Carolyn Davidson (20 page)

He shrugged from his coat and hung his hat over it near the door. “Sheriff wants me to consider working with him, Erin. What do you think?” He made a production of rolling up his sleeves as he walked toward the sink.

She glanced at him over her shoulder, her hands busy with a pan full of cornbread. “Is that what you want to do?”

Quinn leaned over the washbasin, working up a layer of suds and scrubbing at his hands. “Come pump some water for me, will you?” he asked.

Erin nodded, stepping to his side. She pushed the handle down, then allowed it to rise, feeling the surge of water as it rose through the small pitcher pump, watching as it poured forth to rinse Quinn’s hands.

He leaned against the sink, drying his hands on her dish towel, watching as she scurried back and forth between table and stove. “I want to have my own place, Erin.”

She halted abruptly, a plate in each hand. “Here? Here in Pine Creek?”

Quinn shook his head. “No, not here. This is just a place to winter. And before I say any more about it, I think we need to talk.”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Quinn. I’m not especially attached to this place. The only thing holding us here, as far as I’m concerned, is finding out about making sure Robert is legally ours.” She placed the two plates on the table, then stood back, eyeing the food she’d prepared.

“I think that’s it. Slumgullion and cornbread go pretty well together. I’ll just get the coffee.”

Quinn’s brow furrowed. “Slumgullion? Is this something new?” He peered at his plate. “Looks like goulash to me.”

Erin served the coffee and slid into her chair. “It’s beef and tomatoes and whatever else you can find to put in it. Alice gave me a couple of quarts of tomatoes she canned from her garden, and some macaroni she bought from the emporium. That’s about all I had, besides onions. I guess you can call it whatever you want to, so long as it tastes good.”

“Smells all right to me,” Quinn said agreeably, bending to kiss her cheek as he circled the table to his own chair. “I’ve learned to enjoy most any kind of food over the past few years.”

He sat down and lifted his spoon, only to eye the letter that faced him from in front of the sugar bowl. “What’s this?”

“It came a while ago. Tater brought it from the general store when he picked up the sheriff’s post. He said we probably should start checking on general delivery every few days, in case we get mail.”

Quinn slid his finger under the flap and opened the letter. “No one knows we’re here, so far as I know.” He glanced down. “Except for Louis Hardiman, I guess.” He scanned the single page quickly, then put it aside.

Erin picked up her fork and began eating, her eyes straying to the abandoned letter as she chewed. “Is it important, Quinn?” she asked finally, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“In a roundabout way, I guess,” he answered, reaching for a piece of cornbread. He buttered it carefully,
frowning as if it took an immense amount of concentration.

“Is it about me?” She felt a flare of anger at his reticence, and chewed with vigor.

“Mr. Hardiman says someone’s been making inquiries about both of us in Denver. Joel Guinan got wind of it in New York and asked Louis to notify me that a detective’s been nosing around, and that Ted and Estelle Wentworth have left the city for an extended trip.”

“They’re coming here?” Erin asked, fork in midair as she awaited the answer. Her appetite was gone, washed away in the flood of anxiety that spread throughout her being.

Quinn shook his head. “He didn’t say that. Matter of fact, he didn’t offer them any information, either in person or by way of the detective they seem to have hired.” He lifted his fork to take another bite, and Erin eyed him with impatience.

“How can you just sit there and eat when I’m being hunted down like an animal?” Her voice was harsh, and she caught her breath in a sob as she pushed away from the table.

Quinn shot her a glance that stopped her as she would have risen to her feet. “Just stay put, honey. Getting all in a dither won’t help a thing,” he said quietly. “And this food won’t be fit to eat when it’s cold. Sit back down.”

His tone of voice left no room for argument, and Erin sat on the edge of her chair. Never had he given her an order before; but he was telling her what to do now, and in no uncertain terms. She relaxed the grip she’d held on the sides of her chair and watched as Quinn cleaned his plate.

