Johnston - I Promise (21 page)

Delia let out a slow breath.
Rachel. And Mother.

But Mother had forbidden Rachel to say anything. And Mother wouldn’t have gone to the sheriff herself, because she hadn’t believed the truth about Ray John.

Had Rachel struggled with Ray John over the gun? Is that how he had been shot? Or had someone else been there that morning? Someone stronger. Who else besides herself and Rachel hated Ray John enough to want him dead?

She perused the harsh planes of Marsh’s face in the eerie green light from the dash. She hesitated, then said, “Are you telling me you killed him?”

He glanced at her and smiled. “I wanted to. I would have been glad to. But I didn’t.”

“Then who did?”

“Figure it out, Delia.”

“Have you?”

He nodded. “I think so.”

Who else had wanted Ray John dead besides herself and Rachel?
She had no intention of raising suspicion about Rachel by mentioning her name. “It couldn’t have been Mother,” Delia murmured.

“Why not?”

“She loved Ray John. She didn’t believe the things I told her about him. And she was upstairs with me when the gun went off.”

Marsh shot her a startled look. “She was?” His brow creased. “But who else could have gone to the sheriff and gotten me released? And why did Sheriff Davis tell me Ray John had committed suicide, when he couldn’t have had information back yet from the coroner to prove it one way or the other? No, Delia. Sheriff Davis had already made up his mind what story he was going to tell the public. And it wasn’t the truth.”

Marsh pulled up to the back door of the Carson mansion. He didn’t turn off the ignition, just let the truck idle noisily. A light burned in the kitchen. Another was on in a room upstairs.

“Looks like Rachel’s still awake,” he said.

Delia glanced up at the lighted window. “That’s my bedroom light. Rachel must have left it on for me. Maybe she thought I’d forget where everything was after all these years of being gone.”
And maybe she remembered that Ray John liked it dark.

“Welcome home, Delia,” Marsh said.

“Thank you, Marsh.”

“I’d like to come visit Hattie when she’s home from the hospital,” Marsh said.

“I’ll let you know when she’s ready for company.” Delia didn’t know why she was having such a hard time getting out of the pickup. She couldn’t shake the feeling that once she said good-bye to Marsh she might not see him again. Which was ridiculous, because he lived on the property right next door, and she wasn’t going anywhere for at least a week.

“Be seeing you around,” Marsh said.

“All right.” She hesitated, unmoving.

He reached over and caught her nape and angled her toward him. His mouth covered hers hungrily, as though he were starving, and she were sustenance. As abruptly as he had captured her mouth, he let her go.

“Good night, Delia.”

Still, she sat frozen. She could taste him. Her lips were damp from his. Her body felt hot and liquid inside.

“Would you like to go somewhere?” he said in a ragged voice.

“Where?”

Marsh laughed huskily and dragged her into his lap to kiss her mouth and nose and eyes. “Damn it, Delia, I want you so bad I hurt. But I refuse to check in to a motel in town, and we won’t have any privacy at either my place or yours. That leaves the front seat of this pickup or the cold hard ground. That isn’t how I want to make love to you for the first time.”

“I wouldn’t mind.”

Marsh groaned and pressed his mouth to her throat, while his hand grasped her breast and squeezed. “Don’t say things like that, or I’m liable to take you at your word.”

“When did you get so sensible?” she complained, nibbling at his ear. The feeling she would lose him, that something would happen to steal him away before they ever had a chance to love one another persisted. And made her daring.

“Take me to the live oak,” she whispered in his ear. “The grass is soft there. No one will bother us.”

He shoved her off his lap so fast she nearly fell on the floor. She was still scrambling onto her side of the bench seat as he whirled the pickup and headed down the dirt road that led to the north pasture gate. He kept both hands on the wheel for the whole bumpy trip to the live oak, which was a damned good thing, because he was driving recklessly fast. He didn’t once look at her or say another word.

Delia figured he was as worried she might change her mind as she was that he might get cold feet.

When they arrived, Marsh turned off the key. The truck rumbled for another three seconds before it finally died.

