Sweetwater Seduction (28 page)

That was how Kerrigan found her several hours later. He had called out to her from the bedroom, but she hadn't answered. He had come hunting her, and been startled to find her sitting and staring vacantly out the kitchen window with the heavy gun in her lap. He could see the streaks where tears had traveled her cheeks.

“I'll take that.”

At first she held on, but he pried her fingers loose and set the gun down on the table. Her hands were ice cold, and he pulled her up into his embrace in an attempt to warm her. He was bare above the waist, and the feel of her softness against him was both a torture and a pleasure beyond telling. He reached out with one hand to sort through several of the items on the table.

“From the looks of these clothes, your father was a big man. Is that where you got your size?”

She didn't answer, so he smoothed his hands up and down her back in an attempt to comfort her, and kept talking.

“I never took after my pa much. He was shorter than me, and thicker through the chest. But he was a looker. I could see why my ma married him, even though he was a vinegary old soul, and that's no lie. Sometimes I wondered if I was going to survive that woodshed out back of the ranch house.

“The whole time I was growing up I never understood how a man so good-looking on the outside could be so mean on the inside. Later, after he had passed away, my Grandma Haley, who was like a mother to me, told me some things that helped me understand him. Like how my ma ran off with a harness salesman four days after I was born.

“I understand how you could blame a parent for ruining a kid's life. But the truth is, parents sometimes make the wrong choices too. Take your pa, for instance. From the looks of that gun, I'd say he was a man who knew which end to point. But knowing how you deplore violence, I can't help but think he was a peaceful soul. Why—”

“You'd be wrong.”

He tightened his arms around her, wanting to take away the pain he heard in her voice. “How so?”

“Did you ever hear stories down in Texas about a man called Sundance?”

“Sundance was practically a legend—supposedly so fast he could draw in the blink of an eye. Heard stories how there was a wanted poster on him in every sheriff's office in the South. Mighty dangerous man. Finally met his match in . . . think it was Kansas somewhere.”

“Wichita. Sundance was my father.”

She was struggling to get free now, but he knew she needed holding. “Easy now. Settle down. Let me hold you.”

Suddenly she stopped fighting him, and looked at him with bleak eyes. “You're just like him.”

He started to protest, but she stopped him with, “Oh, maybe you do your killing on the right side of the law, but you'll die with a gun in your hand, just like he did.”

He felt something tighten inside him, a knot of hurt he couldn't explain. “Everybody has to die sometime.”

“How can you stand it?” she cried. “Knowing there's always someone out there anxious to prove himself by putting a bullet in you. Life is too short—”

“So I live every day like it's my last. Which is more than you can say,” he accused.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

He gripped her by the arms and held her away from him, meeting her angry gaze with fierce black eyes. “You're afraid to live life at all.”

“That's not true! I'm going to marry Felton—”

“A man you
like
. Because it's easier to pretend you don't have a choice in the matter than to face the truth.”

“Which is?”

“You want me,” he said in a harsh voice.

“That's ridiculous!”

“You have since the first time you laid your hungry spinster's eyes on me. I didn't understand it at first, why no man has gotten near you. It's because you've kept them away with all those words of yours. Even the one you've decided to marry, a man you
like,
you've kept at arm's length.”

“I kissed Felton—”

“There's no passion between you and Felton. No love.”

“Love doesn't guarantee happiness.”

“Ah, yes, here comes one of those life lessons you learned from your parents.”

“Don't you dare talk condescendingly to me,” she raged.

“You're so afraid of getting hurt that you're cheating yourself out of one of the really good things in life—the love between a man and a woman.”

She lifted her chin and said, “I don't love you.”

“Maybe n. But you sure as hell want me.”

“That's a lie!”

“Let's just see who's lying!”

His mouth covered hers, but she had her teeth clenched against any invasion. He grabbed her cheeks with one hand and forced her mouth open, and then his tongue was inside, tasting her and she was sweet—so sweet. His fingers curled around her nape and he drew her close while his mouth ravaged hers, compelling a response from her.

He could feel her fighting her need, feel her quivering with suppressed desire. He mimicked the thrust and parry of lovers well and truly coupled—only to get his tongue bitten. He jerked away and glared at her. They were both breathing hard, both angry, both aroused, and both determined not to give up or give in.

“Witch!”

“Bastard!”

“Siren!”

“Devil!”

His hands tangled in her hair and he brought her face up close so she couldn't look away. “You want me. Admit it.”

“What I want doesn't matter. I will never give you that kind of power—” She bit her lip to cut off the confession that she was vulnerable to him.

He could see she was tempted. He slowly lowered his mouth to cover hers. She groaned as his teeth nibbled delicately on her lower lip. Between kisses he murmured, “It's good between us, Eden. Let yourself go. It's all right.”

She jerked out of his grasp. “It's
not
all right. It's all
wrong.
My mother fell in love with one of your kind. It killed her. My life isn't going to be a mirror of hers. I'm not going to make the same mistakes she did. So you can take your smooth words, and your fast gun—my father's gun—and get out!”

