Nights with the Outlaw (5 page)

That vision was a bit more than he could take. His mouth went to hers, and the brush of their lips tickled his soul. Her sigh, soft and sweet, had his lips tasting hers again. The blending of their breath and flavor was powerful, and provided a glimpse of the paradise her eyes offered. He pulled her close. Enticed, his hands roamed her graceful curves. He thought he'd memorized her shape with his eyes, but finally feeling how every curve flowed perfectly beneath his palms had his blood pounding.

Swelling inside his britches, he attempted to pull out of the kiss. Doreena's hands, warm and gentle, tightened the hold she had on the sides of his face, and the tip of her tongue ran along his bottom lip. Her bold playfulness demanded a response. Tugging until her body collided with his, Clint caught her tongue with his and drove the kiss to a heightened exploration. His imagination soared. Through their clothing, the tips of her breasts hardened against his chest. He could almost envision the dark peaks, knew they'd fill his mouth wonderfully.

His tongue danced with hers, and he held her firmly against him, imagining how glorious it would be to be inside her, rising to the apex of delight and releasing his seed to be embraced by her womb. The thought was suddenly sobering. He'd never dreamed of a woman bearing his children.

Practically trembling in his boots, he broke the kiss, but planted a few small ones on her cheek and nose and temple as she snuggled her head beneath his chin, leaning heavily against him.

Her hands kneaded his back. “Does that mean you want me to find a scanty dress or not?”

He couldn't control the chuckle that escaped.

She lifted her head while her hands slipped down to settle on his waist. The look in her eyes was deep and thoughtful. Taking a step backward, she took his hand and pulled him down as she sat.

Once on the ground, the enthusiasm in his groin had him wanting to lay her down in the grass and remove her clothing piece by piece. He gave his head a clearing, scolding shake. He should be trying to fathom up an excuse to keep from kissing her, but that was impossible. His mind couldn't think of anything except how sweet she tasted and how full of life he felt.

“Have you ever carved your initials in a tree?” she asked.

A thumping in his head told him to stop acting on his feelings for her. No good could come of it. “No, I can't say I have.”
And never will,
he added silently. She was as pure and clean as new snow, and he was as tarnished as a rusted nail. “Doreena, I'm sorry, I shouldn‘t—”

“Shh.” Doreena pressed a hand against Clint's lips, stopping his protest. She was lit up like a firefly in a jar from the kiss they shared, and she wasn't about to let anything hamper the joy of it.

She'd never imagined the day would come when she'd want to share everything she had, but she did with Clint—had for weeks now. Not only that, she wanted to kiss him again and again, wanted to feel his arms around her every day, and every night. Sometimes, like right now, she wanted it more than she wanted the ranch. “Why shouldn't we?”

Clint shook his head slightly. “I'm an outlaw.”

She let out a sigh. “I know. You told me. But I don't…” Just telling him she didn't believe it wouldn't be enough. She glanced around, trying to come up with a way to explain how she felt. “Tristan has changed since you arrived, but he's still a kid, and my responsibility. Jeb and Sarah, Joe and Dobbs, depend on me, and the wages I pay them. Do you honestly think I'd put any of them or myself in danger?”

“No,” he answered.

“I wouldn't. And I don't believe you would, either.”

His hands, warm and gentle, cupped her cheeks. “No, I wouldn't.” Disquiet shimmered in his eyes. “But that doesn't change my past. I'm an outlaw, Doreena. I spent the last two years in prison in Missouri.”

She'd never asked him why, but did now. “For what?”

“Train robbery.”

His answer didn't cause a deep reaction. She could live with his past. “You served your time. You paid your dues.”

“It's not as simple as that.” His hands fell to his lap. “There were other robberies.” He bowed his head. “Trains, banks, stagecoaches.”

She wrung her hands, wanting to touch him, but sensed he'd back away. “If you can start over in California, why can't you start over here?”

“Doreena—”

She shook her head and laid a hand on his chest. “The first place to start is right here. Inside yourself. Once you start over there, the rest is easy.”

