Loving Katherine (15 page)

“Kinda sassy for a blushing bride, aren’t you, Mrs. Devereaux?”

His soft question countered her own, and she lowered her lashes, an unknowing coquetry on her part, as she whispered her answer. “I’m not sure how brides are supposed to
act. I can only be myself, blushes and all, Roan Devereaux.”

“Well, to answer your question, I’m not the least bit tired of the honeymoon, Katherine. Matter of fact, I’d like to hole up with you somewhere and spend the next few days just—”

His pause was deliberate, his eyes taking liberties as he rolled to one side, taking her with him, his hand holding her in place. He levered himself up on his elbow and leaned to taste the swollen flesh of her mouth, his kiss tender, gentle against the evidence of his passion.

“I thought we were going to stay here for another day,” she said, her mouth answering his summons, her lips returning the pressure of his caress.

“Um…till I get the wash done up anyway,” he murmured, distracted by the direction her fingers were taking, following the line of curls trailing down his midsection. “Sweet Kate, if you don’t stop that messin’ around with my belly button, you’re gonna be in a heap of trouble in just a minute or two.”

“Trouble?” She squirmed a bit, edging her hip against him, and his attention was caught up by the movement. “I’m just doing a little investigating, Roan.”

He reached back to pull the blanket over them, shielding her from the night air, leaving only their heads exposed. “Tell you what I’m gonna do,” he said firmly.

Her hands stilled their exploring as she watched him warily. “You don’t like this?” she asked with barely concealed reserve.

“More than I should. But I’m afraid I’ll do more harm than good if I don’t let you alone. At least till morning,” he amended quickly. “You were a virgin, honey.”

“I know that! I never said I knew a whole lot about this part of things, but I certainly was aware of being—” She turned her head away from the glow of the campfire, her
profile an ivory silhouette against the tumbled hair he’d raked about her head.

“Aw…don’t get shy on me, Kate. I just don’t want to hurt you.” He nuzzled her cheek, inhaling the sweet scent of her, the woman smell that surrounded her. “Tell you what, I’ll show you something else.”

Her head turned just the slightest bit, her eyes meeting his warily. “What?”

He winced at the forlorn look of her. Here he’d spent the past hour or so trying to chase the demons of sorrow from her eyes, and in one fell swoop he’d managed to put them right back in place.

“I’ll bet you’ll like this, Katherine,” he promised seductively. “Just turn back over here and let me show you.”

She allowed him to nudge her into place beneath him, her gaze intent on his face, her mouth drawn down in a somber moue. “I feel guilty, Roan,” she told him quietly. “Here my brother is, dead only two days, and I’m cavorting around, stark naked under a blanket, forgetting everything that happened.”

“You haven’t forgotten, honey. You’re just doing what comes natural. When folks stare at death the way we did, life gets a whole lot sweeter by comparison. And makin’ love is about the sweetest thing we can do. Kinda makes us thankful for bein’ alive.”

“I still feel like I should have mourned my brother a little longer before I…” She bit her lip and closed her lashes against the limpid beauty of his dark eyes.

“I think you’d already done your mournin’ where your brother was concerned, Kate. You gave him up for dead a long time ago, when you heard he’d deserted his company in the war.”

Her eyes flew open, surprise evident in her wide gaze. “You knew about that from Charlie, didn’t you?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I think that’s why Charlie went to war. Like he thought he could make up for Lawson runnin’ off the way he did.”

“I thought that, too,” she told him, relief alive within her. “He was too old to go, almost fifty. I didn’t know he’d told you why he felt he had to fight, but—”

“He didn’t say so, right out, but we talked a lot, your pa and me,” he said simply. “I heard all about you, you know. Charlie said you were his little Sparrowhawk. Matter of fact, we used that for our password. I think it made Charlie proud, kinda. He said it made him think about you every time he was on patrol, guarding the camp, and someone would answer his challenge with the name he gave you.”

“He used to tease me.” Her smile wobbled just a bit. “I never could see the resemblance, but he called me that for years.”

Roan’s brow lifted and his grin was mocking. “Oh, I didn’t have any trouble a’tall figurin’ out where he got the name once I saw you on that porch, pointin’ your shotgun at me. You were about as feisty as any little hawk I ever laid eyes on.”

“I don’t think I’d have shot you,” she confided, brushing at a stray tendril of hair on his cheek.

“Well, I wasn’t about to take any chances. My leg had about all the damage it could stand and I wasn’t gonna give you the chance to make it any worse.”

