A Love to Cherish (9 page)

“Have you ever met him?”

“No, and I never want to.”

“He can give you everything a boy your age could ever want.”

Tommy’s pointed little chin rose stubbornly. Casey couldn’t help but smile. “I have everything I want. If Grandfather takes me away Mama will be sad. She’s sad already. I hear her crying at night when she thinks I’m asleep.”

Casey’s hand froze on the polishing cloth and he stared at Tommy. “Your mother cries?”

“All the time,” Tommy said solemnly. “She never cried when Papa was alive.”

Casey set the gun aside. “Do you remember your father?”

Tommy gave him a wistful smile and nodded. “He played with me and took me up on his horse with him. Mama was never sad then, she was always laughing. I’d like to see her laugh again but she won’t, not while mean old McAllister is looking for us.”

“I’ll bet you can make your mama laugh again if you try,” Casey remarked.

Tommy’s face lit up. “Do you think so? She’s happy when you’re around, Casey. Do you have to go away? Don’t you like us? I like you, and so does Mama. Will you be my papa?”

Remorse gnawed at Casey. A child’s trust was a precious thing. It bugged the hell out of him that he hadn’t earned that trust. He liked Tommy a lot, and his mother too damn much. Tommy’s plea for a papa had struck a responsive chord in his heart. Regretfully, he wasn’t able to answer Tommy’s question, however much he wanted to. He was visualizing Belle’s reaction to his confession that he was a Pinkerton detective. But Tommy was undaunted. He simply repeated his question.

“Will you be my papa, Casey?”

Casey was saved from answering when Belle rapped on the door, then entered the room moments later.

“There you are, Tommy. I thought I’d find you here. Don’t bother Mr. Walker.”

“He’s not bothering me, Belle. He’s a smart kid. You’ve raised him well. I just wish …” He sentence ended abruptly. What in the hell was he thinking? He had responsibilities, he had no business wishing for impossible things when he was in no position to
pursue them. Mark was his brother, his own flesh and blood, and he had to come first in Casey’s life.

“It’s time to go back to the house, Tommy. Wan Yo is looking for you.”

“Do I have to, Mama?”

“It’s bedtime, son. I’ll join you as soon as I finish up here. I still have bread dough to set out.”

Tommy left reluctantly but Belle lingered. “I hope Tommy wasn’t telling you tales he shouldn’t have. I know how talkative little boys can be. And curious.”

“Tommy is a treasure. I can understand why you won’t give him up.”

“I was beginning to wonder, especially after you did your best to talk me into sending Tommy to my father-in-law. I was afraid … never mind. It was foolish of me to think you could be working for McAllister.”

Casey made a gurgling sound in his throat. “Come here and sit down, Belle, I want to talk to you.” He patted the bed beside him.

Belle considered the invitation for several long moments before limping to the bed and sitting primly on the edge. Just looking at Casey brought an exhilarating rush that began in her face and raced along every nerve ending. She shivered. If she responded physically to the sound of his voice and his gaze, what would she do if he touched her?

Casey noted her uneven steps, and could tell by her pronounced limp that she had been on her feet long hours today and was paying for it in pain. “Does your leg hurt?”

Belle shrugged. “I’ve learned to live with it. No need to feel sorry for me. I know most men are repulsed by deformities like mine.”

“Dammit, Belle, that’s not what I’m thinking at all.”

Belle caught her breath, praying he wasn’t thinking the same thing she was. She was looking at his mouth and wishing he would kiss her, like he did before. God, what was wrong with her? “What are you thinking, Casey?”

“That you’re brave and determined and beautiful. Your hair is the color of rich sable. So shiny and soft I want to thrust my hands into it and let the silken strands slip through my fingers. And that I don’t like to see you weary all the time.”

Unconsciously Belle rubbed her lame leg. “I don’t mind. I have to make a living for Tommy and me.”

Lamplight caught the golden highlights in her soft brown eyes, and Casey felt desire thicken inside him. The thought that he wanted Belle sexually wasn’t a new one, but never had it been stronger or more compelling than it was now. His hazel eyes glowed darkly as she turned her guileless gaze on him, and Lord help him, he wanted her.

