Lorraine Heath (8 page)

“So sweet,” he whispered, and she wondered if within the words, she heard an apology.

Then his mouth was pressed against hers, warm, soft, moist, and she had her first taste of a man. Deep inside, she smiled. He tasted of strawberries.

Then he deepened the kiss, and when his tongue sought hers, she raised up onto the tips of her toes, wrapped her arms around his neck, and gave to him all that he asked.

He groaned deep within his throat and she felt the rumble of his chest against her breasts. His arm snaked around her, pressing her closer against his body.

She had never been wanton, but then the loneliness had never been this great, this consuming. Nor had the need to be held, to be loved been so strong. She did not delude herself. He did not love her. In his eyes, she had seen the stark loneliness that mirrored hers. They were kindred hearts with a haunting past that had stolen dreams. Still, he would leave and never look back.

And with that thought, she found comfort. She could accept what he offered, knowing that he would never discover the secrets that the killer had forced her to lock away. Austin Leigh would never look upon her with revulsion. Years from now, when she brought forth the memories of this man, she would only see the desire that deepened the blue of his eyes.

His mouth trailed along her throat, pressed kisses against the sensitive flesh below her ear. “So sweet,” he repeated in a ragged breath, like a litany that stirred his actions.

He guided her to the bed, skimming her remaining clothes from her body before laying her down. Holding her gaze, he slowly unbuttoned his trousers as though giving her time to tell him that what he was offering wasn’t what she wanted.

But she did want, more than she had ever wanted, to be without the loneliness. When he stretched his tall lean body alongside hers, she’d never felt so tiny, so delicate. He cupped her breast, his hand shaping and molding her flesh as his mouth teased and taunted. Desire spiraled through her, strong enough to send the loneliness into oblivion. For one night, she would have what she might never have again: a man’s touch, a man’s whispered words, a man’s strength and ability to hold the loneliness at bay.

His mouth came down on hers, hard, devouring, but his hands remained gentle, as though she were shaped from hand-blown glass. She trailed her hands over the firm muscles of his shoulders, digging her fingers into his back, careful to avoid the wound that had forged a bond between them.

When his hand skimmed along her stomach, she shivered. When he touched her intimately, she gasped as his fingers made promises she knew his body would keep.

He moved until his hips were nestled between her thighs. Then slowly, cautiously, he joined his body to hers. The pain was fleeting, the fullness of him satisfying. As he rocked against her, the past blurred into insignificance, the future that awaited her lost its importance. All that mattered was this moment, this joining. Sensations she’d never known existed wove themselves around her, through her, creating beauty where she’d only known ugliness. She reveled in the sound of his throaty groans, the feel of his sure, swift thrusts.

And then she cried out, arching beneath him as everything spilled over into ecstasy.

As he shuddered above her, she heard a name whisper raggedly past his lips. Suddenly all that had passed before meant nothing … and the loneliness increased tenfold.

Austin stilled, his breathing labored, sweat glistening over his trembling body, self-loathing and guilt increasing as he felt Loree stiffen beneath him.

Ironically, he’d held no thoughts of Becky until her name escaped his lips, but he didn’t think it would soothe Loree’s hurt if he told her that. As a matter of fact, he could think of nothing to say, nothing to do that would ease the pain he’d caused her—and hurting her was the last thing he’d intended.

He eased off her. She rolled to her side, presenting him with her back, drawing her knees toward her chest. Reaching down, he pulled up a blanket and covered her.

He got out of bed, snatched up his britches, jerked them on, and headed outside. He stormed to the corral and slammed the palm of his hand against the post. The sound of vibrating wood echoed around him. He hit the post again and again. He would have kicked it if he’d thought to pull on his boots. He dug his fingers into the top railing of the corral, squeezed his eyes shut, and bowed his head.

He could argue that he’d been too long without a woman, but the argument would have been rift with lies because he knew that if he had lain with a woman that afternoon, he still would have wanted Loree tonight.

She was so incredibly sweet, pure, and innocent … all the delightful aspects of youth that a man lost as he grew older. When he had kissed her, felt the tentative touch of her tongue, he was the man he had been before prison. A man who believed in goodness. She had touched the tender part of himself that he’d locked away in solitary confinement in order to survive within prison walls. With her arms circling his neck, she had sent his good intentions to perdition and unleashed desires and needs that he’d kept tightly reined.

And for those few moments of splendor, when he had held her close, the loneliness that always ate at his soul had ceased to feast.

Until he had carelessly whispered another’s name.

Then the loneliness had consumed him once again and invited guilt to the banquet.

He slammed his palm against the post. Why in the hell had Becky’s name escaped his lips? She hadn’t been in his thoughts. Hell, he hadn’t been thinking at all. He’d just been feeling, feeling with an intensity he hadn’t experienced in years. Maybe that was the reason he’d spoken her name. He’d always associated deeply held emotion with Becky.

And that sure as hell hadn’t been fair to Loree.

He might have been able to forgive himself if he had something to offer her—but he had nothing. What woman would want to marry a man fresh out of prison? A man who couldn’t prove his innocence?

He had no job, no prospects.

