Loving Katherine (16 page)

“I can look after myself,” she whispered against the warmth of his flesh, her lips brushing the callused surface of his fingers.

He nodded. “I know you can. But you don’t have to. Not anymore. You’re my wife.”

She heard the implied message his final words delivered, and her eyes widened. Twisting her head to rid herself of his restraining fingers, she narrowed her eyes, scanning his face. It was somber, his gaze dark with the message she’d rightly interpreted.

“And you’re my husband. That means I look out for you, too.”

He shook his head. “You can tend to my needs and keep me fed and dressed, and even stand behind me for a backup if need be, but for once in your life, you’re about to find yourself on the other end of the stick, Kate.” He sat beside her on the ground and his hand found hers, his fingers lacing with her narrower ones, forming a grip she would have found difficult to escape.

She frowned at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean you’re going to play the part of a wife.” He looked at her with fleeting amusement. “Who knows? You might even begin to enjoy lettin’ someone else take you on. It means I’m plannin’ on lookin’ after you. Doesn’t mean we aren’t partners, Kate. I just want you to know, you don’t have to always rely on yourself. From now on, I’ll be here for you to depend on.”

“That sounds a little like you’re planning a lot of years with me. I thought we’d agreed this was sort of a temporary situation, this being married.”

“Did you?” His look was piercing as he viewed her from stormy eyes. His hand lifting hers between them, he flexed his fingers, tightening their grasp against hers. “We’re married, Katherine. See our hands? We’re joined just as
tight as these fingers of ours. If it wasn’t a fact before, last night made it so. You’re stuck with me.”

“Still poutin’?” he asked from the darkness. She huddled before the fire, wrapped in a blanket against the night air, aware of his presence behind her before his voice broke the silence.

It remained unbroken, only her look of scorn acknowledging his query.

Sinking to the ground next to her, he stretched his long legs toward the fire. “Everything looks quiet. I scouted around, but it’s pretty much like I thought. I didn’t see any new tracks.”

He’d been gone since supper, saddling his mare and leaving her alone, only a short few words to let her know he’d be riding out for a while.

Trying unsuccessfully to ignore his return, she’d listened to the sound of his voice as he checked out the string of horses, her ears attuned to the approaching whisper of near silent footsteps.

Now she deigned to answer his challenge.

“I don’t pout,” she said firmly. “I may keep my thoughts to myself sometimes, but I don’t pout. I’m not a child.” His gaze raked her slim form.

“Well, I’ll have to agree with you there.” She cast him a speaking look, unwilling to respond to the suggestive phrasing.

“Gonna be mad all night?” he wondered aloud, his eyes hooded and barely visible to her in the glow of the fire.

“I’m not mad.”

“Are we havin’ a fight?”

“I’m trying to keep from it,” she said after a moment.

“You don’t wanna be dependent on a man, do you, Kate? Is it so hard for you to lean on me, just a little?”

“What if you change your mind?” she asked quietly. “I’ve been thinking. Maybe your folks won’t want you
married to a Yankee. What then? What if you decide to send me back to Illinois? A lot of things could happen, Roan. You might very well get tired of my ways after a while. I’m not always easy to get on with. And I know I’m not the best-looking woman you’ve ever laid eyes on.” She took a deep breath and chanced a look at his profile. “I’m what they call ‘long in the tooth’ at the livery stable,” she said defiantly, as if she dared him to protest the claim. And then in a low whisper she admitted her final fault, the most damaging she could think of. “I haven’t got the sort of upbringing your folks will be looking for in your wife.”

His disdain was obvious, his scornful look daring her to continue. “My folks can go to the devil, for all I care, Mrs. Devereaux. I married you in Illinois, and I’m plannin’ on stayin’ married to you in Louisiana. I don’t go back on my word. You might just as-well set your mind to the fact. I told you this afternoon that you’re stuck with me and that still holds true.”

She bit at her lip, shaken by his vehement response, for the first time sensing the finality of his commitment to her. The almost overwhelming tide of emotion his lovemaking had released within her surged once more to the surface. That she was willing to give her love into his keeping was a fact she was beginning to accept as truth. But though he would be loyal, that he could ever respond in kind was doubtful.

He’d be true to her. Roan didn’t have it in him to be faithless He’d take care of her. He was a gentleman beneath the facade of hard-bitten warrior, much as he tried to disguise the fact. His fidelity was unquestionable. But faithfulness was a far cry from the love her lonely heart yearned for. Whether he was capable of returning the emotion she felt was a moot question, one she was unwilling to consider yet.

