Luke’s Runaway Bride (17 page)

Voices carried from a nearby tavern and shadows moved at the lighted windows.

The chill air seeped through his shirt.

Could he ever have Jenny? Did he have a hope in hell?

She’d responded to him tonight. He’d felt the ache in her, too. She wouldn’t have kissed him back like that if she didn’t feel something powerful.

But did he have any right to court her? How could Luke interfere in her life more than he had already? It wouldn’t be fair to her, and his pride stood in the way.

With a sigh of frustration, Luke swore and rubbed a hand over his raspy jaw. And what about Adam? How could he commit to Adam for all the years that lay ahead of them?

He snorted in disbelief at his foolish dreams. How could he possibly imagine…

He heard a tapping sound behind him. He flinched, but before he could turn around, someone shoved his shoulder and drove a steel fist into his back.

Luke doubled over, the wind knocked out of him. “Uhhh.”

Pain exploded. Panic seized him. A fist hammered on his neck. He stumbled to the ground.

His gun—the derringer tucked in his boot.
His left hand was closest. He grabbed for it. The stranger’s heavy foot came down ruthlessly, again and again, crunching Luke’s fingers. Broken.

“Uhhh…” Warm liquid seeped into his mouth. Slipping toward oblivion, he tasted blood.

“Message from Daniel,” said a raspy voice. In his unconscious haze, Luke heard the words echo in his ears. “Stay away from the girl. Oh, and,” the man growled as he swung his fist at Luke’s jaw, “happy goddamn birthday.”

“Has anyone seen Luke?” Jenny asked for the tenth time, pacing the saloon floor.

The bartenders shook their heads one by one. It was almost midnight. Olivia had convinced her to stay and enjoy the music a little longer, and Jenny had spent the last two hours by her side. Half the crowd had left—the ones who had to rise early for chores, or open their stores in the morning.

Where was Luke? Didn’t he want to face her?

Jenny hadn’t seen him since…since the kiss outside, and she wanted to return his duster. She fidgeted restlessly. What she really wanted was to tell him she couldn’t see him anymore.

Even now, her mouth felt bruised from his kisses. She’d never reacted to a man like she had in Luke’s arms, and her intensity confused her. She was stuck at a crossroads, not knowing which direction to take. Should she follow the fearsome path of letting this continue with Luke, facing a future she didn’t know, or go back to Denver, to a life she no longer wanted to be a part of?

Jenny plopped down beside Olivia and the group playing twenty-one, and strummed her fingers nervously on the arm of the Windsor chair. Potato pudding and fried apples scented the air.

“I’ll stick.”

“I’ll fold.”

“I’ll raise ya.”

Olivia fanned out her cards. She adjusted the yellow sleeve of her leg-of-mutton blouse and shot a warm smile at Jenny. “You know, I told him,” she whispered.

“Told who what?”

“I told Travis.” Olivia lowered her lashes and watched Travis at the bar, rolling out the empty kegs from behind the counter. “I told him the truth about me not being from New Orleans.”

A smile rushed to Jenny’s lips, her own concerns temporarily forgotten. “What did he say?”

Olivia’s face creased with laughter. “He said he doesn’t care. Isn’t that sweet?”

“Oh, it is.”

“He said he was only talking about New Orleans because he thought he could impress
me,
knowing I was from there.”

Jenny basked in her friend’s good news.

“And then he said,” Olivia lowered her voice to a whisper, “he’d like to visit me in Denver. He says he visits for saloon business at times. I don’t really believe that—but I’m so delighted.”

“Oh, Olivia, Travis seems like a good man.” Genuine warmth filled Jenny as she shared the private moment.

Olivia was lucky. Travis would visit her in Denver.

That’s what men did when they cared deeply for a woman. They committed themselves. Jenny sighed. Luke hadn’t even mentioned the possibility of visiting
her.

“Travis,” Jenny called as he walked by with a keg, “have you seen Luke?”

“No, not for a while.” He placed the keg by the kitchen door and came back. He frowned and stroked his mustache. “What’s the matter? Why are you worried?”

“A nagging feeling. And because I know Harley’s lurking around…”

“When’s the last time you saw him?”

“Just after Franklin recited his limerick.”

Travis looked around the almost empty saloon. “Sometimes Luke goes out.”

“Where does he go?”

