The Texan's Bride (42 page)

He ignored his wife’s angry hiss.

KATIE CRIED silently. Big, sloppy, soggy drops that created streaks in the grime ground into her face. After five hours in the stinking ash pit, with people stomping near, with at least one rat and a multitude of beetles crawling all over her, she figured a couple minutes of self-pity wouldn’t hurt a bit.

Chase tugged her toward the hotel. “Come on, darlin’,” he whispered. “Branch said you’d handle this rope with no trouble—said you had lots of experience in trees.”

Katie eyed the rope that hung from Branch’s window and grimaced. What next!

Chase tugged the line, making sure it held fast. He handed it to her, saying, “Be quick about it now, it’s almost dawn.”

With a sobby sigh, Katie began to pull herself up. Chase put his hands on her behind and pushed. These Garrett boys were certainly free with their hands, she noted. With her feet propped against the hotel wall, Katie inched upward. The hemp bit into her hands, stinging. She pooched out her lip and cried a little more.

“You got it, Katie,” Chase whispered. “Just hurry, it’s getting light; and remember, Branch is waiting for you right the other side of that window.”

The sound she made was a cross between a whine and a snarl.

Halfway up. Her arms ached, splinters speared the soles of her bare feet. Clenching her teeth, she took a deep breath to bolster her strength. “Oh, my,” she gasped. She smelled gamy as a goat.

Then she heard it. That song, that stupid little song he hummed all the time, the one he called his battle hymn. The sound called her, wrapped around her, and lifted her toward his window. She grasped the sill with one hand, then the other. Where was he? Why didn’t he help her? Why hadn’t
he
pulled her up?

She heaved herself through the window and fell headlong into the room. The whistling stopped as she looked up.

Branch sat in a steaming brass tub, a cigar in one hand and a whiskey in the other.

It was just too much. Her eyes overflowed and her shoulders began to shake. A long, thin wail escaped her throat.

Branch’s cocky expression faded. “Aw, hell, Sprite, don’t cry. It was only a joke. The bath’s for you,” he assured her. “Don’t cry anymore, please! Here.” He rose naked from the water and walked toward her. Droplets of water reflected the room’s muted light, and his frame glistened, reminiscent of the fine sheen of sweat he wore at the end of their lovemaking.

A great sob escaped her before he wrapped her in his arms and silenced her with a kiss. He tasted of whiskey, smelled of tobacco, and felt hard and soft and ever so safe.

“Come on now, Sprite,” he murmured against her forehead. He held her while she cried, rocking her, cooing and kissing until the tension melted away.

“You weren’t the least bit funny, Branch Garrett.”

“Kincaid,” he corrected. “Sorry, love, it just seemed the thing to do at the time. You’d yelled at me for helpin’ and said you’d do better alone, so I figured I’d let you. I didn’t think climbin’ a rope would be a step for a stepper like you. Why, I’ve seen you shimmy up a tree quick as a hiccup.”

Katie sniffed and wiped her nose with the handkerchief he handed to her. “It’s not that, it’s everything. Oh, Branch, I thought you were dead! It was all my fault. Hoss was right. I’d cost him both his sons. Rob was dead and you were dying. He sent me away.” Trembling, she repeated softly, “I thought you had died.”

She felt his pulse pound as fury flexed his muscles. For a long minute he was silent. Then softly he asked, “And did you care?”

Katie stared at him. She looked deep into those haunted golden eyes and recognized the vulnerable light.
Well, fancy that
, she thought. Her answer mattered to him. Maybe a lot. Her heart twisting in her chest, she answered him in the way she thought he’d best accept.

High in the stomach, well away from his wounds, she punched him with her fist. “Of course I cared, you stupid fool! I love you!”

Wincing, he coughed twice and said, “Lord, woman. You ought to bottle that wallop and sell it. It’d make me rich.”

She buried her face in his shoulder. “You are rich.”

He pushed her away from him and placed his finger beneath her chin, tilting her head to look at him. “Yes, Sprite, I am.”

Dropping her gaze, Katie pleated her gown nervously.
What does that mean
? she wondered.
Is he talking about money
?

Or was he referring to her love
?

And how did he feel about her
?

Unwilling to face that particular truth, she said, “Branch, tell me what happened. The wounds—”

His hand stroked her arm. “The bullet in the shoulder caught me high and missed all the important parts. The one in the hip, well, I lost a good bit of blood. Took me a while to come round; apparently I had a fever. Don’t worry about it, though, Sprite. I’m fit just fine. It’s all over.”

