Lauri Robinson (4 page)

The summer sun was blistering, and that added to his foul mood. There was barely a tree between the ranch and town, not that he’d have stopped. By the time the church and the little house nestled along the creek behind it came into view, Garret was hotter and madder than he recalled being in some time. He’d tell Rory just what he thought of this.

A chill rushed over his heated skin when he rode closer, past the church, where a saddled horse was grazing. Shouts, angry ones, filtered through the air. They came from the little side porch, the one where the circuit preachers spent the night. He’d assumed they left right after services on Sunday, but evidently not. His anger flipped. No one, not even a preacher, should shout at Rory like that.

Garret dismounted and was rounding the corner when his feet stalled. That wasn’t a preacher’s voice—it was Jim Houston. No wonder she hadn’t shown up at the homestead. Garret wheeled around, his fury pounding, but something made him pause. Take a moment to listen. He’d swear that was panic in Rory’s voice.

“Get out!” she was screaming.

“I’m not leaving until I get what I came for,” Houston replied.

Garret swiveled back around and headed for the door. It wasn’t his place to interfere, but he couldn’t let anyone hurt Rory.

“I don’t have any more money,” she shouted. “That’s all of it.”

“There’s a collection plate every Sunday. Where’s that money?”

Mad enough to rip the bark off a tree, Garret’s stride never slowed as he wrenched open the door. Houston had a hold of Rory’s arm.

Garret grabbed the man by the front of the shirt hard enough to cut off his air. “Let go of the lady,” he growled, “if you ever want to see sunlight again.”

Houston let go and Garret hoisted him into the air. Carrying him toward the door, he declared, “I guess I have to show you what a lady means when she tells you to get out.” He thrust the man over the threshold.

Houston landed on his back, and Garret followed, glaring as the weasel crawled backward.

“She’s lying to you. To all of you,” Houston declared, shrieking like a woman. “She’s no preacher’s daughter. Never has been. Ask her—”

“I’m going to count to three,” Garret snarled. “If you aren’t on that horse, I’ll put you on it. And you won’t like it.”

Chapter Six

Rory drew in a ragged breath and walked toward the doorway. The thud of hooves said Jim was riding away. Garret, however, remained. He was at the corner of the house, watching the rider leave.

She’d seen men riled, so furious she’d been fearful, but Garret’s wrath when he’d stormed through the door had been unimaginable.

Her feet stalled on the stoop, and though she wanted to run, she stayed there, waiting for him to turn around. His anger would be directed at her when he did, and she had to face it. Besides, there was no place to run. In some ways she was glad the truth had been exposed.

Garret took off his hat and brushed his hair back before he replaced it and turned, faced her. “Is it true? You’re not Reverend Boyle’s daughter?”

She kept her chin up. “Yes, it’s true.”

The brim of his hat cast a shadow, covering most of his face, but the tiny grin she noted on his lips made her spine stiffen. Anger she could handle; being laughed at she couldn’t. Conjuring up her last ounces of humility, she said, “Reverend Boyle was paid to act as my father.”

Garret advanced on her. His long strides ate up the ground between them. He cornered her on the stoop in less than a heartbeat. “Paid to act as your father?”

“Yes.”

“Have you been mooning over Houston the past year?”

“No.” She huffed out a breath. “He’s been blackmailing me. Shortly after Reverend Boyle left, Jim discovered I wasn’t the reverend’s daughter. My real father died when I was little and my mother went to work at a brothel in Dodge City. She became ill and was dying. Captain Barnes—”

“Jake Barnes?” he interrupted.

“Yes, he owned the brothel. Years ago he’d promised my mother he wouldn’t put me to work. Right before she died, he paid the reverend to take me away.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Almost six years.”

There was compassion in his eyes, something she’d never expected and couldn’t quite accept.

“Where did you live before Carson City?” he asked.

“A few other towns. Reverend Boyle’s calling was to go to the Indian Territory, but not mine, and I was getting too old—”

“Too old?”

