California Caress (23 page)

Hope wiped her eyes dry on his shirt, then tipped her chin up. She was instantly captured by his hooded gaze. Frowning in confusion, she pillowed her chin on the hand that lay on his chest. The feel of his heart beating steadily beneath her palm was unnerving in an exciting sort of way.

“No,” she said finally, sniffling. Of its own accord her hand reached out and cupped his cheek. The stubble of whiskers scratched her palm.

His brow knit in concern. “Are you all right?”

“Fine.”

Her voice was thick with conviction, and Drake wondered if she was trying to convince him, or herself. “You’re sure?”

She nodded, then snuggled her head in his shoulder. “I—I’m sorry about... I didn’t mean to lose control that way.”

“Nothing to be sorry about.” He pulled her fingers to his lips, his tongue tasting the tips of each one. “If anyone has a right to cry, it’s you. Tears are nothing to be ashamed of.”

A shiver curled up her spine as she became aware of his tongue against her skin. “I don’t like to cry,” she said simply. She couldn’t say more. It was growing too difficult to think. She waited until her heart had stopped its wild throbbing and her breathing returned to normal, then said, “I’ve been thinking of how nice you’ve been to me.” Her eyes narrowed in confusion. “I’ve been thinking about how you tended me all by yourself. Why didn’t you ask the doctor to stay on?”

“He had places to go.” Drake sighed, as though his efforts toward her recovery were minor. “And I don’t trust doctors.”

“And now?” she pressed. “Why are you here now?”

Drake scowled. “I heard you screaming. You were making an awful ruckus, sunshine, and...” his mind went blank.

“You could’ve waited. The dream would’ve passed.”

He shrugged and she felt a twitch of pain in her shoulder. “I suppose I could have, although I don’t see what good it would have done. I wasn’t about to just sit around twiddling my thumbs and listening to you scream. I had to do something.” He gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze. “You’re my responsibility, Hope, and gentleman or not, I don’t take my responsibilities lightly.”

Her voice hardened. “I’m my own responsibility, Drake. No one else’s.”

“Fine,” he snapped, his tone equally as cold. Now why had her words angered him so much? They were defensively spoken, yet they grated. “Let’s say tomorrow you start assuming some of that responsibility by riding as scout. And when you’re not doing that, you can fix the meals and scrape the dishes. I’m sure I’ve got some shirts that and trousers that need washing and mending. You can do that in your spare time—if you have any. There, does that make you feel better? More independent?

“If you don’t think I can do it, think again.” Lifting up, Hope met his angry glare. “My mother always said one woman could do as much as any man—and twice as fast—all she had to do was put her mind to it.”

“Is that a fact?” he chuckled sarcastically. “Well, you introduce me to her sometime and I’ll gladly set her straight.”

Hope’s expression fell as she collapsed against the solid chest. The pain in her heart sliced deep. “I can’t. She died five years ago.”

“Oh, damn. Look, I’m sorry, sunshine, I—”

“Sorry?” she asked tightly. “What are you sorry for? You just all but said you wouldn’t have liked my mother even if you’d met her.”

“That isn’t fair, Hope.”

“Isn’t it? Why not? It’s the truth.”

Ignoring the dull throbbing in her shoulder, she pushed away from him. She lay on the mattress, her eyes staring sightlessly at the dark outline of the wagon’s canvas hood. She would have given anything for the strength to climb out of the wagon bed and seek the solitary company of the dusk. Instead, she lay in the quickly diminishing light of day, constantly aware of the warm virility of the man stretched lazily beside her.

The mattress shifted as Drake rolled to his side. Rising himself up, he propped his weight on one elbow. His palm itched to reach out and stroke the creamy cheek playing hide and seek with the shadows. He didn’t dare. “You act as if you are the only person in the world who ever lost someone they loved. Hasn’t it ever occurred to you that I might have lost someone, too?” His words were soft, his meaning was not.

Hope turned toward him, squinting into the shadows that sculpted his features. It was almost dark now. “No,” she said frankly, a frown marring her brow. “It never has. I guess I just thought... oh, I don’t know what I thought.” She turned away, then turned back again and continued the thought without being asked. “I never thought men like you
had
any family to lose.”

“Did you ever stop to think that losing a family might be what it took to
make
a man like me?”

The question was direct and to the point. She answered it with the same bluntness. “Did it?”

