Outlaw’s Bride (28 page)

“Okay?” he asked.

She nodded jerkily.

“More?”

“Yes, please.”

Ethan grinned. “You have lovely manners, young lady.”

Patch laughed. “Why, thank you, kind sir.”

Ethan made love to Patch with his hands, watching her face constantly to gauge her reactions. Her eyes were lambent, heavy-lidded, her mouth open, panting for breath, her skin flushed with pleasure.

“Ethan, I can’t stand any more,” she said at last.

Abruptly he let her go. She swayed and almost fell. He caught her and said, “Can you manage on your own for a minute?”

She felt the silly grin on her face. “I’ll try.”

He arranged the remnants of their clothing over the scratchy hay to make a more comfortable bed. Sunlight streamed in golden bars through the wooden slats of the barn. The air was warm and their bodies glistened with sweat. The outside world seemed far away, only cattle lowing in the distance and a horse munching hay in the corral beyond the wall.

They might have been alone on a desert isle. There was only each other, and this moment in time. Warm eyes. Shy smiles. Taut bodies. Muscles that flexed and tendons that bunched. Hardness. Softness. A single thrust. One sharp cry of pain,
caught by another’s kiss. Tenderness. Sighs of pleasure. Moans of wonder and delight. Groans of ecstasy. At last, heaven. And finally, panting breaths and sighs of repletion.

Patch snuggled close, her head nestled in Ethan’s shoulder, her body aligned with his. She didn’t want to leave this place, ever. She wanted to remember every sensation, even the pain, because it had been the first moment they were truly joined. She had given Ethan a special part of herself and taken part of him in return. She knew there were certain times of the month when a woman was more likely to conceive, and hoped this day was one of them.

Ethan held Patch tight against him, circling her slender body so he could feel the weight of her breast on his arm. He didn’t want to leave this place, ever. He wanted to remember every sound, every sensation, because he knew it was going to be the last time he enjoyed them. He had been wrong to take Patch like this, without benefit of marriage. A lady—and Patch was one—deserved more. He hoped to hell he hadn’t gotten her pregnant.

“Ethan? What are you thinking?”

“This was a mistake, Patch.”

Patch was in such a state of euphoria that even Ethan’s flat tone of voice didn’t penetrate at first. Then the gist of what he had said sank in. “We’re not the first couple to anticipate the wedding night.”

“There isn’t going to be any wedding night.”

Patch pulled herself free of Ethan’s hold and sat up. “I don’t understand.”

Ethan rose, pulled his long johns out of the pile of clothing under them, and began putting them on. Patch followed his lead, grabbing her pantalets and turning her back to him.

“I had no business making love to you,” Ethan said. “I might be dead tomorrow. Or spend the rest of my life walking this town with a cloud of suspicion over my head. What I did this afternoon was selfish and stupid, and I’m sorry for it.”

Patch whirled on him wearing pantalets and her half-laced chemise. “Where does that leave me? I gave myself to you because I love you. You knew that, Ethan. How can you just walk away like nothing happened?”

“It’s because I love you that I’m walking away!” he snarled. “Don’t you see? What kind of life could we have together?”

“A perfectly wonderful life. If one of us wasn’t so intent on being a bean-headed jackass!”

“I refuse to argue with you, Patch.” Ethan yanked on his pants and buttoned them up, then sat down to pull on his socks and boots. He was shoving his arms in his shirt before he looked at Patch again.

She held her bloodstained petticoat in her hand. Her eyes brimmed with tears. She closed them to shut him out, and a tear spilled onto her cheek. It slid slowly down her face until she caught it with her tongue.

“Patch?”

“I’m all right, Ethan,” she said in a quiet voice.
“I’m a big girl now. I can take care of myself.” She found the opening on the petticoat and slipped it on. Her skirt followed over her head. She folded the corset into a tiny square and set it aside. With shaky hands she buttoned the remaining buttons on her blouse, then tucked the torn ends into her skirt. She straightened the wrinkles as best she could, but her clothing looked like it had spent a night in bed with her, which, in a sense, it had.

