Daisies In The Wind (15 page)

“Miss Rawlings! Open the door. Quick!”

She pulled it wide to find Wolf Bodine clad
in a yellow slicker. Water streamed from it like a cascade of
silver bullets. Behind him stood a burly, leather-skinned man with
reddish hair and a hawk nose, also clad in a dripping slicker.

“They’re in here. They’re both safe and
sound,” she said before either man could say a word. “Come in. How
did you know—?”

“Joey bragged to his little brother that he
was coming here tonight,” the burly man muttered as he stomped
after her into the cabin. He stopped and stared at the two boys
huddled on the sofa. “Joey, I ought to whomp you,” he exclaimed.
“What happened to your head?”

“A tree branch hit me when Pepper bolted.
Miss Rawlings took care of it just fine, though. It don’t even
hurt, Pa. Honest.”

Wolf Bodine, his slicker streaming water onto
Miss Rawlings’s clean floor, gazed quietly at his son. Billy
returned the gaze, flushing, then dropped his eyes.

“You have something to say to me, son?”

“Sorry, Pa.”

“And to Miss Rawlings?”

“Sorry, ma’am.”

“What is he sorry for?” Rebeccah asked,
mystified.

Wolf said tautly, “I’ll let these two boys
explain.”

Joey hung his head. “We didn’t mean nothin’,
Sheriff Bodine—”

“Billy.”

“We came here tonight to spy on you, ma’am,”
Billy confessed miserably. He stared hard at the floor, unable to
meet Rebeccah’s eyes. “We wanted to see if you were a lady outlaw.
It was wrong. I know that now—”

“You knew it when you set out, Billy, didn’t
you?” Wolf cut in swiftly. Rebeccah could sense his anger. “I had
told you to leave Miss Rawlings alone. And to stay home tonight
because a storm was brewing.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And the same for Joey,” Cal Brady agreed,
regarding his son with a stern frown. “My boy disobeyed too.” He
turned to Rebeccah and nodded. “I reckon we owe you, ma’am. I’m
much obliged. Though I’d best be taking the boy home now, his ma
will call tomorrow to give you her thanks. Maybe you can join us
for Sunday dinner this week. We’d be most pleased to have you.”

Stunned by the invitation, Rebeccah nodded.
“I’d like that. Thank you.”

Rebeccah wouldn’t allow herself to look at
Wolf Bodine, and kept her gaze fixed on Mr. Brady as he withdrew
another slicker from the cavernous pocket of his own and held it
out to Joey.

“Fetch your clothes, son,” he told him
gruffly. “And put this on. You’ve caused this lady enough trouble
for one night.”

“Oh, it wasn’t any trouble,” she assured him.
“I was worried of course, until I saw Joey was all right, but after
that, well ...” She kept her tone light and brisk. “The boys were
good company.”

She didn’t think Mr. Brady believed her.
Fearing that he would be harsh with Joey after they’d left, she
followed them to the door and called out as they departed into the
wet night. “Come back tomorrow with your ma, Joey! I’ll give you
some candy—I have lots more peppermint, and licorice too!”

There, maybe that will prove that I’m not
angry with Joey about what happened. Perhaps Mr. Brady will go
easier on him.

Wolf Bodine was another matter. His anger
simmered below the surface, but it was there. While she’d seen the
Bradys off, Wolf had been speaking quietly to his son.

Billy was donning a yellow slicker similar to
the one Joey had put on. “Sorry to have caused you so much trouble,
ma’am,” he mumbled, head down as he fastened the buttons, and Sam
waited by his side, head hanging as though he, too, had done
something terrible.

Rebeccah looked at the pair of them and
laughed. Yet something in their forlorn expressions wrenched at her
heart. She moved forward, gathering teacups with a casual air.

“Such glum faces, the two of you. And there’s
no cause for it. Sheriff Bodine, whatever boys’ mischief Billy and
Joey were up to, they’ve already been punished quite enough. They
had an awful scare in the storm. Yet Billy was very brave and
quick-witted to come and find me as he did. He showed me exactly
where Joey had fallen and he helped me bring him back here. If I
were you, I’d be very proud of him.”

“You’re not me.”

Wolf’s expression could have scalded milk,
but Billy shot her a grateful smile, and Rebeccah was glad she’d
said what she had. As the boy headed toward the bedroom to gather
his clothes, he stopped beside her a moment.