She drew a deep breath, cautious lest she display her vulnerability. “We’re married and that’s a fact,” she told him
staunchly. “That makes you my husband, and according to the law, you pretty much get to run things your own way. But I’m used to being on my own. I don’t know if I can take being beholden to a man.” Her pursed lips and the promise of her stubborn chin warned him of the stand she’d taken. He responded without hesitation.

His hand released hers. Then, slipping his arm about her waist, he gathered her closely to him. Deftly, his other arm slipped beneath her knees, and lifting her to sit on his lap, he arranged her to his liking. One large palm, fingers spread wide against her hair, pressed her head against his shoulder.

His voice was a rumble against her ear and she caught her breath as he spoke once more. “I’ll be sure to think of something you can do to keep me happy. Sorta even out the debt, so to speak,” he drawled, his arms cradling her against his big body.

She huddled within the blanket, its warmth intensified by the heat of him beneath her, and allowed her body to relax against him. Her mouth curled in a smile as she recognized the implication of the words he had spoken. She twisted against him, ridding herself of the constricting covering.

The fabric of his shirt was rough against her cheek and she eased away a bit, her fingers moving up bravely to release the buttons she’d rested against. His chest lifted in quick reaction, his breathing rough and rasping as her probing touch found the curls beneath the blue fabric. Pushing it aside, she pursed her lips, blowing softly against his flesh, her smile triumphant as she felt the tremor of his response.

With a cry of delight, she nuzzled him, her breath warm, teasing him with the touch of her mouth, her lips open, seeking, savoring the musky flavor of his skin.

“Do you know what you’re gettin’ into?” he asked roughly.

“Mmm…I think so…” Her hands grasped the material of his shirt, easing it from his shoulders and down his arms.

He was acquiescent beneath her touch, his eyes dark and penetrating, watching the pale, graceful dance of her fingers moving to an unheard melody. Slender and strong, they speared through the curly thatch, seeking what lay beneath, kneading and testing as they went.

She brushed over the small, round nubs, moving her fingers in a slow circle, fascinated by the shivering of his flesh, the sharply indrawn breath he made no attempt to conceal.

“Are you tryin’ to make me cry uncle?” he asked, his words like sandpaper, escaping through tightly clenched teeth.

“No…” she whispered, her own eyes closing, savoring the contrasting textures of his body.

He gripped her with steely strength and she gasped, her widespread fingers curling into fists. “Turnabout’s fair play,” she was warned in a rasping growl. Shifting, surrounding her suddenly with his arms, he turned to lower her to the ground. He hovered over her, capturing her legs between his own, the blanket providing an unwanted barrier between them.

And then her fingers uncurled, flattening, pressing against his chest, captured by his weight. They wiggled their protest and her words begged him, enforcing the message.

“Please…let me touch you.” Whispered on an indrawn breath, they offered a challenge, one his aching body yearned to refuse. More than food or drink, he craved the quick, hot pleasure he knew she could provide to his needy manhood. Rigidly, it pressed against her thigh, its throbbing length an urgent message she could not help but comprehend. And yet he hesitated.

“Roan?” Her fingers stilled their tiny movements, her slender frame quivering beneath him, his weight pressing her
against the hard ground. She needed his reassurance… awaited his answer.

“You’ve been touchin’ me,” he said harshly. “Fact is, I don’t know how much more of your teasin’ I can take, honey.”

A thin shiver of triumph touched the nape of her neck. “Try,” she answered with a low, seductive laugh, her eyes opening to seek his gaze.

He groaned his surrender, rolling from her, resting his head on clasped fingers to cradle it from the hard earth. Then waited, aware, attuned to her movements, her scent teasing his nostrils with an elusive sweetness. His eyes closed as her hair touched his forehead, its tendrils brushing their way across his cheeks and down the length of his nose. His lips felt the caress, then his chin and throat as the dark, unbound tresses swept over his flesh.

He sensed her movement, felt the press of her knees against his waist, recognized the soft weight of her breasts snuggling his ribs as she bent low to taste once more the flavor of his flesh. Then she lifted herself from him, her hands on his body, spreading wide from throat to waist, measuring the length of his breastbone, the softer flesh of his abdomen.

And he responded, tensing beneath her fingers. She was gratified by his automatic reflex to her stroking caress, and her chuckle was rich with satisfaction.

“You laughin’ at me, Kate?” His nostrils flaring, he fought the terrible urge to conquer, his fingers clenching the back of his head. She’d asked…and he’d determined to allow her the liberties she was taking at his expense.

