Lips That Touch Mine (20 page)

"I came to get my wife," he said, shoving
Boyd away from him.

"You ladies go inside," the sheriff said, but
Claire and Anna were rooted by fear.

Boyd stood firm and unyielding, like the
sturdy wood columns on her porch. Power emanated from his tall,
solid body as he glared at Larry. "Anna doesn't want to go with
you."

"She'll go if I tell her to."

Boyd's patrons crowded around the porch.

"This isn't your business, Sheriff. It's
between me and my wife."

"You're trespassing on Mrs. Ashier's
property," the sheriff said. "That makes it my business." He
slapped a handcuff around Larry's wrist.

"What the hell are you doing?" Larry
demanded.

"I have a warrant on my desk requesting your
return to Pittsburgh. "

Larry wrenched his arm away and swung his
cuffed wrist at the sheriff. The sheriff sidestepped the flailing
metal and shot his fist up under Larry's guard. The blow snapped
Larry's head back, but instead of buckling his knees, it enraged
the man. He fought like he was fighting for his life, but Boyd and
the sheriff out-muscled him. With an enraged growl, he lunged for
Anna.

The sheriff grabbed Larry's wrists and
dragged his arms behind his back. Boyd helped his brother take
Larry to the floor. The sheriff pinned him with a knee in his back
and finished snapping the cuffs on him.

All three men were covered in snow when the
sheriff hauled Larry to his feet.

Steam left his nose in angry bursts as he
glared at Anna. "I'll be back." He gritted his teeth as the sheriff
and Boyd nudged him down the steps and marched him toward town.

When they returned thirty minutes later,
Claire and Anna were huddled near the kitchen stove, trying to shed
the chill and fear that had left them both shaking. Anna was
holding a snow pack to her cheek.

"Are you ladies all right?" the sheriff
asked.

Claire nodded, but she knew Boyd could see
through her bravado.

The sheriff's keen eyes studied Anna, as if
checking for injuries. "Larry won't be bothering you again," he
said. "I'm taking him back to Pittsburgh tomorrow where he'll be
tried for the murder of two men."

"Two?" Claire cut her eyes to Anna.

Anna lowered her lashes. "Larry shot the
deputy sheriff when the man tried to take him to jail," she said,
her voice quavering.

Claire sighed, wondering how much worse the
situation could get. "I'm afraid I have another problem, Sheriff.
Someone ransacked my house this afternoon while Anna and I were
marching."

"Why didn't you come get me?" Boyd asked, his
scowl full of concern.

The sheriff frowned and followed her into the
foyer. "Was anything stolen?"

"Not that I can tell, but as you see," she
said, gesturing to the papers spilling from the open desk drawers,
"I haven't put things in order yet."

She took Boyd and the sheriff through the
house to show them the extent of the intrusion, then returned to
the foyer.

"What were they looking for?" the sheriff
asked.

"I have no idea," she said, feeling
exhausted. "I have no valuables, and they didn't take my
money."

The sheriff scanned her desk with a distant
look on his face that suggested he was taking in the whole of her
house, thinking, mulling over the possibilities of who had done it
and why.

Boyd eyed the door and splintered frame.
"I'll get some wood and tools to fix this," he said, wrenching open
the door before bolting into the cold.

"What's the trouble between you and Larry?"
the sheriff asked Anna.

She lowered her hand and sighed. "I didn't
want to stay in our apartment alone while he was in jail."

Claire bit her tongue. She understood Anna's
hesitation to pour out her troubles to the sheriff, but who else
was going to help her? Larry had made it painfully clear that
Claire would pay a high price if she continued to shelter Anna.
They had no choice but to ask the sheriff for help.

Anna may be too frightened to reveal the ugly
truth about her brute of a husband, but Claire wasn't. "Larry is a
violent man," Claire said. "He has hurt Anna, and could easily kill
her the next time he beats her. Believe me, there's always a next
time, Sheriff."

Sympathy filled his eyes. "I don't condone
Larry's treatment of you, Anna, but by law, a husband has the right
to bring his wife home if he chooses."

