The Outlaw's Kiss (an Old West Romance) (Wild West Brides) (18 page)

He lifted his eyes off his food and pushed my soul
back inside my chest with those beautiful blues. “Eating, drinking, or the
like. Especially prior to exercise,” he said in a low, smooth voice that
dripped from his lips.

A hint of potato remained on Eli’s chin, even
after he used his napkin. I took up mine and dabbed him clean. As my finger ran
along his jaw, the tiny remainder of his beard pricked me through the cloth.

“Eli,” I said in a whisper. “Is everything going
to be okay? I’m worried. Not just about you, but about the claim, and father
and the bank and everything else.”

He pushed back from the table, walked to my side,
and held out his hand for me to take, then pulled me to my feet. With measured
movements, he draped one of my arms around his shoulder, and interlaced his
fingers and mine. He flattened his other hand against the small of my back,
warming my skin through the three layers of cloth between us and curled his
fingers gently against me.

Never once did his eyes leave mine. Our faces,
just inches apart, were close enough that I felt his sweet, warm breath against
the part of my throat exposed above my collar, and each time he closed or
opened his hand on my back, a thrill shot through me.

“I can’t promise anything,” he said softly. “But I
have a feeling that,” he trailed off and just swayed with me against his chest
for a moment.

“That what, Eli?” I studied his face for any clue
of what he was feeling, but he just had that impenetrable smile, and then he
cradled my head against his chest as he took a deep breath.

“I don’t know why, and I can’t help feeling that
this is crazy, but it seems that as long as I’ve got my eye on you, nothing can
go wrong. Not
really
wrong, anyway. As long as I can help it, I won’t
let anything hurt you, Miss Clara.”

Eli kissed my forehead, his lips warming my skin
once, then again.

I swallowed hard, overwhelmed with emotion but I
wasn’t willing to give in and show how fragile my feelings were, not right
then. “How do you do it?” My voice quavered slightly. “How do you stay so
strong? You’re in such terrible danger and you’re sitting here holding me and
taking care of me.”

“You give me strength, Clara.” Eli grabbed my
shoulders and held me still, searching my face. “It’s hard for me to admit
this, but when I was out in the hills, waiting for a chance to come back to
you, I was scared. The little sleep I got, all the hunger and the thirst, the
bugs crawling all over me as I laid under bushes, covered up with dirt and
leaves. It was terrifying. But you know what I was the most afraid of?”

I shook my head. I opened my mouth to speak, but
no words came.

“Every other time in my life that I’ve been afraid
whether in the War, when I was behind a cave-in at the Comstock, it was always
that I was scared of dying. Scared of being killed or captured or suffocated.
This time it was different.”

He stroked my cheek with the back of one hand,
then with the other then cupped my face between both of them.

“I was afraid that I’d never hold you again, never
see this face, these eyes.” He kissed my nose, then my eyelids. “That I’d never
feel your warmth against my body again, that I’d never be able to say these
words.”

“Eli,” speaking failed me.

He silenced me with a soft kiss, then pulled me
closer and kissed harder, pushing my lips apart with his, caressing me and
warming me all the way through. Every inch of me, from my hair to my toes,
tingled and sparked as he explored me gently with his tongue and curled his
hands desperately against my back.

Clutching him as hard as I could, I let my whole
world become Eli for just a few moments, kiss after kiss, our skin clung
together, our souls merged into one for a blissed moment. I was so absorbed, so
enraptured, that the knock at the front door, followed by Mr. Star shouting
‘mail!’ hardly shook my concentration on Eli’s face, his breath, his touch.

“Better check that,” he said. “Could be
important.”

I backed away, our fingers touching until the last
moment, when we were too far removed. Even with no physical connection, I felt
him still as I bent and collected the letter from the doorstep.

“It’s for father,” I said. “From Francis – his
bank manager. All the other communication has been by telegraph. This feels
strangely official, doesn’t it?”

For some reason, I handed the letter to Eli, as
though I needed him to deal with it.

“Well, I suppose we should save it for him. After
all, we’d hate to break the law,” he said. A wry grin curled the left side of
his mouth.