“Mmm…” It was less than an admission of guilt, more than a denial of the same. Her throaty purr tugged at him, forcing him to tighten the leash he’d put in place as she unwittingly threatened her own precarious position.

She was blissfully unaware of the danger, her fingers busy now at the fastening of his pants, working the buttons from
place, slipping to spread with cool curiosity against the heated flesh of his belly.

“Kate…” It was a growled warning, and he twitched, his hips lifting to the beckoning of her fingertips. So close, so near the throbbing, aching heart of his manhood…yet so reluctant to bridge the small distance. Her hand hesitated, fingers brushing in a distracted movement, one slipping into the small scarred hollow in the center of his belly.

He groaned in frustration and his lips forced themselves into a pained grimace. Against the denim of his pants, his hard flesh yearned upward and he urged it on, nudging her with the evidence of his desire.

“Damn it, Kate! Touch me!” Spewing from him in harsh syllables, it was a command, a plea, a tortured whisper, demanding her compliance…

And she obeyed.

T
he rising sun shed no warmth. It hovered on the eastern horizon in rosy display, promising a splendid day, but for now the air was chill and crisp with a threat of the frosty mornings to come.

Katherine huddled under the blanket, wishing for another to add to its warmth, her back pressed tightly to the hard length of man she’d become familiar with in such a short span of time. She moved her hips against him, lifting her shoulders and stretching the length of her spine.

“What I wouldn’t give for just one night in my own bed,” she grumbled, squinting into the brilliance of the morning sunrise.

“Are you always so crabby in the morning?” Rough and rasping, the words were muttered against her nape, Roan squirming his way beneath the blanket to find the tender skin he sought. His mouth pressed against the warmth of her neck, biting gently, leaving audible kisses in its path as he levered himself up onto his elbow to search out the hollow beneath her ear. His nose nuzzled there and he growled a wordless message. With a rasping chuckle, he pressed his hand flat against her belly, pulling her tightly against him.

“Roan?” She stilled beneath his touch, eyes wide and startled. “What are you doing?”

“Just rememberin’, honey,” he drawled, nudging her head up a bit, his mouth pressing damp kisses the length of her throat.

Remembering…Her cheeks grew rosy, her breathing quickened and her eyes closed tightly.
How could I have been so bold, so brazen?
She bit at her lip, recalling the long hours of darkness. He’d responded to her challenge, yielding himself to her as if he were the sacrifice on an ancient altar and she the priestess who would claim the offering as her own.

And she had done just that—had claimed him as if the claiming were her due. Touching, exploring his big body with tentative movements, his murmurs of pleasure assuring her of her competence in this new venture.

Katherine felt the hot blush sweep over her beneath the dual covering of blanket and warm, hard flesh of her husband’s body. She turned, then, ducking her head against his firm chest, she breathed deeply of his musky scent…and was thoroughly annoyed by the chuckle that vibrated against her ear.

“Are you laughing at me?” Her tone was aggrieved as she stiffened in his embrace.

“Not on your life, sweetheart!” He rolled with her clutched tightly against him till she could no longer hide her flushed countenance, having been elevated above him, and now finding herself in grave danger of being totally uncovered.

“Roan!” Reaching behind her, she grabbed for the errant blanket, tugging it over the bare flesh he’d exposed so neatly.

“There’s not a soul in sight, Mrs. Devereaux,” he announced cheerfully, his hands filled with the curves of her bottom as he wedged her between his muscled thighs.

His grin was touchingly youthful, she decided, capitulating with reluctant grace to the position he’d assigned her. Her breasts flattened against his broad chest, her legs held
prisoner between his, she cradled his face with the palms of her hands. Strands of dark hair blurred her vision and she blew ineffectively at them as she tossed her head in a vain effort to shake her disordered hair into place.

“I declare, I’ve never seen you so thoroughly mussed up, Katherine.” The drawl he allowed to creep into his words was saucy, designed to tease, and it served its purpose well.

Her eyes lit with challenge. “Probably comes from getting the best of my big, strong husband.” She pouted prettily at him and was rewarded with an appreciative grin.

“Never knew you to be so flirty, woman.”

Her brow lifted as she considered the thought. “Guess I never had much reason to flirt before,” she whispered, bending her head to kiss him with a satisfying smack. Her hair fell in a veil about their faces, the straight, dark length of it freed from its confines throughout the night. He grinned up at her, his pleasure in her apparent, and she delivered another kiss to his waiting lips.

The kiss lingered a bit longer as she bit enticingly at the fullness of his mouth, warmed by his regard and the touch of his big hands as they traveled the length of her spine.