Claire slapped her palm on the desktop with a
loud crack. "No law should force a woman to stay with a man who
beats her." She clenched her fists, suddenly furious enough to
march to the jail and hit Larry over the head with a liquor bottle.
"Anna cannot go back to that bully. If he dares darken my door
again, I'll...I'll shoot him." Speaking the words felt wonderfully
freeing, but inside, Claire trembled with doubt. She could never
defend herself against a violent man like Larry.

She'd been defenseless in the face of Jack's
rage. Larry terrified her. Boyd's anger had frightened her too. If
he ever turned that rage on a woman, the damage would be worlds
worse than Jack had ever inflicted. Yet, Boyd's strength had saved
her and Anna this evening. He'd protected her.

"You ladies stay inside tonight. Your marches
have upset a lot of men, especially this week with your push to get
their licenses revoked. Someone has broken into your home, and it
may not have been Larry. I'm going to rent a room from you tonight
so I can keep an eye on things."

She exchanged a glance with Anna, who looked
relieved. Having the sheriff under her roof would allow Claire to
sleep better too. "That would be generous of you, Sheriff. I'll
make up the blue room for you, but you certainly won't be paying
for it."

"Generous of you, too, Mrs. Ashier. I'll have
my deputy keep an eye on Larry tonight. I'll be back later this
evening."

The instant he stepped outside, Anna burst
into tears, "Larry will find a way to come back here. He will. And
he'll kill me next time."

o0o

After Boyd finished repairing Claire's door,
he went to the kitchen, needing to be certain the women were both
unharmed. "Where's Anna?"

"In bed with a snow pack on her shoulder."
Claire crossed to the stove.

Boyd could see that her gait was stiff and
she favored her left side. Anger surged through him and he ached to
avenge the insults Larry had inflicted on the women. "Why the devil
did you put yourself in the middle of this mess with Anna?"

She stared at him as if he'd gone daft. "How
could I not? I couldn't turn her away any more than you could stop
from interceding when Larry was dragging her off the porch."

"It's different for a man to step into a
dangerous situation like that. It's foolish for you to put yourself
in jeopardy."

"Foolish?" She planted her hands on her hips
and winced as if it pained her. "What is foolish about giving a
beaten woman a safe place to stay? What is foolish about trying to
help a friend?"

"Claire," he said, trying to reason with her,
"you can't save Anna. She must have family who can help her."

"She's ashamed to tell her family about
Larry."

"What's to be ashamed of? Larry is the one
with the shameful behavior."

"No woman wants to admit that her husband
beats her, and that she made a dreadful mistake marrying him."

"Anna's life is more important than her
pride."

"Of course it is, but if Anna goes to her
family for help, they'll have to defend her. She's afraid that
Larry will hurt them."

"What about your safety? Why didn't she
consider that when she led Larry to your door?"

"She had no idea that Larry would have her
followed. He didn't know me. Anna thought we'd both be safe
here."

"Well, you're not."

"I know."

"You need to send her to her family,
Claire."

"I can't."

He clenched his teeth to bite off his curse.
"You're getting involved in a situation that is going to get you
hurt. Or worse. Dead."

"I know exactly what the danger is. That's
why I'm giving Anna a place to stay. If I don't, it's quite
possible she'll end up dead."

Boyd froze. How could she know the danger
unless...He pinched the bridge of his nose, sickened by the
thought, furious with the situation and Claire's stubbornness. "I'd
like to talk with Anna tomorrow."

"I won't change my mind about letting her
stay here."

"Well, I'm afraid Larry, or one of those men
you're irritating with your temperance nonsense, will try to change
it for you."

He stepped outside and slammed the door, his
body shaking with fury. The damned woman was just begging for
trouble. She had just tangled with a murderer. She could have been
killed!

Worry tightened Boyd's chest, and he knew he
was in trouble. He cared too much for Claire, had gotten in too
deep to walk away from her and her crazy life.

At five
o'clock Tuesday morning, Claire wrapped her heavy velvet robe
around herself and crept down to the kitchen. Shivering, she opened
the thick iron door of the stove and quietly built up the fire,
wanting to have the kitchen heated and coffee on before the sheriff
or Anna got up.

