Rafe's Redemption (19 page)

“Maggie!” The barn door slammed open.

She straightened and peeked over Moses’ stall. Rafe burst through the door, then swayed and grabbed the wall.

“What are you doing awake already?”

He heaved a sigh. “I couldn’t find you. I was worried.”

Worried? Disheveled was more like it. His shirt flapped open, his britches were barely buttoned, his hair lay plastered to his forehead and blood seeped through his bandage.

“Why? I’m not the one with stitches.” She rounded the stall and carried a bucket for him to sit on. “Or the one about to fall down.”

“Well…” He refused the seat. “I was afraid you might be upset by what happened.”

“I’m fine. I helped Nettie stitch up her dog once after he got into a fight.”

“No, not that. A fterward. “ He cleared his throat.

“What we did. I mean, what I did. I took advantage of you.” He sucked a deep breath. “I’m sorry. Sorry if you’re uncomfortable around me now. I swear it won’t happen again. I hope you’ll forgive me.” He turned as if to leave.

Oh, she should have known. The whiskey had worn off and guilt had set in. Now he would go into the house and avoid her. A nger heated her blood. Well, she wasn’t going to let him do it. He wasn’t going to ruin the most amazing moment of her life. “Maybe I took advantage of you,” she countered, blocking the door.

He shook his head, and smiled like she was a simpleminded

child.

“That’s

not

even

possible,

sweetheart.” He tried to step around her.

She gave a very unladylike snort. “Really? You were injured and drunk. I could have done anything to you.

Maybe I did. Do you even remember what happened?”

“Of course! I pulled you into the bath and I—” He froze, his gray eyes going from angry to panicked to shuttered. “I shouldn’t—” He swallowed audibly. “I shouldn’t have touched you like I did.” His gaze dropped to the floor, but he sounded aroused instead of apologetic.

Maybe there was hope for him yet. Hope for them.

She stalked closer, and he flattened himself against the wall.

“What if I want to touch you?” She smoothed a palm over his chest. “Right now?” God, if he rejected her she would crawl under the hay. “Because I’m not sorry for what happened. In fact, I was hoping we could do it again. A nd,” she stammered, “and, more. I want you to make love to me. Why do you keep denying us?”

“Maggie…” He scooted away from her. “You don’t know what you’re offering. You have to save your virginity for the man you’ll marry.”

That was it. “You damned infuriating man!” She threw the rake to the floor before she clubbed him with it. “I know I’m inexperienced, so correct me if I’m wrong.

What happened in no way compromised my virginity?”

“Well…no.” He inched toward the door.

She took another step. “A nd since it is my virginity in question, I may give it to whomever I chose.”

“Your husband,” he insisted.

She pointed a finger in his face. “I won’t marry. I told you that. I’ve had a man telling me what I could and couldn’t do my whole life. But I’m through. From now on, I’ll do as I choose.” She narrowed her eyes. “With whomever I choose.”

“Just what does that mean?” His voice took a cold edge as he straightened and took a step toward her now.

“A re you going to take a lover when you return to St.

Louis?”

She lifted her shoulders, pretending to consider her options. “I might. If I find a man that interests me.”

“By God, you will not!” His eyes narrowed as his jaw tightened.

Oh, she had him now. “Why? Give me one good reason.”

“Because you’re mine, damn it.” The words exploded from him.

Maggie leaned toward him, close enough her breasts brushed his chest. She smiled.

Rafe groaned.

She wasn’t sure who moved first, but they were wrapped around each other. He held her with his good arm as he spun her back to the wall. The hard oak pressed against her shirt, but what pressed against her front was much harder. Rafe. His heated…cock ground into her belly as he rained kisses over her face. She looped her arms around his neck, beckoning, needing.

He bent and leaned his forehead against hers.

“You’re sure?” He brushed his lips across hers. Once.

Twice. “Be sure, Maggie.”

“I’m sure,” she breathed against his mouth. He tasted hot, wonderful, sinful, the whiskey still bitter on his lips.

He kept her pressed to the wall as they kissed.