Dropping the letter right beside the pan which
held the remaining potato cakes, Eli reached for my hand and grasped it,
holding tight. “Those cakes are perfectly browned,” I said. “They, I suppose
the fat was just the right temperature for, you know, crispness on the outside
while still –”

“I don’t want to wait, Clara James,” Eli pulled me
close, kissed me deep. “Be my wife. Marry me, Clara, and let’s just forget this
place. Run off to Texas, or Wyoming or Oregon or any damn place. I don’t care
where we are, I just want to be with you. I just want
you
, Clara.”

My heart thudded in my chest, my throat tightening
and quieting any words I may have said.

Tendrils of pleasure curled against me as Eli’s
ran his fingers through my hair, held my head between his hands and kissed me
again, so deeply that I felt his breath move in and out of me, as though he
were breathing for both of us.

“I can’t, Eli, I can’t just leave my father behind
and run off on some romantic gallivanting adventure through the west.” What I
wanted to say was ‘
yes, yes, a thousand times yes
’ but somehow I kept
myself calm. “And what about Itan and the rest of everything we still need to
do here? What about Mr. Bullock? If you vanish, who knows
what
the
people of this town will do.”

“I know, damn it!” Eli balled up his fist and slammed
it against the table. “Why is it that after years of nothing happening at all,
right now, when I find the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, I
have to deal with some ludicrous charge levied against me for petty revenge?
Why do I have to deal with Eustace Rawls and his scheming? Why do I have to
care
this much? Why can’t I just up and leave and never look back?”

Pain burned in Eli’s eyes. It hurt me to watch,
but I knew he needed my comfort right then, just as I’d needed his. I put my
hands on his cheeks and forced him to look at me. “Because you’re a good man,”
I said. “And that’s why...”

I couldn’t finish. I couldn’t tell him that I
loved him. I just couldn’t do it, no matter how badly I wanted to lie down in
his arms, cover him in kisses and tell him over and over how desperately I ached
for him.

My eyes fell on the thick envelope Mr. Star had
delivered and for a moment at least, I was saved from my own heart. I just
had
to break Eli’s embrace, or else I don’t know what I would have done. “Father
won’t mind if I check this.”

Even with my back to him as I slid the tip of a
butter knife into the envelope, Eli’s hand remained on my shoulder. The letter
was bad news, but nothing unexpected. To return to stability, the bank needed
something on the order of a million dollars to cover expenses in a month.

“That amount, assuming your father can get his
mine going, he can manage that in a week, a month is plenty of time.” I felt Eli
twirl one of my fallen curls around his finger and rub it back and forth.

“But he’s got to get it going first,” I said.
“Unless he figures out some way to get someone who knows what they’re doing to
manage it that mine will never produce what it should.”

“Listen to this,” Eli cocked an eyebrow. “You sure
you’re not related to George Hearst?”

His joke, and the smile that went along with it,
had me straining every shred of my will power to keep from throwing my arms
around his neck, declaring my undying, eternal love and begging for him to take
me all the way to Texas right then.

Another knock at the door saved me from that sort
of terrible indignity. “Who is it?” I asked, turning my head away from Eli and
breathing a sigh of relief.

“Miss Clara? It’s Seth. I need to talk to you.”
Mr. Bullock’s words sounded like they came through clenched teeth. I could
almost hear the strain in his voice. “Just for a moment. No bad news.” I heard
his boot heel scrape on the wood then come to a halt.

Eli crept off to the kitchen, and thankfully had
never bothered to put on his boots else he would have been as audible as the
sheriff. The cupboard clicked shut and I knew he was securely hidden.

“Coming,” I called.

Seth had his hat in his hands and looked like he
hadn’t slept in quite some time. Black circles marked his cheeks and his hair
was messier than I’d ever seen it. He was normally very carefully groomed and
dressed, but even his mustache was out of sorts.

“Mr. Bullock,” I said as I touched my chest, “is
everything all right?”

“May I come in? There’s a breeze what’s got me
sneezing.”

“Of course,” I said, gesturing him to a chair.

Seth turned around twice, then sunk into father’s
favorite chair and breathed a deep sigh. “Fine seat,” he said. “Feels like a
month since I sat down. I’m sorry to bother you, Clara.”