“You don’t look very concerned,” she said with a tinge of accusation coloring her words.

He lifted an eyebrow and shrugged. “No sense in worrying about it until something happens. We don’t know if Ted has found out where we are or not. And if he does follow me here, I can’t see that he’s gonna be able to do much to harm either of us.”

“He’ll be angry that I managed to hide, and they’ll both accuse me of terrible things when they find out that my baby—” Her voice broke, and her hands buried themselves in the folds of her dress.

“Your baby died, Erin, and no one could have been more upset about that than you were. I can understand that they’d be unhappy about it That was their last link to Damian, and when they find out that the little fella didn’t make it, they’ll have a fit about it. But it isn’t going to do them a bit of good. All of Ted Wentworth’s money can’t bring that baby back, any more than money spent on a grand education and fancy tailoring could make a man out of Damian.”

She blinked back tears, facing him with a look of sorrow that had become familiar to him over the past months. Only when Damian’s name was mentioned did that blend of misery and distress color her visage.

“I’d like to erase that look from your eyes once and for all,” Quinn muttered, his quick anger a surprise. “I think you’re still afraid of him, aren’t you?”

Erin shook her head. “No, not of him, but of what his parents can still do to me. You don’t understand, do you, Quinn? Ted really feels I had something to do with his son’s death. What if he accuses me? What if the police come after me? What will happen to Robert then?” She got to her feet, and her gaze swept the edges of the room as if she sought escape.

“They won’t hurt you, Erin. I’ll see to it. You’re my wife now.” Quinn’s hands clenched, and his temper rose as he considered her fears. “So far as I know, the cause of Damian’s death was never disputed. If Ted wanted to cast doubt on you, he’d have done it then. And if the authorities were after you, I’d have known it by now.”

“How?” She tossed her head and her mouth tightened. “You know, you’ve never told me all the details of how you found me. How many investigators did you involve in the hunt for the missing widow, Quinn? And how, pray tell, did you plan on hauling me back to New York?” Her voice was shrill as she shot her queries at him.

He shook his head dismissively. “All that’s in the past, Erin. You know very well I wouldn’t have tried to force you to do anything. Whose side do you think I’m on?”

“Well, it must have cost Ted a pretty penny to hunt me down. He’s going to want blood before he’s done. I’d lay money on that. And private investigators don’t come cheap. How much was I worth, Quinn?” As if all the anger and fear and outrage of the past months had exploded in one grand-display, Erin faced him across the room. Her skin was pale beneath the flush of passion on her cheeks, her eyes blazed with an icy blue flame and her breasts lifted and fell with each breath, as if her lungs could not expand enough to contain the anger she exhaled with each breath.

“How much were you worth? Shall I tell you, wife of mine?” Quinn’s teeth were bared as he laughed with a savage inflection that allowed his own feelings an outlet. “You were worth every penny Ted Wentworth paid me. But it ended up coming out of my own pocket. I’ve already had a voucher sent to his bank for the amount
of my retainer. I gave him back every bit of my advance monies. I haven’t made one red cent on this venture, lady.”

His hands fisted against his hips as he bent toward her. “All I managed to do was chop your wood, tend your stock, deliver your child and end up with a crease in my head for your benefit. Now, you tell me what that was worth!”

Erin’s mouth opened, then closed, one hand covering it as if she would hold back the words that might issue forth. Her nostrils flared as she inhaled, and she trembled visibly, the flush of anger overcome by a pallor that washed all color from her skin.

“I didn’t know I had cost you so much,” she managed finally, her hand spreading wide across her breast as she backed from him. “I’ve been quite a drain on your bank account, haven’t I?” Her head bent low, but her voice vibrated with pride. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Yarborough, for all the trouble you’ve suffered on my behalf.”

“Ah…hell, Erin! Cut it out!” As fast as his anger had infused him, as rapidly as he’d loosed his thoughtless words on her ears, he repented, shaking his head in regret

“No.” She stepped back again, coming to a halt against the wall as Quinn approached her, his hands outstretched.

