Cowboy's Kiss (19 page)

Maybe being here wasn't what was best for Meggie after all, she thought.

But she knew now was not the time to consider it. She was too jittery, too scared to make any kind of decision.

And standing there studying the rise and fall of her daughter's chest to make sure she was breathing wasn't helping anything, so she finally pressed a soft kiss to Meggie's brow, tucked in the already tucked-in covers and left the room.

“How's our girl doin'?” Jackson's question greeted her as she carefully closed the door behind her. He was waiting in the hall, his arms crossed over his chest, his back against the wall.

She knew the doctor had to have filled him in before he left, but as if Jackson actually might not know what was going on, she said, “We were lucky. Both her head and elbow were only grazed. And her shoulder wasn't dislocated, just wrenched. It'll be sore for a few days, but she won't even need a sling. She has quite an egg on her head, though. Living on a ranch might be helping the inside of it, but I'm beginning to wonder how dangerous this place is for the outside of it.”

Ally had intended that to be a joke, but neither of them laughed. Probably because it had too much of a ring of truth to it to be funny.

Instead, Jackson's brows dipped down in a frown, and somehow she knew what he was thinking—that just when he let his guard drop with her, she'd take off the way his ex-wife had.

And suddenly Ally realized that he might be right. That somewhere during the time since Meggie had been hurt, the thought of leaving here had begun to seriously tease at the fringes of her thoughts.

Jackson pushed away from the wall and stood up straight, tall, proud. And distant. “Life here isn't only hard, it's hazardous, too,” he agreed, though not in the warning, ominous way he'd said it before. Just as a matter of fact. “That's something you'd better take into consideration.”

Before either of us gets in any deeper,
Ally added mentally. “Did Meggie do something wrong?” she asked, searching for a reason, for a way to convince herself that the hazards could be avoided.

“Nope, she didn't,” he answered, instantly dispelling that hope. “Meggie's good with Sunshine. She's also right about the horse liking her. That animal responds to her better than to anyone ‘round here. These things just happen. Could have been me as easily as it was Meggie if one of the bigger horses had shied. We're dealin' with unpredictable animals that outweigh us ten times over. And with the power and force of Mother Nature. With wide-open spaces where help is faraway. With equipment that can be treacherous. It's all part of this life, Ally.”

Take it or leave it.

He didn't say that, but Ally heard it, anyway, in his tone. And it sent a renewed shiver up her spine, bringing with it more of that internal shaking she'd just managed to stop.

Jackson seemed to sense it. He took a step toward her and his arms unlocked from across his chest. But that was as far as he got. He didn't actually reach for her the way she thought he was going to. The way she wished he would. He stopped short and only jammed his hands into his pockets.

“Guess you'd better think about some things,” he suggested, his expression resigned, sad, knowing.

Then, as if he were leaving her to do just that, he turned and went into his bedroom.

It wasn't as if Ally could think about anything else as she went into her own room, into her bathroom and peeled off her muddy clothes.

The sight of Meggie lying on the ground like a rag doll with that horse above her, on the verge of stomping her, kept flashing through Ally's mind in every vivid detail.

An inch more to the center of Meggie's head and her skull could have been crushed or her face shattered. She could have been killed. She could have been scarred for life.

Standing in the shower, thinking about it, Ally felt her heart begin to pound, and the shaking started yet again, this time not only internally but externally, too.

Images of Meggie hurt and bloody kept flashing themselves at her. Thoughts of losing her stabbed like knives. Her whole body quaked uncontrollably, and even the warm water of the shower didn't chase away the chill that felt as if it were bone deep.

She turned off the water and stepped out of the stall, under the heat lamp in the ceiling, thinking maybe that might help. But it didn't. And neither did drying off.

She knew the shock, the full impact of what had happened, of what
might
have happened, was striking. The same thing had occurred when she'd been involved in a car accident—she'd functioned while she'd needed to and then fallen apart after the fact.

The delayed reaction, the fear, was insurmountable and the tremors went on running through her, leaving her shivering, shaking, weak-kneed.

And into it all came a craving for Jackson. For his strong, steady presence. For his calm in the storm that was ripping at her from the inside out. For his comfort. For him....