When Travis avoided her question and her inquisitive stare, she got a sinking feeling in her stomach. He stepped over to Tom and two other guards. “Check Miss Penelope’s house,” Travis told them.

Jenny glanced away in embarrassment. A woman?

Luke might be with a woman?

Travis continued his orders. “He hasn’t seen Miss Linda for months, but I saw him talking to her this evening, too. Go check her house, as well. He used to spend all his nights—” Travis looked in Jenny’s direction, must have seen her startled expression, and cut his words short.

Humiliation flooded her. She was concerned about Luke, while he might be spending the night with another woman? How gullible could she be?

With a squeezing in her throat she didn’t care to analyze, she rose from her chair. “Good night, everyone.”

A door slammed and she jumped.

A commotion started in the kitchen, then loud voices carried down the hallway. The alley door slammed. A heavy thump sounded on the floorboards.

“Get the doctor!” Beuford shouted from the kitchen.

The terror in his voice cut the air. “Someone run for the doctor!”

In the quiet midnight hours, they huddled around Luke in the saloon’s kitchen. Adam had woken up briefly, Jenny had resettled him, and by the time the old doctor came in, she was standing with the others, horrified by the sight of Luke.

The left side of his face was a bloody mess. His left hand was mangled, the fingers twisted in an unnatural position.

“He might look awful, but he’ll be fine,” said the doctor, squinting through his spectacles. “He’s got three broken fingers, a chipped back tooth and one hell of long cut on his face. But twelve stitches should do it.”

Jenny closed her eyes as the doctor knotted a suture. She felt the comforting pressure of Olivia’s hand on her shoulder.

“I’ve seen him a lot worse,” the doctor grumbled. His bushy gray sideburns moved up and down as he spoke.

Luke moaned, in obvious agony.

The doctor swore. “I wish you’d let me give you something for pain, dammit. I can’t work like this.”

Jenny closed her eyes again. Luke had allowed himself only two shots of whiskey before the stitching, demanding he wanted to keep his mind clear.

Travis knelt beside him as the doctor tied the final knot. “Who did this to you, Luke?”

Luke moaned again as the doctor mopped his cheek with a cleansing solution. The older man finished and Luke sat up. His white shirt was stiff with dried blood and dirt, and half his hair was matted. When he looked up at Jenny, her stomach knotted in distress. Oh, God, he looked so sore.

His eyes never wavered as he stated, “It was Harley.”

Jenny gasped. The group grew still.

“Are you sure?” Travis asked.

Luke tried to open his mouth to answer, then winced at the movement. He groaned and nodded.

“Son of a bitch,” Travis muttered.

As if disturbed by a new thought, Luke bolted up from his seat. “Where’s Adam?”

“He’s all right,” replied Travis. “Safe and asleep.”

Calmed by the words, Luke sank back. “Harley got me in the alley behind the gun depot.” He talked slowly, his speech slurred from the swelling of his face.

Jenny dug her fingers into her skirt. “You were lying in the alley for all these hours? Unconscious?”

“Yeah.”

She cringed and lowered her lashes. “And here I thought…” Her stomach felt like a hard ball. She pressed a hand to her waist, hoping to relieve her tension. “Why would Harley do this to you?”

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Luke took a deep breath and waited for his broken hand to stop shaking. The doctor began splinting fingers. “Daniel’s ticked off you didn’t go back to him on the train.”

Jenny rubbed her temples, then dropped her face into her hands. “I never thought it would come to this. What are we going to do?”

“First, I have to ask—do you want to go back to Denver?”

She fidgeted and didn’t reply.

“Or,” he said, gulping, “do you want to stay with me until this is settled?”

She quivered at his stare. There was no doubt in her mind. “I’d rather stay with you.”

He swallowed and looked to Olivia for her own answer.

“Me, too,” she said, glancing at Travis.

“Okay, then we’re leaving town. After what Harley did to me, I don’t want to leave you women and Adam in jeopardy. Pack your bags. Travis, get ahold of Winslowe. There’s a favor I need to ask him.” Luke stopped for a breath. They waited for him to recover.

He gritted his teeth, trying to overcome the pain. “Beuford, wake up the judge and ask him for those papers we’ve been working on. I’ll tell you what to do with them. Tom, go to the jailhouse and tell the sheriff to swing by here as soon as he can. I want him to see what Harley did.”