“Has it been bothering you? What with riding so much and everything?” she asked, her brow furrowed with concern.

He shook his head. “Not bad. Just catches me once in a while when I ride hard. What we been doin’ is small stuff.”

“I don’t want to ride a riverboat. I’d rather just do what we’ve been doing. Unless you think we might get bushwhacked again?”

He shrugged and his mouth was a narrowed line, stern and harsh. “I don’t want to take any more chances with
you, Katherine. We’re gonna run into more folks as we go along and some of them might not be as friendly as we’d like. We’ll see how it goes after we leave here.” He glanced around at the encroaching darkness. “I feel pretty safe here, the river at our back. But then, I felt like we were safe the other night, too. And look what happened.”

“Maybe we could stay with folks at night. You know, like we did at first.” She offered it quietly and watched as he considered the idea.

His sudden grin surprised her. “Maybe we’ll stop at a hotel, like you wanted to before. Get you a real bath and wash your hair good.”

Her yawn came from nowhere, and she blinked as she covered her mouth with one hand. “Oh, my…I didn’t know I was that tired,” she whispered, taking a deep breath and brushing once more at his dark hair. It fell forward as he bent over her, and she laced her fingers through the strands, pursing her mouth as she concentrated on him.

“Maybe I’ll wash yours tomorrow, too. Might as well heat enough water for both of us.”

“Thought I’d just dunk you in the shallows and have at it,” he said bluntly. “Water’s still pretty warm this time of year.”

She shivered and drew back. “Not if you know what’s good for you, you won’t. I wash in warm water when it’s serious washing. You can just figure out some way of getting enough hot water to do it right.”

His grin teased her, his fingers found her soft flesh beneath the blanket and he slid to lie beside her, curling her against him. “We’ll see about that,” he said, his voice muffled against her brow, his hands skimming over her warmth.

“Roan? What were you going to show me? A while ago you said—”

“You sure do have a knack of rememberin’ things, woman. Thought you’d let that slide by the wayside for sure.”

Her sigh was loud in the silence. “I just wondered what you were going to show me,” she said in a small voice.

His hand slid up from her waist and cupped the firm weight of her breast, his fingers feathering against the tender flesh. His breath was warm against her ear as he lifted himself to hover over her. His mustache brushed softly against the tender skin of her throat, and he bent lower to tease the plump handful with the same tantalizing touch.

She wiggled, shifting her hip to rub across his belly.

“Mmm…” Her throaty murmur was a dead giveaway, he decided.
She’s pretty brave in the dark,
he thought,
rubbing against me right where it’ll do the most good.
His grin hidden against her softness, he touched her with his tongue, tasting the sweetness of her, his teeth gentle as he nibbled at the puckered nub of flesh.

She stilled beneath him, gasping at the thrill of his bold caress, tense as she concentrated on the new source of pleasure he afforded.

His mouth left her with reluctance and he heard her gasp of protest, his lips curving in satisfaction.

“Give me your hand, honey,” he told her. Clasping her fingers in his, he lowered them to where his aroused flesh pressed to her side in silent entreaty.

Timidly, her fingers explored, and he bent once more to lave wet caresses on her breasts. Caught up readily in the tugging tension his mouth had resumed, she smoothed caresses across his thigh as she followed his lead with eager enthusiasm. He covered her hand with his own, and she obeyed—her fingers curling as he directed her, her curiosity appeased as she measured the length and breadth of his desire. Sliding cautious fingertips over him, she explored the firmness she’d accepted within her body, marveling at the remembrance.

“Are we going to—” She couldn’t form the words. Brave as she was, her hands full of his manhood and all, she still found her tongue unable to speak the words aloud.

“Mmm…” he breathed, his eyes closed, his palm flat against her belly, fingers flexing as he edged them closer to the tender flesh he’d vowed to leave be, for a few hours at least. “Maybe we’ll…” His groan was one of pleasure as her fingers tightened around him. “I think you’re gonna be a fast learner, honey.”

And then he gave in to the lure of her woman’s flesh, his long fingers tempting, teasing and testing her. His whispers told her of her power over him, his mouth pressing hot, damp kisses in a random pattern as he praised her in silence, and then with growling phrases of delight.

“Roan!” Her cry was wondering, then beseeching as she called his name again. She rose to his touch, her breathing harsh against his chest, and he bent to capture the sounds with his lips. “Ah, Roan,” she whimpered, her slender body shivering with delight, tempting him.

He held her closely, her trembling frame secure within the shelter of his embrace. A sob shook her and he felt the damp warmth of her tears against his chest once more.

