Lips That Touch Mine (45 page)

"Why did you let me think she was your
companion?" she asked.

"Because I liked that jealous sparkle in your
eyes."

"I was not jealous."

"You were."

She buried her face against his chest. "I
was."

He chuckled and eased her away from him. "Ah,
Claire, from the minute I saw you, there was no one else for me.
There'll never be anyone else for me. Ever."

"I couldn't bear it if—"

He placed his finger over her mouth. "I love
you. Only you. For the rest of my life."

She kissed his fingertips, then raised up on
her toes and kissed his warm neck, inhaling the scent of soap and
bay rum cologne on his skin, and the ever-present smell of fresh
cut wood that clung to his coat. "I love you." She kissed his
whisker-shadowed chin. "I can't wait to be your wife," she
whispered. Then she covered his firm, gorgeous lips with her mouth,
overcome by her need for him, surprised that she was no longer
afraid.

Once she made up her mind to say yes to Boyd,
and to the myriad of experiences that would come with loving and
living a full, robust life, something miraculous happened. The fear
that had darkened her life and clouded her judgment dissipated,
leaving behind a clear view of her future—one filled with light,
laughter and love. With Boyd at her side, life couldn't be any
other way.

He tightened his arms around her and deepened
the kiss into a slow, seductive mingling of tongues. She moaned
into his mouth and slipped her fingers up through his soft thick
hair.

"Am I hurting your ribs?" he asked, his
breath hot against her cheek.

"No, but you're killing me with need."

A laugh rumbled in his chest and he looked
down at her, his eyes lit with humor and heat. "This is a fine time
for you to fall into my arms. I spent weeks trying to seduce you,
and you'd have none of it."

"I didn't want to be seduced," she said,
unable to keep from spilling her heart out to him. "I wanted to be
loved."

"You are." His earnest eyes never wavered
from hers. "You are loved."

Her heart swelled with joy, and she felt
honored and blessed to be loved by such a handsome and noble man.
Their gazes locked, and she pressed her palm to her palpitating
heart, knowing she would remember this moment and this intense
feeling for the rest of her life.

"You're crying," Boyd said quietly, lifting
his hand to wipe away the tear that had slipped from her eye.

"Because I never thought I could ever be this
happy."

"We'll always be happy. We'll always be in
love. We'll always have this," he said, dipping his head to capture
her mouth in another hot, languorous kiss. It sparked a strong
blaze in her already aroused body.

"I don't want to wait any more," she panted
against his lips.

He opened his mouth, but before he could
speak or kiss her again, the front door opened and Anna stepped
out. She spotted them, her eyes rounded, and her glance instantly
assessed the heated moment she'd just interrupted.

"Oh! I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were out
here." With flushed cheeks and the hint of a smile on her face, she
stepped back inside and closed the door.

Boyd grinned. "You almost convinced me."

Claire leaned her forehead against his chest.
"Does this mean I'll have to start all over again?"

"No," he said, easing her away. "It means I'm
going to leave before I act the cad and take advantage of you."

"Wait." She caught his hands but allowed him
to put some distance between them. "I can't ask Anna to leave," she
said, praying Boyd would understand her need to help Anna start a
new life.

"I know that, Claire. She can live in my
apartment. You and Anna can turn my saloon into an actual inn, or
if you prefer, use it as a safe house for those women and children
you want to protect."

"Oh, Boyd." She was too overcome by his
generosity to adequately express herself. "You have no idea what
this means to me."

"I'm afraid I do." He gathered her close and
stroked her back. "I understand why you need to help women like
Anna. And you'll never have to worry about me standing in your
way." He gave her a gentle, rocking hug, then eased back to see her
face. "I admire your compassion and courage, Claire, and I'll
support you in whatever you do. If you want to take in strays, then
I won't care if we have a house full of them. If you want to give
women and children a safe place to stay, then the Pemberton Inn is
yours."