“Don’t worry too much, Miss Rawlings,” he
whispered. “Pa won’t give me a licking—that’s not his way. But
he’ll find some other punishment that’s even worse—like two weeks
without a bite of Gramma’s blackberry pie. Or extra chores for a
month without any time for fishing or riding Blue.”

With that glum pronouncement and a roll of
his eyes, he disappeared into the bedroom. She glanced at Wolf. She
couldn’t tell if he had heard the boy’s words. His expression was
grim and unreadable. How different he was as a father from Bear,
she reflected, studying his cool, stern features from beneath her
lashes. When Bear had been angry with her when she was a child,
he’d exploded with oaths, yelling, cursing, shaking his finger. But
after a few moments of hollering, he’d been done. The anger was
gone, the air cleared. And the instant she said she was sorry, Bear
was ready to forgive and forget.

Wolf was a different story. He obviously
planned to deal with Billy’s disobedience in a private way, but she
had a feeling he would certainly make his point.

He followed her into the kitchen as she
carried the cups to the sink, and she was aware of his steady gaze
burning into her. She wanted to ask him about the town meeting. Was
she to be run out of Powder Creek? Should she prepare herself for
armed vigilantes to attack her cabin in the middle of the night? A
cold dread wrapped around her like a snake as she thought of what
must have occurred at that meeting, of the things people had said,
of how they must hate her. She couldn’t bring herself to broach the
subject, though. If she did, she would undoubtedly be told, “Folks
want you out of town —pronto.”

And she couldn’t bear that. Not now, not when
she was finally starting to feel that this cabin and this lovely
mountain-studded land was home.

There was another reason why she didn’t want
to leave, but Rebeccah wouldn’t allow herself to dwell on that one.
Being close to Wolf Bodine was not a reason to stay in a town that
didn’t want her. He was married! He had a family. What possible
difference could it make if she lived ten miles or ten thousand
miles from him? There was no hope of anything between them other
than an exchange of words now and then, words bitten out with
contemptuous civility. The man held her in dislike, to say the
least. And he felt nothing for her but disapproval.

You are an idiotic little fool
, she
told herself furiously.
You should have left Powder Creek the
moment you saw him here.

Glancing over her shoulder at him, she felt
her stomach twist into knots. She braced herself. Wolf Bodine
looked like he was in the mood to pick a fight with
someone
.
Why shouldn’t he target me?
she wondered
wearily. But his next words came as a surprise.

“It looks like I’m the one who’s beholden to
you, Miss Rawlings.”

His tone was soft. Downright pleasant.

Caught off guard, she nearly dropped the
cups. Hastily she set them in the sink and spun to face him,
suspicion darkening her violet eyes. What was he up to now? “Not at
all,” she said warily. “It was nothing.”

“You’re wrong.” Wolf had been trying hard not
to notice how pretty she looked in her yellow-and-white calico
dress, her cheeks flushed from the excitement of the night, her
eyes overbright in her lovely, pale face. Every instinct told him
to stop thinking so much about Rebeccah Rawlings. But she seemed to
be haunting him these days, and he couldn’t figure out why.
Frustrated by his own weakness, he nevertheless couldn’t keep his
mind off how fresh and angelic she looked, how like summer flowers
she smelled, how her slim eyebrows drew adorably together when she
was thinking hard about something. And about how her feet fidgeted
when she was nervous. They were fidgeting right now, Wolf noticed,
and wondered with half amusement, half consternation if
he
made her nervous.

Lightning flashed beyond the window. Wolf
stepped closer to her and saw her foot wiggle.

“You went out into the storm to rescue Joey,
and you kept Billy from catching pneumonia,” he said, keeping his
voice even and dispassionate, even when she turned those
intoxicating eyes on him. “You took care of them both. You kept
them warm and dry. I’d say that’s something.”

“Well—”

“Don’t argue with me. I’m trying to thank
you.”

“It isn’t necess—”

“Rebeccah,” he cut her off. “Just say,
‘You’re welcome’.”

Confused, Rebeccah only gazed at him, feeling
ridiculous. But it was hard to think when he was staring at her
like that, hard to protect herself against his steady, powerful
brand of charm.

Suddenly he grinned. Rebeccah’s heart turned
over. He closed the distance between them with one stride, and
before either of them seemed quite aware of what he was doing, he
seized her with a firmness that would not be deterred and stared
intently down into her face.