She told herself it wasn't wise even as she slipped into her bathrobe and headed out of her bedroom. Jackson was the very person she'd leave behind if she opted not to stay here. And they were both already in so deep it wouldn't be easy for either of them if she took Meggie and left.

But her feelings for him were stronger than any reasoning she could come up with. Her need for him was more powerful. And at that moment she was too weak, too vulnerable to put up a fight with herself.

She crossed the hall to his door and knocked softly, still trembling, on the verge of tears she couldn't explain.

“Come in,” he called quietly.

She opened the door and there he was, standing in the middle of the room, shirtless, his feet bare, the waistband button of his jeans unfastened. His dark hair was finger-combed carelessly; his mustache added a seriousness to his expression, the dent in his chin caught shadows. And just one look at him lighted a tiny ember of much-needed warmth deep inside her.

Ally wasn't sure what to say and so just stood there in the hall, staring at him and shaking like a leaf. Finally she murmured, “I don't want to be alone...” when what she really wanted to say was,
Hold me, please, just hold me, close and tight....

But he seemed to know.

He came to her and pulled her through the doorway and into his arms, against that broad, hard chest of his, the way she'd wanted him to before. His arms wrapped around her in just the solid embrace she yearned for, letting the heat of his body seep into her pores.

She circled his waist with her own arms, pressed her palms to the expanse of his back and laid her cheek to his chest.

She could hear his heartbeat and she closed her eyes and gave in to her other senses as they drank in the nectar that was Jackson, feeding her bruised spirit, reviving her.

For a long while that was how they remained. He didn't do anything but hold her, comfort her, massage her tense shoulder blades with big, capable hands, cocoon her body with his magnificent one, and press soft kisses to the top of her head.

It was all the perfect balm.

Little by little her trembling stopped—first on the outside and then even on the inside. She could feel the tension leaving her by degrees, feel the stiffness draining out of her, feel her lungs taking in more than just the shallow breaths that were the best she'd been able to manage since Meggie's accident.

And then solace gave way to something else.

Her body molded itself to his, softness to hard, curves into valleys, and his touch was no longer merely comforting but had a slower, more sensuous feel to it.

His hands trailed up into her hair, cradling and guiding her head away from his chest so he could peer down into her eyes, searching them with a troubled gaze and yet clearly as unable to fight this as she'd been.

“I love you, Ally,” he whispered as if it hurt him somehow to say it. Or maybe to feel it.

“I love you, too,” she answered, her voice no louder, for as great as the fear he'd just quelled in her was another, a fear of the feelings they'd just admitted to and what could come with them.

But then he lowered his lips to hers in a kiss too sweet, too deep, too forceful to resist.

Ally gave in to it. To the freedom it allowed her from all thought.

With his mouth still covering hers, he picked her up in his arms and carried her to his bed, where they made love with a wild abandon that kept rhythm with the thunder and lightning that still raged outside, swept away on a passion greater than everything else at that moment, wiping away all reason, all inhibition, all worries and fears.

Ally truly lost herself in the exquisite sensations Jackson bestowed, carried on the tides of pleasure that came with the contained power of his hands on her breasts, on her stomach, lower still.

His mouth enraptured hers. His tongue played, teased, fenced with hers, and then went on to explore for other, even more sensitive spots on her body to delight and bring to life.

She reveled in her own exploration of him, too—hard, honed muscles and deeply cut vales; massive, sinewy legs; that tight derriere; and the long, steely shaft of his masculinity and desire—need—for her.

And when he slipped that glorious shaft inside her and drove them both to a new and higher peak, she knew not only a blind ecstasy but a completeness, a sense that what they'd found together was meant to be. And for a brief, explosive moment, she couldn't imagine being anywhere else or ever leaving him behind.

But then they crossed over the crest and came back to earth.

And even though lying in Jackson's arms was still bliss, fear crept back into her consciousness. And though he stroked her hair where her head rested on his chest, though he held her close and their legs were entwined the way they'd been when she'd awakened this morning, the fear didn't lessen.

Then, in a passion-raspy voice he said, “Do you ever think about getting married again?”