His body strained against hers, his hands moved beneath her coat. She held her breath, waiting to see where he would touch, what he would caress. Her nipples tightened into peaks as if begging for the first touch of his talented hand. Or mouth. Oh, God!

“Maggie. God.” He pulled away long enough to take a breath. “We need to go into the house. We can’t do this here.”

She pulled his head to hers and kissed him again, her tongue stroking, wet and wild, imitating what his hips were doing. One hand squeezed her breast; his other snaked down into her trousers, his fingers probing into her dripping cunny.

He groaned again. “I mean it, sweetheart. If we don’t go inside now, I’m going to take you here on this floor.” She smiled again and sashayed to the door. “Well, come on. What are you waiting for?”

What was he doing? God, where was his resolve?

He watched her leave the barn and walk to the cabin.

Her hips swayed, silhouetted in the sunset.

Gone, gone, gone. He was gone. A long with his resolve, his strength, his fight. Hell, he didn’t want to fight her anymore. She did belong to him, with him. He didn’t want to think about how he would work through all the obstacles in their way. Not right now. Not with her waiting inside for him.

Following like a puppy, he hurried inside the cabin then settled his hip on the table and stared at her. “Come here.”

Her breath came in little pants as she drifted to him.

Pulling her between his legs, he wrapped his arms around her waist. Slowly, he traced the seam of her lips with his tongue until she opened, sucking him deeply.

Carnal images of her sucking his dick the same way popped into his mind, and a tremor of pleasure rolled through him.

The musk of her arousal wafted in the space between them as he rubbed her pussy through her pants. Tugging open the buttons, he slid a finger between her slick folds, so wet, so ready.

“Ohh,” she groaned, and her head fell back.

He slipped his other hand under her shirt, watching her reaction as he rolled her nipple between his fingers.

“I want to feel you, too.” She reached for his waistband and snaked her hand down his britches, cupping his sac with her cool hand, making his balls draw up tight.

“We have to move to the bed, sweetheart. Now.” Otherwise he was going to come in his pants.

“Why can’t we stay here awhile?” Her smile was pure seduction, curving the edge of her mouth as if she had a secret. “I had this dream…”

His heart stuttered. “W-what kind of dream?”

“You, me, this table.” She stroked his cock. “I was naked, and there were peaches scattered over my body.

Your own personal plate.”

His heart stopped. Christ. “I don’t have any peaches, but I’d be glad to eat you.” Dropping to his knees, he lifted her shirt and licked from her navel to the top of her pussy, savoring the taste of her dew.

“Oh, God. What are you doing to me?” Her voice trembled more than her legs.

“I’m having my dessert first. Hop up here—”

“Hellooo?” A voice broke through his lust-hazed mind. What…?

Wolf barked once and raced to the door. The fur on the back of his neck ruffled in agitation.

Rafe caught Maggie’s hand and freed himself from her hold. “Stop.”

“What? Why? You said we—?”

He placed his hand over her mouth and waited.

“A nybody home?” The voice came again.

Panic shot through Rafe’s veins, spurring him like lightning. “Come on. Hurry!” He clutched Maggie’s arm and dragged her into the larder. This is what he got for not being attentive. Somebody had found them!

She pulled against his hold. “What’s wrong?”

“Didn’t you hear? A man is outside.” He tucked her behind a large sack of potatoes and grabbed his rifle.

“Get down and stay in here.”

“But I—”

“Do not argue with me!” He checked the ammunition, then gave her a hard warning glare. “Stay in here no matter what you hear. A nd be quiet. I don’t want him to know you’re here.”

She frowned. “Rafe—”

He kissed her, effectively cutting off her words. “No.

Don’t come out until I tell you it’s safe or—” He hesitated, hating what he had to say next. “Or until you haven’t heard anything for a whole day.”

His gut clenched when her eyes filled with tears.

“You mean…” Her bottom lip quivered. “Oh, Rafe, no.” She grabbed his arm and tried to pull herself upright.

This is why he didn’t deserve her. Maggie was the kind of woman who should never have to feel fear. A nd if he lived through the next few minutes, he’s make sure she never did again.