The quiet was profound. At first. Delia made out the sound of crickets. And the soft rustle of the live oak as the wind whispered through its leaves.

Now that they were here, Delia suddenly felt awkward and uncertain. She stepped out of the truck and left the door hanging open. The overhead light didn’t work. The moon and stars created silvery shapes and shadows.

Delia heard Marsh get out of the pickup and come after her. She stood with one hand on a limb of the live oak and looked across the fence line at the spot where she had taken the spill from her horse.

“This should feel strange or wrong,” Delia said. “We haven’t seen each other for twenty years before this morning.” She turned to face Marsh. “But it doesn’t. It feels like I never left, like all the years between never happened.”

His eyes glittered. “They happened.”

“You sound angry . . . bitter.”

“My life turned out differently than I’d hoped.”

“Not better?”

“I love Billie Jo,” Marsh said. “I love my work. But I don’t know that my life’s better than it would have been if I’d stayed right here at home and married the woman I loved.”

Loved.
Past tense. “I’m here now. And I’m yours.”

“For how long?” Marsh asked.

“For as long as we have.” She couldn’t promise him more than that. When he didn’t answer right away, she was afraid it wasn’t enough.

At last he said, “I’ll take what I can get.”

His mouth was soft on hers, surprisingly gentle. Hungry without being urgent. “I don’t want to hurry,” he murmured against her lips. “I want to take my time.”

“Take all the time you need,” she said, her mouth smiling beneath his. “I’ve got all night.” She realized as she said the words, that it wasn’t nearly enough. But it was all they had for certain.

“We’d better not waste a moment, then,” Marsh said, sweeping her up in his arms.

She gave a startled shriek as he swung her around in a circle, but he kept it up until she was giddy with laughter.

“Put me down,” she pleaded. “You’re making me dizzy.”

He slid her down the front of him and hugged her tight. His smile was brilliant in the moonlight. He looked happy and excited, playful as a teenager. “You’re lucky I have a blanket behind the seat of the pickup, Carson, or your ass would be in grass,” he teased.

“The sooner you get it, the sooner you get it. If you know what I mean,” she teased back.

He gave her a smacking kiss and let her go. He ran for the truck, rooted around behind the seat for the blanket, and came running back. She already had her boots and socks off and was standing barefoot in the dewy grass by the time he returned.

“You’re supposed to wait for me,” he said, spreading the brown wool army blanket out on the ground.

“The grass feels good,” she said wiggling her toes.

Both of them dropped to their knees on the blanket, and he had her prone under him a few moments later. Two seconds after that he had her out of the silk shell.

“What happened to going slow?” she said with a delighted laugh.

“Next time,” he said as his mouth latched onto her nipple through her lacy bra.

Delia moaned and arched toward him.

She had thought it would be over quickly, and it was true they were naked in no time. But Marsh seemed intrigued by the sight of her in the moonlight.

“You’re so beautiful, Delia. More beautiful than I remembered. And your skin is so soft.” His hands twined in her hair and spread it out around her face. “I wish your hair were longer. It’s so silky. I want to wrap myself up in it.”

“Ray John used to say that.”

She was sorry the instant the words were out of her mouth.

Marsh stiffened. His eyes never left hers as he continued to caress her hair. “I wish I had known sooner, Delia. I would have killed him for you.”

“Then I’m glad you didn’t know,” Delia said. “It wouldn’t have been a fair exchange—your life for his.”

He grabbed handfuls of her hair, holding her captive for his kiss. “It’s me, Delia. It’s Marsh.”

She felt like weeping. “I know, Marsh. I’m sorry I mentioned his name. Only—”

“It’s this place, Delia. It has too many memories.”

“I always loved coming here,” Delia confessed. “I loved being with you. You made my life bearable. You gave me hope.”

“I want to make love with you, Delia. Without any ghosts to haunt us.”

“I don’t think of him often. But I thought you should know—because you always liked my hair long—the reason I cut it.”

“I’m glad you told me.”

But they both knew she would never grow her hair for him. He would never have a chance to wrap himself in it the way he wanted. Ray John had stolen that small dream, as he had stolen larger ones.