“I’ll be leaving for Montana tomorrow,” she said.

Ethan stared at her with horrified eyes. “When did you make this decision?”

“It’s obvious there’s no reason for me to stay any longer. I came here to find you, to hold you to the promise you made seven years ago—”

“Eight.”

“—eight years ago. You’ve just made it plain that you’re never going to marry me. I might as well leave now and save myself the heartache of hanging around where I’m not wanted.”

“Who says you’re not wanted?” he retorted harshly.

Patch’s eyes opened wide in feigned surprise. “Why, you did. Or was I mistaken in what I just heard?”

Ethan flushed.
“Wanting
you and
deserving
you are two completely different things. If I weren’t accused of rape, if I weren’t a hunted man, things would be different.”

“Oh. Well, then, perhaps I will stay a little
longer. There were definite signs today that Merielle may be able to remember something soon.”

Ethan eyed Patch through narrowed eyes. He had the sneaking feeling he had just been manipulated by a master fisherman. She had wiggled the worm and he had taken the bait and she had reeled him right in.

“What’s all this about Merielle regaining her memory?” he asked. “When did this happen?”

Patch’s eyes lit with enthusiasm. “This afternoon on the picnic. Frank said Merielle was looking at him as though she really saw him. He also said that a week or so ago she remembered a time when they had been together in the past. Doesn’t that sound encouraging?”

“Maybe. If Frank isn’t reading more into what Merielle says and does than is actually there.”

“Don’t be a pessimist,” Patch chided as she finger-combed her hair. “Merielle
will
remember. Just you wait and see.”

Patch was completely dressed, but when she looked down at herself, she groaned in dismay. “Your mother and sister will take one look at me and know exactly what happened here.”

Ethan grinned. “You look fetching to me.”

Patch arched a brow. “You really want me to walk into the house looking like this?”

Ethan eyed her speculatively. Her hair hung in tangles over her shoulders, laced with pieces of hay. Her brow and chin held a glowing sheen of perspiration and pink patches where his whiskers had abraded her skin. Her lips were swollen from his kisses. Her blouse was ripped, her skirt was
dirty, and she was holding a scrunched-up corset in her hand. “Maybe it would be better if I go first and make sure the coast is clear.”

Ethan and Patch snuck out of the barn together and raced for the kitchen door.

“You wait here, and I’ll go check Leah’s bedroom. If it’s empty, I’ll open the window and you come around and climb in.”

“A lady doesn’t climb through—”

Ethan eyed Patch. “I don’t see any lady. Just a well-loved woman.”

“Oh, well, in that case, I’ll be waiting under the window.” Patch turned and marched around the side of the house. She ducked under Nell’s window and met Ethan at the window to Leah’s room. When he opened it, she reached up her hands and he pulled her inside.

“Hurry up and change,” he whispered. “Ma heard me come in and she asked where you were.”

“Tell her I’ll be there in a minute,” Patch whispered back. “Tell her—”

“Tell me what?”

Patch and Ethan stared thunderstruck at the elderly woman in the doorway.

Patch cleared her throat. “Hello, Nell. I’ll be with you as soon as I change.”

Ethan’s heart was thumping so hard in his chest he thought it was going to burst. He had no idea how his mother would react to this situation. The last thing he wanted to do was upset her when she was just beginning to recuperate. For some reason he felt like a small boy again, caught in an indiscretion.
His mother had never laid a hand on him in all the years he was growing up. All it took was one disapproving look from her gray eyes, like the one he was receiving now, for him to feel remorse and pledge to reform.

It felt strange to receive her censure now as an adult, after all the missing years of growing up without it. But she was still his mother, and he still wanted her love and approval. Amazing how effective her method was.

She waited until he was seated across from her at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in front of each of them before she spoke.

“Patch is a lovely woman.”

“Yes, she is.”

“Are you in love with her?”

“I care for her,” he hedged.