Fear turned to the same kind of terror she'd felt at the top of the windmill, but she fought to hide it. “Sure, I think about it,” she answered quietly. “Do you?”

“Not until lately.” He paused a moment and then, almost hesitantly, said, “Would you think about marryin' me?”

Ally didn't answer that immediately. She couldn't. How could such a simple question strike such disparate feelings in her? But it did, as fear warred with happiness.

Then she realized that agreeing to think about marrying him was not the same as saying yes. So, as if she were venturing out onto thin ice, she said, “I'll think about it.” She wouldn't be able
not
to think about his quiet, solemn proposal.

Then, out of the blue and completely taking Ally by surprise, came a flashback of her daughter under that horse. And that much more reasonable and rational fear pushed aside the unreasonable and irrational one she'd just been feeling as she was washed in an intense memory of her own helplessness in doing anything to save Meggie from that danger.

And Ally knew that she'd be thinking a lot about that, too.

T
he storm of the day and night before had stopped and given way to a clear sky for the naming ceremony that was to take place as the sun first rose above the horizon. The hundred or so guests began arriving just before dawn.

Everyone brought a dish for a potluck breakfast, leaving it on the picnic tables, and birth gifts stacked up in a considerable pyramid in one corner of the patio.

Ash's grandfather, Robert Yazzie, had arrived late the previous night and in the predawn haze, Ash introduced him around.

The two tall Native American men were dressed in dark slacks and white shirts, but beyond that, their attire spoke of their own culture.

Each wore soft white deerskin moccasins that wrapped around their calves nearly to their knees, and beaded necklaces and wristbands that lent festivity and dignity to the event. And both men, whose hair reached well down their backs, wore it loose today—something Kansas confided to Ally that both Ash and his grandfather did only for sacred rites, otherwise keeping it tied back.

As the sun's first rays lighted the sky cotton-candy pink and butternut yellow, family, friends and neighbors gathered near a small stand, on which rested a wooden cradle that looked like a section of hollowed-out, halved tree trunk.

“This has been handed down from generation to generation in my family,” Ash explained as Robert carved a triangular notch in the edge of the cradle, where seven other, similar gashes had already been made in the age-old wood that was as smooth as sueded silk.

“We cut into the frame,” Robert continued as he worked, “to leave a mark for each child who uses the cradle. As you can see, it belonged to Ash and to his father before him and to me and my two brothers, as well as to our father and his before him.”

“And yes,” Ash added with a laugh, “this baby is the first girl born to our family in quite some time.”

Robert finished the job by sanding the edges smooth. When that was done Ash went to his house, where Beth stood in the doorway, holding the baby and watching from there.

He took his daughter from her, offered his wife his arm and carried the child out into the dawning light.

When they reached the stand he laid his daughter in the cradle and with tender care placed a soft leather cummerbund across the infant's swaddled middle, wrapping thin leather strips around that and the wood at once to hold her secure.

Then he picked up the cradle.

That was the cue for Ally and Kansas to step forward.

“We've chosen Ally and Kansas to be our Corn Mothers—the Blue Corn Woman...” Beth gave Kansas a flawless ear of blue corn. “And the White Corn Maiden...” An equally perfect ear of white corn came to Ally. “The Corn Mothers symbolize the original mothers of our people and they will offer the earth's bounty to the sun and also in six other directions—north—” he paused for them to comply “—west...south...east...nadir...and zenith.”

Ally and Kansas held the ears of corn on either end and, with each turn, extended them as was befitting the giving of a gift.

“And now they will present our baby the same way.”

Ally and Kansas each took an end of the cradle and did as they had with the corn—holding the child out to the sun, the other four compass points, down to the earth, and finally straight up in the air, before handing the cradle back to Ash.

There were tears in the big man's eyes as he kissed the baby's brow and announced, “Beth and I have decided to call her Marissa Morningdove.” Then, to everyone watching, he said, “Thank you all for coming out so early to be a part of her beginning.”

Beth hugged her husband's arm, stood on tiptoe and kissed him. Then she said jokingly, “He's only slightly proud of her,” making everyone laugh and break into applause.