It was a miracle she and Marsh had man-aged to find each other in the first place. A miracle they had found each other two decades later.

“Make love to me, Marsh. I’ve waited so very long to feel your arms around me again.”

“I want to be inside you, Delia. I’ve wanted it for a lifetime.”

They had waited twenty years for this moment. Suddenly neither of them was in any hurry. They took the time to discover each other, after all.

Delia wasn’t able to get enough of touching Marsh, the springy black curls on his chest, the sinewy muscles in his arms and shoulders, his taut buttocks.

And he touched her, with adoration and de-sire.

“Do you like that?” Marsh asked.

Delia moaned.

“Was that a yes?” Marsh asked.

Delia laughed.

“Was
that
a yes?” Marsh asked.

Delia kissed him, sweetly, softly on the mouth. “Oh, yes. That was definitely a yes.” She touched him, and he groaned.

Before she could ask, he gasped, “Yes!”

It had been right to come here where it all started. Where they had once met as two people who loved each other. Where they had spoken of their hopes and dreams.

Her hands tightened in Marsh’s hair as he kissed his way down her belly, lifted her with his hands, and loved her with his mouth and tongue.

Nothing had ever felt so exquisite. Nothing had ever been so devastating. Nothing had ever made her feel so complete.

He mantled her sweat-slick body as the shudders of ecstasy faded. She liked the firm, solid weight of him. She wrapped her arms and legs around him and held him close while her breathing returned to normal. She tasted herself on his lips when he kissed her.

“I want to be inside you,” he murmured. “I need to be inside you. Are you protected?”

“What?”

“Are you going to get pregnant if we do this?”

Delia’s face heated. How silly to be embarrassed. She should be glad he had asked. She should have asked a few questions herself. “I’m on the pill. To regulate—”

“Then I won’t need this,” he interrupted, pitching a condom aside.

Where on earth had he gotten that? Delia wondered.

“I don’t have anything you can catch,” he said in response to her incredulous look.

“I never thought you did. Neither do I,” she added hastily.

He chuckled. “That’s a comfort. But to tell you the truth, Delia, this would be worth dying for.”

It was the sort of thing a man said in the heat of the moment. But when Delia looked into Marsh’s face, she was jolted by the realization that he meant it.

She reached between them with her hand and led him to where they both wanted him to be.

Delia met Marsh’s gaze steadily as he drove himself in to the hilt. His eyes slid closed, and he made a satisfied sound in his throat. She moaned as he withdrew slightly before thrusting again.

He loved her with his mouth and his hands and his body. And she loved him back. It was a spiritual joining of body and soul that lifted Delia to heights she had never known existed. It wasn’t only her physical being that felt exalted, it was her innermost self.

When Marsh spilled his seed inside her, she felt a terrible sense of loss. Because the moment was so fleeting. Because their togetherness couldn’t last. Because there was no fertile ground in which his seed could take root.

She wasn’t aware of the tears until Marsh began to kiss them away.

“Don’t cry,” he murmured. “It was beautiful, Delia. It was more than I ever dreamed it could be.”

He spooned her against his groin and wrapped the blanket around them. “Let me hold you for a little while.”

His hand was already on her lips to still her protest.

“Just a little while,” he pleaded.

They stayed there all night. He loved her twice more. They dressed in the light before dawn, and he drove her back to the Circle Crown.

“I have to be home before Billie Jo wakes up,” he explained.

“I should try to get in before Rachel knows I’ve been out all night,” she said.

They didn’t speak of what had happened between them during the night just past. They didn’t speak of the future.

When they arrived at the back door to the Carson mansion, Marsh left the engine running. The lights were still on in the kitchen and her bedroom.

This time she shoved the truck door open and stepped out before she spoke. “So long, Marsh.”

“So long, Delia.”

She pushed the pickup door closed as quietly as she could and ran for the house without looking back. She heard Marsh back up and turn the truck for home.

When she opened the kitchen door, Rachel was sitting at the table waiting for her.

“Have a nice night?”

Delia headed for the refrigerator to hide the heat in her cheeks. “What are you doing up so early?” She retrieved a carton of orange juice and poured herself a glass.