The doctor prodded Luke’s hand and he recoiled. “Watch out there, that stings!”

Jenny winced and watched from beneath half-closed lids, wishing there was something she could do to relieve Luke’s suffering. How could she ever have gotten involved with a man like Daniel?

She pulled herself together. “Where are we going?”

Luke swung his tender gaze to her. She grew weak at the anguish she saw there.

“I’ll tell you on the way,” he murmured. “The fewer people who know, the better. Now, go pack your bags, and hurry.”

T
he cabin was bathed in moonlight. Built into a hillside, it overlooked shimmering grasslands. In the gully below, a river gushed past their horses and wagon. The pine-scented breeze wrapped around Jenny, and owls cooed from the trees.

It’d taken them three-quarters of an hour to reach it. The place belonged to Winslowe, Luke had told her, although Winslowe never used it much since his wife’s passing.

Tumbleweeds rolled past Jenny’s feet as she dismounted. She pulled her shawl tighter. Concern for Luke welled in her throat, although he’d finally accepted morphine and his pain had eased.

Jenny glanced at the others. Travis and Olivia stood nearby. Luke was seated in the wagon, the moonlight glimmering on his handsome features and bandaged cheek. Behind him, Adam slept on a makeshift bed of straw and blankets. Luke’s four guards surrounded them.

Who was he expecting to fight? A battalion of men?

It shook her to her core to know how brutal Daniel had been to Luke. Were she and Adam in equal danger?

They’d soon find out. Luke had sent two sets of papers to Daniel by stagecoach. Daniel’s response, if he used the quickest method, would come by train, in four to five days. Another waiting game.

Which set of papers would Daniel choose to sign?

The set that released the boy from Daniel’s custody, so the child could be adopted, or the set that claimed Daniel wasn’t Adam’s father at all? At this point, Luke had told her, he didn’t rightly care which route Daniel chose, as long as he left the boy alone.

Of her own decision, Jenny had written a note, too, one that said she wouldn’t discuss her own situation with Daniel until Adam’s future was settled. She knew she’d never go back to him, but she was not about to tell him at this crucial moment.

Would her note appease him? Or would it anger him more?

The horses neighed. Luke stumbled off the wagon, and Travis reached out to steady his friend. Exhausted and in pain, Luke could barely keep his eyes open, but Jenny marveled at his stamina. Most men would have collapsed. She thanked heaven he was alive at all. She blinked away her hot, stinging tears.

She cared a great deal for the tough man protecting her. How many fights had he been in, and how many times had he been the last man standing? Would this be one of those times?

Every time she looked at Luke, her breathing grew uneven. Sometimes, searching his warm seductive eyes, she believed the moon and stars were possible between them. Other times, she wondered if he cared for her only as someone he had to guard, a means to an end for Adam’s happiness.

Why wouldn’t Luke let her into his thoughts and into his heart? Why wouldn’t he lower the stone wall he’d built around himself? Always, always, he shouldered things alone.

Yes, she cared deeply for him. And for the first time since she’d met him, she admitted something else. She feared she was falling in love with him.

Her heart tripped with the realization. What she felt for Luke went beyond anything she’d felt for any man. She ached to be beside him. She ached to talk to him, to touch him, to hold him, to soothe away his worry.

But it was too fast and too soon. Wasn’t it? Even if it felt like she’d known him a lifetime.

She clasped her hands. The most wrenching, painful question remained: what did Luke McLintock feel for her?

“Anyone up for a stroll by the river?” Luke asked Jenny and Adam, two days later.

Seated on the grass under a willow tree, Jenny cupped a palm over her eyes to shield them from the afternoon sun, and gazed up at Luke, hovering above her. His face was slightly swollen, he had one bruised eye and bandages covered his cheek. It still hurt when he smiled, he said.

He’d removed his shirt due to the warm chinook winds, and she was doing everything she could to avoid looking at his sultry, sinuous body. A sheen of perspiration glistened over his skin, highlighting the muscles of his arms and darkly matted chest. With his shirt in his hand, she was reminded of another time she’d seen him this way—that first night in his hotel room. Unabashedly naked and boldly staring at her.