“You all right, Kate?” he asked warily. “I didn’t hurt you again, did I?”

She shook her head. “I just feel so good, so full—” Her laugh was shaky, and she rubbed at her eyes and nose with trembling fingers. “I didn’t know it would be like this,” she confided quietly. “The loving part. I was afraid of it, before.”

He closed his eyes, rocking her within his arms, warming her against the chill of the night air. “I knew that, honey. I just couldn’t wait much longer for you to come to me. I need you, Katherine.”

His admission was balm to her guarded heart, seeping into the secret place where her grief was tucked, drenching it with the healing comfort of his words. She nodded, her
mouth forming the vow she could not speak aloud, not yet willing to surrender this part of herself into his keeping.

I love you.
Once more, the phrase curled about her tongue, unfamiliar, forming itself, whispering in silence upon her lips.
I love you.
Her mouth brushed the message against his chest, and she smiled. It came easier now, she decided, forming the words again and again, breathing them in a quiet lullaby as her eyes closed and sleep stilled the message of her heart.

F
ive shirts lifted from the bushes in a silent dance, the prevailing breeze from the west catching them in its embrace. It fluttered their sleeves, teased at their hemmed bottoms, billowing them as they dried. Stockings draped over a low-hanging branch and denim pants hanging neatly from a sturdy limb were out of the sun’s rays but drying nevertheless, moving in time with the shifting wind.

Katherine tended the fire, adding short lengths of deadwood, coaxing it to bloom anew. Breakfast was a memory, but supplies were short and she hesitated, viewing the small pile of foodstuffs before her.

“It’ll have to be fresh meat,” she whispered to herself, scanning the bits of flour and cornmeal, the bag of withered vegetables gleaned from her garden. They’d tolerated the journey as well as she could have expected, but the tote sack was near empty now, only a few carrots and a potato left to keep company with several onions.

“What are you muttering about now?” His voice came from directly behind her, and Katherine looked over her shoulder at the man who’d spread their clothing to dry over the landscape.

“All done with the wash?” she asked, ignoring his query.

“Yes, ma’am. Everything’s hung to dry. Thought I’d spend some time with those yearlings of yours. They’re gettin’ pretty frisky, bein’ tied so much.”

He’d been more than attentive this morning, she thought, what with fixing breakfast, then heating water in a tedious process over the fire in order to do the wash. She’d watched from her vantage point, snuggled beneath the blankets as the sun turned the eastern sky to a dazzling display of color. The clouds had caught the brilliance within themselves, spreading across the horizon, providing them with a pink-and-cerise palette of beauty.

He’d crouched beside her while the coffee boiled and the last of the oatmeal cooked over the fire. His hands had been warm against her shoulders, drawing her into his embrace, lifting her to kneel in the nest of blankets, flushed and nearly naked before him.

She smiled to herself as she recalled his look of satisfaction. He’d brushed his palms over her skin, tenderness in each caress, cradling her, weighing her flesh, his fingers gentle yet insistent. And she’d shivered beneath his touch, her eyes closing as waves of heated pleasure flooded the very essence of her being.

His kiss had been more than welcome, his mouth causing hers to flower and soften into a receptacle for his gentle passion. And then, gathering her closely against him, he’d whispered words of endearment against her rosy cheeks. The phrases had caught at her hearing…. “Sweetheart… soft and warm…” What had he said? Something about her had struck him as being soft. She smiled wistfully. No one had ever considered Katherine Cassidy to be soft in any way, shape or form. That Roan Devereaux had sunk to the level of wooing her with such words of praise was almost unbelievable.

“Katherine? You’re daydreamin’ there when you told me you’d find somethin’ to put together for our dinner.” His
voice pulled her from the memories she gathered about her, the moments of pleasure she’d garnered at sunrise.

“Don’t get all in an uproar,” she told him, turning to face his tall figure, bold and arrogant beneath the noonday sun.

He looked her over with an uncanny eye for detail, his expression softening as he noted the faint shadows beneath her eyes, the still-pallid complexion with a scant feathering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Swaying on her feet and still ready for battle. His brow furrowed, and he thrust his jaw into a belligerent pose.

“Maybe I’d better tend to the cookin’ and you can cozy up under the trees on your blanket for a while,” he told her bluntly. “You’re lookin’ sorta rocky, Kate.”

“Well, thanks a whole lot. That’s just what every woman likes to hear, I’m sure.”

