Harris Channing (20 page)

Again he
touched her, this time his large hands sliding around her waist. She closed her
eyes, allowing herself just a moment of pleasure. Just a small bit of the
contact she craved. He set his lips to her ear. "Come back to me, sweet. I
have so much I want to give to you."

Slowly,
as if in a trance, she turned, his countenance filled with a passion that
threatened to buckle her knees. She met his gaze, the spark of desire flaming
to life low in her belly. Just one kiss. That was all. Just a single moment of
reprieve.

As if
reading her thoughts, David released his hold on her waist and set his hands on
either side of her face. "You take my breath away," he mumbled and
tilting his head, he claimed her lips.

Her body
hummed to life and without any thought, she leaned into him, allowing his
strong form to bear her weight. Dear Lord but it felt good to be so close to
him, to enjoy the nearness of another human being. And not just any human
being. But David.

At her
surrender he deepened the kiss and she parted her lips to allow him entrance.
Their tongues tangled in passionate play and when the moan slid from deep
within her throat a firestorm of desire flooded through her. She clutched at
the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer, needing more from him than she
did before. Lord help her, she was weak and hopelessly lost. He was the only
person in the world who could extinguish the licking flames that threatened to
consume her.

Pulling
away, he ended the kiss, his breathing rapid and his eyes dilated. "I want
you back, Bobbie."

He
pressed a kiss to her forehead and smiled. "Now, what's say we get some
chores done?"

She set her
hand to her lips and watched him go, all the while wondering just how long she
would be able to resist him. Her entire body sizzled with unspent need and she
didn't suppose that would go away anytime soon.

Chapter 16

"I
was thinking I'd head to the trading post tomorrow," David said, settling
on the rocking chair by the fire. "You want to come along?"

The
trading post. Maybe she should go and stay. Maybe that would be for the best.
But did she really want to be any further away from her parents than she
already was? Dear Lord, she needed to go see them, to make sure they still
rested peacefully in the barn. Her conscience tweaked for wouldn't her going
make David angry?

She
opened her mouth to confess her plan, but common sense had her pinching her lips
closed. Granted, she owed him no explanation but she also didn't want another
incident where he and Reg pummeled one another over Sarah.

"I'll
stay here," she replied from her perch atop the bed. "I've plenty to
do."

"All
right. But I want you to lock the door and if you go out, take Alfred. All
manner of varmints scurry around here."

"Yes,"
she agreed offering him a smirk. "Both the two- and four-legged
kind."

He shot
her a glare and then a smile lit up his face. "I assume you mean
Crocker."Him among others, she mused. "Yes."

"Are
you sure you don't want to go? You could meet Henry, maybe pick up some things
you'd like?"

"I've
clothes, a hairbrush and soap…and of course the food you provide. I don't
really need much."

His gaze
caressed her face and she wondered if he used to look upon Sarah that
way…before her infidelity. She rubbed her hands down the front of her skirt.
How terrible it must have felt to have been betrayed by someone you loved.

"Well,
Bobbie, is there anything you want?"

The sweet
tone in his voice had her aching. What she wanted, no one could provide, save
Jesus Christ himself…for He was the only man known to ever raise the dead.
"What I want is in Reg Crocker's barn."

He looked
away. "I know darlin'. I wish I could give them back to you."

She
thought perhaps she should thank him, but the truth was she couldn't. Really,
she didn't have all that much to be thankful for at the moment. However, she
did appreciate his kindness, despite her own misgivings about the man she once
loved. She stared back at him, trying to read his thoughts, to delve deep into
his mind to find out what the truth was. She considered just asking him, but
fear twisted in the pit of her stomach. Dear Lord, she was afraid of his
answer. Besides, if he said he didn't murder his wife, would she believe him?
And if he admitted it? Well, then what would she do? Gnawing on her lower lip,
she decided maybe having questions was far better than hearing the answers.

Alfred
yawned, thankfully distracting her mind from the darkness that seemed harder
and harder to fight. Setting her sewing aside, she patted his head. "I'm
sorry you can't romp like you once did, but you only have yourself to
blame."

"I
noticed you keeping him on a rope, why is that?" David asked, rising from
the chair and coming toward her. My, my but he was a tall man, tall and broad
and wild. Well, at least he didn't smell anymore.

Should
she tell him why? She silently cursed herself for saying anything.
"Bobbie girl, you'd better learn when
to keep quiet. Your mouth is going to get you into all manner of trouble."
Pa's words of advice rang true in her ears. Secrets were something she felt
she oughtn't tell and yet so many times they slipped through her lips. She
gritted her teeth…lie or tell? Both had consequences she didn't really want to
consider. Sometimes, she knew, despite the teaching of her preacher that the
truth didn't set you free. The ropes were just a little bit looser.

As much
as she wanted to inform him that Reg was the reason for Alfred’s leash, she
didn't want to deal with his derision. Yes, Reg was a scoundrel, but he wasn't
someone she couldn't deal with. In fact, she was near certain she could out run
and out climb the man if the need arose. He appeared too proper for the Rockies
and far too formal to be an outdoorsman.

"He
ran off and scared me, that's all." Oh, but the lie tasted bitter on her
tongue.

David
reached down and gave the dog a scratch behind the ears. "You know what?
I've been looking at him so long, I hardly notice how ugly he is anymore."

"That's
because you've seen how good he is," she explained. Why did it please her
that Alfred was so fond of David? One couldn't really allow a dog to judge
someone's character for them. But then neither one of them thought too much of
Reg. "The outside doesn't matter much when the inside is precious."

"I
suppose that explains why you grow more and more beautiful to me every day,
precious Roberta."