She nodded. “I’m glad you’re alive, Branch.”

“Well, you know, I am too.” He clicked his tongue and added, “If I were dead, I couldn’t tell you how all fired angry I am at you for pulling whatever stunt it was that got you into this fix. Care to tell me about it, Kate?”

Katie gave him a weak smile. “I tried to kill Strickland.”

“I was afraid it was something like that.” Branch muttered a vile curse. “Why, Kate? Why risk yourself like that? And your baby, for God’s sake. You put that child at risk of growing up without a mother.”

Katie pushed angrily away. “Don’t you dare try to second-guess me, Mr. Garrett. I considered every angle before I made my plans. Jack Strickland killed my Steven, he killed Mary Margaret. I thought he’d killed you. I thought it best not to allow him the opportunity to kill anyone else I loved, primarily Johnny.”

“Johnny?”

“My son.”

Slowly, like honey poured from a chilled crock, a smile lit Branch’s face. “A boy, huh? Well, we need to talk about him too, but let’s get done with Strickland first. If you made such careful plans, how come you’re the one scheduled to hang come ten o’clock?”

Katie’s face paled. “Oh, I’d almost forgotten.”

“What happened, Sprite?” Branch asked, wiping a smudge from her cheek.

She was silent for a long minute. From out on the street came the sounds of life beginning to stir, readying to meet the dawn. She trembled and her voice was a mere whisper. “I couldn’t do it. I had him, and I couldn’t do it.”

He sighed. “I figured as much. You’re about as vicious as a sucklin’ lamb.” He pulled her into his arms. “But you try, don’t you? You’re faithful to those you love.”

She looked up at him, the question in her eyes.

Branch wasn’t quite ready to answer it. “Guess we’re lucky the good sheriff didn’t allow your bad temper to send you to the scaffold early.”

“I was nice. Poor Sheriff Llewellyn, I wish I hadn’t been called on to hurt him.” Her teeth worried her lower lip. “It’s not over though, is it? We’re not safe yet.”

“Nah, it’s all right. Men searched my room twice, Sprite. I feel certain they don’t know I’m your husband, or I’d have had a personal visit from the sheriff by now. You can quit your fretting. Didn’t I promise I’d take care of you?”

“No.”

“Oh. Well. You have my promise, Katie Kincaid. Now that I’ve found you again, there’s not a power on earth that could take you away from me. Fair enough?”

“I still think I’m better off depending only on myself,” she grumbled. So much lay between them, so much left unsaid. Johnny.

“Fine. Then I’ll depend on you,” Branch said, grinning. “And right now I’m depending on you to climb into that bathtub. Frankly, love, you smell like drowned possum.”

“I hate you.”

“I know, love. And listen, be quieter would you? The walls in this place are pretty thin.”

Katie stood unmoving while he tenderly removed her clothing. He carried her to the tub and lowered her slowly into the warm, soothing water. Then with gentle fingers, he lathered her skin with a floral-scented soap, massaging the stiff muscles of her arms, neck, and back. “Mmm,” she sighed, and sank lower into the tub, her head resting on the rim, her eyes closed.

A rough cotton washcloth dragged across her face, trailed by his soft kisses. He washed her hair, sudsing and rinsing, speaking to her in soft, comforting tones of inconsequential matters. His touch lulled Katie into a sensual dream where realities of the moment were but other-life nightmares.

She must have fallen asleep in the bath, because the next thing she knew, she woke curled against him beneath soft, clean sheets. Tired still, she tucked his arms more tightly around her and wiggled her rump to get a tad closer.

His response brought a smile to her lips. She wiggled again and he nuzzled her neck. “I’ve not had a decent breakfast since I left Gallagher’s, Kate,” he growled into her ear before nipping at her earlobe.

Not opening her eyes, she smiled. She all but purred when he licked that certain spot on her neck.

“I’m a starving man. Cook for me, Sprite.”

She wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to. But she couldn’t. Not without things between them settled. Lamplight cast a muted glow in the room as she rolled over and put a hand against his chest as he lay on his side. “Branch?”

He sighed. “You want to talk, right? You gotta bring it all out in the open?”

She nodded.

“Aren’t you just like a woman.” He let the silence spin out.

His gaze roamed over her, and he brushed a strand of hair away from her face. Katie waited; she’d been waiting so very long. Then, his golden eyes glowing soft and warm like the lamplight, he said simply, “I love you, Sprite.”