“Yes. If people learned I wasn’t his daughter, they might think we were living in sin.”

Garret shook his head. “You don’t give folks much credit. Lots of people adopt—”

“I wasn’t adopted,” she insisted.

“He never planned on coming back? The reverend?”

“No.” There was no point hiding anything any longer. “I assured him I’d be fine, maybe get married.”

“To Houston?”

“No.” She stopped shy of saying Garret. Reverend Boyle had told her she couldn’t do any better than Garret McCoy. She’d agreed then, had even hoped. “Jim saw a letter I’d dropped from Captain Barnes—he continued to send money for me to live on. Jim said he knew who Barnes was, who I was, and that he’d tell everyone if I didn’t pay him to keep quiet.” Garret’s gaze was so penetrating she had to look away. “Captain Barnes died several months ago, and I don’t have any more money.”

“Houston’s been conning you,” Garret said. “No one would care—” He stopped as if it didn’t matter. “What about the money Mother pays you?”

Rory couldn’t tell him people may not care, but they’d talk. They’d been talking about him and Emily for years, so she answered his question. “He took that, too. I was saving it to leave. Start over somewhere else.”

“Do you want to leave?”

Lying didn’t cross her mind. “No.”

He removed his hat as he glanced around. “You can’t go on living here. Not by yourself.”

“Where else would I live?”

“The ranch.”

Her heart started to pound, and it was a moment or two before her senses returned. She still had a past. “I couldn’t do that.”

“Why not?”

Though hope flared inside her, she shook her head. “It wouldn’t be proper. I—”

“I know what you told me yesterday,” he interrupted. “And you’re wrong. I quit caring about Emily years ago.”

She hadn’t been thinking about Emily but was now. “That’s not what people say.”

“And I let them so Wesley would know to keep a close eye on her.” Taking her hand, Garret pulled her close. “But I won’t have them talking about you.”

Her throat burned, and she had to push her heels into the wood to keep from swooning. “There’s not a lot you can do about that.”

“Yes,” he said, “I can.”

His hands moved to her hips. As much as she wanted to believe him, she shook her head.

Garret wasn’t exactly sure what had overcome him, other than memories of how sweet her lips were, how perfect the curves of her hips slid beneath his fingertips, how the tips of her breasts had felt beneath his tongue. He wanted all that and more. He wanted her. Rory Boyle. Whether she was the preacher’s daughter or not didn’t really matter. He couldn’t take her, do the things he wanted to do, without marrying her. His conscience knew that much. But he could imagine doing all those things every day for the rest of his life. And he sure as hell didn’t want another man doing those things with her. He didn’t want Houston coming back here when she was alone, either.

All that deserved some thought, some serious pondering, and he couldn’t blame her for not believing him. He’d let his reputation speak for itself for years. How he stayed clear of women. Most folks blamed it on Emily, how she’d married shortly after promising to wait for him. How Emily had forgotten all about him within a few short months had done something to him, but he’d gotten over it. Rory, though, was as different from Emily as a hawk from a songbird.

Hell, he knew Jake Barnes. He’d visited the Captain’s House over in Dodge more than once. Rory wouldn’t like to know that. Truth was, wanting her as he did, deep down and stronger than anything, scared him. If he couldn’t hold the love of a woman like Emily, there was no hope in vying for Rory’s love.

Letting out a sigh, he said, “Mother’s worried about you. Are you ready to head out to the homestead?”

She frowned but then nodded. “I was just about to leave when Jim arrived.”

He normally had nerves of steel, but the thought of her getting hurt had everything inside quivering. “I’ll talk to the sheriff, tell him to be on the lookout for Houston.”

She bit her bottom lip, and regret filled her eyes. Something inside Garret snapped, and he pulled her close. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

Chapter Seven

The next two weeks were a combination of heaven and hell. That was the only way Rory could describe it. Garret changed. He was still as bullheaded as ever—ask anyone around—but to her he’d become rather attentive, which had her falling deeper in love with him.