“You know I don’t regret anything I’ve done,” he. said quietly, as cautious now of her unnaturally calm demeanor as he had been of the riotous frenzy she’d unleashed only minutes past.

“Don’t you?”

He shook his head. “No. I regret nothing except my failure to keep you safe. I married you because—”

“Yes,” she hissed, her head lifting as she interrupted him quickly. “Why did you marry me? For the child? Or was it because you thought I would provide you with a degree of entertainment during the long.” Her eyes closed, and she shook her head. “Even that didn’t work to your benefit, did it? I couldn’t even…I wasn’t worth much to you as a wife, was I?” Her mouth pouted with the words, and she looked away, turning from him.

“Have I complained?” he asked, lifting his hand to touch her hair, his fingers tangling in it. He saw the small movement she could not hide, the flinching of her shoulder from his touch, and he cursed beneath his breath.

“Don’t ever do that to me.” His words were steel, wrapped in a harsh whisper that brought her whirling to face him. “Don’t draw back from my touch. I’ve never given you reason to fear me, Erin.”

“Even now?” Her eyes defied him. “You look like you could shake me or worse.” Her jaw was clenched, and her shoulders drew back in a gesture of defiance he could only admire.

“You don’t want to hear what I’d like to do to you right now, Erin Yarborough.” He gritted the words out between his teeth.

“I’m sure I’ve heard it before. I know what comes next. Remember? I’ve been there.”

“Not here, you haven’t.” He noted her wince as his callused fingers tugged at her hair, and he ignored it He heard the smothered protest as he swept her into his arms, his actions pressing her face against his chest. And when he carried her up the stairs to the bedroom beneath the eaves, his arms held her firmly.

He placed her in the center of the bed that had held them only hours before, the bed he had prepared for her just last night. Now he stood over her looking like a
man intent on proving a point His hair was ruffled, his jaw set stubbornly, and his eyes were glittering beneath lowered brows.

She should have been afraid. She should have been running for dear life toward the door, intent on escape. And yet, she watched him.

His fingers worked deliberately at the buttons of his trousers, until the denim fabric hung precariously on his hips. “If you make any noise you’ll wake the baby,” he said in a low voice, nodding at the dresser drawer where Robert nestled.

A flush of desire outlined his cheekbones, and his nostrils flared as he bent over her. “Are you afraid of me yet, Erin?” His whisper was ominous and his gaze swept across her bosom, even as his hands touched the buttons that protected her modesty.

She felt the rapid beat of her heart beneath his fingers as he uncovered the lacy border of her chemise. His index finger edged the plump rise of one breast, then the other, and Erin closed her eyes, aware that her body responded to his touch. He laughed beneath his breath.

“Look at me, Erin.” His finger stilled and she drew in a breath, shaking her head.

He sat on the edge of the bed, then rolled to lie beside her, and she was aware of the outdoor scent of him, the masculine aroma of his skin as he drew her into his embrace. Her nose touched his chest, the curls brushing against her mouth, and she turned her head away.

Quinn rose over her, holding himself on one elbow, the other hand brushing her hair from her cheek. “Look at me, Erin,” he repeated. “I want to see the fear in your eyes.”

H
er lids rose slowly, her eyes appraising him as he watched her. “I’m not afraid of you, Quinn Yarborough. If you think I’m going to beg for mercy, you’re sadly mistaken.”

He lowered his head, his whisper taunting her as he brushed her mouth with his. “One day I’ll hear you beg, sweetheart. Maybe not now, but one day you’ll need me as much as I need you.”

“Beg you for what?” she asked, careful not to allow him entrance to her mouth as she spoke, holding her lips taut.

An amused gleam tempered the darkness of his gaze. “I can’t wait to show you,” he answered, a husky tension underlying his words. His hand tugged at her dress, pulling it up to expose her legs, and her own fingers tangled with his, wrestling for possession of the garment.

