowman was completed.

“What’re you going to name him, Dylan?” Libby asked.

The boy thought for a long moment. “He looks just like the bartender at the Golden Slipper.”

Matt chuckled. “He does look a mite like Albert, all right.”

“Then that’s his name,” Dylan proclaimed.

Libby smiled. “What do you say the sheriff and I walk you back to Mrs. Potts’?”

Dylan nodded. He reached for Matt’s hand and grasped Libby’s with his other one.

Matt glanced at Libby and she sent him a smile that traveled clear to his unprotected heart.

They could be a family.

A sense of belonging enveloped him. He cared for Libby and Dylan with a depth he hadn’t believed he’d ever feel again. Matt’s throat tightened at the thought of Dylan calling him Pa. The boy’s true parentage didn’t bother Matt. He’d be proud to call Dylan his own, and he’d raise him to know right from wrong.

He imagined Libby as his wife. Her compassion would soothe his wounds, and she’d share his bed at night. They would love one another until the early hours of morning, and fall asleep in each other’s arms. Her unwavering acceptance of him would banish the demons that chased him in his slumber. She would never deceive him like Rachel had done.

They stopped in front of the boardinghouse.

“Go on in and change into some dry clothes before you catch a cold,” Libby advised Dylan.

“Are you and the sheriff going to come in?” Dylan asked.

“I’d better get back to the schoolhouse and change, too,” Libby replied. “And I think the sheriff should do the same. He might get real sick again if he doesn’t.”

She squatted down. “Do I get a hug?”

Dylan moved into her embrace and he wrapped his arms around her.

“Are you going to move into Mrs. Potts’s tomorrow?” he asked.

“Not until Sunday.”

Dylan nodded and turned to Matt. “I decided to come live with you, Sheriff.”

Surprise shot through Matt. “I thought for sure you’d want to live with Miss O’Hanlon.”

He shook his head. “She’ll have Mrs. Potts, but you won’t have anybody. Besides, Miss O’Hanlon said I could get a dog if I lived with you.”

Matt turned to Libby. “Is that so?”

“You don’t mind, do you?” she asked.

How could he tell her the judge would make the final decision about Dylan, and he wasn’t about to award custody of a young boy to a former drunk? He looked at Dylan’s apprehensive face. “I don’t mind at all. This way I can make sure you don’t steal any more apples from Mr. Pearson.”

Matt tempered his words with a wink.

Dylan sighed in relief. “When do you want me to move in?”

“Why don’t we wait until after Christmas? I don’t even have a tree in my cabin, and Mrs. Potts always puts a real nice one up in the parlor.”

“Are you and Miss O’Hanlon going to help?”

“I’ll be there,” Matt assured.

“I’ve got to help get the schoolhouse decorated for the party,” Libby said. “When we finish with that, I’ll be over. Now scoot inside before you freeze.”

Dylan waved and dashed in the house.

“I meant what I said. You could get a relapse of pneumonia if you don’t get some dry clothes on,” Libby warned.

A smile twitched Matt’s lips. “Yes, ma’am. But I plan on walking you home first.”

Libby opened her mouth to argue.

“And no arguments,” Matt spoke up.

He reached for her hand and they walked side by side in the evening dusk.

“Why did you do it?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“Convince Dylan he should live with me.”

Libby stared into the gloom. “Don’t be ridiculous. Dylan made his own decision.”

“So, your telling him he could have a dog if he lived with me isn’t what you’d call influencing him?”

“I might have mentioned it, since I knew how much he wanted a dog. I also knew he couldn’t keep one at Lenore’s.”

“You don’t seem all that upset he picked me and not you.”

Libby shrugged. “A boy needs a man he can look up to, and you’d make a wonderful father.”

“What if the judge doesn’t agree with you?”

Libby looked up at him. “Why wouldn’t he allow Dylan to stay with you? You’re a sheriff, for heaven’s sake. He’d be crazy to put him back with Sadie.”

“I talked to Sadie last night. She told me Judge Benson is a regular customer. She thinks she’ll get Dylan back without a problem.”

Libby’s face paled. “You don’t believe that, do you?”

“I don’t know.” Matt sought the courage to confess his drinking problem. He took a deep, steadying breath. “She’s going to tell him about the time I spent more time drunk than sober.”

Libby shook her head impatiently. “But that was years ago. You don’t drink anymore.”

Matt stumbled to a standstill and stared at Libby. “You knew?”

“A couple of people told me about it. If we can convince the judge you’ve been sober for a few years and the chances of you returning to your old drinking
habits are almost nonexistent, he’ll have to give you custody of Dylan.”

Relief washed through him like a swelling wave. She’d known all along, and still she cared for him. “I was afraid you’d hate me if you knew.”

Disappointment clouded Libby’s face. “You really thought that little of me? Matt, I don’t care what you’ve done in the past. You’re a generous and kindhearted man. Haven’t I been able to get that through your thick skull?”

Wonder filled him and he gazed at Libby, seeing her in a different light. “You really don’t care, do you?”

Libby groaned. “Lenore said I should’ve used a two-by-four. Maybe she was right.”

Matt pressed his lips to the back of her hand. “I don’t think that’s necessary. I think I finally got the message. In fact, I think I got all of them.”

Matt shivered on the outside, but inside, warmth infused him. They walked the remaining distance in comfortable silence.

“Are you too tired to tutor me this evening?” Matt asked.