Ally felt Meggie step to her side just then and take her hand. She glanced down at her daughter, finding the little girl staring teary eyed at the scene in front of them.

Or more specifically, at Ash and the obvious love he exhibited toward his daughter as he took her out of the wooden cradle and began to show her off to his guests.

Meggie had awakened in good spirits this morning and insisted she felt fine in spite of the huge lump and angry purple bruise on her forehead, the matching set on her elbow, and the bluish tint to her shoulder. She'd been anxious for the Indian ceremony and the breakfast party.

But the child Ally looked down on now was a world away from that. Instead she was every bit as morose as she'd been before they'd come to the ranch.

“Did my daddy used to hold me that way?” she asked in a quiet voice that broke Ally's heart.

“Sure,” she answered as glibly as she could manage, hoping to defuse the depression that seemed to have made a resurgence.

“I'm too big for him to hold like a baby now, though,” Meggie said bravely.

“That's true.”

“But maybe if he came back pretty soon I wouldn't be too big to sit in his lap, do you think?”

“Meggie...”

“I know. You don't want me to get up my hopes that he's gonna come back. But
if
he did?”

“You can sit on
my
lap anytime you want.”

It's not the same.

Meggie didn't say it, but Ally read it in her expression as her daughter glanced longingly back at Ash where he cuddled the baby in his arms and rubbed her nose with his while he made silly noises to her.

Doug, you bastard,
Ally thought, fighting tears of her own.

And then all of a sudden Jackson came up from behind them and clasped both of Meggie's shoulders. “Here's my girl!” He claimed her heartily.

Ally didn't know if he had any idea what was going on with her daughter, but she could have fallen at his feet in gratitude just then as he went on to use his special charm on the little girl, saying he had breakfast steaks to cook and needed
his
Miss Meggie to help him to do it.

Meggie's smile wasn't as bright or carefree as it had been the past few days, but she mustered one for him and that was something. And when he offered her his hand to hold, she blushed with pleasure and took it.

There was no substitute, Ally realized, for what Meggie was really starved for—the love and affection of her own father—but at least Jackson's attention seemed to stave off some of it.

The trouble was, Ally thought as she watched the two of them head for the barbecue, until now she'd hoped that coming here would be more than a mere distraction. That it would be the cure that would let Meggie accept that she might never see her father again and go on from there.

But now, seeing that the despondency was just lurking beneath the surface, ready to spring back to life at the drop of a hat, she felt as if these hopes had been dashed.

And she couldn't help asking herself if the weaker-than-she'd-believed merits of being here outweighed the much-greater-than-she'd-known dangers.

It was something she most definitely had to factor into her thinking about marrying Jackson.

* * *

Once Jackson had finished his cooking duties, he stayed close to Ally the rest of the morning. It wasn't only that he wanted to be near her—which he did—but he was also answering a feeling that if he left her side for too long, she'd disappear.

He tried to believe the feeling was irrational. After all, he'd thought the same thing the night before, that Meggie's accident had done what all his tactics had failed to accomplish—it had scared Ally so badly she'd hightail it out of here at the first opportunity.

Instead, she'd come to his room, made love with him. And he'd convinced himself he was imagining things.

But this morning the feeling had returned and he couldn't stop the overwhelming sense that she was shying away from this place. From him. That he'd seen the same look in her eyes that had been in Sherry's just before she'd left.

It didn't help matters that Meggie's bumps and bruises brought questions from nearly everyone at the celebration and that Ally had to relive the incident in answering them. Or that too many times once her answer was given the response was a horror story about accidents or injuries or mishaps that someone had had themselves or witnessed or known about.

Jackson watched Ally every time it happened and although no one had said anything to purposely frighten her, nevertheless each tale drained a little more color from her face. He couldn't blame her for feeling frightened for her little girl. Frightened enough to leave here, maybe?

No. She'd been determined enough about staying here to put up with all he'd dished out, he reminded himself. To turn down his every offer to buy her out. She'd been convinced this was where they belonged. So why would she leave now?

And yet, as much as he tried to convince himself otherwise, he just couldn't shake the sense that she would.