Belle expelled her breath on a soft little sigh. There was no mistakiing the look in Casey’s eyes, for she had seen it too many times on the faces of men who came to Naomi’s house for sex. On the faces of other men, that look had disgusted her, but now she was enthralled by it, helplessly drawn into the heated center of Casey’s gaze, lured by the promise of untold pleasure. Her eyes widened when his face lowered, his lips hovering scant inches from hers. He gave her sufficient time to turn away. When she didn’t, his lips came down hard on hers, and his hands came up to tunnel through her hair, holding her head in place while he plundered her mouth.

“You’re so sweet,” Casey whispered against her lips. “You taste of honey, and smell of sugar and spice.”

“I’ve been baking,” Belle returned flippantly. She was trying without much success to diffuse a potentially volatile moment.

Casey’s mouth converged over hers, parting her lips with his tongue so he could caress the inside of her mouth. Belle sighed, welcoming the heat and wetness of his passionate kiss through a haze of sensation that began with her lips and pooled in the pit of her stomach. She knew she should stop this now but it felt too wonderful to bring to an end. Casey groaned and Belle heard herself echo the sound. Then she was drifting down onto the bed, with Casey sprawled across her. She could scarcely tell when one kiss ended and the next began.

Wanting was clawing through Casey with talons sharpened by his hunger for this woman. He cupped her face, kissing her again and again, tasting her with his tongue, feeling the heat of her through her clothing. Shifting slightly away from her, he brought his hands down to her breasts, pleased with their size and shape. But it wasn’t enough. He wanted, he craved, more. With practiced ease he found the buttons on the front of her bodice and worked them loose. The string holding her chemise together fell apart beneath his determination and suddenly he touched bare flesh. No corset, he dimly thought, and thanked God for that small concession.

Belle vaguely realized that Casey was touching her in places he shouldn’t. Her breasts swelled beneath his fingers, and when he stroked and
tugged at her nipples she felt her throat go hot and hollow. His lips left hers and she whimpered at the loss, until she felt his open mouth upon her nipple, sucking it into a hard little point then laving it with the rough pad of his tongue.

Belle arched upward into this mouth, splaying her hands against his chest; he was making her feel things she hadn’t felt in so very long. She could feel his hot skin beneath his shirt, and his strength, his hardness, the pure masculine power of him. His muscles were sleek and solid as steel. The heat radiating from his body and his mouth fairly vanquished her. She was dissolving into a puddle and didn’t know how to stop it, even if she wanted to. But she had to try.

She pushed against his chest. “Casey, no, this isn’t right.”

He gave her a cocky grin. “Feels right to me. Sit up, I want to rid you of this cumbersome dress.”

“Someone will come in.”

He rose abruptly and locked the door. When he returned, he lifted her to her feet and peeled her dress away with an expertise that left her wondering how many women he’d undressed in his life. More than he could count, obviously.

“Tommy needs me.”

“Wan Yo can see to him.” He bore her backward onto the bed. “I’ve wanted to do this since the first day I saw you.”

He knelt at the side of the bed and flipped up her petticoats, baring her legs. Belle sputtered indignantly but Casey ignored her as he stared at her limbs.

She tried without success to push her petticoats down around her ankles. “What are you doing? Do
you get some kind of perverse pleasure from looking at my deformity?”

Casey gazed at her twisted, swollen ankle and felt unreasonable anger at the uncaring people who must have seen the injured child and done nothing to help her. He touched the misshapen joint and he felt her flinch.

“You’re not deformed, don’t ever consider yourself lacking in any way.” Grasping her leg gently, he began to massage the soreness out of her limb. “Obviously your husband didn’t consider you unattractive.”

His voice was low and coaxing, and Belle found herself relaxing beneath his ministrations, despite her embarrassment at having Casey view her injury. “Tom was one-of-a-kind. He thought me beautiful.”

“I think you’re beautiful.” His hand moved higher, to the edge of her drawers, then down again to her ankle, gently massaging the length of her leg.

Belle moaned. It felt wonderful, but she didn’t delude herself into believing that Casey actually thought her beautiful. She knew how she looked. There was nothing extraordinary about her brown hair and brown eyes. Her figure was passable but nothing to shout about. And she was a cripple.

