First Class Male (18 page)

He grimaced, growing angrier with himself. He’d destroyed Callie’s innocence and loved every second of it. That was the problem. Being in this saddle with her, with her backside rocking against his groin, her thighs pinned between his and with his arms around her hadn’t helped. Being close to her like this was tearing him apart, and he couldn’t let it show. He couldn’t admit it. There were consequences to what he’d done, consequences he wasn’t sure he wanted or knew how to deal with.

Up ahead, Clint spoke to the other marshals. They nodded and rode away. Alone in the middle of the street, Clint waited for Mason to catch up, sitting astride his gelding, passing the time by taking off his hat, letting the wind blow through his sweaty hair.

“Whew,” he commented. “It’s getting hot fast today. It’s gonna be a warm one.”

“Right.” Mason drew Indigo to a halt, cleared his throat and remembered to take his hand off Callie’s thigh. “I’m going to take Miss Carpenter back to her boardinghouse. She can get some rest and freshen up. We can wait to get her statement.”

“Agreed.” Clint offered a kind smile to Callie. Judging by the twinkle of curiosity—or was it approval?—in his eyes, the marshal had figured out exactly what had happened up in that wilderness. “I hope you can get some sleep too, Mason. You probably didn’t get more than a wink or two, what with being up, uh, guarding the pretty miss.”

Yeah, Clint had it all figured out. Mason blew out a sigh. “I’ll catch up with you in the office in a few hours.”

“See you then.” Clint winked, tipped his hat and rode away.

“I think he knows,” Callie said, amused. “I like the men you work with. They care about you. I’m glad you have friends.”

“Friends?” He shook his head at that, wheeled Indigo down a quiet residential lane. “No, they’re just colleagues. I don’t have time for friends.”

“Only time for work?” she asked, as if she already knew that answer. And she did. He felt her stiffen against him, leaning forward so her back no longer pressed against his chest. It felt lonely, that small space between them. It might be small, but it felt like an enormous, inaccessible canyon.

“You and I have to talk.” He no longer had any excuse. He drew Indigo to a stop in the street where Callie had been abducted. He swung his leg over and dismounted, hitting the ground with a jarring thud. Off balance, off center, breaking apart, he squared his shoulders, determined to do what was right. “Last night, what I did to you, well, it might have said something I didn’t mean.”

“What would that be?” She hopped from the saddle before he could offer his hand, landing with a flounce of dark blue skirts and a bob of her golden hair.

Why that reminded him of last night, he couldn’t say. Memories assaulted him—of him unbuttoning that dress to reveal her creamy breasts, of watching her hair tumble over her face as he came inside her. He stared down at the toe of his boots, clenching his fists, willing those images out of his head.

“I think you know what I’m trying to say.” The words felt torn out of him. “When a man compromises a lady, she expects him to marry her.”

“Well, that’s not what I expect.” Her dulcet alto deepened with feeling—not upset, not anger, not distress, but understanding. “Truly, I had no expectations from the moment you kissed me.”

“But you had to be hoping for a commitment.” His voice broke with all the feelings he couldn’t face. He couldn’t stand for her to think he didn’t care, that he was ending things because all he’d wanted was a roll in the grass. He cleared his throat. “I wish I could give you one.”

“But you can’t. I see that now.” Tenderness rang in those words, capturing his gaze with hers. Love shone there, love and acceptance. She arched a brow, so understanding, but hurt too. “It’s okay, Mason. It really is.”

Of course, he thought, because she was perfect. He blew out a breath, relieved she wasn’t devastated and yet somehow more confused. A thousand things churned inside him, things he wanted to say and couldn’t, things he didn’t know how to begin to say. “Last night was—”

“Amazing. I wouldn’t have traded it for the world.” She went up on tiptoe and kissed his stubbly cheek. She rocked back onto her heels. Love glimmered in her violet gaze, love unmistakable and true. She shrugged. “Then I guess I won’t be taking that job here after all. Since there’s no chance.”

