The Angel and the Outlaw (14 page)

“Except?”

“Except to my mother.”

Gently, she cupped his chin in her hand and turned his face toward hers. “I love you, too, J.T..”

“You shouldn’t.”

“I can’t help it.”

“I know.” His knuckles brushed her cheek. “Me, either.”

It didn’t solve anything, J.T. mused bleakly. He had less than a year to live, and nothing to offer her. He had no right to love her, to let her care for him, and yet, right or wrong, he wanted to spend every minute of whatever time he had left with the woman he held in his arms.

Brandy woke slowly, gradually becoming aware of the well-muscled arm beneath her head, of the long, lean body lying next to her. Happiness bubbled up inside her as she remembered the night past, and yet, curiously, she felt strangely wistful. She loved J.T.. He had said he loved her.

Last night, with her lips warm from his kisses and her body tingling with the flush of desire, the fact that he loved her had obscured everything else. He loved her! Now, with her mind clear and unclouded by passion, she was sorely afraid that love, no matter how strong, would not be enough to bridge the differences between them, not the least of which was the fact that she belonged a hundred and twenty-one years in the future.

Brandy sighed heavily. As much as she loved J.T., she had no desire to stay in the past. As romantic as the Old West had appeared to be when viewed from the security of the future, in reality, there was nothing at all romantic about living in 1875. True, life in the 1800s was slower and less complicated, but it was also harder and more dangerous. There was the constant threat of Indian attack, back-breaking, never-ending chores, the ever-present threat of diseases that were no longer prevalent, or fatal, in the future. And yet, it was the little things, the silly things, she missed most, like talking to her friends on the phone, and being able to order a pepperoni pizza at midnight…

Her thoughts came to an abrupt end as J.T. stirred. Turning her head, she felt a rush of color flood her cheeks as she found herself nose to nose with J.T.. His dark brown eyes smiled at her, bright with the memory of the kisses they had shared the night before.

J.T.’s gaze moved over Brandy’s face. He didn’t miss the blush that warmed her cheeks, or the way her gaze slid away from his. She was embarrassed by what had almost happened the night before, he mused, embarrassed and beautiful. And so desirable it made his heart ache.

Slowly, so she could have no doubt of his intention, he slanted his mouth over hers and kissed her gently.

“Good morning, Brandy love,” he drawled softly.

“Good morning, J.T..”

“Sleep well?”

She debated a moment, wondering whether she should tell him the truth, or a lie. The truth won. “I hardly slept at all.”

“I know.” He hadn’t slept any too well himself. He had felt Brandy tossing restlessly for most of the night, her body sliding against his, her breasts, warm and tantalizing, occasionally brushing against his chest or his back, her legs tangling with his.

“What are we going to do, J.T.?”

“What do you want to do?”

Impossible things,
Brandy thought.
I want to marry you and have your children. I want to laugh with you and cry with you and grow old with you. Impossible things…
“I don’t know.”

“Brandy…” J.T. stroked her cheek with his forefinger, let it slide over her lower lip. The tip of her tongue licked his finger, and the warmth of that simple touch went through him like a Fourth of July rocket.

J.T. let out a heavy sigh. “I know what I want.”

“What?”

“To spend the day making love to you.”

His softly spoken words made her insides curl. “Gideon wouldn’t like it,” she reminded him, her voice hoarse.

“Have you ever?”

“Ever what?”

“Made love to a man.”

“Just once.” It had been in college. She’d had a terrible crush on the captain of the basketball team and one night after a game they’d gone to Jim’s apartment. Jim had urged her to have a drink, and then another. Things had blurred after that. The only thing she remembered about the incident was a lot of groping and grunting on Jim’s part. All in all, it had been a totally dissatisfying experience, one she had been in no hurry to repeat. After that disaster, she had made herself a promise that she would wait until she was married. It was a promise she had kept with little effort, until last night.

“Hmmm. Just that once, huh?”

Brandy nodded, suddenly embarrassed. “I didn’t care for it much, but…”

“But?”

“Nothing.” She looked away, remembering how eager she had been for J.T.’s touch the night before. Eager was putting it mildly. She had been on fire for him.

“Dammit, Brandy, I wish…”

“What?”

“I wish I could marry you and give you the kind of life you deserve.”

“Marriage! But, we can’t. I mean…”

“I know. You want to go back home, and I’m…”

“What?” She blew out a sigh of exasperation. “What are you keeping from me?”

J.T. shook his head. “Nothing.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Mr. Cutter. Why won’t you tell me?”

“Because it won’t solve anything, and…” J.T. swore under his breath, afraid to tell her he had less than a year to live. He didn’t want her pity, didn’t want her to try to remake him into something he wasn’t, something he could never hope to be. “We’d better get going.”

“I’m not moving until you tell me what’s bothering you.”

“Have it your own way. I’m leaving.” He rolled away from her and rose to his feet in a lithe movement.

Brandy glared up at him. He wouldn’t leave her behind, and she wasn’t budging until he told her what she wanted to know.

Scowling, J.T. pulled on his moccasins, gathered their gear, went out to saddle the horses.

When he returned to the cave fifteen minutes later, she was still lying under the covers, her arms folded over her chest.

“Get up, Brandy.”

“No.”

Muttering curses under his breath, J.T. hunkered down on his heels and busied himself with lighting the fire. She liked watching him, liked the way he moved. She heard him muttering under his breath as he filled the battered coffeepot and set it on the edge of the coals, something about women of the future being as stubborn as Army mules.

“You might as well tell me,” she said.

He flashed her a glance cold enough to freeze boiling water.

“Please, J.T.?”

“Damn!” He shot to his feet, his jaw clenched, his hands balled into tight fists. “You are the most obstinate woman!”