He pushed her back against the pillows and propped himself above her. “I think I must have loved you from the beginning”—and he flashed her his crooked grin—“from the minute you introduced me to those squirrels. If not then, then at least by the time we rambled in the brambles.”

“Branch, I…”

“Shush. You got me started, let me get it all said. I may never get my courage up again. Hell, if I don’t do this right, I may never get anything up again.” His finger trailed the curve of her cheekbone. “When you left Riverrun that day, it like to tore my heart out. That’s when I began to suspect. And then, between going after Strickland and laying up in the bed shot full of holes, I had plenty of time to think. I believe I’ve figured some things out.

“I was scared. What I felt for you frightened me near to death, and I was so jealous, I couldn’t see straight.” He lowered his lids for a moment, and when he lifted them, bleakness filled his eyes. “About your Cherokee, well… I don’t believe you betrayed me, Kate. Not at first, anyway.”

“Branch!”

“No.” He put a finger to her lips. “If my leaving like I did drove you to him, I figure I deserved it. But I love you, Kate. I want you with me. And even if the child isn’t mine, I want you both to come and live with me and be my family.”

Katie’s pulse quickened and she inhaled audibly. Branch Kincaid had the sense of hanging beef. Pure-dee ignorant, to up and ruin a moment like this for a woman. Furious, she bit his finger, heedless of his yelp, then crossed her arms and fumed.

Rolling away, Branch stared at her while he lifted his hand to his mouth and sucked at the bite. His golden eyes twinkled, and a grin hovered on his lips as he said, “I take it back. You are a vicious thing. Johnny, huh? After your father?”

She nodded curtly.

“Did you give him a middle name?”

“Robert.”

“John Robert.” Branch scratched the whiskers on his cheek. Then he nodded and said, “I like it. It’s a good name—a strong name. John Robert Kincaid.”

Katie didn’t miss the sharp look he sent her way. She remembered her words from so long ago.
You have my word that this baby will have his father’s name
. “You know?”

The look he gave her could have melted steel. He leaned over and softly said, “I’ve been a fool, Katie Kincaid. Forgive me?”

She sniffed. “I want you to say it.”

He lifted her hand and kissed the tender center of her palm. “I know you didn’t betray me, Kate. I know you didn’t bed that Cherokee.”

“And?”

He grinned. “Won’t give an inch, will you? All right, darling, I admit that you did the right thing with Rob. No one should have to suffer that way. I’m glad you were there to do it for him. You’ve my thanks.” He leaned back against the pillows, his fingers laced behind his head. He cocked an eyebrow and asked, “Now, anything else you want while I’m groveling?”

“You, grovel?” She sat up and punched her pillow, fluffing it before lying back down. “Let me know ahead of time so I can sell tickets.”

Branch leaned over and whispered in her ear. “Katie Kincaid. I love you. You will forgive me, won’t you?”

She sulked. She pouted.

He kissed her.

She forgave him.

A long shudder captured Branch’s body at her touch, relief merging with desire as he fit his aching need between her thighs. As she lifted her hips in welcome, he crushed her to him, driving deep and strong, making them one. He loved her as he’d never loved before, with his whole heart. With his soul. And over and over again, accompanying every movement, every touch, he vowed, “I love you, Kate. I love you.”

When next she opened her eyes, sunlight sparked the hints of red in his blond hair, making it glow alive and bright.

Sunshine. Alive, Oh, dear. Today’s the day she was to die. Worry clouded her eyes. “Branch, what time is it? We have to get out of here. Where’s Chase? Is he going to help us? What do we do next?”

“Breakfast.” Sleepily, he leaned over and kissed the corners of her eyes. His hands began to roam beneath the sheet. “Mmm. I have missed my meals, Katie Kincaid.” She slapped playfully at his hands, and he grinned and told her, “By the way, Chase isn’t the only champion you have in Shelbyville. A regular crowd met at the jailhouse last night to spring you. Only you’d decided not to wait for us.”

Katie frowned, trying to keep her mind on the matter under discussion while her body was busy responding to him. “What are you talking about?”

“It was quite a sight.” He trailed kisses across her collarbone. “Umm, you taste sweet. Yeah, I walked in with pistols drawn only to find your brother, my cousin, that scamp, Keeper McShane, and your ever-loving Cherokee there ahead of me, guns pointing at each other and everybody staring at an empty cell.”