She was touched beyond words, in the deepest
part of her soul where flowers of hope and joy were beginning to
grow again. Boyd would nourish her spirit; he would be her light
and her love, her slayer of dragons, her knight in shining armor,
her prince, her friend, her lover, her husband—her
everything
.

"Be
careful where you grip it," Boyd warned as his brothers helped him
lug the huge, cloth-wrapped statue into the office at the sawmill
depot. "Set it on that pedestal."

"What the hell is this?" Kyle asked, huffing
as he stepped away from the monster they just stood upright on the
four-inch oak base.

Boyd's nerves jangled with apprehension and
excitement. "Something I've been working on for a long time."

Duke groaned and arched his back. "It had
better be worth my strained back muscles."

Radford pulled out a pocket knife and handed
it to Boyd. "Cut this behemoth loose, and let us see what we've
been busting our backs over."

Boyd couldn't disguise the tremble in his
hands as he cut the cords. He finished the final touches on the
statue just before dawn, and had roared like a madman, screaming
out all the joy and anguish he'd experienced while carving the
piece. He laughed and cried and gotten down on his knees and
thanked his father and God and anyone else who was listening at
that hour of the morning.

But now, he wondered if it was any good. Had
his moment of jubilation clouded his judgment? Should he have
waited? Was there more work to do?

Bat wings beat inside his chest.

Kyle smacked him on the shoulder. "Unveil the
damned thing before it mildews."

Before he lost his nerve, Boyd yanked the
canvas off and dropped it on the floor.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," Duke said softly,
his eyes filled with awe.

Radford, Kyle, and Duke stared at the statue
of their father leaning on the diamond willow cane Boyd had made
for him, giving them a just-between-us-boys wink. Kyle's mouth hung
open, his gaze glued to the wooden replica of the man they had
loved so dearly.

"If Dad could see this—" Radford compressed
his lips, and clipped off his words. Moisture edged his eyes and he
looked away.

Boyd's heart swelled with pride and love and
a hundred emotions he couldn't name. That block of wood had been
riding his shoulders for seven long years, and he was finally
free.

Radford hooked his arm around Boyd's
shoulders and gave him a brotherly squeeze. "Dad would love
this."

It was one of the nicest things Radford had
ever said to him, and it warmed Boyd clear through to be able to
share this moment with his brothers. Almost reverently, they
smoothed their callused palms over the statue, as if touching it
would, allow them to touch their father again.

"This is incredible." Wonder filled Kyle's
eyes as he touched the statue's face—their father's face. "It's so
life-like, I'm waiting for Dad to tell us to get our asses back to
work."

Their laughter cut the cords of tension
gripping Boyd's chest. Finally, he could breathe again. It felt
good to laugh with his brothers. For so long he felt unworthy of
even walking in their shadows, but today, he could stand beside
them and feel proud of himself. Today he was whole again. He'd
chipped and carved and smoothed and sanded his way to the heart of
his "David."

His brothers clapped him on the shoulders and
praised him for his masterpiece. "Dad would be honored," Radford
said, leaving the office with moisture still beading his eyes.

Kyle thumped him on the shoulder. "He'd be
pretty damned impressed. I sure am." He followed Radford
outside.

Duke stayed behind, shaking his head as he
eyed the statue.

"Dad wasn't a vain man," he said, "but if he
were alive, he'd make sure every person in town saw this." He
turned, pride in his eyes. "This is a hell of a tribute to a man
who loved you."

Then he stepped outside, as if he knew Boyd
needed to be alone.

His brothers' words warmed Boyd, but as he
stood in front of the statue, in front of the man he'd loved with
all his heart, he knew the statue wasn't just about honor and
pride, but about letting go. Unashamed, he embraced the statue and
gave his father a hug.

Claire
exchanged vows with Boyd in his mother's small but homey parlor.
Her father gave her away, and her sister Lida stood as her maid of
honor, giving Claire a sense of homecoming she desperately
needed.

Duke had traded his sheriff's badge for a
handsome black suit and starched white shirt to stand as Boyd's
best man.

