Linda Castle (23 page)

“I don’t want you to spend any more time with Ted Kelts,” he grated out.

“Oh, and why is that?” Marydyth asked mildly as she swished by him and flopped down in his favorite chair. She kind of liked to think that he might be a little jealous.

“Because you are my woman and I don’t want him or any other man in this town getting the wrong idea.” He jerked her up from the chair with his good arm. Then he kissed her long and deep.

F
lynn read the full-page ads he had put in the
Herald
and the
Chronicle,
A wicked grin broke across his face. If their stalker was the kind of cowardly man who would make threats against a little girl, then this gaudy display would be more than irresistible.

“What on earth are you scowling about?” Marydyth folded her feet under and sat down at Flynn’s feet in the

library. It was late and Rachel was sleeping but the house

was still hot. Even the open window did little to help.

Marydyth opened the top three buttons on her dress, blowing a cooling breath down her cleavage. The relief was minor and fleeting.

“I’d be happy to do that for you,” Flynn said as he peered over the top of the newspaper page, ignoring her earlier question.

“Don’t try to change the subject,” she said, while trying to steel herself against the magnetic appeal of his brown eyes. “Now tell me what you were frowning about.”

“I was just thinking how happy it is going to make me when I get my hands on the bastard behind this.” His voice had all the warmth of an icy wind.

“Do you really think he’ll come to the dedication of the mine?” Marydyth shivered in spite of the heat. “It seems awfully public, not to mention a big risk.”

“He has to be one of the miners who were behind the big strike. I can’t imagine they could miss such an opportunity.”

“So you believe it’s an outsider?” she asked. “Not somebody right here in Hollenbeck?”

“I can’t think of anything else. Of course, maybe I’ve just gotten rusty. It’s been a long time since I had to track a man down.”

“You could call on the sheriff over in Cochise County,” Marydyth suggested.

“John Slaughter has his own cats to skin. I can handle this, Marydyth. You need not worry for yourself or Rachel.” There was a tone of injured defiance in his voice.

She laid her hand on his hard-muscled thigh. “I didn’t mean to imply that I had no confidence in your ability—I only thought you might like some help.”

“I wouldn’t.”

They stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, and his anger turned to desire. A shimmering kind of heat arced between them. He scooted forward on the chair until he could reach her. His warm hand cupped the back of her head and drew her forward for a kiss. His tongue explored her mouth, questing, teasing, licking her into a stimulated fervor.

“I want you, Marydyth. I want you beneath me, beside me and around me.” His deep voice vibrated through her like the purring of a cat.

He slipped farther forward until he was on his knees beside her. “Let me show you how much I want you, Marydyth.”

“Yes, do it now,” she murmured, lost in her own exploration
of his wide chest and the whorls of sweatdampened hair.

“I want to bury myself in you. I want to hear you whimper my name.” He gently eased her down and shoved up her skirts with his good hand. Her thighs were warm but the juncture of her thighs was hot and moist.

Flynn shrugged out of his Levi’s. Marydyth helped him ease out of the shirt, tugging it gently when it got hung on the splint.

With one hand he unlaced the top of Marydyth’s petticoat. Soon she was left with only the frilly lace of her sweat-dampened chemise. The swell of her breasts strained against the lightweight lawn, teasing him with a tantalizing glimpse of her creamy flesh.

He felt his own sex harden and rear.

He wanted her, and he would show her just how much.

The next two days passed quickly as Flynn made all the final arrangements for the dedication ceremony of the Lavender Lady. The mine was not really ready to be open, but only he, the foreman and Marydyth knew that. As far as anybody else knew, the Lavender Lady had been retimbered and made safe. Flynn was tired of playing cat and mouse. He wanted to be done with this business as soon as possible.

The day dawned strangely cloudy, with winds that whipped up dust devils and pelted flesh with stinging sand. Flynn rolled his eyes heavenward and prayed that he had made the right decision.

Marydyth woke with a feeling of dread. She opened one eye but immediately closed it and tried to shut out the emotion. She chided herself under her breath as she dragged herself from between the sheets.

“Are you all right?” Flynn’s husky voice came from
the opposite side of the bed. They had chosen to lie together, neither finishing the sentence with the words “one last time,” though each of them had certainly thought it. There was a risk in what he had planned.