It was the least she could do in return for
the sheriff's kindness. He came in late last evening while she and
Anna were getting ready for bed. He apologized for keeping her
waiting, then checked the doors and went to bed.

The aroma of fresh coffee wafted from the
percolating pot, and she huddled close to the stove, loving the
quiet morning and the homey feel of her grandmother's kitchen.

But she no longer felt safe here.

How long would Larry stay in jail this time?
Knowing he could beat on her door at any moment terrified her. Boyd
was right. Even if Duke planned to transport him to Pittsburgh for
trial and incarceration, Larry wasn't going to give up and go away.
She'd lain awake most of the night imagining every horrible
possibility. What if he broke out of jail again and came back when
the sheriff and Boyd weren't here?

She moved closer to the stove, regretting the
dreadful mess she'd gotten into. How she longed to return to the
safe, solitary life she'd begun building before Anna came seeking
sanctuary. But that life hadn't included her new friendship with
Anna, and Anna's desperate need.

She couldn't ask Anna to leave.

If her financial situation didn't improve,
though, she and Anna might find themselves on the street. Without a
paying boarder soon, she wouldn't be able to afford wood for her
stove, or coffee for her breakfast.

The crackling fire and the percolating coffee
soothed her. She would face each day as it came, and do what she
must to survive. Pray God she would never have to sell her
grandmother's house; it was the first and only home she'd known in
many long years.

The hurried tread of feet on the oak floor
startled her. She expected to see Anna rushing into the kitchen,
but to her astonishment, Sheriff Grayson stepped through the
doorway, revolver drawn, eyes squinted against the lantern light
illuminating the room.

He wore ankle-length cotton drawers and
nothing else.

Over six feet of nearly naked male stood
before her. She was so transfixed with the muscles shifting in his
bare chest and arms, she could barely speak. "G-good morning,
Sheriff."

His eyes widened, and he spun to face her. "I
beg your pardon," he said, his voice gruff from sleep. "I heard a
noise down here and thought someone was forcing the door."

He was so apologetic that she couldn't stop
her smile. "That would explain the gun."

He lowered his revolver to his side. "Excuse
me." He started to back out of the kitchen, but a thump from the
woodshed snared his attention.

He took two steps toward the door, and it
swung open.

Boyd stepped inside, jostling an armload of
wood. Confusion marred his handsome face, but when he saw Claire
standing by the stove in her robe, he nearly dropped his armload of
wood. His eyes registered her state of undress, then flew to his
brother, who was still standing in his drawers. "What the hell is
going on?"

The sheriff glanced at Claire then back at
Boyd. "We were about to have coffee," he said nonchalantly.

She opened her mouth to correct Boyd's
obvious assumption, but the sheriff winked, as if warning her to
let him do the talking.

Seemingly unconcerned, the sheriff crossed
his arms over his wide chest and braced his bare feet on the floor
like a sailor on rough water. His chest and arms were small
mountains of muscle and hair, his stomach tapered and flat, his
legs long and solid-looking in his snug drawers. The sheriff was a
gorgeous man, and he would have been the sensible choice, but he
wasn't Boyd. Leave it to her to be attracted to the wrong
brother.

Boyd's snort of disgust told her he'd caught
her staring at his brother.

"Shut the door," Duke said. "You're letting
in the cold."

Boyd shoved the door with his foot and just
missed slamming it on Sailor's tail as the dog squeezed inside.
Tension sparked from every inch of him. Claire feared he was going
to attack his brother. She glanced at Duke to see why he wasn't
trying to clear up Boyd's suspicions, but he reached down to
scratch Sailor's ears.

"How you doing, clumsy?"

He was purposely driving Boyd crazy. She
would have never imagined the sheriff like this, but here in her
kitchen, he wasn't a lawman. He was a brother. Duke was playing
games and taunting his sibling and making her like him even
more.

The light of humor in the sheriff's eyes
delighted her. In that moment, she sensed the two of them becoming
friends. She understood quite clearly what thoughts Boyd was having
that put the ferocious scowl on his face, but she wasn't offended.
She loved making him wonder about the situation, about her. He
deserved it after flaunting Martha on his arm at the cantata.