Anna stood behind them in her magic dress,
slowly but surely building herself a new life. With the help of
Duke's lawyer friends she was trying to divorce Larry, who had been
convicted of two murders and would spend his life in prison.

Claire's mother, and Lida's husband and three
children, were comfortably ensconced in the warm, welcoming bosom
of Boyd's family.

Claire stood beside her future husband,
eyeing him with open admiration as she spoke her vows. He looked
tall and proud in a full-dress black tuxedo and a snow white shirt,
his eyebrows black slashes above warm honey-brown eyes as he
promised to love, honor, and cherish Claire until death parted
them. When he added his promise not to be a toad, the room filled
with laughter.

Claire cried. She couldn't name a time she'd
been this happy.

After their vows, Boyd's brothers slapped his
strong shoulders to congratulate him. And one by one, each tall,
dark, handsome brother-in-law kissed Claire's cheek to welcome her
to the family. Her parents hugged her and wished her well. Her
sister and Anna cried. And by the time Boyd's family finished
introducing themselves and congratulating her, Claire's head was
spinning as if she'd had too much wine.

But she hadn't had a drop, because tonight
she wanted to savor every minute of her husband's lovemaking.

They spent the evening getting to know each
other's family, but exchanged private looks of longing while trying
to be gracious to the people they loved. After three hours of being
pulled in opposite directions, Boyd caught Claire's waist and
directed her to his mother's small foyer. "That's a lovely bouquet
you're carrying, Mrs. Grayson."

She glanced down at the tiny carving she'd
held while speaking her vows. "You weren't supposed to notice."

"I notice everything about you." He squeezed
her fingers. "I am shocked, though, that you like such naughty
art."

"There's nothing naughty about this carving.
It's beautiful."

A wicked grin climbed his cheek, and Claire's
heart stuttered. "What's wrong with this carving?" she asked,
dreading his answer.

"Turn it upside down."

She lifted her hand and turned the carving so
the roses were at the heel of her palm. "It's an upside down
bouquet."

"Roll it a bit to your left."

She did. And she gasped.

Turned upside down, the carving resembled the
nude backside of a woman. The bouquet of roses formed her rounded
bottom, the stems her narrow waist, and the trailing ribbon
resembled two arms lifted and bent as if tucked behind her
neck.

"I showed this to your family!" she said,
mortified by the dual image she'd never noticed.

His hoot of laughter drew everyone's
attention to the foyer. Her face burned, but she forced a smile.
"Boyd Grayson, you are a scoundrel," she said through her false
smile. "You'll pay for this."

o0o

Boyd pulled his bride into his arms for a
playful kiss. "I'm looking forward to it," he said—and he really
was.

Claire was his passion, his love. He would
take anything she would give him. And he would give her anything
she asked for.

He chafed through supper and cake, and enough
well wishes to last him a lifetime, before he could finally secret
his bride away to his apartment. They would spend their honeymoon
night here. Anna and Claire's family were staying at Claire's
house. Tomorrow her parents and sister would leave, and Anna would
move into his apartment. But for tonight, his old apartment where
they'd first made love was their haven.

And to honor that first night, they sat at
the bar and drank a glass of wine. But when Boyd reached for his
wife, she danced away from him with the wine bottle in her
hand.

She set it beside the lantern on the billiard
table. "Time to pay the piper, Mr. Grayson."

"For what?"

"For that naughty little trick you played on
me with that carving."

He grinned. "I'll make it up to you by
rubbing your back."

"I don't think so." She stepped away from
him. "If you want a willing bride, you have to play 'Cold Claire'
for me."

"You're jesting."

She lifted her chin. "You have to play it all
the way through without making a mistake."

"That's a peculiar request for your wedding
night, Mrs. Grayson."

"And a simple one."

"As you wish." He took a seat on the piano
bench and lifted the cover. "Do I have to sing the lyrics too?"

"Of course."

Her impish smile put him on guard. "What
mischief are you up to?"

"I just want to hear my favorite song." She
nodded at the piano. "Start whenever you're ready."