He shrugged. “In an indirect way, yeah, I supposed you could say that.”

He didn’t offer any more information, but Hope couldn’t let the matter rest there. Of its own accord, her hand reached up, the palm drawing slowly down the hard, bristling line of his jaw. The muscles beneath her fingertips stiffened, and to her surprise, instead of trying to pull away, he turned his face so his lips grazed her wrist.

“Tell me who you lost, Drake.” Her drawl thickened and her voice deepening to a pitch huskier than normal. Her hand continued to caress his cheek, drinking of its warmth.

“Everyone.”

The single word, so solemnly spoken, settled around Hope like a thick, dark cloak. Her gaze softened as she stared at his silhouette, but she doubted there was enough daylight left for him to see the emotion swimming in her eyes. The hand caressing his cheek slipped past his ear. Her fingers buried themselves in the silky curls clinging to his nape as she pulled his head down and pillowed it atop her right shoulder. His hair tickled her cheek and his warm breath seared through the thin cotton chemise, washing over the sensitive flesh beneath.

“You have no family then?” she asked softly, her fingers stroking his temple.

Drake stiffened, his tone hard and unyielding. “I have a brother in Boston, and, I would imagine by now, a sister-in-law. However, the three of us are not...friendly.”

Hope swallowed hard. A brother. God, what she wouldn’t give to have hers back! “Your brother and his wife, do they have any children?”

“When I left, Charles and Angelique weren’t even married. If there’s a God, the two will never procreate.”

“You don’t like him very much, do you?” she asked softly. The tightening in his shoulders told Hope all she needed to know.

“I hate him. Almost more than I hate his wife.”

His unconcealed anger took her by surprise. “But he’s your brother, Drake,” she persisted warily. “Surely any differences between you can be smoothed over. After all, his children will be your nieces and nephews. You can’t hold his sins against innocent children.”

“Keep out of this, sunshine. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Maybe not, but I
do
know what it’s like to have a brother.” Her voice cracked. “Until recently I had one myself. Luke and I had our differences, but I loved him. And I would have loved any children he had.”

“And what if your precious brother had stolen the heart of the only woman you ever loved?” he growled. “How would you have felt about him then?”

She gasped. That his brother’s wife had been the only woman to capture his heart hurt her more than she would admit. “Angelique?” she asked, her voice a throaty whisper.

Drake relaxed, his tone forcibly light. “It doesn’t matter. It happened a long time ago. It’s in the past now, where it belongs.”

“But—”

“Leave it alone, sunshine. It doesn’t concern you.” Reaching up, he cupped his hand over hers. Turning it over, he placed small kisses on the tips of her fingers, her knuckles, the center of her palm. His tongue darted out to taste the hollow in her wrist, running a moist path over the pulse throbbing there.

There was no denying her body’s immediate response to his touch. The shock of her reaction rippled down Hope’s arm in a way that was breathtakingly spontaneous and irresistible.

A blatant form of wildly sinful torture, she thought, as warm kisses trailed up the column of her arm. His lips had reached her upper arm, and she bent her elbow and let her fingers sink into the golden mane of hair.

“You’re avoiding my questions, gunslinger,” she whispered, her voice a husky sigh.

“Are you complaining?” he countered, nuzzling her shoulder. His fingers pushed aside the white cotton chemise and his breath kissed her skin. He tasted the flesh there only briefly as thoughts of her healing wound cut through his mind. Good God, he didn’t want to hurt her!

“I know I should be, but no, I’m not complaining.”

“Good.” He shifted, planting a leisurely kiss on her brow before he made to leave the bed. His palms burned where they had touched her warm flesh. “Save that thought for later. Right now you need your rest and you need your strength. And I need a bath.”

The mattress sagged as he reluctantly slipped his long legs over the side. Hope reached out and grabbed his arm before he could stand. “Where are you going?”

“To fix us some supper.”

“Now?” A pout turned her lips as she settled against the mattress. Although she knew he was right, she couldn’t help feeling cheated. She wanted him back on the mattress with her. Maybe she shouldn’t, and maybe she hadn’t healed enough for such antics, but that was what she wanted—it was what her heart and body screamed for. He hadn’t moved, but sat there staring at her. She regarded him through a shield of lashes, a sly grin turning her lips.

