Judith E French (7 page)

The filly’s legs folded, but she struggled up a second time. Gabe let go of the mare’s halter, and she sniffed the baby, then nudged her encouragingly with her nose.

No one spoke as mother and child became acquainted. In minutes the foal was nursing, standing on wobbly legs and twitching her fluffy black tail.

Finally Shane stretched and moved slowly out of the box stall. Gabe closed the gate as Shane washed and then pushed his damp arms back into his shirt.

“What will you name her?” Caitlin asked.

He smiled at her, a slow satisfied grin. “You choose one.”

“Star?”

“That’s a sissy name,” Justice said. “Call her Cougar.”

“Star it is,” Shane agreed. He nodded toward the boy. “Into bed with you, boy. It’s late.”

“I’ll finish up here.” Gabe began to gather up the towels off the floor.

Caitlin glanced back through the rails at the filly and then touched Shane’s arm. “I’d like a moment to talk with you.”

“Can’t it wait until morning?” he asked.

“No, I don’t think it can.” She was afraid she’d lose her nerve. “Alone, please,” she added. She bent to pick
up Derry, but Shane motioned for her to let him carry the child.

Together they walked through the warm, still night toward the house. For all Caitlin’s weariness, her heart felt light. Seeing Shane with the newborn foal had told her more about her husband than all the words they’d exchanged since she’d arrived in Missouri. He might not be the same man she’d married, but he was a man with compassion and tenderness toward a helpless creature. A man with a good heart was worth fighting for, she reasoned.

Only a few stars peeked through the low-lying clouds, and they had little effect on the darkness. Then suddenly, only a few yards away, something twinkled. As though the single gleam were a signal, another light flashed and then another.

“Ohhh.” Caitlin uttered a small cry of wonder. “Are they fairy lights?”

Shane chuckled. “Lightning bugs. Just a bug with wings.”

“An insect? No, I don’t believe you.” She put out her hand, and one of the fireflies lit on her finger, glowing on and off. “It’s wonderful,” she said. Her laughter rang out as she twirled around. “They must be fairies. I’ve never seen the like before.” She blew gently on the firefly and it flitted away.

“You’ve lost none of your fey thoughts,” Shane said. “What will you see next? Leprechauns?”

“And if I did?” She laughed again. “I’d follow him home and steal his pot of gold. We’d be rich then, or … richer.”

He pushed open the front door and carried Derry upstairs to the big double bed in the corner room. “Best not undress her,” he said. “She may wake if you do.”

Caitlin untied the child’s shoes and pulled off her
stockings. “A fine auntie I am,” she murmured. “Letting a babe sleep in a pile of hay.”

“Hay made a crib for our Lord, didn’t it?” Shane said. “If it was good enough for God’s son, it should be—”

“I’m sorry that I spoke to you so in the pasture. What I said was wrong.” She took a deep breath. “I shouldn’t have come out there, but I was worried—”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” he answered. “You could have been hurt. Next time when I tell you something for your own good, I expect you to listen.”

“I’ll try,” she promised. Taking his hand, she pulled him out into the hallway and closed the door behind her. “Why did someone shoot at you?”

“I told you before. I don’t know.”

“Someone wants to put you under the sod, and you don’t have a clue as to who it may be? Are you shamming me, Shane? Or do you think I’m stupid?”

She dropped his hand. It was hard to hold on to him and speak this way. Her heart was hammering, and her knees felt as weak as milk. “Either you want me here as your true wife, or you do not. And if you do, we must be honest with each other. You have to treat me like an adult, a help-mate.”

“I thought I was.”

“No, Shane, you were not. You all behave as if I was a not-too-bright cousin that you were forced to welcome for a visit.”

He scowled. “What nonsense are you talkin’, woman? It’s late and I—”

“No, Shane, We got off on the wrong foot, you and I. We were so long apart, and so much has happened that we’re more strangers than man and wife. Why did you send for me if you didn’t want me here?”

He touched her cheek with a hard-callused hand. “I’ve
wanted you beside me since the first day I set foot in America.”

“There’s a start,” Caitlin murmured. She was trembling from head to toe, but she couldn’t back down. “Can we not forget all that’s happened in the past two days and begin again?”