Thoughtful and clear, his gaze held hers. She leaned closer, so her lips almost touched his. They wanted to be reunited with his, and it was a fight of will to keep them from doing so. “There's something you need to know about me, Clint,” she whispered. “I don't give up.”

He smiled ruefully. “I noticed that.”

She brushed her lips against his, but he pulled back after a brief moment, and stood, dragging her upright with him.

The horses had moved to escape the heat, and one of them let out a snort. She glanced to where they stood in the shade, and when her gaze went back to Clint, his was aimed over her shoulder, and a dark frown marred his face.

“What?” She twisted to peer behind her.

“A rider,” Clint whispered. “Come on.” He tugged her behind the tree.

“Where?” she whispered. “I don't see anyone.”

“Watch that hill. He should top it any moment. There might be two.”

A second later, two horses topped the hill. The black horse with two white socks was unmistakable. Focused on Clint the past weeks, she'd almost forgotten about the sheriff. She let out a snort of disgust. “Drake.”

“That's Sheriff Drake?” Disbelief coated his whisper.

“Yes, that's him, and Deputy Hines.” The riders disappeared on the other side of the knoll. “They're going to see the men at the cave, aren't they?” She turned to Clint, expecting his confirmation.

The glare of hatred in his eyes made her skin quiver.

Doreena poked a pin over the rope, securing the sheet to the clothesline. The hot afternoon breeze assured everything would be dry in no time. Clipping the other corner of the cotton to the line, she let out a frustrated sigh.

It had been two days since they'd kissed under that cottonwood, and though Clint didn't act any different in front of everyone else, she sensed the difference in him. She'd caught him staring her way more than once, and recognized turmoil in his eyes. Moreover, yesterday afternoon he'd come up with an excuse as to why they couldn't take their normal ride, and last night he'd gone to town, breaking their evening routine, as well.

Pulling one of his shirts out of the basket, she shook out the twists from washing. Sarah had made this one for him, and the dusty blue color matched his eyes perfectly.

“Doreena!”

Her heart did a cartwheel at the sound of Clint's voice. She ducked beneath the shirt. “What?”

“I've been looking all over for you.”

Pushing the clothing aside, she stepped forward. “You couldn't have looked too hard. I've been right here.”

A grin formed, but left his face as fast as it had appeared. “Half an hour ago you were in the barn.”

She lifted a brow, mockingly. In reality, her heart sang, knowing he kept such a close eye on her whereabouts. “Yes, I was, and then I told Sarah I'd finish the laundry so she could bake bread. Was there something you needed?”

He brushed the hair off the side of her face. The intimate, gentle touch had her breath fluttering and her blood swirling. The kiss two days ago had left her craving his touch more than ever. She reached up and held his hand against her cheek. His concentrated gaze roamed her face. A tremble lodged in her knees as she caught an intense hesitancy about him.

“Clint?”

“I-I have to tell you something.”

“All right,” she said, while her insides screamed at the cold, dark wave working its way up her body. He was leaving. As sure as the sun was shining overhead, he was leaving. At this moment she hated her instincts—wished this once they were wrong.

Bracing herself by digging her heels deep in the earth, Doreena let her hand fall to her side. A tug-of-war ensued between her heart and mind. She couldn't make him stay. Not even she had that kind of power.

Tears burned the backs of her eyes, but she refused to give them freedom. She'd lived through pain before, the death of her parents, the loss of cattle, Drake's interferences. She snapped her gaze up. “This is about Drake, isn't it?” She hadn't questioned the hatred she'd seen in Clint's eyes that day, had assumed it had to do with what she'd told him about the lawman, but now she knew differently.

“Yes, it is,” he admitted.

Like heat lightning on a hot summer night, flashes sparked in her mind.
Trains, banks, stagecoaches.
She held strong, refusing to let despair take root inside her. “He's why you really agreed to stay, isn't he?”

Clint glanced around, looking everywhere except at her.

Tension built in her spine with every second that ticked by. She fought, holding her breath and curling her toes to keep still.

