Anita Mills (26 page)

“Well, at least I bought you one good meal,” he said finally. Leaning forward, he picked up the wine bottle and divided what was left between the two goblets. Handing her one of them, he held up the other. “Here’s to you, Verena—may all your dreams come true.” As he said it, he clinked one silver rim against the other. “I hope you know I’m going to miss you,” he added quietly.

It was as though a grand adventure was coming to an end. And suddenly, as she looked into those dark, almost black eyes, she knew she didn’t want to go on without him. San Angelo was distant now, her father’s farm almost unimportant when compared to the loss she was feeling. After all she’d gone through, after all she’d spent just to get there, it didn’t make any sense anymore.

Her mother had been right, after all. He was every bit as dangerous as she’d first thought him, but for a different reason. He hadn’t had to seduce her with lies and promises. No, in less than a week of knowing him, she’d fallen for a dark-haired, dark-eyed rogue, who’d made it plain that he was a long way from wanting to settle down. And she wasn’t foolish enough to think she could change him. Even if she could, it wouldn’t help anything. He’d still be an outlaw on the run. So no matter how hard she wished him to go with her, she knew it wouldn’t happen.

Touching her goblet to his, she managed to tell him, “I’m going to miss you, too. Terribly.”

The way she said it told him far more than the words. Before he could stop it, a wave of desire washed over him, threatening his resolve. “Look, Rena—” He reached across the table to cover her warm hand. For a moment, he struggled with himself, telling himself there was no way on earth he could have her. “Rena—”

“You don’t have to say it, Matt—I know. I just never planned on this, that’s all.” Keeping her eyes on the white linen cloth, she said in a low voice, “I just thought I’d come down here, sell the farm, and go home. All I really wanted was to understand why he left, you know. I thought if I had that, I could go on.”

“Yeah.” His fingers almost burned where they touched hers. Reluctantly, he drew his hand back. “Come on—you’ve got a long way to go tomorrow.”

She’d had her answer. Again. “Yes,” she agreed simply.

As they walked back to the Menger, the warm night air was filled with the fragrance of roses, and the sky above was clear, midnight blue, and filled with stars. In one corner of it, the still-rising quarter moon looked down, the man in the moon’s smile decidedly benign. It was beautiful out, and there was a sense of time suspended beneath all those stars.

Beside her, Matt McCready seemed so strong, so solid, so alive that it was hard to accept that he wouldn’t be there tomorrow, that this was the end. When she looked up, she realized he’d taken the long way, leading her almost to the river’s edge. And now the moonlight made the water shine like a ribbon of silver. Any other time, she would have seen something magical, even mystical in it, but not now.

“I guess I’ll be getting up to see you off in the morning,” he said, breaking the long silence.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to make sure you get on that stage. I’ll feel a whole lot better knowing you’re on your way, that you’ll be able to catch the mail wagon when it goes through tomorrow. It’ll probably have an armed escort.”

“You don’t think they’ve given up, do you?”

He took a deep breath, then let it out before answering, “I don’t know.”

“Matt—”

“Don’t, Rena—I can’t go. I’ve got to find a place to hide, and there’s not much in San Angelo. A man like me would stand out like a sore thumb there.”

“I wasn’t going to say that. I was going to say that I think I’ll be all right,” she lied. “But I am going to buy myself a gun as soon as I get there. And I’m not going out to look at Papa’s farm without Mr. Hamer.”

“Yeah.” Bending down, he picked up a rock, then skipped it across the slow-moving water. “Come on.”

“I don’t know as I want to go in,” she said, trying to prolong the moment.

“You have to. Morning’s going to come early.”

He walked quickly back toward the Menger, as if he couldn’t wait to be rid of her now. She hurried beside him in silence, knowing there was nothing more to be said.

At her door, he paused. “You think the man in the restaurant was following us, don’t you?”

“Yes. Don’t you?”

“It could be me he’s after,” he. said. “Yon said so yourself.”

“I hope not.” She felt awkward and self-conscious now. “But if it were you, wouldn’t he just arrest you? If he were a Ranger, I mean.”

“Maybe. Or maybe he wants to make sure I’m his man.”

“Oh.”