“You must be blind.” She felt his hand move higher, past her knee, pushing her drawers up to her thigh. “What are you doing?”

Their gazes met and embraced, her eyes wide and staring, his narrowed and hungry. His luminous hazel eyes were direct, pleading, compelling. Belle became lost in those bewitching depths, and for a moment almost believed herself beautiful.

Suddenly Casey looked away. He wanted to make
love to Belle but had no right. His hands moved back down to her lower limb, massaging the aches and pains from her calf and twisted ankle. “How does this feel?”

“Very soothing,” she admitted, suddenly embarrassed by his impersonal tone. She must have been out of her mind to let Casey undress her and touch her body so intimately. “You’re very good at this but …”

“I want to make love to you,” Casey blurted out. He made a strangled sound beneath his breath. What in the hell was the matter with him? He had never known himself to be so utterly lacking in finesse. He felt like a schoolboy with his first woman. His unsubtle remark sounded crass to his own ears.

Belle’s mind went blank. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known Casey’s intention all along. He had bared her breasts and removed her dress, and she had allowed it. Did that mean she wanted him to make love to her? The answer was not too surprising. Her body’s reaction to Casey’s hands and mouth was a shameful reminder that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. His kisses thrilled her and his touch captivated her.

“Belle, did you hear me? I want you.”

Before she could form a reply, Casey began kissing her again, stealing her breath and her will. She knew that once Casey left she’d never see him again, but she couldn’t deny the existence of her need, or the fact that she craved his kisses and whatever else came after that. She was a fully grown woman, responsible for her own decisions, and making love with Casey was something she wanted very much.

His kisses grew more frenzied as they moved from her mouth to her breasts, pulling aside her chemise to bare even more of her pale flesh. Only then did Belle become aware that one of his hands had begun a slow slide up the inside of her leg. Unerringly he located the slit in her drawers, working his fingers inside until he found her heated center. Belle moaned and arched sharply upward.

“You’re so hot there. You’re driving me crazy, Belle. In another minute you won’t have a choice. If you’re going to leave, do it now.”

Belle couldn’t move, she could only gasp and writhe as his fingers slid into her, creating a wanting more powerful than she could ever recall. Tom’s gentle loving had been pleasurable and rewarding, but it hadn’t provoked the wildness in her like Casey’s loving. She grasped Casey’s shoulders, begging him without words not to stop, that she wanted this as much as he did.

Reading the silent message in the burning depths of her eyes, Casey quickly removed Belle’s drawers, petticoats and shift and sank back on his haunches to admire her. She was slim as a girl, her body perfect despite having borne a child. Her breasts, rosy from his loving, were high and firm, crowned with dusky elongated nipples. Her minuscule waist begged to be spanned by his large hands and her hips tapered down to long shapely legs. So captivating were her combined charms that Casey barely noticed her deformity.

Casey must have looked at her legs longer than Belle thought necessary for she tried to hide her twisted ankle beneath the bed covering. “I know it’s ugly, please don’t look at it.”

Casey drew her foot out from beneath the covering,
brought it up to his lips and kissed it. “Nothing about you is ugly.”

Belle flinched when she felt his lips on her ankle, but when she saw he wasn’t repulsed, she relaxed, enjoying the sensations he was creating inside her. She had thought that Tom was the only man not disgusted by her deformity, but Casey had just proved her wrong. He made her feel wanted, and sexy, and yes, loved, even though she knew there was nothing between them but pure lust. They hadn’t known one another long enough to form an attachment, but that didn’t stop her from wanting to make love with Casey. It certainly didn’t stop her from wanting him as naked as she.

Reaching up, she tugged at his shirt.

Casey gave her a heart-stopping grin. “Does that mean you aren’t going to send me away?”

“It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?”

“I hope so.” With a minimum of effort, Casey shed his shirt. He paused a moment with his hands on the waistband of his trousers, and when Belle did not look away, he peeled them down his hips along with his cotton drawers. He flipped them aside then positioned himself between Belle’s legs.

Belle followed the line of hair marching down his stomach to the dark triangle between his legs. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw the granitelike column of his manhood rising against his stomach. He was fully, overwhelmingly erect, a shiny pearl of liquid visible at the very tip of his erection.