“What do you want of me, Caity?” His deep voice wavered on her name, and his eyes glistened with emotion.

“Pretend that this is the dock,” she whispered. “I’ve just caught sight of my husband and he of me.”

“I’m no man for play-actin’.”

“What wife would not give her man a proper greeting?” she murmured. And, standing on tiptoe, she put her arms around his neck and kissed him full on the lips.

The instant her mouth pressed against Shane’s, Caitlin stepped off a cliff into thin air. Her senses reeled as his scent filled her head and the taste of his mouth brought back a rush of memories.

His arms tightened around her, clasping her to his broad chest. Shamelessly she clung to him, molding the curves of her body to his, tilting her head so that her lips fitted his perfectly.

She had intended the kiss to be a tender greeting, but she hadn’t anticipated the intensity of his response … or her own.

A flash of heat swept over her as Shane parted her lips with his tongue and thrust deep inside her mouth. She shut her eyes and savored the feel of him, reveling in the sensual joy of the embrace. For long seconds the searing kiss deepened, as her blood pounded in her ears and her thoughts tumbled, giddy with wild, sweet sensations. And when at last he pushed her away, she was stunned and gasping for breath.

Shane had wooed and courted her. He’d wed her with book and ring, and they’d consummated their union on a bed of wild heather in a wooded glade. Shane McKenna had taken her maidenhood. He’d made her a woman, but he’d never before kissed her like this.

Shane shook his head and stepped away from her. “I missed you more than I thought, Caity,” he murmured hoarsely.

Without his strength to support her, she swayed, nearly losing her balance. She felt drunken, dazed. She blinked and tried to think of something to say that would hide her confusion. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue and looked into his eyes.

“Caity …” Shane’s mouth—the mouth that she had known so intimately only seconds ago—tightened.

Kiss me like that again! she wanted to cry.

“I want you, Caity.”

Trembling, she waited.

“I want you bad. But this is happening too soon between us. It will only complicate things if I bed you now.”

Shane’s gut wrenched as he watched a deep flush creep up Caitlin’s throat and lightly freckled face. Her eyes dilated, and her lower lip quivered.

An oath rolled off his tongue as he realized just how badly he’d hurt her. And himself … It took every ounce of his will to keep from crushing her against him and devouring her trembling, honeyed mouth.

His hands ached to stroke the lush curves of her body. He wanted to strip away her layers of silk, undo the ribbons and lace, peel the stockings from her long, shapely legs, and bury his face in her firm breasts.

He remembered Caitlin’s nipples, ripe buds of rosy pink against her white breasts. He’d seen her nipples only once, in the misty dawn after their wedding night, but they were not a sight a hot-blooded man was likely to forget. He’d been told that some women’s breasts changed after they’d given birth to a child; he wondered if her nipples had darkened in color.

She turned her face away from him, and in that second, he would have given a year of his life to undo those words.

Why had he rejected her? She’d come willingly into his arms, as hot for him as he was for her. He ached, his sex pressed tightly against his trousers. She was his lawful wife, and he was a fool to turn away what was so clearly offered—what was his by right.

“I only meant a kiss,” she stammered. “No more than that. A kiss between husband and wife.”

Lies. Lies came easily to a woman’s lips. Still, he’d shamed her, and he could hardly blame Caity for trying to salvage her pride.

A few soft words and he might still have her. But he knew the price might be more than he was willing to pay. He’d let one woman lead him by his jack, and it had nearly earned him a noose around his neck. He’d not make the same mistake with Caity.

“Best we wait,” he said. “Don’t think I’m not tempted, but if we sleep in the same bed, you might quicken with child. You see that, don’t you?”

“No need to apologize.” Her voice was thick with shame. “As you say, it would only complicate things between us.” She raised her stubborn chin and stared him squarely in the eye, and he pretended not to see the tears glistening there.

“It was a fine greeting, though,” he said lightly. “As fine a one as I’ve ever had.”

She shook her head. “My mistake. It won’t happen again.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, girl—”

“I’m not a girl,” she protested. “If you can’t see that, then there’s no chance for us at all.”

Her light brown eyes had always made him think of
ginger. Ginger eyes and ginger spirit. He’d thought that the first time he’d seen her … a lifetime ago, when they’d both been hardly more than children.