“No. Don’t take the job.” The words caught in his throat, rasped across his tongue, sounded empty and shadowed. His chest clamped tighter, his ribs near to breaking, unable to say the truth. He’d made love to her last night because he hadn’t been strong enough to stop. His need for her had been too great. In all the years he’d been a widower, no one had come along who could touch his heart. Until Callie.

“Don’t take the job,” he said again. “Because you won’t need it.”

“What?” Her forehead furrowed, puzzled.

“You won’t need to work.” He offered her his arm to walk her to the door. “I can’t leave you ruined. I’m not like Doc Reynolds, I won’t turn my back on you. Last night was not your fault, it was mine.”

“There’s no fault here. It wasn’t a mistake.” She slipped her arm around his, her elbow tucked in the crook of his. She appeared very proper, but then she smiled up at him with those eyes sparkling as if remembering their naked time together. “It was the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

She had no idea the burden that gave him. He’d ruined her, he’d taken her innocence, no decent man anywhere would likely be eager to marry her now, and he couldn’t endure worrying about what would come of her. No, he couldn’t be the man who ruined her life. No matter what it cost him.

“Let me guess.” She studied him, her gaze clouding. “You don’t look happy at all. Having sex with me wasn’t the best thing that has ever happened for you.”

“No. I mean, yes, but—” He stopped in the middle of Mariel’s flower garden, surrounded by colorful blooms and a few finches twittering in a dogwood tree, and winced at the pain pinching her face. Hell, that was not what he meant to say, so he tried again. “Last night was like a dream, but I’m awake now and I’m talking about the consequences. This isn’t something you can go back home and escape the rumors. This comes with you. I took something I had no right to take.”

“You’re always so dutiful, aren’t you? Always doing the right thing.” She unhooked her arm from his carefully and took a step back. “Please stop talking about consequences.”

“Okay, I understand. After a night like that, a lady expects flowery language and heart-felt confessions of love, but I can’t give you that.” His voice broke, wrung out, defeated by the failure to give her what she needed. But that part of him was gone, never to come again. “There are very real consequences from what we did last night. You could be pregnant.”

“Hmm, well, that’s a possibility.” The corner of her mouth twitched, clearly remembering how thoroughly he’d loved her last night.

Yeah, he remembered too.

“We should at least wait and see if that’s what we’re dealing with.” He closed his eyes for a moment, not able to cope with that possibility. “But I want to talk about marriage now.”

“Oh, I don’t want to marry you.” She moved in, pressing her body against his, reaching up to kiss him. Nothing could be more tender than the caress of her mouth to his, the butterfly soft pressure of her lips, the bittersweet sense of loss as she broke away. Tears stood in her eyes, in eyes full of love.

And he stood there, at a loss, his heart empty. “What? You don’t want to get married? You were a mail-order bride. You told me you wanted to get married and have a family.”

“No, not like this. You’re not ready, you don’t want to marry anybody and the only reason you’re mentioning it is because you feel guilty about defiling me.” She glanced down the residential street where two children three doors down were playing in the dappled sunlight. Their high, gleeful voices rang in the mellow mid-morning air.

When she turned to him, she looked both sad and happy. “Don’t feel guilty. You gave me a gift, an experience I’ll carry with me always. I know what real love is now, and to think I was willing to settle with a man like Earl, who was really looking for someone convenient no matter what he said. So no, I won’t settle for a convenient marriage with you, Mason. Because we both know that’s what it would be. You can’t give me what I really want.”

“I wish I could.” He squared his shoulders, hung his head.

“I already know that.” Oh, it was breaking her, but she took a step backward. Then another. “You are stuck in the past, Mason. What happened was terrible and heart-shattering, and you haven’t let go.”

“That’s not true,” he argued, drawing himself up to his full six-foot height, looking even more the role of the invincible lawman, a man who knew how to fight, how to right wrongs, who had no weakness. Not one.