It was hard letting her go, harder than he’d ever expected. “Look,” he said finally, “maybe we’d better switch rooms again. Maybe that way you’ll sleep better. I know once you get on that mail wagon, nobody’s going to give you any trouble,” he said again, reassuring himself. “But you might as well have some peace of mind tonight.”

“I think it’s probably a good idea,” she murmured. “Unless, of course, he’s looking for you.”

He shook his head. “He’s waiting for something—maybe a warrant.” Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved his key and unlocked his door. Holding it open for her, he offered, “I’ll bring your things over.”

“Wait—”

“What?”

Somehow she managed to look up into those dark eyes again. “Thank you for the lovely dress, Matt. I’ve never ever had anything as nice as this. And I doubt if I will again.”

“I just thought it’d look good on you. And it does—it looks damned good on you, Rena. Sometime when you’re wearing it, I hope you remember me.”

“Schoolteachers don’t get many chances to wear fancy taffetas.” Unable to think of anything else, she blurted out, “It’s been a grand adventure just knowing you, Matt. It truly has.”

Her wet eyes sparkled in the semidarkness. “God, Rena—hey, you aren’t crying, are you?”

“No, of course not,” she whispered, looking away. As the burning tears threatened to overflow her brimming eyes, she felt his warm hands on her shoulders, turning her around.

“Oh, Matt!” she wailed.

His arms closed around her, holding her close, and his head bent to hers. As his hot breath caressed her cheek, she threw her arms around his neck, shamelessly inviting his kiss. And he did not disappoint her.

He kissed her thoroughly, possessing her mouth completely, and as she responded wholeheartedly, he forgot everything but the feel of her. His mouth left hers to nibble eagerly at her earlobes, and he could feel the shiver of her answering desire. With his last ounce of reason, he told himself to stop, that lie couldn’t face her hating him afterward.

“I’ve got to go, Rena—you don’t want this.”

“Stay with me tonight, Matt—please. Hold me tonight.”

“Rena—”

“I don’t want to die a spinster without ever knowing how it ought to be. Just for tonight, I want you to love me.”

Her eyes were like great dark pools, drawing him in, threatening to drown him. With the fleeting image of quicksand darting through his mind, he kicked the door shut behind him and kissed her again, damning tomorrow. For whatever it was worth, he was going to put everything he had into one night of loving her.

His hands moved over her shoulders, her back, her hips, pressing her body against his, as his mouth traced hot, eager kisses along her jaw, then lower to her throat, to the smooth, silky skin of her shoulders. The mantilla slid silently to the floor.

“Tell me what to do,” she whispered. “I want to know how to love you.”

For answer, he turned her away from him, and before she could protest, he nuzzled her hair, smelling the sweet fragrance of roses. “Just don’t be sorry—that’s all I ask,” he said softly.

“I won’t, but—”

“Shhhh.”

His lips found the sensitive nape of her neck, and he could feel the tremor going through her body. Reaching around her, he drew her back against him, then began unhooking the bodice of her dress, loosening her corset laces, freeing her breasts. As his fingers brushed over her nipples, she gasped in shock.

“I want to feel all of you, Rena,” he whispered against her bare shoulder. “I want to touch all of you.”

Closing her eyes, she leaned back, giving herself over to the exquisite feel of his hands on her skin. Her breasts strained against his palms and her nipples tautened between his fingers. Never in her life could she have ever imagined anything like this. It was as if the center of her being lay beneath his hands.

As he worked on the corset, he could almost curse the way a woman caged herself in whalebone. When it finally gave way, it joined the mantilla at his feet. She was bare to the waist, and her skin felt hot, almost fevered.

“I want you to get out of the dress, Rena.” Even as he said it, he pushed the loose bodice down over her hips. “I want to see you.”

She hesitated, suddenly afraid, and her hands caught his, holding them. “No—please.”

“Do you want me to go?” he asked softly.

“No.”

“It’ll be good, but you’ve got to trust me.” Kissing her nape again, he continued working the gown down.

The taffeta swished as her dress and petticoat slid over her drawers, then billowed out in a whoosh as they fell around her ankles. Closing her eyes to hide from him, she felt his hands slip beneath the elastic waist of her drawers.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered. “You know that, don’t you, Rena?”