 
He stopped petting the dog and lifting his
hand, gently stroked her fingertips. At the sweetness of the contact, her
breath caught in her throat and the need for his touch had her pulling away.
No! He wasn't going to use her physical attraction for him against her. Damn
him, anyway!

"Don't,
David."

His
expression grew sad, the spark left his eyes, and his mouth dipped into a
frown. "Tell me what I did. I don't like the distance that's come between
us. We could have something special here, Bobbie."

"No,
we can't." She looked away. "You'll only fuck me. You'll never marry
me…remember?" Her heart stuttered into a heavy beat. Where did that come
from? Yes, she was angry about that, but that seemed like something that didn't
even matter anymore. She thought he could have killed Sarah. That was why she
was angry…wasn't it?

"I
remember. But I think what I don't remember may be the cause for your current
bitterness."

"Leave
it alone, please," she said, focusing once again on her sewing.

He
settled beside her, his gaze imploring. "I don't want to. I want to fix
it. I want to make it so you know that what you say matters…that how you feel
matters."

She
glowered at him. "I'm not Sarah. I don't need you to hold my hand every
second of every day."

At the
pain and confusion that shot across his face, she wished she had just kept her
mouth closed. "I know you're not Sarah." He bent over, setting his
face level with hers. "You're not a liar."

She
swallowed the guilty bile that crept up her throat. Oh, but she was.

***

David lay
back on his pallet, wondering what he could do to get through to Roberta. Her
distance bothered him at first, but now…well damnation, it was irritating him.

Rolling
over on his side, he faced the fire and relived the kiss they shared just this
morning. The way she held tight to his collar, the way she pressed her
delicious curves against him. Damnation, she had him tied as tightly as she did
Alfred.

Fluffing
his pillow, he shivered. The floor was cold, hard and uncomfortable. His
stomach burned with his frustration and his cock ached for release.

Sleep,
he'd never find it on the damnable floor. And no longer did he want to lie on
the spot where Sarah had died. Not sober anyway and even though his body still
reminded him that something was missing, and even though his mouth still
watered at the thought of whiskey, he was glad to be sober. Glad to start the
long road toward forgiving himself…and for finally forgiving Sarah.

He sat up
and ran his fingers through his tangled, matted hair. He stared at the dark
curls cascading over his shoulder. How long had he allowed it to grow? Damned
near his waistline. God, what had he become? But he knew. Before Bobbie
arrived, he was a dying, stinking, drunken hermit. He grimaced. At least now he
wasn't trying to die, didn't stink and wasn't a hermit. "Shit," he
mumbled, realizing that he'd always be a drunk whether he drank or not.

With his
eyes closed, he listened to the sounds of the cabin. The wind blew chilly
breaths that had the timbers creaking in protest. The fire crackled and popped.
But the sweetest sound he heard came from the bed. Bobbie's slow rhythmic
breathing reminded him that he wasn't alone anymore.

He smiled
and standing, shuffled toward the bed. And there she was. His Roberta. The
angel lay on her side, her face toward the window. Moonlight embraced her
porcelain skin and had it glowing in ethereal silver. Long chestnut curls
turned black in the darkness and cascaded across her pillow.

His cock
grew tighter at the beauty before him and although he would gladly plant his
seed deep inside her womb, he didn't budge, content to stare at her and wonder
if he could ever convince her to love him. The unanswered question should have
been followed by a wave of guilt and yet, the challenge had him grinning like
an idiot. Yes, besides never touching a drop again, making Bobbie his was what
he intended to do. She would be his wife. He swallowed hard. He'd never met
anyone like her before. Strong, brave, willing to work, sweet, compassionate…He
could go on and on. Biting his lower lip, he did feel a twinge of guilt
followed by a surge of joy. A surge so strong that it nearly knocked him off
his feet. She, not Sarah, was the love of his life.

After
what seemed eons, he blinked and realized that the floor was no place for him.
By her side was where he belonged. And what better way to convince her of that
fact than to have her wake beside him.

Even as
he slid beneath the sheets, he knew that more than likely she'd be livid. But
that didn't matter right now. Not with the sweet smell of her intoxicating him.
Not with the warmth of her body mingling with his. Not when she leaned against
him, the sweet roundness of bottom pressed against his groin. A small,
contended smile crossed his lips as he slid his arm around her waist, drawing
her closer.

With his
eyes closed he listened to Bobbie breathe until blissful sleep cocooned him in
the calmness of her embrace.

***

Bobbie
savored the pleasant taste of David's lips pressed against hers. Oh, what a
glorious dream. Her body was warm, her relaxation complete as she opened her
mouth to receive his probing tongue. Never had she felt such a passionate kiss.
This would be a dream she would vividly remember even after awakening. Each
tingle of response and each tremor of her flesh. Every bit of it.

Opening
wider, she allowed him to explore her mouth, her tongue responding to his kiss
as she experienced a delight she didn't know she could while sleeping. Reaching
up, she touched his hard, warm back, the wool of his shirt itchy beneath her
grasping touch.

As he
slid atop her, the weight of his body pressed her against the mattress. A
divine trap from which she had no desire to escape. Her nipples hardened and
her legs slipped open, cradling his hips between her thighs. At the feel of his
hardened cock pressing against her groin, her eyes flew open. This was no
dream.

"Good
morning," David said, his voice raspy. "How did you sleep?"

He was
smiling at her, his green eyed expression soft and his gaze appreciative and
welcoming. A few weeks ago she would have been pleased with his attention, but
now all it did was confuse. She didn't want to believe he was a killer and yet…

"What
are you doing here?" she pressed for his answer at the same time trying to
pull away. Despite her efforts he held her tight. She should have been angry,
should have struggled harder and yet she didn't for it felt wonderful.