“No, not at all,” I said. “Would you like a drink?
I’ve just made some lemonade, or I believe my father has a bottle of whiskey
I’m sure he wouldn’t mind sharing.”

Seth’s eyes went left, then right. He looked awful.
“Yes, that’d be fine,” he said. “The whiskey, I mean. I’m in no state of mind
for lemonade.”

“Of course,” I said, making my way to the kitchen.
“What is it I can help you with?”

I poured the drink, with a bit of a heavy hand, I
admit, and returned to the living room. He sipped it appreciatively.

“Much obliged. I needed this more than you could
know.” He licked droplets of the stuff off the bottom of his mustache, and then
he took another deep breath. Seth turned the glass around in his hand,
apparently mesmerized by the light from the window casting an amber square
across the arm of the chair. He ran his thumb over the textured part on the
bottom of the glass before putting it back to his lips and swallowing the rest
of the fiery liquid in one go.

I waited a moment before asking him again what I
could help him with.

“Oh, right. My mind isn’t right lately. I suppose
there’s not really much anything you can
do
for me, so much as I needed
to see a friendly face.”

“Is everything all right, Seth?” I sat in the
chair opposite his. “You seem terribly worried.”

“I am,” he admitted. “There’s been no sign of Eli,
no sign of Itan, or any of the other Sioux, and I’m damn worried something’s
got their dander up and they’re just waiting to pounce again. Next time they
might not leave so quick.”

“What purpose would they have for attacking again?
They’ve got what they wanted, don’t they?”

Seth nodded. “Yes, but in that last raid, a brave
was shot in the back as they left. That don’t go over so well.”

“I see.” I averted my eyes to keep from looking
past him, to the kitchen. “Well, what are you going to do?”

He ran his hands through his tousled hair. “I
can’t say, because I just don’t know. I wish I could find Eli, to make sure
he’s safe if nothing else. Not only to save my own hide, but because if some of
these half-wild Deadwood cowboys find him, he ain’t gonna have an easy go of
it.”

A moment later, he put the whiskey glass down on
the table and pushed himself to his feet. “But, I must be going. Things need
attending to. I’m just happy you were home. Friendly smiles are hard to come by
these days.”

“Oh,” I said, flattered. “Any time you need a
smile, you’re welcome. I’m always happy to see a friend.”

“Indeed,” he said as he opened the door.
“Especially one who is as free with whiskey as the present company.” The hint
of a smile graced his lips. I imagined it was the first time in days that had
happened. “Give my best to Jefferson next you see him.”

“I will, sheriff, rest assured.”

He turned to wave when he was halfway down the
path, and as soon as I closed the door, Eli emerged from the kitchen, face so
pale he looked like he’d seen death. “I can’t do this to him,” he said in a
hushed voice. “He’s my friend and I’m torturing him. Could get him killed if
things get far enough along. Itan isn’t coming back, not for a time anyway.
Aside from the brave who got killed, two of them took nasty wounds that’ll take
time to heal. And Itan, he’s just tired.”

“Well that’s good, at least,” I said and then
caught myself. “Not the injuries, God forbid, I meant that another raid isn’t
coming.”

“I took your meaning,” Eli said. “Why do I keep
doing it, Clara? Why can’t I let it go? You never answered me earlier. You
almost did, and then that letter came.”

“Answered you about what?” I asked, knowing full
well what he meant.

Eli moved across the room, and put his arms around
me. It felt like home, being there against his chest. “Why can’t I let
everything just go away? Why do I have to care what happens to Seth or anyone
else? Why am I going to march right down the sheriff’s office in the middle of
the town and give myself up, then just hope everything works out, and Al
Swearengen makes good on what he’s promising?”

“Because,” I said, carefully measuring my voice.
“You’re a good man, Eli.”

“You’ve already said that once,” he kissed my
forehead.

I pushed away from him, a twinge of tension
thrumming in my chest. “But what I haven’t said is,” I shook my head. “No, no,
I can’t. I can’t say it.”

“Say what?” He asked.

My cheeks burned.