“Am I a wanton woman?” Whispered against his mouth, the words were both a teasing query and a plea for assurance, and he responded with gratifying promptness.

“Don’t you know, Katherine, every man wants his wife to be a wanton woman when she’s with him.” His words were accompanied by a squeeze of both arms as he wrapped them around her middle. “You let me know I wasn’t the only one doin’ the wantin’. And that’s a comfort to a man’s soul, you know.”

She eased herself up from him and he let her go, releasing his hold. Her gaze swept his face, hesitating on the whiskers he’d sprouted during the past hours, moving on to the narrowed look he offered her, then coming to rest on the tousled darkness of his hair. She smiled, a cunning, feline
expression, lifting her hands to spear her fingers through his disheveled locks.

“You look about as mussed up as I’ve ever seen a man,” she declared, repeating his own observation.

“Yeah, well, you oughta be ready to take the blame, ma’am. I don’t believe I’ve ever had a woman who’s been so—” He halted the words that had almost escaped his lips, frowning as he considered the damning evidence of his own past.

Katherine rolled from him, taking the blanket with her. She sat beside him, tugging the wool covering around her shoulders, and pulled her knees up to take advantage of its warmth.

“Ah, Kate. Don’t look all primed to blow, honey.” Naked as the day he was born, Roan went to crouch beside her, his hands clasped between his knees.

“Get your clothes on,” she told him quietly. She looked around the campsite, where the evidence of their hurried coupling lay. She allowed one glance at the shirt she’d tugged from his body, another at the pants he’d shed with almost indecent haste, and then spied her own clothing. It too was half inside out, cast aside by the passionate woman she’d become only hours ago.

“Katherine.” He called her name in a voice that reminded her of thick molasses drizzling from the jar, warm as a July midday sun, redolent with the Southern drawl that tickled her ear.

She looked up and saw compassion reflected in his dark eyes. Saw the beginning of a sad smile curling his lips and sensed the regret he felt within himself.

“I can’t change the number of women in my past, sweet-heart. But you’d better know, they don’t amount to a hill of beans when I compare them to you. Not one of them is worth your little finger, honey. At least, not the memory of them I’ve toted around in my mind over the years. Hell, I can’t even remember their names, ‘cept for a couple. And
they weren’t important. None of them hold a candle to Katherine Devereaux, and you’d better believe that, sweet-heart, ‘cause it’s the truth, so help me God!”

She melted. There was no other word for it. Deep within, she felt the icy wrappings covering her heart give way, felt the lonely, empty spaces fill with love for the man who faced her. Faced her with regret and understanding painting his dark features. One hand rose from within the confines of her blanket to touch his cheek. Her fingertips smoothed the bristled jaw and traced the furls of his ear as she looked into his eyes. Then his face blurred before her as the melting within became a watershed of tears that coursed down her cheeks.

“Aw, sweetheart, don’t cry,” he whispered, turning his head to kiss the palm of her hand. He clasped it between his own rough fingers and bent to kiss once more the smaller hand he held.

“I love you, Roan Devereaux.” It was a soft whisper, reaching his ear like a welcome spring breeze, and he felt the warmth of it touch his heart.

Reaching for her with both arms, he found himself atop her, their bodies falling to the ground, the blanket between them. Katherine struggled to free her arms, needing the freedom to touch him, her heart crying out for his response.

“Oh Lordy, Lordy, Kate. There never was a woman in the world like you, you know that?” He buried his nose in her throat, nudging the blanket from his path and finding his way to the softer flesh beneath it. His mouth opened to taste the gentle rise of her breast, and his words were a muffled litany of praise to the woman he held.

“Don’t for the life of me know how a woman like you could take me on the way you have,” he said finally, lifting his head to peer into her teary eyes. “I’ve wandered around the country for longer than I want to tell you and never found anyone who cared about me. I left a family back
home that was only interested in havin’ fancy things around them, and gettin’ more things gathered up as fast as they could. My mother and my pa…well, they just didn’t see eye to eye with me on much of anything. I already told you that.”

“I thought you were the one who took me on,” Katherine reminded him. “You married me and dragged my horses along. You even got into a gunfight because of me.”

His brow puckered into a frown. “Now how the hell do you figure that?”

She shrugged beneath him.

“Don’t you know, Katherine? Don’t you know I wouldn’t have married you if I hadn’t wanted to? Have you any idea how hard it was for me to…do you know how much I wanted to—” He sighed, unable to speak the words. But his eyes gave her the message. His body moving against hers through the blanket told her in no uncertain terms what he was unwilling to voice aloud.