“I don’t mean to be,” Brandy replied, her voice soft and conciliatory. “I just don’t want any secrets between us.”

J.T. gazed into her eyes, beautiful clear gray eyes filled with love, and felt his anger drain out of him. “I don’t have any right to think about marrying you, Brandy. I don’t want to love you, and I don’t want you to love me.”

His words pierced Brandy’s heart like a sword. Her throat felt suddenly tight. Tears welled in her eyes. She blinked them back, refusing to cry.

“Brandy, listen to me.” He knelt beside her, his arms aching to hold her, to wipe the unhappiness from her eyes, but he didn’t touch her. Knew if he did, he would never let her go. “I’ve got less than a year to live.”

She didn’t know what she’d expected him to say, but it hadn’t been anything like that. “What do you mean? Are you sick?”

“No, it’s nothing like that. Gideon said I had a year to redeem myself.”

“And then what?”

“I’m not sure. I guess my time will be up and I’ll have to face him again. For the last time.”

Brandy stared at J.T.. He was talking about death and judgment. Even though she’d never been overly religious, she had always had faith in God, a strong belief in the after life. But J.T. had more than faith in the hereafter; he had knowledge.

Brandy sat up and placed her hand on J.T.’s arm. “I don’t know what to say.”

He lifted one shoulder and let it fall. “I know you want to go back home,” he said quietly. “I know I’m being selfish as hell, but I want to spend whatever time I have left with my mother’s people. And with you.”

She did cry, then. Huge, silent tears rolled down her cheeks. She had been worried about the differences they would have to overcome if she stayed with J.T., concerned about the fact that she was from the future, that she might never see her home or family again. But all that seemed unimportant now. J.T. had less than a year to live, and she knew suddenly and without doubt that she wanted to spend every minute of that time with him.

“Brandy, please don’t cry.”

“I can’t help it.”

“Please, Brandy, I can’t bear your tears.”

She burrowed into his arms, seeking comfort, wishing she had never persuaded him to tell her the truth. Whoever said ignorance was bliss had been right, she decided. She had been far happier when she’d thought their biggest problem was finding a way to bridge the time difference between them.

“J.T.?”

“Hmmm?”

“Would you marry me?”

“Marry you! After what I just told you? Are you out of your mind?”

“That’s not a very flattering answer.”

“Brandy, you can’t be serious.”

“I am, though. Will you?”

His arms tightened around her. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Quite sure.”

He leaned back and placed a finger under her chin, tilting her head up so he could see her face. “Are all the women in the future so bold?”

“Pretty much,” she replied with a sniff. “You never answered me.”

“I’ll marry you, Brandy, if that’s what you want.”

“What about what you want?”

“I’ve never wanted anything more.”

With a small sigh of happiness, she rested her head against his chest. Mrs. J.T. Cutter. It had a nice ring to it.

* * * * *

J.T. slid a glance at the woman riding beside him. She had been unusually quiet since they left the cave and he wondered if she was having second thoughts about their getting married. He knew he was.

“Tell me what to do, Gideon,” he murmured. “I don’t want to hurt her.”

You must follow your heart, J.T..

My heart,
J.T. thought ruefully.
Until I met Brandy, I would have bet I didn’t have one.

It’s always been there, J.T., else you wouldn’t have been given another chance.

“Don’t start that again,” he muttered.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing, Brandy. Just talking to myself.”

“You haven’t changed your mind, have you? About marrying me?”

“No. But are you sure it’s what you want?”

“Very sure.”

“What will you do when I’m…when my time’s up?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to think about that now.”

“You’ll have to think about it sometime.”

“Can’t we worry about it when the time comes?”

J.T. reined his horse to a halt. When the time came, he wouldn’t be there to worry about it. “Brandy, I don’t want you to be hurt.”

She drew her horse up beside his. “I know, but…” She lifted one shoulder and let it fall. “For whatever time we have left, I want us to spend it together, as man and wife, in case…”

J.T. looked into her eyes and felt as if he’d been sucker punched. Lord have mercy, she was talking about having a baby! Never, in his wildest dreams, had he ever imagined fathering a child.

“J.T., what’s wrong?”

“A baby!” he exclaimed. “You aren’t thinking of having a baby, are you?”

“No, but it could happen.”

J.T. swore softly, eloquently.

“Would it be so terrible?” Brandy asked, and immediately wished she could recall the words. Terrible might be too strong a word, but how else could she expect him to feel, knowing that if she got pregnant, he would never see their child grow up. “I’m sorry, J.T.. I didn’t think…”

“It’s all right,” he replied in a choked voice. “It wouldn’t be terrible.” He forced a smile. “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have as the mother of any kids I might have. It’s just that…”

“I know.” She laid her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry.”

It wasn’t fair, he thought bleakly. For the first time in his life, he had a fine, decent woman to love, someone who loved him in return, and he had less than a year to enjoy it.

J.T. gazed at Brandy and saw his own thoughts reflected in the clear gray depths of her eyes: the incomparable joy of their love, the pain that waited for them when his time was up, the hope of a child to bind them together when they were parted, the anguish that she would have to raise that child alone.

“Brandy…” He placed his hand over hers.

“I know,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I won’t mention it again.”

Gideon, what am I going to do?
The words rose in J.T.’s mind, a prayer for guidance, a plea for help, but no answer was forthcoming and he knew this was a decision he had to make on his own.

“Brandy, you said you read about me in a history book. Did it say I got married? Had children?”

“No, but then, it was written before we met.” She frowned. If she married J.T., if they had a child, if she made it back to her own time, would she find her own name included in the history books? An additional line or two in J.T.’s life.

Brandy closed her eyes a moment, letting her imagination take over.
J.T. Cutter married Brandy Talavera in May of 1875. They had one child, a boy, born a few months after Cutter’s death. Mrs. Cutter never remarried…