“I am worried.about today.” Marydyth poured water into the washbowl and dipped a cloth in it. She scrubbed hard at her face, as if the action could banish her fears.

“I can’t leave you here alone, Marydyth.” Flynn levered himself up on his one arm. The sheet fell away from his bare chest. Marydyth squinted one eye from under the edge of the cloth.

“I know you can’t. I’ll be all right. Rachel and I will be with you every minute today.”

“And when we get to the Lavender Lady, I want you by my side. I’m not giving these bastards any opportunity to get to either one of you.” Flynn tossed back the sheet and rose from the bed. The first glow of sunrise capered along the firm round cheeks of his rump, slanting downward on heavily muscled thighs generously covered with dark coarse curly hair.

She sidled up to him. “Rachel will sleep for at least another hour.”

He turned, and she saw him, fully erect. “Only an hour?” He grinned wickedly. “That may not be enough time.”

He scooped her up, a little off balance since he favored his splinted arm. In three long strides he had her pressed down into the softness of the bed, where they used the hour as well as they knew how.

Flynn hadn’t expected such a procession en route to the Lavender Lady. The entire pumper company and most of the merchants had organized a caravan of sorts. There had even been talk of bringing Victoria in an invalid’s
chair until Moses Pritikin, concerned for her welfare, squelched the idea. Victoria’s whole world was inside her mansion, as it had been for three years.

Flynn was gratified to see that Marydyth’s notion about the townspeople being more forgiving was correct. Everyone, including those pious women who had not wished to be seen talking to Marydyth a few months back, now clamored to be one of her confidantes as they prepared to leave Hollenbeck Corners.

She gazed at Flynn with a somewhat bewildered look in her blue eyes as each new wave of well—wishers descended upon her and Rachel.

Although Flynn was nervous about letting her stray, he told himself that nobody but a fool would make an attempt to get at them through the crowd.

But when Flynn watched the men also give her warm smiles as they rode beside the wagon in which she sat, a heaviness lodged in his chest.

He told himself he wasn’t jealous. He wasn’t stupid enough to think that what he and Marydyth shared was love-it wasn’t. Hell, it couldn’t be. But each time a man smiled at Marydyth, that heaviness turned to pain and Flynn wondered if he was fooling himself.

The first leg of the trip was easy. There were plenty of laughter and frequent stops for the call of nature and sips of lemonade brought in oak casks. Flynn, however, could not relax, for the closer they came to the Lavender Lady, the closer he knew he was bringing Rachel to possible danger.

He had bought a horse for Marydyth but several of the women, including the preacher’s wife, insisted that she and Rachel ride with them in a buckboard that had been specially modified with a canopy over the top. The wagon contained bedrolls, blankets-everything they
needed to camp—since the distance to the mine was too great to travel in one day.

He rode behind them, keeping a sharp eye on them and the horizon. Flynn was watchful for the flash of sunlight on metal, feeling almost as edgy as he had during the height of the Indian trouble. Just then a slow dawning of truth settled over him.

Marydyth’s voice kept nudging at the edges of his consciousness. He remembered a conversation where she told him that the townspeople would always talk, and that by living together under the same roof they were giving them more fodder.

A cold, hard knot formed in his gut. He watched Marydyth and those same sharp-nosed women laughing and talking, and he realized what she had been trying to tell him.

She didn’t want to be the object of gossip. She wanted to pick up the pieces of her life and become just another respectable woman in Hollenbeck Corners.

But she could never do that as long as she lived with him in Hollenbeck House.

And he had given her no real choice in the matter. For as long as he was Rachel’s guardian and held all the cards, Marydyth would surely stay.

A clammy. sort of disgust at himself seeped into his bones. She had called him bastard—many times—and right now that was what he felt like. As much as Flynn didn’t want to think about it, he wondered if Marydyth was only sharing his bed because she longed to be a real mother to Rachel.

A short while later he was damned unhappy. Not only had he examined his motives a bit too close, but he had had a bellyful of the young cockerels of Hollenbeck Corners
paying court to Marydyth. But the more he denied being mad about it, the more melancholy he became.