Her smile was suddenly winsome, her eyes sultry as she peered over his shoulder to look around the surrounding area. “Are you sure we’re all alone here, Devereaux?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” His movements became more focused, his body settling against hers with a compelling motion.

Her lips sought his ear, and her whisper was welcome as she issued the invitation. “Why don’t you join me under the blanket for a while? Maybe we could talk about things.”

“Things?” It was a rasping croak delivered from a throat that was suddenly dry with the remembrance of what she had offered so sweetly throughout the night hours.

Her hands framed his face once more, and the kiss she delivered to his eager mouth spoke volumes as she repeated the word against the dampness of his lips.

“Things.”

*   *   *

All things considered, Katherine decided they’d done well to be on the trail by noon. What with folding all the laundry and packing the saddlebags, she’d taken longer than she’d expected. Roan had worked the yearlings for an hour while she sorted out the campsite and made a meal of sorts. Then they’d lingered over the coffee and biscuits and decided on a plan of action. Rather, Roan had decided and Katherine had agreed somewhat grudgingly to settle for a boat trip.

Now they were strung out along the trail, Katherine in the lead, Roan riding beside her for a while, then dropping back to keep a close eye on the string of horses behind them. It was late in the day when she spied the outline of a town against the horizon, and her heart lifted with the thought of the pleasures to be found in a hot bath and a soft bed.

“What town is that?” She pointed to the scattering of buildings ahead of them.

“Should be St. Maria, I think.” His horse nudged hers as he fell into place beside her.

“Sounds like a priest founded the town.”

Roan laughed, a short, disdainful sound. “If one did, he must’ve left before he had much influence on things, honey. It’s just a river town, ‘bout like the rest of them. Couple of saloons and a general store. Maybe a church if the right folks settled there.”

“There’ll be a hotel, won’t there?” Katherine leaned over the pommel and lifted her hand to her brow, peering at the fast-approaching settlement. Scenting the livery stable, the horses had stepped up their pace without urging. Even as she spoke, they rode past several houses surrounded by picket fences and spaced along the trail, which was fast becoming a dusty road. A small child raised a hand in welcome from where he sat on the front steps of a whitewashed house.

Katherine’s own hand lifted in response and her smile was brilliant. “A real town,” she breathed, as if such a thing were a wonder to behold.

Roan glanced at her and chuckled. “Sure doesn’t take much to tickle your fancy, does it?”

She jutted out her chin and granted him a look of scorn. “Probably not, since you’ve managed to tickle it once or twice.” Then she blushed at the implication of her words.

His shout of laughter only served to bring a darker rosy hue to her cheeks, and she dug her heels into the sides of her mare, riding on ahead.

There was indeed a hotel, one sporting a satisfactory bathtub. Filled with hot water and contented woman, it presented a pretty picture to the man entering his assigned room, bundle in hand.

“You’re supposed to bathe behind the screen, Kate. Anybody in the hall could look in here and see you.”

Katherine opened her eyes just a bit, jarred from her state of languid pleasure, sitting erect as she stirred from the sloped back of the tub. Her hair, secured firmly only minutes ago to the top of her head, had begun to fall around her ears in dark strands. She blew one stray lock from in front of her eyes and glared accusingly at the man who’d interrupted her leisurely bathing.

“Seeing as how you and I are the only ones having keys to that door, I don’t see how anybody else could peek in here.” She lifted her washcloth and rubbed the bar of soap against it. Satisfied with the suds she produced, Katherine sniffed at the cloth and smiled.

“Smells like lilacs in the spring.” She ran the soapy cloth the length of one arm and across her breasts, then upward to her throat, her eyes closing as she reveled in the tactile pleasure. “What’s in the package?” she asked idly.

Roan’s footsteps were silent against the rug. He knelt beside the tub and leaned over the rim, his lips puckering as he blew a warm breath on the soap bubbles covering her breasts. “A new dress for my wife.” Spoken in a husky whisper, the words brought a smile of delight to her mouth.
He blew once more, watching the shimmering soap bubbles break, revealing her pale flesh.

She shivered. Her eyes opened and her mouth puckered. The temptation was too much for him to resist. He bent farther, capturing the words she would have spoken, his mouth settling on her lips with unerring accuracy. Without opening his eyes, he grasped the cloth she held and took up the route she’d chosen in her bathing. He swept across her shoulders, then made a detour to the arm she’d not washed. Obligingly, she lifted it from the water, holding it aloft for his ministrations.