She couldn’t answer. All she could do was swallow as his hands moved over her skin, lightly touching her waist and her hips, then her flat belly. Her whole body felt like a bowstring about to break and yet she didn’t want him to stop. Just when she thought she could stand no more, he stood back to remove his coat and boots. Then he knelt in front of her to unlace and pull off her shoes.

When he stood again, he said hoarsely, “Undo my shirt for me.”

Her fingers touched his chest, finding the buttonholes, slipping them over the buttons. His chest rose and fell beneath her fingertips. She slid her hands under his shirt, loosening it, feeling the solid, forbidden warmth of his body.

She was naked except for her drawers, he except for his pants. Turning her around again, he nuzzled the back of her neck, her silken shoulder, and he could feel the waves of excitement course through her. His hands cupped her breasts, and his thumbs rubbed her nipples again.

A low moan began deep within her, rising as one of his hands slid under the waistband of her drawers, over the flat plane of her belly to her hot thighs, then to the soft thatch between, touching her, caressing her
there.
She stiffened momentarily as he found the wetness, then slipped inside. She arched her head, her whole body, leaning back into him, giving herself over to what he did to her.

Telling himself she was more than ready, he lifted her from behind, half turned her into his arms, then carried her to the bed. Laying her atop the coverlet, he quickly shed his pants, then followed her down into the cradling depths of the featherbed. As his manhood touched her belly, her eyes flew open, betraying a sudden panic.

Cursing himself for his eagerness, he smoothed her hair back from her temples with both hands and bent his head to brush her lips. “It’s all right, Rena,” he whispered. “We’ve got the whole night ahead of us.”

Her lips parted to receive his teasing tongue, and her answering kiss ignited the fire anew, making him forget everything but the woman beneath him. His mouth left hers, this time to explore the hollow of her throat, the rounded mounds of her breasts, the taut nipples. When his hand found the wetness between her thighs again, they slackened, giving him access to her.

Her closed eyelids were a deep purple in the semidarkness, and her breathing was rapid, shallow as she writhed beneath him, asking for more. Her fingers opened and closed almost spasmodically as she caressed his thick hair.

She moaned her protest when his hand left her to guide himself into the wet depths; then her whole body went rigid as her maidenhead tore. A sharp gasp escaped as her flesh closed around his. Whispering almost incoherent words of love, he began to move within her, slowly at first. Then as her legs came up and she clasped his bare back, digging in her nails, he gave in to his own all-consuming desire.

Feeling the exquisite agony of what he did to her, she followed his lead, bucking and writhing beneath him, straining for some distant ecstasy, while her hands urged him on. There was no yesterday, no tomorrow, nothing but what he was doing to her. Just as she thought she could take no more, he grasped her hips, and riding hard, cried out loudly. She felt the flood of warmth just before he collapsed over her.

Satiated, he floated back to earth, then lay there, his head on her breast, catching his breath. The thought crossed his mind that if heaven had a name, it’d be this. Gradually, he became aware that she lay quietly, her heart beating hard beneath his ear. The reality of what he’d done washed over him, making him almost afraid to look at her. He’d taken her maidenhead, and nothing he could do would give it back to her.

She looked on his dark, rumpled hair, on his bare skin gleaming almost white in the faint moonlight, and she wondered if he thought her no better than a cheap harlot now. If he did, she wouldn’t be seeing him again after this, anyway, she told herself. And as the reality of that set in, she wanted to cry.

Finally, he got enough courage to raise up on his elbows and look into her eyes. They glistened wetly, making him feel like the greatest cad on earth. There were no words to make amends for what he’d done to her, and yet he had to try.

“Rena, I’m sorry—I lost my head—”

That was almost more than she could bear. “No, I threw myself at you,” she managed, mortified.

“I didn’t even give you a good time, did I?”

“Yes.” Forcing a small smile, she dared to meet his gaze. “And as sinful as it sounds, I’m not sorry. For a few moments, you let me pretend that somebody loved me. That’s something, isn’t it?”

“God, Rena, you could have anybody you looked at.”

“But I didn’t want any of them,” she said simply. “I don’t know why, but you’re the only one I ever thought of like this. I just didn’t want it to end, that’s all.”