“It’s the middle of the day, Quinn Yarborough.”

“I’m well aware of that.” He grasped her wrist and moved the offending hand over her head, where, with very little effort, he managed to capture it, shifting to hold her in place. His thigh was heavy, keeping her leg
immobile, and she grumbled loudly, wiggling against him in vain.

“Shh. you’ll wake the baby,” he whispered, exaggerating the words. His hand went back to the hem of her dress, lifting it to her waist. She lay beneath him, frustrated by his high-handedness, yet intrigued by the sensations those same shenanigans were producing in her body.

His nimble fingers untied her drawers and he stripped her of them, his hands moving with impudence over her legs as he pulled the cotton fabric down, stripping her of her house shoes as he went. And then those same fingers took a tingling path once more, finding their way back to the supple skin that covered her belly. They spread wide, flexing against her skin, teasing her with the promise of pleasure.

She rose instinctively from the mattress as his wandering fingertips touched her, as if her errant body sought closer contact with the hand that dared to claim her most intimate secrets as his own.

This was not the gentle lover of the night, the tender husband whose only thought was for her care and pleasure. This man, who touched her knowingly, who lavished hot, wet kisses upon her, who whispered words she had never heard into her ear, was another side of Quinn Yarborough she had not dreamed existed.

He was demanding, willing her response, his hands and fingers agile as he discovered tender flesh that deserved his attention. He was thorough, lifting her legs, murmuring appreciation for the slender length of her calves, brushing his mouth against her knees as he hovered over her.

And then he watched her through narrowed eyes as
he brought his male flesh to that place he had so carefully readied for his taking.

Quinn clasped her hands, spreading her fingers with his, joining them together symbolically. He sought and found the softness of her desire, then bent to kiss her, accepting her low cries into his mouth. He filled her, stretched her, became a part of her, and still she was left wanting. There, there…just beyond her grasp.

Erin lifted her hips, twisting, seeking that elusive pleasure. He withdrew slowly, leaving her empty and yearning, and she cried out, only to hear his words in her ear as he surged against her once more.

“Do you need me?” The whisper was rasping, his breathing harsh, and again he retreated, holding her still beneath him, hesitating for moments before he returned to her, slowly filling her with the entire measure of his manhood. “Is this what you want, Erin?” he asked, his words breathless against her hair.

“Yes…yes.” Caught in the whirlwind, she rushed to meet whatever it held in store. She sobbed, writhing against him. Her arms enclosed him, her face buried against his shoulder, her cries of completion urging him in incoherent whimpers. And then he thrust within her a final time, his voice guttural as he called her name in an urgent plea.

“Erin…ah, baby!” He was heavy, pressing her into the mattress, and she gloried in it. He was male, strong, vibrant, and just a bit arrogant. She smiled secretly at that thought. He’d pushed her deliberately, she realized. He’d forced her to face her fears and recognize their absence in this bed they shared.

Quinn’s anger had not frightened her. She had not retreated from his virile male strength, nor had she bowed to his taunts. He’d held her captive and yet, had
she feared him, had he sensed panic or horror at his touch, she knew he would have given way. Even in his strength, she recognized the care and concern he lavished upon her.

And now her heart lifted with the knowledge of freedom gained. No longer would the specter of Damian Wentworth haunt her with its memory of cruel deeds and harsh treatment at masculine hands.

“I love you, Quinn.” She’d said the words silently before. Now she lavished them upon him, repeating them as she scattered kisses wherever she could reach. “I love you!” Her whisper was tinged with a sob, and she brushed her tears against his shoulder.

“Don’t cry, baby!” He lifted himself on his elbows, and his hands framed her face. “You know I love you, sweetheart. I can’t stand to cause you pain. Don’t cry.”

“You haven’t. You know you haven’t hurt me, Quinn.” She swept her hands up the length of his back, pressing against his shoulders. “Kiss me…please kiss me.”