“Well,” she sighed heavily, “I suppose if you
must
go I shouldn’t stop you....” The lashes lifted and her gaze clashed with his. She drowned in those sea-green pools. “There is one thing, though.”

A slow grin spread over Drake’s lips as he leaned toward her. He pushed a chestnut curl from her temple, his fingers lingering on her cool brow. “And what’s that, sunshine?”

The grin blossomed into a wicked smile, and her eyes sparkled with mischief as she reached up and cupped his cheeks in her palms. “Incentive.” She breathed the single word with tantalizing slowness as she pulled his lips down to hers.

A groan tickled the back of Drake’s throat as he grudgingly pulled his lips from Hope’s. “Your shoulder—”

“Is fine. Believe me for once, gunslinger.”

His gaze darkened as it roved her face, then cleared with relief and a goodly portion of desire. “In that case I suppose supper could wait. Nah, you must be starving... so maybe I should....”

Hope fixed Drake with a stern look.

“Ah, hell.” He could resist the temptation no longer. With a growl, his mouth crashed down on hers. “Payment,” he whispered hoarsely against her lips as he devoured her honeyed softness.

She lost herself to his kiss. Unconsciously, she slipped her hand beneath the neck of his shirt, letting her fingers glide over the smooth muscles rippling in his shoulders. Trail dirt still clung to his skin but Hope didn’t care. She was enticed by the feel of his flesh gliding beneath her hands, and the magic of his deepening kiss.

Slowly, Drake lowered himself to her side, careful not to let his weight or hands brush against her wounded shoulder. The risk of what he was doing was lost to the scent of her hair, the feel of her hand on his back, the sweet, buttery taste of her tongue. A small corner of his mind remained alert to any sign of pain as he let his hand trail down her arm. His index finger drew a slow circle on her palm before sliding over to the gentle curve of her hip. With a moan, he stroked the white cotton that covered her skin. Lying down on the mattress, he pulled her hard against him and arched into her side.

A moan of pleasure rumbled in her throat. She drank fully of him, her tongue matching his in the game they played, while her hand strayed to the paper collar of his shirt. One by one she slipped free the buttons, exposing the golden hair that matted his chest in a widening vee. When she reached the bottom, she spread the shirt wide and slipped it with delicious slowness over a broad, sun-kissed shoulder.

His skin tightened as her palm roamed up the taut line of his stomach, higher, teasing the golden curls and the hard nipples buried there. White-hot desire surged through him as her hand slid over the quivering flesh covering his ribcage. He trapped it against his side with his arm, halting her torturous investigation to launch a counteroffensive of his own.

His mouth shifted from her lips to her neck. His teeth nibbled on the slender throat, teasing the sensitive place where neck met shoulder. When she groaned aloud, he knew he had found his spot. Nestling down on the mattress, he pushed away the cumbersome tresses and buried his face in her neck. His tongue teased the sensitive flesh, and each hot breath that washed over her skin made Hope tighten with pleasure.

With exquisite slowness, his fingers trailed down the outer stretch of her thigh, catching on the hem of the chemise where it had bunched around her knees. An inch lower and his hand had found its way beneath the hem. His fingers tickled the back of her knees before beginning a breathtaking ascent.

Hope’s breath caught in her throat as his fingers grazed the inside of her thigh. His mouth kissed the frantically pulsating hollow in her throat. A large palm brushed a nest of chestnut curls. He teased that spot for less than a heartbeat then ascended higher.

Hope moistened suddenly parched lips as he passed over her waist, drew a line over several ribs, then closed tenderly over a creamy breast. A wave of new sensations crashed over her, razor-sharp sensations expertly honed beneath his hand. And, oh, what he did to her neck and shoulder was almost indecent.

Dragging the back of her fingers down his side, she slipped her fingertips beneath his waistband. The boldness of her actions surprised them both, and for the space of a sigh, neither moved. But her curiosity was whetted, and passion goaded her on.

Undoing the buttons of his snug-fitting trousers without ripping open her stitches proved to be a lesson in coordination. Once she almost gave up, but the feel of a curiously solid pressure down there doubled her determination. When the last button finally slipped free, she gave a throaty giggle of victory. An added victory was to be had, it would seem. The second Drake felt her hand struggling with the buttons of his trousers, he’d stopped nibbling on her neck, and the hand that had been gliding over her ribs stopped abruptly on her abdomen.