* * *

By early that afternoon all the guests were gone, leaving behind the kind of mess a gathering of that size engendered. Ally, Jackson, Marta, Hans and Ash comprised the cleanup crew, but they'd barely gotten started when Jackson received a call that several head of cattle were down on one of the outlying pastures. It was something he had to see to and, when he hung up the phone, he went to announce it to everyone in general.

Then he took Ally aside.

“I'll have to take the helicopter out—this herd is at the farthest edge of our property. Want to come along?”

Her smile was wan and still it had the power to heat up his insides. “The helicopter?”

“I'm a good pilot, if you're worried about it. The view is incredible and you'll get to see the whole ranch at once. We can even take Meggie, give her a ride.”

Mistake. He could see it the moment he said it. It was apparent Ally wasn't enamored of his favorite toy, but add Meggie to the equation and Ally's face turned the color of the rail fence her daughter had whitewashed.

“I don't think that would be a good idea,” she said, those terrific Irish eyes of hers growing wide.

“She'd love it.”

“She'd love to eat her way through a candy store, too. That doesn't mean she knows what's good for her.”

“Okay, then we'll leave her here with Hans and Marta, and just you and I will go.”

Her head shook with enough vigor to set her long curly hair shimmying. “If you're giving me a choice, the answer is no. I'm basically the only parent Meggie has and—”

And she really was spooked. Suddenly he saw just how deeply.

“And I forgot you don't like heights,” he said, more to himself than to her when he remembered it. He could have kicked himself for no doubt reminding her of yet another unnerving incident—the windmill.

Trying for some damage control, he made light of it all. “I don't suppose surveying your kingdom from a helicopter would be a lot of fun for you, would it? It doesn't matter. You don't ever have to fly in the ‘copter if you don't want to.”

She looked relieved but only marginally.

He couldn't resist reaching out to her, rubbing her arm. “It's okay, really. No big deal.”

But he could see that she wasn't comforted and that it was a big deal to her. As everything suddenly seemed to be.

“I'll be back in a few hours. Why don't you and Meggie go for a swim, relax the rest of the afternoon?”
Lounge around the pool the way I accused you of wanting to do. But now, if only you'd stay, I wouldn't care if that really was all you ever did....

“You'll be careful?” she answered, clearly as concerned for his safety as for her daughter's, for her own.

“Sure. Nothing to worry about,” he said confidently, squeezing her arms and even venturing a small kiss in spite of the fact that they were in plain sight. “I'll be back by suppertime,” he assured.

Then he headed for the helicopter.

But she really was worried. It was the last thing he saw as he lifted off from the helipad. It was etched into her beautiful face, lining it, pulling her full pink lips down at the corners, creasing a spot between her eyes as she watched him go.

That was when he knew he was just kidding himself to think history wasn't repeating itself. And in that instant Jackson Heller hardened his heart.

Ally was a city girl through and through. She didn't belong living a rancher's life. She wouldn't be happy in the long run. His feeble hopes that they could have a future together, a good marriage, a family, were unrealistic.

As unrealistic as thinking his love for Sherry would have been enough to keep her here all those years ago.

This wasn't the place for Ally any more than it had been the place for his former wife.

The best thing would be for Ally to sell out and go back to Denver.

Best for her. Best for Meggie.

Best for him, too.

Because as he returned home at dusk, just the way he had so long ago at the end of the cattle drive that had taken him away from Sherry, he remembered much too vividly how anxious he'd been to see her, and how hard it had been to find, instead, an empty house.

So damn empty it had echoed.

Empty closets.

Empty drawers.

And just a note hooked onto the divorce papers saying she couldn't take living here anymore....

He didn't ever want to walk into that kind of emptiness again. To feel that fist of pain jammed into his stomach. That shock. The agony that went on and on....

Better that he lost Ally and Meggie face-to-face. Better that he watched them go.

So before he'd even reached the sliding door to the kitchen where he could see her setting the table for supper, he'd made up his mind.

One more night.

He could have one more night with Ally.

And then he'd send her away.

* * *

“You're sure you don't want all your dolls and stuffed animals around you like last night?” Ally asked Meggie as she tucked her in.