Libby shook her head. “Come back after you change, and I’ll have some supper for us—then we’ll continue your reading lesson.”

Lightly, he trailed his finger down the side of her flushed face. He studied her ripe mouth, and slanted his lips across hers. Libby’s arms circled his neck, pulling him closer. His body met her soft curves and he moaned deep in his throat. His heart beat in time with Libby’s, his breath merging with hers. Finally, Matt retreated, though he continued to hold her against him.

“You’d better go change, Matt,” Libby whispered.

He nodded and reluctantly released her. “I’ll be back.”

Matt slipped away in the cover of darkness, and Libby ached to have him back beside her. She climbed
the wooden steps into the schoolhouse, then hurried back to her room.

Her somber attire back in place, Libby fried potatoes and added chunks of ham to the skillet. She hummed a spirited tune that matched her cheerful mood. She had seen the transformation on Matt’s face. The change came like the sun to chase away the dark clouds. She’d sensed his startled relief that someone could accept him with all his scars.

She paused and frowned. What now? Where did she and Matt go from this point? He had branded her with gentle kisses that had the power to arouse her and make her forget who she’d been and what she ran from. Did he want more from her, now that he understood he had nothing to be ashamed of? And if he did, could she love him, knowing the risk of discovery hung around her neck like a tightening noose? Was she even capable of love, after what she’d endured at Harrison’s sadistic hands?

Troubled thoughts swirled through Libby’s mind. A door hinge creaked. “Matt, is that you?” she called.

Eerie silence answered.

Libby moved the pan off the stove and picked up the lantern. The pale yellow glow lit her path into the classroom. “Matt?”

Though unable to see anybody, Libby’s hair prickled at the nape of her neck. “Who’s there?”

Click.

Libby whirled and spied a rough-looking man with a revolver aimed directly at her. She gasped and pressed her palm to her mouth. Her heart raced uncontrollably.

“What do you want?” Libby managed to ask.

Two long strides placed the grizzled stranger directly in front of her. He leered, showing stained teeth between his thin lips. “Put the lamp on the desk.”

With a trembling hand, she did as he commanded.

“Sit down,” he ordered.

Libby stared into muddy brown eyes under shaggy dark brows. “What do you want?”

He grabbed her arm with bruising fingers and flung her into the chair. Libby slammed against the wooden slats, and tears clouded her eyes.

“Get your hands behind your back.”

“What’re you going to do?”

“Shut up. Do like I said.”

She leaned forward and clasped her shaking hands behind her. “Who are you?”

He moved around her and lashed her wrists together. The rope bit into her skin, slowing the circulation and numbing her fingertips. He yanked her braid, forcing her gaze up at him.

“You’re going to help me kill the sheriff.”

His fetid breath rolled across Libby and her stomach pitched. She could barely speak past the terror lodged in her throat. “Why?”

He tightened his hold on her hair, and the pain brought a new flood of tears blurring her vision.

“He murdered my brother and the Bible says ‘an eye for an eye,’ ” the outlaw stated venomously.

Fear sleeted down Libby’s spine. “But he must have done something. Matt wouldn’t kill anybody without justification.”

The man’s close-set eyes narrowed and he released Libby. He paced, his boot heels ominous in the evening’s stillness. “Ain’t nothing Jimmy done was bad enough to be shot down.”

“What did he do?” If she could keep him talking, maybe Matt would be alerted to the man’s presence.

He untied the grimy bandanna from his neck and approached her. “You just relax, and maybe I’ll let you live.”

He looped the filthy scarf across her mouth and Libby gagged from the salty taste of stale sweat embedded in the material. “That’ll keep you quiet.”

The would-be murderer’s lecherous gaze raked
Libby, and she shivered. He lowered his gun, and used the barrel to trace across her shoulder and down across the rise and fall of her breast. “Been a long time since I had a woman.” He rubbed his crotch with a dirt-encrusted hand. “Maybe after I take care of the sheriff, you and I can have a little fun. You got a bed back there?”

Panic threatened to strangle Libby. Her heart hammered in her chest and sweat coated her palms.

The faint strains of whistling strayed into the room. Her captor straightened. Libby recognized the tune as “Dixie” and dread froze her. Matt.

“Looks like I got my second chance.”

Libby swiveled her startled gaze to the stranger.
He
was the one who’d shot at them last Sunday. He’d missed then, but this time he wouldn’t. She pushed out of the chair, but a rough shove forced her back down. He pressed the gun’s cold steel against the side of her head. Libby struggled for air, and she feared she would suffocate. Red dots skimmed across her vision.

The door in the cloakroom opened.

“I hope you made a lot for supper. I’m starved,” Matt called. He entered the classroom and stopped short.

“Howdy, Sheriff. We got some unfinished business.”

Fury swept through Matt’s eyes. With visible effort he drew a blank curtain across his features, but Libby noticed the tic in his jaw and the tension in his broad shoulders. She stared at Matt, willing him to leave before the vengeful man killed him.

“I figured you’d be long gone with all that money you and your brother stole,” Matt stated.

“Not until you’re dead just like Jimmy. Get your hands up, away from your gun.”

Matt raised his arms. “Let her go. It’s me you want.”

He shook his head. “She’s my insurance that you won’t try nothin’.”

Matt glanced at Libby and he sent her a steady, reassuring look. He turned back to the thief. “How’d you know I’d be here?”

“I been watchin’,” he said proudly. “You been comin’ here every night about this time. I figured I’d slip in and get the drop on you.”