Those same eyes twinkled now, and Jenny hastily glanced around the cabin, seeking protection. Everyone else had left, and she was alone with Adam and Luke for the first time since they’d arrived. How had that happened? She’d been so careful to avoid it. “I’ll see if Olivia—”

“Olivia and Travis already tore off around the riverbend.” His slow grin made her flush. “Seems they can’t get enough of one another.” His brows lowered and he searched her eyes.

Like
she
couldn’t get enough of
him?

Was it obvious when she gazed at him? Suddenly self-conscious, Jenny tried to rise off the grass. Luke held out his hand. She swallowed and took it. A tingle of excitement warmed her flesh.

Thankfully, Adam was here to prevent whatever might have happened if they’d been alone. And thankfully, Luke had found a weathered pigskin ball behind the cabin and began kicking it back and forth with the boy as they walked.

How much punishment could one woman take? Standing this close to the man she loved, unable to step forward and touch him. She’d already gone through it once earlier, when Luke had shown Adam how to stack the firewood he’d chopped. All those bronzed muscles, bending and stretching and flexing, were enough to drive a woman insane.

Watching Luke with Adam, she realized he had come a long way with the boy since she’d first met them. Adam held Luke’s attention as if…as if the boy were his own son.

What would it be like to share a son with Luke? To carry his child? To be his wife?

Now she was being absurd. Luke wasn’t interested in children or marriage. He never pretended to be.

Gazing out at the horizon, Jenny thought of how much she, too, had changed since she’d met Luke. Had it only been a week? Was it possible to fall in love in a week?

The intensity of her emotions overwhelmed her. No, she told herself with dismay, it wasn’t. And she should squelch those thoughts before she got carried away.

But she did admit she’d changed since being here. She looked toward the old corral, where the horses grazed. Even in horseback riding, she’d improved. She and Olivia had ridden every morning, and Jenny was starting to feel at ease with the animals. She felt at ease with the saloon, too, and the people around her there. She’d misjudged them all.

Most of all, being with Luke, she felt more at ease with herself, more comfortable in her own skin than she had in Denver, or Boston. Why was that? Why did he evoke that in her? And when he gazed at her, Lord, his eyes said so much. The one thing she’d always wanted most from a man was the respect she saw in Luke’s eyes.

She wasn’t in love, though, she chided herself. She wasn’t.

The river gurgled. Luke stopped, raised a muscular arm and pointed in the water. “Hey, Adam, you ever been fishing?”

“No,” said the boy, nuzzling close to Luke’s long thigh. Adam’s overalls were covered with stains. How on earth did he get so dirty so fast? She would wash his clothes again tonight, and set out his others tomorrow.

“How about it?”

When Adam gleefully nodded, Luke strode back to the cabin and returned with fishing wire. He cut three branches off a tree, strung the wires and fastened on hooks. Adam raced to a large stone, rolled it over and grabbed at the dew worms exposed.

With an amused giggle, Jenny removed her stockings, hiked up her skirts and dangled her feet over the mossy, cool bank. When she hooked a fish, she whooped in delight. Luke leaned in close and showed her how to remove it. Was he trying to keep his eyes off her wet ankles and legs, or was she imagining things?

All in all, she thought wistfully, the last three days at the cabin had been the most pleasurable ones she’d ever spent with any man. She pushed the thought away, but it came back when she was helping to fry the trout for supper that evening.

After coffee, Olivia and Travis took Adam outside, and Beuford and Tom, with the two other guards, left to exercise the horses. Jenny had promised to help Luke remove his facial bandage, but now that they were alone, her nerves fluttered.

“How’re you feeling?” Jenny asked him. They were in a small bedroom off the main room. She’d made sure the door was left open. Light from the sunset filtered through the small window, setting everything aglow.

Luke couldn’t maneuver well with the use of only one hand, and she didn’t want his splintered hand to get wet. He stretched out on the bed, straightening his shoulders on the pillow. He’d already washed up some. He’d managed to put on his denim pants, but not his shirt. “Like I got run over in a stampede.”

“You’re doing too much. You should slow down.”

“Hmm.” When one side of his mouth curved, Jenny knew he’d be all right. The swelling had subsided enough that he could smile. Her eyes strayed to his muscled chest, and that hum in her pulse began again. She hastily glanced back at her washcloth.