“I see.”

He waited for further questions, but they didn’t come. “Aren’t you going to ask me whether I intend to marry her?”

She sipped her coffee, making a slurping sound because it was still too hot to swallow. “All right. Are you going to marry her?”

Ethan smiled grimly. “In a simpler world, I would marry her and bless every day I had with her. But my life hasn’t been simple for more years than I can count. I want you to understand why I can’t marry her. Not now. Not yet.”

Ethan waited for his mother’s blessing, her sanction of his relationship with a young woman living in her house. He wanted her to say it was all right for him to make love to Patch Kendrick even
though he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—marry her. It was asking a lot.

“You’re my son and I love you. I also love Patch like a daughter. I don’t want either of you hurt. Be wise, Ethan. Let your head rule your heart. At least for now.”

“Are you telling me to leave her alone? I don’t think I can.”

“Then make an honest woman of her.”

“I can’t do that, either.”

“Whatever the risks—”

“What if Trahern goes after her? He might, you know, if I married her. What if she’s in the wrong place when that gunfighter wants a showdown? I can’t take that chance, Ma!”

“All right, Ethan. You have to do what you think is best.” She reached out a hand and smoothed his hair back from where it had fallen over his brow.

He took her hand and held it against his cheek. “I love you, Ma. And I miss Pa.”

“I know, Ethan. I miss him, too.”

Patch had heard most of the discussion from where she stood just outside the kitchen door. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but once she was there, she didn’t want to interrupt, and she was afraid she would be discovered if she tried to back up over the creaking floorboards.

Patch could understand Ethan’s reasons for not marrying her. They were mostly the same ones he had given her the day she arrived in Oakville. But she knew something now that she hadn’t known then.

Ethan cared for her.

That made all the difference. She could wait. It was only a short step from caring to love. Something was bound to happen soon to tip the balance in her favor.

Chester Felber had been sighted in Three Rivers. The word came to Ethan through Frank, who had gotten it from one of the Tumbling Tcowhands who visited his mother in Three Rivers every Sunday for dinner.

“Are you going after him?” Frank asked.

“Damn right I am!” Ethan said.

“Maybe you should send for the sheriff.”

“I have the feeling Chester would have an unfortunate accident on his way back to Oakville if I sent Careless after him. No, this is something I have to do myself.”

“Just be careful,” Frank urged. “Chester isn’t very smart, and he’s liable to panic when he realizes you’ve found him.”

Ethan didn’t tell Patch where he was going. Chester didn’t have any answers that affected their relationship. The only thing Chester could tell him was who had wanted his parents poisoned. Ethan already knew what Chester would say. He just wanted to hear it from Chester’s lips.

Three Rivers had gotten its name from the fact it was situated on the fork of the Nueces, Atascosa, and Frio rivers. Ethan rode into town from the south and tied his horse up in front of the boardinghouse on the main street. According to the cowhand from the Tumbling T, Chester Felber had been spotted having supper there.

There were no boardwalks in Three Rivers. Frankly, Ethan thought, there wasn’t much of a town, either. Just the boardinghouse, a saloon, the stage depot, an eatery, and a general store, along with a few mud-chinked wooden houses. It was a place for passing through, not a place to stay.

The boardinghouse parlor was empty except for a very old lady sitting in a rocker, staring out the front window. She didn’t acknowledge Ethan’s presence, so he ignored her and headed toward the dining room and kitchen, hoping to find some sign of Chester. He was thwarted there, too. From the kitchen window Ethan could see a woman out back hanging sheets on a line. He figured she must be the owner. Would she be likely to cooperate?

Ethan decided to do some further checking on his own before he let it be known why he had come to town. He found the registration book on a desk in the parlor and, after a quick glance at the old lady in the rocker, began thumbing through it. Sure enough, Chester Felber was registered in Room 4. Ethan did a quick inventory downstairs and found Rooms 1, 2, and 3. He looked up the stairs. Likely Room 4 was up there. And maybe Chester Felber.