“Let's sit down—” he pointed toward the woodpile “—over there.”

“No,” she insisted. “Tell me what you have to say, here and now.”

He let out a heavy sigh. The sound was as piercing to her heart as a knife. She grabbed his arm, mindless of how her nails buried into his flesh.

“Drake isn't his real name,” he said. “It's Martin Harmon. The deputy is his brother Henderson.” A sneer in his tone said more than the words.

“And you know them.” It sounded like a question, but she already knew the answer.

He nodded. “Their older brother was my mother's second husband.”

Drake or Harmon, whatever his name was, was the epitome of evil. She'd known that from the moment she'd met him. The fact Clint knew this man iced her chest. Her fingers relaxed the hold they had on his arm, and her hand fell to her side. “They're the men you rode with, aren't they?”

“Yes.”

Doubt was an evil companion, sneaking in when least wanted, and latching on tighter than the clothespin she'd just stuck on the rope. She didn't want to doubt herself, question the set and steadfast beliefs she had about Clint, yet, all of sudden, she did. Doubted everything about him, and doubted herself.

“You went to town yesterday to find them, didn't you?”

Clint looked over her shoulder, as if he couldn't meet her gaze. “They're the men I was hired to track down.”

That fact was no better. “Track down, or kill?” She heard the question, knew it was her voice asking it, but she didn't want to hear the answer.

He took a step back. “That's what hired guns usually do.”

The stinging in her eyes burned hotter. She thought she could live with his past. An outlaw. A gunslinger. But deep down, inside where it really mattered, could she? Could she go to bed at night knowing the man lying beside her was a killer? “W-was it a fair fight?”

A haunted look hovered in his eyes.

She'd seen him use a gun, knew how quick and precise he was with every bullet. Her heart was slipping downward, would soon be pumping blood from her toes.

“I didn't kill them, Doreena,” he said, sounding almost disgusted.

“Why not?”

The way her eyes snapped, and her curt and harsh tone, had Clint's guts churning. No, he hadn't stayed because of the Harmon brothers. He'd stayed because of her, but that didn't matter. His innermost consciousness, that hidden piece of him that had warned him to keep on riding when he'd seen that pig tearing up the tree, had been right all along. For as much as she protested and said his past wasn't an issue, the minute it came into question, she believed the worst about him. A heated tussle erupted inside him. Half of him said he should have told her everything. How the only way to keep Nelson Harmon from battering his mother had been to ride with the gang, do everything they told him—a kid of thirteen—to do.

The other half of him said saddle up and ride. She wouldn't have understood these excuses days ago, and wouldn't now.

Yesterday, when he'd gotten a closer look at the men and confirmed Drake and his deputy were really Martin and Henderson Harmon, he'd left town, the back way. Neither brother had gotten a glimpse of him. The visit he'd then paid to the two men in the hills had told him all he needed to know.

A sixth sense had him glancing back to Doreena. Pain sat heavy and clear on her face. He hadn't laid a hand on her, but he'd hurt her as badly as Nelson used to hurt his mother.

Escapades during the years of living and riding with the Harmon brothers bounced about in his mind. It had taken two years to convince the law to listen to him about why he'd gotten involved with the gang. Two years of living in a cell smaller than the pen her prized boar lived in.

Air hotter than the devil breathed burned his lungs, forcing him to let it out. Despite everything they'd done to him, he hadn't gunned down the Harmons because he hadn't wanted to look evil in Doreena's eyes. Bitter, he twirled around and headed for the barn.

“Clint?”

“I gotta go.”

When he pulled his saddle off the stand, she stood between him and Runner. “What are you doing?”

“I'm leaving.” He explained the obvious.

It was a stare down, and try as he might, he couldn't make her back down. Her eyes never even flickered. Finally, he shouldered past her.

“Where are you going?”

The tremble in her voice hit his heart, making it throb painfully. He tossed the saddle across Runner's back. His lungs were heavy, as if clogged with thick and clinging mud. He couldn't lie to her. “To do the job I was hired to do.”

“Will you be back?”