He lowered his head, his mouth taking sweeping possession of hers. Bestowing words of praise, Quinn whispered his love against her brow, breathed it against the tender skin of her throat and dropped countless kisses wherever his lips touched.

“I think I loved you first when you held my baby in your hands and breathed into his mouth, Quinn,” she told him, cradling his head against her breast.

“Did you? I’d have given my soul at that moment to bring life to your child, Erin.”

“You’ve done more for me than any other person in my life. I feel inadequate sometimes, as if I have nothing to give in return.”

“Oh, but you have,” he told her.

“You mean…this?” Her hand swept his back, pressing him against her body.

He shook his head. “No, I knew we’d come together in time. But more than that, I wanted your trust. I needed you to trust me enough to love me, and know I’d take care of you. I wanted you to depend on me without wondering if I’d ever turn on you, or use my strength against you.”

“1 know better than that,” she said. “I think I’ve always known.”

“Maybe. I was afraid it would take a while. I probably shouldn’t have pushed you. You know, downstairs and just now.” He closed his eyes and bent his head. “More than anything else, I needed to know you love me, Erin.”

“And now you know.”

He nodded, lifting his eyes to meet her gaze. “Now I know.”

The snow had melted, turning the yard and street into a sea of mud. Only a hard frost had rescued Erin from losing her boots on the way to the emporium this morning.

On her way home Erin stopped at the sheriff’s house, where Robert had stayed during her shopping expedition. Alice smiled, her arms reluctantly turning her charge over to his mother, and Erin then made her way to the small house. She had begun to call it home, settling in nicely, after less than two weeks. Quinn had teased her, accusing her of nesting, like the early bluebirds that perched on the fence every morning.

She put away her supplies, elated at her good fortune, having the general store right at her fingertips. Living in town had a lot to be said for it, with a friendly neighbor
just steps away, and Quinn getting involved with the lawmen. A good way to keep his ear to the door, so to speak, he’d told her.

Having him go off every morning made her feel like a real housewife, something she’d never been acquainted with in her life. The switch from pampered lady of the manor to the sole occupant of a primitive mountain cabin had been a shock. Tending house with everything so handy revealed to her daily just how much she had been missing.

“I could get real used to this,” she sang to Robert as she placed him in the small crib Quinn had bought for the baby’s use downstairs. He’d watched her carry the dresser drawer down the stairs and frowned. Within a half hour the crib had replaced the drawer and taken one more chore from Erin’s shoulders.

Robert’s eyes closed and he yawned widely, bringing a thrill of joy to Erin’s breast. “What a sweetheart you turned out to be, you precious lamb,” she crooned, covering him with his quilt

She had bread to mix and set to rise and supper to consider. Quinn had told her not to expect him for dinner at noon, so she’d given him a towel with cheese and crackers wrapped inside to tide him over. For that she’d earned a hearty kiss and a whisper of thanks.

It was well past noon when Erin heard someone stomping their feet on the porch. Sheriff Mason wore a look of solemn concern when he appeared at the kitchen door, and she knew a moment of terror. Something was wrong. As sure as the sun rose every morning, her intuition told her that her bubble of happiness was about to burst.

She should have known that the simple joys of living with Quinn and Robert in this house were too good to
last, Erin thought wistfully as she opened the door to the lawman.

“What brings you out this morning?” she asked, mentally crossing her fingers, hoping for the best.

It was not to be.

With a shuffling of feet and much clearing of his throat, Henry Mason entered the kitchen, closing the door behind him. “Afraid I’ve got some news you’re not gonna like to hear, Miz Yarborough,” he muttered. He removed his hat, running his fingers through his hair, looking exceedingly uncomfortable to Erin’s eye.

“You might as well tell me,” she said stoutly, girding herself for whatever might come. If only Quinn.

“There’s a lawyer fella coming from Denver to see you. He’s been hired by some folks from New York City, name of Wentworth. Anybody you know?”