Sliding to the bedside, she dipped the cloth in the basin of cool water, wrung it out, then ran it along his forehead, leaving damp strands of black hair at his temples. The strong, bronzed cheekbones grew taut. She drew a deep breath to brace herself and gently removed the gauze bandage.

Luke closed his eyes, but didn’t flinch. She fought an almost uncontrollable urge to kiss his eyelids, place her hands along his jaw and press her mouth to his.

Swallowing hard, she concentrated on her work and peered at his cut. “It looks good. The stitches are closed. It’s still swollen, but not as much. The doctor said the redness will go away if we apply this ointment.”

“Hmm.” The low sound vibrated at the back of his throat, turning her insides to jelly.

She carried on, her stomach queasy every time her thigh brushed his. She couldn’t escape the dewy scent of his skin. Or the sight of his broad, matted chest, the muscular biceps and arms, which tapered to beautiful, large hands.

Her eyes trailed lower, to the scars crisscrossing his flat stomach. She yearned to press her lips to them, to ease the hurt. One of the scars snaked lower, below his belt, below the waist of his pants, and she wondered where it ended. The room seemed suddenly hot. She blew out a breath of moist air.

His warm charcoal eyes flickered open and caught hers. His gaze was like a soft caress. She felt herself flush with heat. With a gentle, playful hand, he reached up and tugged at the washcloth, so they were both holding it, his fingers brushing hers.

Amusement curved her lips. She tried to tug the cloth back, but he wouldn’t release it. She lowered her soft voice. “If you don’t let go, how can I help you?” When she yanked again, his heated hand clasped over hers. Her eyes flew up at the contact.

“Maybe I like your hand just where it is.”

It was now resting on his hard stomach. Trembling, she slid it free and rubbed her palm against her skirt, trying to erase the undeniable effect of his touch.

After a hushed moment, he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about having to bring you to the cabin. What’s this situation with Daniel doing to you?”

She turned and dipped the washcloth into the basin again. “I’ll be fine. It’s you I’m concerned about. And Adam.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, “you would be concerned about everyone but yourself. But what kind of life are you going to go back to in Denver?”

She shrugged, floundering inside, but trying to appear casual.

“How’s your broken engagement going to affect you? What will your friends say, and your father? And what about the store Daniel promised you?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

He trailed his fingers along her arm. Heavens have mercy, he could seduce her with a simple touch. “It matters to me.”

She gulped. “It’s not important, compared to everything else. I’m sorry you got beaten on account of me.”

“You didn’t do that. That’s Daniel’s doing.”

Regret choked her voice. “How could I get mixed up with a man like him?”

“Because Daniel used to be a good man once.”

Lips parted, she could only stare at Luke. After all Daniel had done to him, he still found it in his heart to say a kind thing.

Luke’s inquisitive eyes dropped to her lips. Reaching out, he stroked her jawline. Pleasure rippled through her. “I don’t think you realize how pretty you are. I think it’s got something to do with that crooked smile,” he whispered. “Show me again.”

She laughed gently, unable to resist his charm, unable to pull away.

And then, before she could resist, his fingers brushed her throat, his other arm slipped behind her back and he pulled her to the bed on top of him—six foot four inches of lean, muscular male.

Her breath became trapped as she met his misty gaze.

He moved his head until his mouth was against her ear, tugging on her earlobe, making her moan and shudder with primal excitement.

“I can’t stay away from you,” he said with a groan.

His words sent her spirits soaring. With a rhythmic pulse hammering at his temples, he flipped her over so she was lying beneath him. His warm breath caressed her throat, then his lips found hers. She exploded with desire and kissed him back with all the built-up tension within her. It came pouring out of her, surprising her with its intensity. She followed his lead. Their tongues touched, gentle, then passionate. Wildly exciting. Heat throbbed in her limbs, down her breasts and between her legs.

When he unbuttoned her blouse and slipped his hand inside, then under her soft chemise, she arched to meet him.

His hand stroked and kneaded her bare breast, tugging at her nipple until she felt like molten liquid in his arms. When his hot mouth pressed against her flesh, she gasped at the sensation.

He sucked again and again, his velvety tongue tracing little circles around her nipple. When his mouth moved to her other breast, she knotted her fingers in his hair.

More. She wanted more of him. She wanted everything he could give.

She’d never lost control like this, but he was making love to her with every inch of his body, every touch of his tongue.