But he did. She kept walking backwards into the shade of the house, ignoring the agony of her heart breaking. “It is true, you just can’t see it. You’ve been so dedicated all these years trying to make up for what you think was your failure to protect your wife, you’ve never grieved her.”

“It was a failure,” he insisted, jaw tight.

“No, no one could have saved her.” Soft words, gently spoken. “As long as you believe that, you can’t move on. I want a man who can love me completely, a man who can deliver on the dream. Anything else is just cheating both of us.”

“I see. So, you’re leaving town, then?” He hung his head, feeling the punch of her rejection all the way to his soul. Her kind rejection, he amended, reeling, off balance again. Nothing could hurt more. “You’re going back home.”

“Yes, on this afternoon’s train. It’s for the best.” She turned around with a swirl, tapped up the steps and opened the screen door. “You are a good man, Mason, and I’m going to love you forever. I’ll never forget what you gave me.”

His throat choked up, too tight to answer. Unspent tears burned his eyes and he forced them down, too manly to let them show. She wasn’t wrong. He had nothing to give her, he was a man committed to his job, it was always going to come first. It had to. Until no innocent person was in danger, this was his life.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t regret it. Turning his back on her was the hardest thing. He mounted up and nosed Indigo toward the center of town. He glanced over his shoulder one last time.

He saw Callie’s silhouette behind the closed door, a shadow behind the lacy curtain, her face buried in her hands.

Yeah, that’s just how he felt too.

“This came from the marshal’s office. Mason sent it over.” Mariel rapped on the partly open bedroom door before barreling in. The boardinghouse was quiet this time of day, just after noon, when every other boarder was at work.

Callie saw Mariel’s reflection in the Cheval mirror and zeroed in on her lost satchel. Mason had sent it, but hadn’t come himself. She stared at it, reeling, her chest felt as if it had taken a bullet. A really big one. She winced, gasping at the pain.

“It was thoughtful of him,” she managed to squeak, setting the borrowed hairbrush onto the top of the nearby bureau.

“That’s Mason. One hundred percent thoughtful.” Mariel dropped the satchel and reticule on the foot of the bed. “Problem with him is that he’s also one hundred percent male.”

“He is very, uh, masculine,” she agreed, forbidding all images of him naked from sneaking into her brain. Earlier, when she’d sat in her bath washing away the traces of him, of their lovemaking, she’d made a promise not to torture herself with thoughts of what might have been. Letting him go was the hardest thing she’d ever done.

“No, when I say that about Mason I mean hard-headed, obstinate, can’t see what’s right in front of his nose.” Mariel pushed a lock of bright red hair out of her eyes. She didn’t look pleased. Her mouth pinched in disapproval. Her breath huffed in and out, lifting her plump bosom. “Don’t think I can’t figure out what went on up on that mountain. The marshals got back last night around eleven o’clock. I stayed up especially watching for them, to make sure you were all right.”

“Mariel.” Callie’s jaw dropped, surprised and touched. “That really is very caring of you.”

“You’re one of my girls now, dearie, don’t think you aren’t. And as I tend to be nosy—although I mean it to be helpful, I did overhear part of what Mason said to you out on the street. The windows were open and I was in the kitchen.” Mariel bustled over, her dark gray, silk dress rustling. She gave Callie a firm nudge on her shoulder, turning her toward the mirror and reaching for a comb. She parted Callie’s hair down the middle. “He offered to marry you. Why didn’t you say yes?”

“How could I? It wasn’t a real proposal.” She felt the tug on her head as Mariel began braiding her hair. She sighed, remembered first her mother and then her grandmother who used to do the same. Her heart was full of loss; Mason was the newest. She thought of him standing out on the street, how stoic he’d been. “He was determined to do the right thing, but marrying me wasn’t what he wanted.”

“Honey, most men don’t know what they want until a woman tells him.” Mariel rolled her eyes. “Don’t think Mason is any different. You should have said yes. What if he got you pregnant?”