She nodded. “They were my first husband’s parents.”

His brow furrowed. “Thought your name was Peterson. Would have sworn that was what I heard.”

Erin had the grace to blush. “I used that name. I left New York after my husband died, and I really didn’t want his parents to find me, Sheriff.”

“Looks to me like they went to a lot of trouble, young lady. Is there something else I should know?” His eyes held a challenge she could not refuse.

She lifted her hands in a silent appeal, her throat dry. “I was running from them, and pregnant when I arrived here. With their grandson. They wanted the child, and I didn’t want them to have him. It was as simple as that.”

“So you bought that old miner’s cabin up the mountain and set up housekeeping, all on your own. I wondered what in tarnation you were doin’ there, with winter comin’ on.”

She sat down at the table, her knees feeling as if they
might fail her. “No one questioned me a whole lot. I bought provisions at the emporium and supplies at the livery stable for my animals. People were kind.”

“We don’t ask a lot of questions out here. Never know when a person has something to hide, and so long as he’s not breakin’ the law, we kinda like to leave folks to themselves. But, to tell the truth, ma’am, I surely didn’t know you were in the family way when you set off up that mountain, draggin’ that cow and with a box of chickens tied on your packhorse.” He laughed aloud. “You were some sight to behold. I remember thinkin’ you were a spunky lady.”

“Why is the lawyer coming here now?” Erin asked bluntly. Better to know the worst right off, she figured.

“Well, now that I know a little more about things, I begin to understand the issues. He’s talkin’ about taking custody of your child.”

She felt cold fingers of fear slide up her spine, radiating to the tips of her fingers. “What makes him think anyone would have the right to my child?”

Sheriff Mason hung his head and sighed. “I think I better sit down for this, ma’am.” He pulled out a chair and sat across the table from Erin. “It seems they found records in Denver from the hearing here in Pine Creek. Don’t know what they were after, going through things at the courthouse, but the judge’s findings were right there for them to see.”

“What does that have to do with the baby?”

Henry Mason cleared his throat. “It seems the lawyer and the folks who hired him don’t think you’re a good candidate for motherhood, what with you shootin’ that miner a few weeks ago. They’re bringing a piece of paper along that says they’ve been granted custody of their grandson.”

“But Robert isn’t their grandson.” Erin stood up abruptly, sending her chair toppling.

“Yes, ma’am. You and me both know that. It’s only gonna be a matter of time before we clear it all up, I’m sure. I just hate to see you havin’ to face such a thing.”

“Where’s the judge? Will he be here, too?”

Sheriff Mason shook his head. “He won’t be back for another week. We only get him comin’ around once a month. Unless there’s reason for it.”

“Isn’t this reason enough?” Erin asked, pacing to the window and back. Her heart was pumping at a rapid pace, and the need to see Quinn was uppermost in her mind. “Where did you send my husband?” she asked.

“Aw, they had a fuss up at the mining camp. Couple of fellas shootin’ at each other. I pinned a badge on Quinn and told him to bring both men back down. Figured they could cool their heels in jail till next week. Probably both of them will be ready to behave themselves by then.”

“When is this lawyer coming?” She walked to the window again, as if watching for Quinn would bring him home to her more rapidly.

“Might be on the evening stage from Denver,” Henry Mason allowed. “The letter came yesterday, and Tater didn’t pick up the mail from the emporium till this morning.”

From near the stove a fretful cry caught her attention. Erin turned, her footsteps quick as she reached Robert’s side. He was fussing, kicking at his blanket, and, from all signs, more than ready for his midafternoon meal.

“Mama’s here,” Erin crooned, lifting him to her shoulder. She jiggled him in her arms, stilling his impatience, and turned back to the sheriff.

“Do I have to see him?” Beneath her, her legs trembled,
as if she had walked a very long way and desperately needed a place to rest. The rocking chair seemed a likely spot and she headed there, aware of a wave of dizziness that brought perspiration to her brow.