His heart screamed yes, but his head told him to think about it. What would he really be saying if he said yes? He turned to face her. It was a mistake.

She looked so forlorn, so dejected and hurt, and yet so tender and sweet. . He reached out and pulled her forward. It was as if neither of them had any control. Their hands, their lips, their bodies acted without sensible thoughts leading them. The kiss was heated and aching, and made them both more frantic. His hands roamed her, memorizing the curve of her hips, the swell of her breasts, burning an image into his mind of the most beautiful woman he'd ever know. Ever love. He drank her sweetness, wishing it wasn't the last time he'd experience such a delicacy. It was more than he deserved, but he took what she offered nonetheless.

With his mind and heart still feuding, he ended the kiss by gently pushing her away.

She looked him straight in the eye, and with tears trailing down her cheeks, squared her shoulders. “I won't beg you to return.”

“I know,” he whispered.

Straight backed and stiff, she turned and left the barn. Watching her walk away, he fell deeper and deeper in love. It had to be love. Nothing else could go so deep, hurt so severely.

Dobbs appeared then and saddled a horse. Clint ignored the man. If he spoke, the stinging in his throat would make his voice crack.

The man followed as Clint rode out of the barn. It wasn't until miles later, when sweat coated Runner's neck that Clint pulled the animal into a walk and turned a steely gaze on his uninvited companion.

Dobbs was a thin man, with knobby knees and sunken eyes, who looked as if he'd never eaten enough to completely fill out. He gave a stiff nod. “Joe'll make sure there's no trouble at the house.”

“Where do you think you're going?”

“With you,” Dobbs answered.

“I don't need anyone riding with me.”

“I know.”

 

Doreena smoothed the folded shirt flat with both hands as she set it back down on the narrow cot in the bunkhouse. This was the tenth morning she'd awoken without Clint gracing the ranch. It was as if she'd lost a major piece of her being. Her heart hung so heavy it hurt to breathe. She had no idea where he was, and had found no answers in town. Drake and his deputy had disappeared a few days ago. No one knew where they'd gone. The cliff dwellers had moved out, as well. Joe was no help, either, claiming he didn't know why Dobbs had ridden out with Clint.

The loss of two hired hands should have had her in a tizzy, but it didn't. One thing had come out of Clint's absence—an epiphany of sorts. For all her insistence his past didn't matter, the moment it came to light, she'd balked. Truth was, his past wasn't the problem. Her insecurity was. Losing someone dear to her was her true fear. And why she'd recoiled at the concept of Clint leaving. She turned away from the bed, gasping for air.

“Stop it,” she said aloud, swiping her cheeks with the backs of her hands. “Without Drake's interferences, I don't have nearly the problems I had before.” At the window she pulled aside the curtain. “Now that Tristan has taken an interest in the ranch, things will be easier than before.”

“Who you trying to convince, girl? Besides yourself?”

She spun to the open doorway. Jeb's cane thumped against the floor as he stepped into the bunkhouse.

“No one.” She sighed. “I'm only trying to convince myself.” A chair was nearby so she sat. “And I'm not doing a very good job of it.” Most likely because giving up wasn't in her system. That still held true. She wanted Clint. Here. Now. Forever. Outlaw or not.

Jeb leaned against the wall. “Dobbs rode in a few minutes ago.”

“He did?” She jumped from the chair. “Is Clint with him?”

“No,” Jeb said. “But Dobbs said you're to meet him by the pig's tree.”

The next instant, she was out the door and racing down the steps. It took forever to get Scout saddled, due to how her hands shook, and the miles separating her from the oak seemed longer than ever. Sweat coated Scout's neck, and her heart pounded in her chest by the time the tree came into view.

Clint was nowhere in sight. Neither was Runner.

Doreena slid out of the saddle, and made her way to the tree, scanning all directions. She should have talked to Dobbs first. Maybe Clint had said she was to meet him there later today, or tomorrow, or—

Something caught her eye. Stepping beneath the broad branches covered with thick leaves that cast a wide shadow, she felt a smile rise from her chest to splay across her face. A large heart had been whittled in the thick bark, along with
CT Loves DB
.