He had jeopardized her reputation by laying down the rules that they would live by. Because of him she had no chance to wipe away the stain of her past. His selfish need to have control, and then his desire to be with her, had put her in a hell of a compromising position.

He remembered how indignant he had been with his own father when Bellami had been brought to care for Trace. Even though his blinded brother had needed a nurse, Flynn had never forgotten about Bellami’s reputation. Why hadn’t he shown the same kind of concern for Marydyth?

Because she’s a widow and…because she’s done time in Yuma.

The truth was a bitter taste in his mouth, but he forced himself to acknowledge it. And by the time camp was set for the night, Flynn O’Bannion didn’t like himself very much at all.

Throughout the night Flynn made sure he was close enough to protect both her and Rachel during the night. It was a sweet hell that he had consigned himself to endure, because now he knew he didn’t deserve to be a part of Marydyth’s world. But he saw no way to sever the ties that bound them.

During the night Marydyth slipped away to heed the call of nature. As she was returning to her bed beneath the wagon, Flynn was suddenly there. She reached out to him, but he stepped back, a cool reserve about him.

A hard lump lodged in her throat and her heart ached. She was stunned by the intensity of her feelings. Had she truly lost the battle in trying to resist falling-in love with him?

She prayed not. In all the time they had been intimate
he had never once said he loved her. Marydyth was mature enough and realistic enough not to read more into their relationship than there was. They were two lonely people, available and vulnerable to physical attraction. No more, no less. But could she continue this liaison and not involve her heart?

If she did succumb to his dark temptation it would be a disaster. She knew she should not risk her heart. It would only set her up for sorrow because he would surely tire of her. And he was Rachel’s guardian until she reached her majority. He was too responsible to leave her, and she knew Flynn loved Rachel. So they would be doomed to continue living in the same house until the heartbreaking time when he finally fell in love with someone.

Marydyth grieved because that someone would not be her. No, it would be madness to fall in love with him, but could she prevent it? Could Marydyth continue this dalliance without risking her heart?

Marydyth glanced toward the rows of sleeping people. It was quiet, except for the mayor’s snoring. “Where are you sleeping?” she heard herself whisper. She wanted to deny the ache she felt, being so near him yet knowing that he did not love her.

“I’ll be close by, right there in the dark. All you have to do is whisper my name and I’ll be there.”

I’ll be there.
He made the promise so easily, but, she realized with a painful tug on her heart, she wanted him to be there forever and always, and in more ways than just physically.

Marydyth nearly cried when she finally acknowledged the fact that she had lost the fight. She was in love with Flynn O’Bannion.

Flynn was reluctant to let Marydyth go. He held her
hand too tightly. He was afraid of losing her—but knew in his heart he had never really had her.

He had backed her into a corner and left her no choice. By telling her that he and Rachel were a package deal, he had held all the cards.

When Flynn thought of all the passionate nights and searing kisses they had shared, a strange melancholy filled him. Those moments now were tainted. He cursed himself for being such a stupid man, and he cursed the nameless person who was out there somewhere, threatening all he held dear. He cursed tomorrow, fearful of what would happen when this was all over and he would have to make a decision that would free Marydyth from the hold he had on her.

He had seen with his own eyes that the townspeople were on the road to forgiving and forgetting. Soon men would come calling, of that he had no doubt. But because of the guardianship, he would be there, in the house, condemned to watch as she was courted and wooed. And eventually she would fall in love.

How would he handle that day? Could he let her go? Could he stop her?

Night passed with Flynn sleeping little as he kept watch over Marydyth and Rachel, who was curled within her arms. It was not the unseen danger that robbed him of sleep, it was the nagging voice that kept asking what he was going to do when this was over.

Even though deep inside he knew that he could never shirk his responsibility as guardian to Rachel, he couldn’t imagine another man living at Hollenbeck House without feeling a hot tide of rage sweep over him.

Rachel and Marydyth were his. Not exactly.

Images of another man touching Marydyth’s sweet soft skin assaulted him. He flung back the rough saddle blanket
and rose from his bedroll. The idea made his blood burn hot and bitter in his veins. If he went so far as to allow himself to envision Marydyth beneath another man while he pumped inside her.he knew it was beyond jealousy. He refused to think it, refused to consider it.