“You look like the near side of a freshly whitewashed shed, honey,” he said with flat emphasis. “You’re pale as a winter sky right before a big snow.” She rolled her eyes and rose to her feet, hands clenched into loose fists at each side.

“I’m sure you’re trying to make me feel better with all your compliments, Mr. Devereaux, but I don’t need to hear any more about how good I look today. I’m very aware of my lack of beauty without you making an issue of it.”

He slammed his fisted hands deep into the pockets of his pants and glared at her hostile expression. “Aw, hell, Katherine! You make everything I say come out the wrong way. I only meant you should take it easy for a while. You got shot in the head, woman! You need to plant your twitchy little butt on the ground somewhere and rest. You are the damnedest confounded female I’ve ever met!”

She met his glare with equal measure, and her reply sputtered from between clenched teeth. “I’m regretting every nice thought I had about you this morning, Mr. Devereaux. You’re about the bossiest man I’ve ever had the honor of…” Eyes wide and flashing, she ran out of steam, her
mouth clamping shut, her nostrils flaring, swaying on her feet as she faced him.

His hands were on her waist even as she blinked her surprise at his rapid movements. He scooped her up before him, holding her at eye level, his gaze piercing as he took her measure. She’d lost the pallor, her cheeks now rosy with the fire of frustration, her eyes sparkling and alive with the spirit he’d admired in her from the first moments of their meeting.

It was more than he could turn down, this vision of female pique and womanly enticement. He bent to her lips, swallowing the words of protest she uttered, claiming the mouth she’d used to scold him with, turning it into a willing vessel for his filling.

With barely a murmur, she shed the indignation cloaking her, curling her arms around his neck and clutching tightly the hard, tensed muscles of his back with spread fingers. His hands against her waist held her with bruising strength, and she lifted herself, wrapping her legs around his hips, holding him with the sleek embrace of her thighs. She rubbed against him, fired by the vivid memories of his loving through the night, and he groaned beneath her onslaught.

“Damn, Katherine, you’ll be spread out on that blanket before you know it,” he warned her, catching his breath, their lips brushing as he spoke.

She blinked at him, caught up in the desire he’d set afire within her. Then her cheeks flamed anew, her eyes closed before his scrutiny, and, relaxing her legs, she slid down his body, her face pressing against his chest.

“Hey, don’t hide like that,” he scolded her gently. “I’m not the least bit against lovemakin’ in broad daylight, honey. I just wanted you to know where we were headin’ before we got there.”

She drew in a deep breath and pushed away from his grasp, smoothing her hands over her shirt, tucking it in
neatly, repairing the damage she’d done with her twisting and turning in his embrace.

“I’ve got cooking to do,” she said shortly, turning from him to drop to her knees near the fire, where the small store of supplies lay scattered.

Roan’s grin was wide as he surveyed her stiff posture. Smothering the chuckle he knew would embarrass her, he walked to where the horses grazed. Even as he selected one of the yearlings to work with, loosing it from the rope he’d stretched between trees, his lips twitched in amusement.

Once more she’d surprised not only him but herself. The fiery woman in his arms was a far cry from the Katherine Cassidy he’d met weeks ago. She’d hidden her passion well, guarding her womanhood beneath layers of drab attire. That he should have been the man chosen to discover the female creature dwelling in such a disguise was more good fortune than he’d ever anticipated. His heart swelling with emotions he was unwilling to name, he led the young horse from the campsite.

Roan’s mind focused on the chestnut beauty before him as he attached the lead to the horse’s halter. That the words of praise he heaped on the yearling were more generous than usual did not occur to him. His smile was brilliant as the animal responded to his bidding, reflecting the deep pleasure he’d found in Katherine this morning. Somehow she was a part of this and so his hands were gentle, his voice soothing as he handled her young filly. With practiced ease, he worked through the session of training and discipline he’d instigated with the yearling.

Caught up in the chore, he failed to notice as Katherine’s slender figure slipped from the camp, long gun in hand.

The shot echoing from the west spun him about as he led the horse back to her siblings. His grip on the halter tightened automatically and his eyes narrowed, sweeping the horizon, piercing the small glades of woodland as he sought
its source. A second report focused his gaze on a figure rising from the ground, weapon held at the ready, several hundred yards away.

“Katherine!” The word was thunderous, reverberating in the still air. “Damn woman,” he growled. “Leave her sittin’ under a tree and she goes huntin’.” His eyes were dark with concern, his momentary dread banished by an influx of frustrated anger.

He tied the horse in place and stalked with measured paces to where she stood, hands on hips, frowning at his approach.