Toby and Jeb had returned, and they noticed Garret had changed, too. Abigail had perceived it, too. However, she seemed rather pleased and agreed when Garret insisted it was no longer safe for Rory to travel from her place to theirs alone. He’d kissed her once or twice at her doorway, but just quick, gentle kisses—not the kind she wanted.

Her mother had told her to never let the things she’d seen or heard in Captain Barnes’s place ruin her. That someday a man would come along who would make her insides sing, not just her heart, and that she’d understand things then. Welcome the experience of coming together and enjoy it. Rory knew that man was Garret. She loved him, and not acting on that love was killing her.

She had to do something but didn’t know what. When Abigail, after explaining she and Tilly were riding to town with Toby and Jeb, said Garret was out at his mustang corral and might like some of the cookies in the kitchen, Rory got an inspiration.

She waited until the wagon was out of sight before saddling a horse.

Garret wasn’t at the corral, but she knew the general direction he’d talked about—where a wild stallion evaded him—and found his horse tethered in a grove of trees. She tied up her horse and followed a narrow path along the creek.

When the trees cleared, she saw him, crouched down on top of a grassy knoll. He noticed her, too, and while pressing one finger to his lips motioned with the other for her to join him. Quietly, she edged closer, imagining the stallion on the other side of the hill.

Once she was at the top, crouched down beside him, he whispered, “Over there, near that large clump of bushes.”

Her insides softened. Big ornery Garret McCoy was watching little balls of fluff roll around in the grass. “Foxes?”

He nodded. “They’ve been playing all morning. Their mother must be hunting, or they wouldn’t be out in the open like this.”

Filled with delight, Rory stretched out on her stomach and propped her hands beneath her chin to watch the pups. “They’re adorable.”

Garret lay down beside her and reached over to tuck a clump of hair behind her ear. “Adorable.”

The shimmering silver in his eyes stirred her insides. She cupped the side of his face with one hand and whispered, “Kiss me.”

His lips were warm and moist and undemanding yet commanded a reaction. She parted her lips, inviting him to deepen the kiss as a feverish need flared inside her.

His hand moved down the curve of her back, teasing the flesh beneath her dress with slow, smooth strokes. “What are you doing out here?” he asked when the kiss ended.

“I brought you some cookies, but I left them with my horse.”

He smiled and rolled her onto her back. “I’m glad you’re here. I’ve wanted to kiss you for days.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Me, too.”

His kisses were fascinating, and loving him as she did, Rory didn’t attempt to stop his searching hands. Whimpers rolled in the back of her throat as his hands roamed over her breasts. When he unbuttoned her blouse, her nipples hardened, and Rory decided it was time. Time for her to make him forget Emily Harms ever existed.

Rory untied her camisole and folded back the material. Garret looked at her and his grin was all the encouragement she needed. She drew her arms out of her sleeves and didn’t stop there.

There in the warmth of the sun on a bed of soft summer grass, Garret helped her remove her clothes, and she helped him. It was fun, sweet and tender, and Rory was in awe at the beauty of his body. She had to touch him, and once she did, couldn’t stop caressing the firm and masculine curves.

The passion inside her flared, and she held nothing back, kissing him with a fervor that matched his, but she sensed he was holding back in some ways, and she knew why. Garret liked being in control—of everything—so she let him but also showed him how much she liked every touch of his fingers, of his mouth.

She encouraged him with soft moans as he suckled her breasts and spread her legs when his hands roamed to her thighs. A strong bite of yearning sprang to life in the most private part of her, and she dug her hands into his hair, held his head as his mouth moved from one nipple to the other, sending a hot, sweet ecstasy radiating through her system.

She tried to remain focused on letting him kiss and caress her at will, but an inner instinct cried out and she pulled, attempted to tug him on top of her.

“Not yet, darling,” he whispered.

“But—”

His mouth stopped her protest as his kiss included his tongue twirling with hers about the same time the hand circling her inner thigh found her center, and her hips arched, thanking him for his discovery.