Happiness bubbled in her chest.

“Know anyone with those initials?”

Her gaze snapped up to the branches. “What are you doing up there?”

“Waiting for you.” Clint, grinning from ear to ear, flipped around and hung from the branch by his arms before landing on the ground.

For the first time in her life, she had no idea what to do. She wanted to leap into his arms, but wariness held her back.

“So—” he gestured toward the carving “—do you know anyone with those initials?”

Her heart threatened to leap out of her body. “Yes, I do. Do you?”

“I hope so, since I carved it.” His hands wrapped around her upper arms.

The familiarity of his touch had her body wilting in pleasure. “You did a good job, too.”

“Thanks. It's some of my best work,” he whispered.

The desire to be held by him ate at her. She pressed both hands against her pounding heart. “So what do we do about it?”

“What do you want to do about it?” He was freshly shaven and wearing new clothes. All in all, he'd never looked better. The scent of spicy soap had her drawing in a deep breath. He lifted a hand and pushed her hair behind one ear. “The Harmon brothers are in jail. Dobbs and I saw them, as well as the cave dwellers, all the way to Lincoln.”

“You did?”

“Yes. They'll spend the rest of their lives in a Missouri prison, alongside their brother Nelson.” His fingers combed into her hair and he tilted her face upward. “I'm still an outlaw, Doreena, or at least I was. Nothing can ever change that. But if you'll marry me, I promise I'll walk on the right side of the law the rest of our lives.”

The heat of his body had her insides swirling, but his words had her heart pounding in her ears, making her wonder if she'd heard right. “Marry you?”

He nodded. “Yep. Marry me.”

She swooned into his arms, into his life, the one place she lived to be. His lips found hers, and the intensity of his kiss had her clinging to him. She buried her breasts against his chest, delighting in the painful, yet, thrilling way they tingled and throbbed. He instilled feelings in her she'd never known existed, but she knew there was more. Much more.

His lips left hers and trailed down her neck and up the other side before he leaned back enough to look down at her. “Is that a yes?”

She leaped, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist. “Yes, that's a yes.”

He wrapped his arms around her bottom, holding her in place. “Can you live with it? The fact I was an outlaw?”

She pushed away his hat and ran her hands into his hair. “I can live with it, because I know what's inside you. I've seen it from the moment I met you. You may have ridden with outlaws, you may have done what they told you, but deep down, you were doing it to save your mother, not for yourself.”

“How do you know that?” he asked wonderingly.

“I just do. It's the truth, isn't it?”

“Yes, it's the truth. She—”

Doreena pressed her lips to his, stopping his words. “It's over. You did what you had to do. Everyone stumbles. Everyone falls. It's the way you pick yourself up that tells the world who you are.”

“You don't give up, do you?”

“Not on you. Not now. Not ever.” She gazed deep into his eyes.

If possible, the tenderness she'd always seen in his eyes grew. It dawned on her then. It was love. This man held more love inside him than any dozen others. Life with him would be a precious gift she'd forever cherish. She pressed her lips to his again. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He spun on his heels.

She giggled, growing light-headed as the world whirled around them.

When he stopped and covered her mouth with his, a deep intuition rose from her core, begging for more. Her breasts tingled and a growing heat formed in the juncture of her legs. “Clint,” she whispered against his lips. “I-I need…” She didn't know exactly what to say.

Abruptly, he set her down, took her hand.

After two steps, she asked, “Where are we going?”

“Back to the ranch. Before we do something we shouldn't,” he said grimly.

She skidded to a halt.

He stopped, as well. “At least not until we're married.”

“The preacher won't be in town for two more weeks.” Running a lazy fingertip over the buttons on his shirt, she said, “Clint, I'm done waiting.”

He gazed at her searchingly, but hope also shimmered in his eyes. “Done waiting?”

Biting her lip to contain her excitement, she nodded. “I've dreamed of what we'll do together, and I can't wait two weeks.” She kissed the tip of his chin. “Can you?”