She had a temper, but she didn’t spit and screech like so many females. Caity’s anger scorched with a blue flame as her whiskey voice deepened and took on the familiar cadence of County Clare.

“What am I, Shane? Your wife or your guest?”

“You know the answer.”

“Very well. If I am your wife, then I expect to have responsibilities. You told me that I was not to meddle in things I know nothing of. Where am I to meddle? Am I to be in charge of the children? The house?”

He frowned, covering his own awkwardness with disinterest. “Do what you like inside these walls, so long as you don’t interfere with Justice’s chores. You’ll not make a dandy of him.”

“Fair chance of that.” Her eyes narrowed. “And what of Mary Red Jacket? She plainly dislikes me.” Caity’s hands rested on her hips in a gesture of defiance he remembered all too well.

“Mary’s rough, but she works hard. She’s alone in the world without kin or home.”

“Do I look like the sort to throw a poor woman onto the road?” She took a slow breath, and he could see her trembling with anger. “Am I to have the say of the house?” she demanded. “You give your word to uphold my authority?”

“Within reason.”

“None of your shilly-shallying, Shane McKenna. If you’ll not set the example and give me the respect due mistress of this house, I’m lost before I start.”

“Have it your way, woman. But give me peace in my own home. And you must do with what we have. Don’t think I can hand out silver as though it grows on trees.”

“Fair chance of that, is there? A tightfisted man you’ve become. And you with enough land to keep the town of Crusheen from hard times.”

“Aye,” he agreed. “I’m a tightfisted man, and a hard one. Keep that in mind, and we’ll get on.” He stalked past her to the head of the stairs. “Good night to you, Madame.”

“You didn’t tell me who you suspect was shooting at you,” she called after him.

He ignored her last remark.

His rifle leaned against the wall at the bottom of the steps. He knew Caity’s little girl hadn’t the strength to cock the hammer or to fire the weapon, but he’d have to drive pegs over the door to hang it high out of her reach. And Derry would have to learn the rules of living on the frontier. There’d never been a young child at Kilronan, and he supposed a lot of habits would need changing to keep the wee colleen from harm.

Picking up the gun, he inspected it closely, then carried it with him into the kitchen.

Mary crouched by the hearth, pipe in her mouth, banking the fire for the night. Gabe stood by the table, a mug of coffee cradled between his hands.

“Where’s Justice?” Shane asked.

Mary motioned to a pallet in the far corner. The boy, still fully dressed and feigning sleep, lay sprawled among the covers. His eyes were tightly squeezed together.

“I know you’re awake,” Shane said. “Upstairs, in your own bed.”

The child’s dark eyes snapped open. “I was gonna stand guard, Shane. The shooter might come back and steal our horses.”

“I’ll do what watchin’ needs done tonight,” Shane replied.

Gabe met his gaze. “Want my help?”

Shane shook his head. “You get some sleep. I need you clearheaded for tomorrow.”

Mary handed Shane a cup of coffee, black as homemade sin and steaming hot. He tucked the rifle into the crook of his arm and carried the coffee with him out to the barn.

Coffee was the one luxury he allowed them, and Mary’s tin chest was nearly bare. He’d been ashamed to tell Caity how broke he was. Some men traded at the store at Kane’s Crossroads on tick, but not him. He’d seen his own father lose what little they had to debt, and Uncle Jamie had left Kilronan buried in due notes to the bank and supply houses.

By sweat and luck he’d cleared most of what was owed, but he’d have no ready coin until he sold more stock. He would have met Caity at the steamboat landing on time if he hadn’t been delayed at Hendrick’s farm. He and Justice had stopped to deliver a mule and spent most of the afternoon helping Matt Hendrick pull a cow out of a section of quicksand in the river.

Shane had received no ready money from that transaction, but he had paid off what was still due from one of his uncle’s old gambling wagers. By the time he bought gunpowder, flour, and lamp oil, there wasn’t two bits left of his ready cash.

Caity had called him a tightfisted man. He supposed that was true enough, but if he’d been softer, Kilronan would have been lost before this. It wasn’t in him to make excuses to a woman. Caity had come from quality, and she’d never understand how much the price of a hotel room meant to a stockman.