“You like that?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Good. I like pleasuring you.”

Every sense she had was heightened, and wanting him to know the pleasure she was experiencing, she reached between them, folded her fingers around his stiff member. It was softer yet harder than expected. She stroked it lightly. When he moaned aloud, she tightened her hold, made her stroking more purposeful.

“Whoa up there, darling,” he growled softly.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want any of this to end too soon.”

“Me either,” she answered honestly.

He eyed her rather seriously. “You are something, Rory.”

“So are you.”

His kiss this time created a full-blown storm inside her, one she couldn’t imagine growing, but it did, especially when his kisses slid down her chin, over her breasts and across her stomach before he settled his face between her legs.

The first brush of his tongue had her gasping. The second one had her cooing his name as delicious heat spiraled inside her. As much as she wanted the part of him she’d stroked inside her, she didn’t want him to stop what he was doing. It was maddening and incredible.

An indescribable opening happened inside her, like opening a door during a windstorm, where the forces were so great everything flew about. Unable to fight it, she flung her arms to her sides and let the inner force take her away.

Garret continued kissing her core until an invisible but explosive release left her trembling, and then he eased his mouth away, kissing her stomach and breasts again as he positioned himself over her.

“Now,” he said, nibbling one earlobe, “you’re ready for me.”

A slow and steady smile pulled at her lips. “I’ve always been ready for you.” She hooked her heels behind his legs. She hadn’t been prepared for what he’d just done, but she knew this part. Recalling what she’d heard back in Kansas, she braced herself for what was to come.

“Relax, Rory,” he said tenderly. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

A captivating wave of love engulfed her. She did love him. So very much, and doubted he’d ever hurt her. Not intentionally. Letting her breath out slowly, she whispered, “The only way you could hurt me is by withholding the one thing I want most.” She clamped his jaw with both hands, held his face as she added, “You.”

The quick snap of pain as he entered was nothing compared to the gratification of him filling her. He withdrew and entered her again, several times, and each joining deepened their union and set an even, perfect pace that was agonizingly gentle. Rory gave in to the enchanting sensations as readily as she had when he’d swept her across the dance floor.

There were a multitude of kisses between them, some he fostered and others she did, because capturing his lips was the only way she could keep from shouting his name as the tempo between them increased. Obsession filled her, swirled through her mind and swathed her body with a glorious energy as that door inside her was thrown open again.

The storm that spun from her core this time was as wild and uncontrollable as a tornado, and for the briefest of moments, she was overcome by it, anxious, for there was no part of her left for it to consume.

His body was hard, tense and still driving hers onward with each thrust.

“Garret,” she cried. “Garret!”

Her name was his answer, accompanied by a low, husky rumble that broke the riot inside her into a million pieces. Encompassing minieruptions spewed throughout her system, leaving great waves of satisfaction, of love, and leaving her so weak she sank into the grass as if her body had liquefied.

A shuddering exhaustion had her wrapping her arms around Garret’s shoulders as his weight settled upon her, his body still heaving from the excursion.

“Good Lord, woman,” he growled.

She laughed, never feeling so grand in all her born days.

Garret, his breathing ragged, didn’t have a handle on what had all just happened, inside him, that is. It was as if Rory, her enthusiasm and devotion had opened an entire new world to him, full of never-ending blue skies and grassy plains that held more promises than any place on earth.

He rolled off her onto his side and cradled her head with one arm as his other palm rested upon her stomach, warm from their lovemaking. Another fascinating emotion surged through him as he thought of his child growing inside her someday.

He’d been with other women before, but never had it been this soul shattering and awakening. Something—someone—he didn’t want to live another day without.

Any man would be thrilled to marry Rory. She was perfect. In every way. Loving and kind and caring. His memory kicked in then. That was what it was. She was all those things and he wasn’t. He was ornery, stubborn and pigheaded. Even not being a preacher’s daughter, Rory was too good for him.