She was magnificent. If he lived to be a hundred, he would never want another woman as much as he wanted her right now. He could also see she was stubborn enough to fight him. He didn't want to see her broken, only gentled. There would be another time.

He let her go and grabbed a handful of Sundance's clothes, his shaving gear, and the holstered Navy Colt. “As soon as I'm dressed I'm going to make a little foray to check some things out. I'll be back before dark.”

She glared at him. “If you're well enough to be up and out riding around, you're well enough to check back into the Townhouse Hotel.”

He chucked her playfully under the chin. “I couldn't do that without letting everyone know I'm still alive. And then I'd lose the element of surprise. I'll be staying here until I know who set me up for that amb

“I don't want you here.”

“But you won't throw me out. Because if you do, people will start asking where I've been. And then I'll have to tell them.”

It was a threat, and a good one, and she was appalled to hear him voice it. “You wouldn't dare!”

“Try me.” He wasn't about to give up the opportunity to learn more about Miss Eden Devlin afforded him by living under her roof. Besides, the element of surprise really was useful in the job he had ahead of him.

As soon as Kerrigan was gone from the kitchen, Miss Devlin became aware that her face was flaming. Then she realized that what she actually felt was more of a burning sensation. As she touched the tender skin around her mouth, it dawned on her what had happened.

She quickly dampened a cloth and pressed it against her stinging chin, where Kerrigan's prickly growth of beard had abraded her skin when he kissed her. She hurried into the living room to make out her reflection in the beveled glass front of her china cabinet. Her chin and cheeks looked blotchy. What if the red marks stayed? It was obvious what had caused them. How in the world would she explain them?

Her mind was in a turmoil. She paced back and forth in the parlor, moving the cool cloth from spot to spot as the stinging eased. At last she lay down on the sofa and put the cool cloth on her forehead.

He wasn't going to leave.

It had been bad enough having the man in her house when he was in no condition to be a threat to her. But that was no longer true. He had made advances to her, undaunted by either the fact she was a spinster or that she was being courted by a beau. He had as good as promised he would seduce her before he was done. He was only going to get stronger, be more dangerous.

Eden wanted nothing so much as to throw him out of her house. But she hadn't. His threat had seen to that. She should have been furious. She should have been anguished. Instead she felt . . . confused.

Because, unfortunately, there was a part of her that didn't want him to leave, a part of her that didn't want to say no to his entreaties. That part of her yearned for the touch of his hands, yearned for the feel of his body covering hers. That part of her had sought out the danger to be found in loving a gunslinger—like a moth sought flame.

Miss Devlin ran her tongue across her puffy lips and shivered. She still tasted him there. He was nothing but trouble. She could handle his taunts without trying to prove him wrong. He wasn't going to goad her into doing something she knew was wrong for her. The sooner he was gone and out of her life, the better.

She touched her raw chin and flinched when she thought of the accusations he had hurled. She had made a perfectly rational decision not to fall in love. She was afraid—with good reason—to trust her feelings to a man who lived a life of violence. It was better not to love at all, than to know your love was doomed from the start.

Kerrigan made all her fears seem foolish. After all, she was no longer a child without choices. She did not have to let the past rule her life. Loving a man was a big step to take. And yes, she was tempted to take it. Was it the thrill of the forbidden? Was that why she found the thought of loving the gunslinger so irresistible? The feel of his lips on hers, the touch of his callused hands on her skin, the delicious taste of him . . . She moaned.

Kerrigan had shaved and dressed and then taken the time to clean and load Sundance's gun before he strapped it on. It hung just right on his hip and the Colt slipped smooth as silk from the polished leather when he practiced his draw.

When he returned to the parlor, he found Miss Devlin stretched out on the sofa with a cloth over her forehead. When she moaned he said, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

She sat up abruptly and the damp cloth fell into her lap. Kerrigan was standing before her dressed in her father's trousers, a black shirt, calfskin vest, and buckskin coat. He wore the Navy Colt in the holster, which was tied down on his right leg. “The clothes fit,” she murmured.

“Surprisingly well.”

Here was the source of all her consternation, looking so handsome now that he was clean-shaven again . . . and so concerned. Well, she wasn't going to let her emotions get involved, no matter how concerned he seemed. Her heart was
not
going to rule her head. She stood up, grabbed the damp cloth in one fist, and shook it angrily in his face. “What you can do for me is get out of my house and never come back.”

“I like the sparkle in your eyes when you're angry.”

“Stop that.”

“And I find your trembling lips very tempting.”

“Go away.”

“I'm waiting for the moment I can enjoy your fiery red hair spread across my pillow.”

She pointed toward the door. “Get out!”

He grinned and started for the front door. “I'll see you later.”

“I don't want to see you ever again.”

He turned to face her. “I'll be back. And we'll finish what we started.”

“When pigs fly!”

He pointed out the front window at a large gray snow cloud. “I think I see one now.”

Before she could think of a suitable (intelligent) reply, he was gon