Sweet Enemy (13 page)

"Please," she murmured, "why are you here? Is everyone all right
at home…?"

"Everyone," he agreed wearily. "Except me."

She studied his straight back. "What's wrong?" she asked
gently.

"I love you, Maggie."

She felt the words. Actually felt them, like a blinding surge of
electric current that made her tremble.

He turned, and she saw the truth in his eyes, in the deep lines
of his face.

"Have I shocked you?" he asked harshly. "God knows, I've shocked
myself. I didn't think I could feel that for a woman. I
didn't think I was capable of it." He took a long draw from his
cigarette, and his eyes gazed at every inch of her from head to toe. "Do
you want to know what it felt like when you left? Do you want to
know how many nights I've spent sitting in the chair by my bed
staring out into the darkness, missing you? My God, I have hurt
until it feels like I've been cut in two."

Her lips parted tremulously, but she couldn't speak. It was too
new, too incredible. Was she asleep and dreaming it all? He
put out the cigarette and came toward her like a cat, all
muscle and grace and vibrant masculinity. He reached down and swung
her up into his arms.

"You don't believe me, do you?" he asked quietly. "Let me prove
it to you, Margaretta Leigh. Let me show you what I feel."

His arms brought her sensuously close and his mouth burned down into hers, opening it, tasting it, devouring it with a hunger that was fierce and blistering.

He dropped down onto the couch, hold-ing her across his lap, touching every soft line of her face
with his lips, tenderly smoothing away the tears that his
gentleness brought from her closed eyes.

"Clint…!" she whispered brokenly, clinging to him.

"What do you feel, when I kiss you?" he asked against her soft
mouth, his breath coming quick and heavy.

"As if I'm…being burned…alive," she wept, and her fingers
went trembling to his cheek, the silvery hair at his temples. "I
love you so much," she breathed. "I love you so…!"

"Show me," he challenged, bending his head. "Sweet little enemy,
show me how much!"

She brought her mouth down onto his and kissed him slowly,
hungrily, her nails digging into his back, her lips parting
sensuously under his.

He drew back a breath, his eyes almost black with what he was
feeling, his heavy heartbeat shaking her. He studied her flushed face, her misty, yielding eyes, and with a tender
deliberation, his lean hand slid up her body over the soft, young
curves until he felt her tremble.

"Do you like this?" he whispered gently.

She nodded, choked with the force of her own emotions so that
even a word was impossible.

"So do I, little innocent," he said tenderly. He bent and
kissed her gently, and his lips curved in a smile against the soft
moan that broke from her throat as his hand moved again.

Her head fell back into the crook of his arm and she looked up
at him with eyes that held all of heaven.

"I've fought this until I thought it was going to kill me," he
said, and she could see the seriousness in his eyes. "Honey, I want
more from you than a night in my bed. I want children with you. I
want to be there when you hurt so I can hold you until the tears go
away. I want to stand between you and the world and keep you safe. God, Maggie, I
can't bear to live without you!" he whispered torturously. "Marry
me, Irish. Live with me. Love me."

Tears were flowing down her cheeks. "Yes," she whispered, and
found herself drowning in his ardor almost before she could get the
word out.

Minutes later, he tore himself away from her and
stood up, smoothing his ruffled hair, fastening the buttons
of his shirt. "We'd better settle for a civil ceremony," he
said huskily, "and soon."

She nodded, straightening her clothes and her hair while her
heart threatened to storm through her chest.

"When did you know?" she asked, moving into the kitchen and
starting a pot of coffee.

He stood in the doorway watching her with a smoking cigarette in
his hand, looking so attractive, it took all her willpower
not to throw herself at him.

"The summer you were seventeen," he said gently, smiling.

She gaped at him.

"I wanted you," he said. "I couldn't get you away from the ranch
fast enough, I wanted you so. From that day on, it was a losing
battle. I used every excuse I could think of to keep you away from
the ranch, to avoid you when you were there. My God, I'd never felt
like that about a woman, any woman. And you were little more than a
child." He shook his head with a wistful sigh. "I thought it would
eventually go away. Right up to the day you called and told Emma
you were engaged." He laughed shortly. "I went into a black
sulk for days. I got drunk out of my mind. Two of my men threatened
to quit because I rode them so hard. And nobody knew why,
except me. But even then I wouldn't admit it."

"And then I came for the summer," she said.

"And I went over the edge." He reached out and touched her cheek. "Oh, baby, you'll never know
how I fought to keep my hands off you. Until that day by the
stream, when I finally let myself go…and every second of it
was like a dark, heady wine. If you'd touched me the way I wanted
you to…" He broke off with a deep, short breath. "I tried to stay
away from you, and it got harder all the time. That last night…it
was either make you hate me or carry you upstairs. I hated what I
did, even while I was doing it. But at that time, I still didn't
think I wanted marriage." His eyes closed. "I found out how
much I wanted it when they called me from Miami. I damned near
crashed the plane getting to you, and I swore if you made it I
wouldn't waste a day getting you to the altar. Then you started
recovering and when you remembered what I'd done, you hated me. I
couldn't seem to get close to you again until we had that midnight
snack in the kitchen. That was another close call. And then I began
to have doubts all over again. I knew you wanted me. But I wasn't sure you
loved me. You'd been infatuated with me for so long, I couldn't be
sure…in a way, I was testing you that night. If I'd been able to
make you say yes with no offer of marriage…! thought it would
prove that you really did love me. But you said no. And I got my
back up and left without saying goodbye. Then you left, and I was
too damned proud to go after you."

She met his eyes and smiled. "Why did you come tonight?"

His finger traced her mouth. "Because Janna told me you loved
me," he said softly, "and put me out of my misery."

She moved into his arms and pressed close. Her eyes closed as he
drew her up against him.

"Are…are you sure you want to marry me?" she asked.

He chuckled deeply. "I don't see any alternatives. We can't very
well have a family any other way."

"I hope they're all boys, and they look just like you."

"I want one little girl with dark hair and green eyes."

Her lips brushed his chin. "I'll see what I can do."

He kissed her gently. "Let's call Janna," he said with a grin.
"And mother. And especially," he added with a glint in his eyes,
"Brent."

"You were jealous!" she gasped.

"Hell, yes! And angry. He kept getting in my way. That night in
the pool… Oh, that night," he whispered against her mouth,
"Maggie, I could feel your hands on me for days, do you know that?
That was when I began to suspect what I really felt."

She toyed with a button on his shirt. "Does that mean," she
asked, "that I can't tie ribbons on the cows' tails
anymore?"

He glared down at her. "Maggie…" he began warningly.

She reached up and linked her arms around his neck. "Let's call
Janna," she murmured contentedly, "and tell her we've decided to
become very friendly enemies."

He smiled down into her eyes. "Sweet enemy," he whispered, "show
me how friendly you want to be."

And she did.

END