“I’ll be all right.” He crouched beside her and cupped her cheek. “I’m hard to kill.” That didn’t seem to reassure her. Hot tears rolled over his fingers. Damn it, he didn’t want to leave her like this.

“Let me help you,” she begged. “Please. Give me a gun.”

He shook his head. “Promise you’ll stay hidden. If you’re trapped, move the crate of potatoes. There’s a tunnel there. It leads outside. I’ve got supplies hidden in the tunnel. Candles, a blanket. A pistol. You take everything and run.”

“But—” Her voice caught on a sob.

Damn, he hated watching her fall apart. It tore him apart like a shotgun blast.

“Maggie…” He tugged her into his arms and kissed her hard. Not a tender kiss, not like a good-bye kiss should be at all, but—

“McBride? You there?”

“I have to go.” When he pulled away, she grasped his hand and pressed a kiss to the palm. “Remember what I said.”

A quick nod of her head gave him the courage to move the shelves back into place and leave her in the dark.

He edged to the door. Cracking it open with the end of the rifle, he pulled back the hammer. Wolf growled low in his throat. Rafe swallowed and leveled the barrel.

He might only get one shot.

“Dag-blame it. Shouldn’t have come up here. Don’t know why I thought I could make this trip.” Tom’s muffled voice echoed in the air.

Relief hit Rafe like a freight wagon. Jesus, he needed to sit down. He clenched his fists to stop the shakes, then opened the door and waved to Tom who trudged up the path.

Rafe hurried to the alcove and slid the shelves from the larder door. “It’s all right, Maggie. It’s Tom.” She stumbled into his arms. Her reddened eyes and tear-stained cheeks stabbed his heart. This was why she had to go, no matter how much he wanted her to stay.

“Shh,” he soothed. “Everything is fine. I’m fine.”

“I was so scared.” She swiped her cheeks with the back of her shaking hand.

“I know.” He stroked her hair. “I’m sorry. I—”

“Hmm. May be, that I shouldn’a come.” Tom stood in the doorway, wringing his hands.

“No.”

“No.” Maggie’s voice echoed Rafe’s. She dried her eyes on her sleeve, then turned to face Tom. “We’re glad to see you. Come in out of the cold.”

“Sure glad to see you’re still here, Miss Maggie.” He tugged a pack off his stooped shoulders and shrugged out of his coat. “I got somethin’ for you.” He smiled and pulled a leather satchel from bundle.

“My drawings!” She dashed to the table. “How did you get them?”

“A couple of hours after you ‘n Rafe left, your cousin had himself a fit, he did. Threw these all over Zeke’s place. Me and Zeke picked ‘em up. Didn’t seem right to let them ruin.”

“Oh, Tom.” Maggie pulled out sketch after sketch and smoothed her hand over each. “I don’t know how to tell you how much this means.” Tears filled her eyes again.

“You sure do got a talent for drawing, Miss Maggie. I ain’t never seen nothing so purty.”

Rafe peeked over her shoulder. Talent was an understatement. She had captured the harsh landscape and weathered people, the weary animals and shanty towns all the way from St. Louis to Colorado. A nd somehow she made it all beautiful. These drawings needed to be in one of the galleries in St. Louis.

“Thank you.” She jumped from her chair and hugged Tom. “Thank you so much. How can I ever repay you?”

“Well…I was hopin’ you’d let me stay for Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow.” He grinned.

Her eyes widened. “Tomorrow is Thanksgiving?”

“Yup.”

She looked to Rafe.

“Don’t ask me.” He’d been at war in ‘63 when Lincoln encouraged everyone to partake of the special day. There sure as hell hadn’t been anything to celebrate on the battlefield, and not enough food if the men had wanted to.

Tom nodded in assurance. “It’s tomorrow. I checked.”

“Well, yes. Of course then. We’ll have Thanksgiving.

I’ll bake some bread and boil potatoes and…and fix some kind of meat.”

“A nd pie.” Tom smacked his lips. “You reckon you could make me a pie?”

“Um…” Her eyebrows lifted.

“There are some dried apples in the larder,” Rafe offered. He’d saved them for Moses, but the thought of a pie made his mouth water. A lmost as much as Maggie made his mouth water.