“What the hell do you think you’re doin’, shootin’ that thing behind my back? You’re lucky I didn’t draw on you, woman!”

“You’re not wearing your gun,” she pointed out succinctly.

His frown deepened. Closing the gap between them, he faced her, the memories of their interlude earlier banished from his mind, his attention riveted on the weapon she held.

“I left you fixin’ dinner,” he said.

She tilted her head back to look at him through her lashes, squinting against the sun. “So you did. And I decided we didn’t have enough to put together for one hungry woman, let alone a big galoot like you. So I went out hunting for something to hang over the fire. Now if you don’t mind, I’ll go pick up my rabbit and get it skinned and gutted.”

Her stance belligerent, her jaw jutting in defiance, she faced him. He gritted his teeth, holding back the words that filled his mind. His eyes feasted upon her…independent creature that she was, a small, stiff-necked female armed for battle, facing him unafraid. He felt a wash of unwanted admiration for this woman cleanse his mind of the anger gripping him. The tension eased, and the muscles of his throat relaxed as he allowed his irritation to seep from him. His concern, after all, had been for her well-being, and his
relief at discovering the innocence of her gunshots banished the quarrel he’d sought to set into motion.

“I’ve been killing my own meat for years,” she continued, unaware of the softening in his stance.

“Is that so?” he asked, teasing her from her indignant pose.

She tilted her head, eyeing him askance, wary of this new mood. Her nod was quick. “Yes, that’s so. And selling off the surplus in town when I needed money for supplies.”

“You’ve made a habit of your independence, haven’t you, Katherine?” he asked softly.

She lifted her chin once more. “I’ve taken care of myself for a long time,” she reminded him quietly. And then she handed him the gun, placing it into his hands even as he automatically reached for it, sensing her movement.

Her pace was casual as she walked away from him. He watched, gun in hand, transfixed by the womanly sway of her softly rounded hips. Watched as she pulled the knife from a sheath on her belt and knelt in the grass to tend the carcass of her quarry. In a few swift strokes of the knife, she’d cleaned the large rabbit. Gripping the furry creature by the hind legs, she approached him once more.

“I’m going to the river to wash and skin him out. It’ll be a while before I get things together for dinner. You’ll have time to finish with the yearlings, if you want to work them.”

His hand rose to his temple in a mocking salute. “Yes, ma’am,” he intoned solemnly, then watched as a flush rose to paint her cheeks with color.

Her lips narrowed and her gaze searched his. “Don’t mock me, Devereaux.”

“That’s the last thing I’d do, ma’am. I’m not about to bite the hand that’s doin’ the cookin’, so to speak.”

She swallowed a reluctant laugh. “You have a unique way of putting things,” she said finally, pacing at his side as they returned to the campsite. Bending, she wiped her knife blade against the grass to clean it, then slid it within its sheath. Her
eyes scanned him as he strode from her, his only reply a grunt of acknowledgment.

By the time she’d dressed the rabbit and spitted it for the fire, she was reeling. A fine sheen of perspiration covered her beneath the concealing fabric of her shirt, and her fingers trembled as she rubbed them against her thighs to dry the water from them. Then, with an audible sigh, she sank to the ground. Her head resting against her bent knees, she drew a deep breath, and the ensuing shudder caught the eye of the man who approached.

“Kinda shaky?” he asked, unwilling to scold her again.

She lifted her face from its resting place and met his gaze. “A little,” she admitted.

His smile was tender. For the first time, she’d allowed him to sense her vulnerability without hesitation. “It’s gonna take you a while to get over that crease in your skull. Better let me take a look at it.”

She bent her head again, quietly submissive to his suggestion. He knelt beside her, his fingers gentle as he parted the hair to search out the wound.

“It’s clean, Kate,” he announced quietly, brushing the long strands back to cover the scabbed area. “Want me to braid your hair up for you?” His hands untangled its length, lifting it from her back, allowing it to slide like shimmering silk between his fingers.

She turned her face to slant a questioning glance at him. “You trying to make up to me, Devereaux?” she wanted to know, her tone suspicious.

“Do I need to?” he asked with a cocky grin. “I worked your horses and washed your clothes, honey. I thought that was about all the makin’ up I needed to do today.”

She shrugged her shoulders in a negligent gesture. “Just so you know, Roan. I pay my own way. I do my share of the chores and—”

His hand, rising to touch her lips with warm fingers, silenced her, closing off the list she enumerated. “This isn’t
about sharing chores, Katherine. This is about a man takin’ care of his woman, lookin’ after her.”