“It’s easy,” he continued, his tone more
patient now, his vivid gray eyes glinting into hers with hypnotic
warmth. She noted that his chestnut hair was damp, and this made it
look even darker in the lamplight. He smelled of autumn rain and
crisp leaves and good polished leather. His dimples deepened as he
smiled, and he looked almost boyish, Rebeccah thought, her heart
melting—yet not like a little boy at all.

“You’re ... welcome,” he prodded her gently.
He sounded amused. His mouth curled in a slow smile. His face was
only inches from hers. “Say it, Miss Rawlings.”

“You’re ... welcome, Sheriff.”

“Wolf,” he corrected swiftly.

“Wolf,” she murmured. A dizzy sense of
unreality gripped her.

He leaned toward her.
What the hell am I
doing?
Wolf wondered at the last moment, and paused. He told
himself to pull away. But a force stronger than his own common
sense kept him rooted to the spot, holding Miss Rebeccah Rawlings
firmly by the arms, gazing directly into those brilliant eyes.

Then his lips touched hers. Lightly,
tentatively.

“Wolf,” she breathed again, and her hands
crept shyly against his chest.

That slight movement, the softness of her
touch, was his undoing. Casting reservation aside, he deepened the
kiss, and his warm, rough mouth captured hers. His powerful arms
locked around her slender form before either of them realized what
was happening. He inhaled the fresh, flower scent of her as he drew
her close. Held her tight. Tasted deeply.

Rebeccah felt her senses swooning. Her full
mouth clung eagerly to his. From her temples to her toenails she
suddenly quivered all over with hot, glowing pleasure. Was this a
dream—one of her many thousands of dreams since that night years
ago when she’d stared into the jeweled heart of a campfire and
hungered for him?

No, it was real.
Real
. His hands at
her waist were strong, hot even through the fabric of her gown. His
lips deliciously imprisoned hers, and she clung to the warmth of
his mouth as if to sweet life itself.

“Sheriff ...” she gasped when he stopped for
breath.

“Wolf,” he corrected her roughly, and kissed
her again.

Swimming, swimming through pounding seas, she
gave herself up to the pleasures he was awakening in her. When his
hard, calloused hands slid along the fabric of her yellow-and-white
calico to cup and stroke her bottom, a tremble ran through her, and
she gasped against his lips. He kissed her harder. Gathered her
closer. Rebeccah, breathless, felt herself catching fire, burning
up.

Wolf touched his tongue to hers, sending a
darting flame through her that seared straight down to her most
private parts. Rebeccah’s tongue responded like a sword swinging
into battle. She molded her curves against his muscles without
thinking, only feeling.
Hold me
, she pleaded in blissful,
silent need.
Wolf, don’t ever let me go.

Shivery heat sizzled through her. Even her
kneecaps tingled. She buried her fingers in the thick softness of
his damp hair. So gentle was he as he cradled the nape of her neck
in one hand and encircled her waist with the other that she never
once thought about Neely Stoner, never felt the icy stab of panic,
knew only that Wolf was holding her close and kissing her,
breathing life into her, doing mysterious, wonderful things to her
body and her heart, and she knew that she felt safe, warm, desired,
loved.

“Wolf,” she whispered shakily at last,
clinging to his shoulders as they both came up for air.

“Rebeccah,” he murmured. “Such a pretty
name.”

The sound of her name on his lips filled her
with a potent joy she couldn’t contain. But suddenly, as his head
came down toward hers again, a memory struck at her, and her joy
exploded, shattering into a thousand shards.

“My God!” she gasped, and pushed him
away.

“What’s wrong?” he asked sharply.

She shook her head, too stunned and sick to
speak. She touched shaking fingers to her lips as if to blot the
burning imprint of his kiss.

“Rebeccah, what is it?”

“How could you ...” she choked out.

Puzzled, he regarded her for a moment in
silence. “Easy, Rebeccah. I don’t know what’s wrong, but I’ll try
to make it right,” he offered, reaching for her again.

She jumped back as if he’d lunged at her with
a branding iron. “Don’t you dare touch me!”

Wolf’s eyes narrowed. “What the hell is the
matter with you, woman? I’m beginning to think you’re just plain
loco. Am I wrong, or were you just kissing me and damn well
enjoying it?”