Within his mind, he saw her golden eyes filled with trust. She had wanted the comfort he had to offer, and in taking it, she had given it back. He’d never wanted to taste anything as much as he’d wanted to taste her, to touch as much as he’d wanted to touch her, to know … He found it impossible to believe so little time had passed since he’d first set eyes on her.

Again, he slammed his palm against the post. A delicate hand covered his as it gripped the pillar.

“You’re gonna bust your hand if you’re not careful,” she said quietly.

Austin’s heart thundered so loudly that he barely heard the crickets chirping. Loree stood in the pale moonlight, her gaze watchful. She’d slipped into a nightgown and draped a blanket over her shoulders.

“Can’t see that it would be any great loss.”

She took his hand, turned it, and pressed a kiss to his palm. “I disagree.”

“Loree—”

“It’s all right. I was thinking of someone else as well.”

Her words sliced across his heart like a well-honed knife cutting deeply, the pain taking him off guard. He knew he deserved them, knew she had every right to say them, but he didn’t like hearing them. “Who were you thinking of?”

She angled her chin defiantly. “Jake.”

He heard the slightest hesitation in her voice and knew beyond any doubt that she was lying. Whether she was hoping to hurt him or salvage her pride, it didn’t matter. He’d give her back what he could.

“Then he’s a damn lucky man,” he said, surprised by the roughness in his voice.

She dropped her gaze to her bare feet. “Anyway, there’s no reason for you to sleep out here. The barn is probably still damp.”

Even now, after he’d hurt her, she was still more worried about him than herself. “Sleep doesn’t come easy for me.”

“For me either.”

He tilted up her face, and with his thumb, he wiped a glistening tear from the corner of her eye. “We’re a fine pair, aren’t we?”

She gave him a hesitant smile and nodded. He cupped her cheek and lowered his mouth to hers, imparting with his kiss the apology she wouldn’t accept in words. She swayed toward him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

He trailed his lips along her throat until he reached the curve of her shoulder. “Loree, know that I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know.”

He slipped his arm beneath her knees and lifted her into his arms. Cradling her close, he carried her into the house. With his foot, he closed the door behind him and walked into the bedroom.

Carefully, he laid her on the bed. She curled on her side, and he draped the blanket over her. He walked to the other side of the bed. Without removing his trousers, he lay on top of the covers and wrapped his arm around her. She stiffened. He pressed his lips to the top of her head. “I’m just going to hold you, Loree. Believe it or not, that’s all I’d intended to do when I came into the house looking for you earlier.”

He heard her muffled sob and tightened his arms around her. Another sob came. Gingerly, he turned her toward him. “Come here, Sugar.”

She rolled into the circle of his arms and pressed her face against his chest. Her warm tears dampened his flesh.

“I’m sorry, Loree. I’m so sorry.”

Her sobs grew louder, her tears flowed more freely, and he could do little more than hold her closely, knowing he was the cause of her heartache.

A
loud bang startled Loree from her sleep. Her nose stuffy, her eyes stinging, she crawled out of bed. The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains.

She heard another crash. What in the world was Austin doing to himself now?

She scurried out of the house and stumbled to a stop. Raising her hand to shield her eyes from the glare of the morning sun, she stared at the man crouched on the roof of her barn. He worked a board free and tossed it to the ground. “What are you doing?” she called up to him.

His chest bare, he twisted around and shoved his hat off his brow with his thumb. “Thought you wanted to burn the barn.”

“I do.”

“Then I aim to burn it. Figured it would be easier to break it into piles of lumber we can manage than to cut down the trees surrounding it.”

“You’re gonna open that wound on your back.”

“That’s my worry.”

“It’ll be my worry if it festers.”

He rubbed his thumb over the head of the hammer, studying it. Then he lifted his solemn gaze to her. “I’ll be leaving as soon as I’m done with the barn.”

She heard regret laced through his voice, and her heart tightened as though stretching toward a dream it could never hold. She’d always known he’d leave. Still she hadn’t expected that he might take a part of her with him. “I’ll fix some breakfast.”

“Just coffee for me.”

He returned to his chore. For several minutes she watched him work and came to the realization that although last night had caused her anguish, she had no regrets. Despite the fact that he’d been in prison, she knew he was a good man, honorable in his own way.

And she wondered if the woman he loved ever thought of him, truly knew how firm a place she held in his heart.

She strolled into the house, scrubbed her face, brushed and braided her hair, and slipped into a clean dress. She walked into the kitchen and began to prepare her morning porridge. Her life was filled with routine. She had to remind herself not to set out a bowl of food for Digger, but she couldn’t stop herself from listening for his bark. She keenly felt his absence as she worked about the kitchen, never finding him underfoot. He’d never chase another butterfly or lick her hand.

The tears stinging her eyes increased when she placed a cup of coffee on the table and saw the sugar bowl she’d left outside the night before. She remembered knocking it over, spilling its contents on the quilt. She traced her finger around its rim. Now it was full.

What sort of man was Austin Leigh to go to the trouble to retrieve her bowl and fill it with sugar?

She heard his booted feet hit her front porch and step through her doorway. “Your coffee’s ready,” she told him, averting her gaze, turning to the stove to slap her porridge into a bowl. She listened as he pulled out his chair and took his seat, a gesture that seemed more intimate after all they’d shared last night.

She sat at the table and, with trembling fingers, lifted the spoon and sprinkled sugar over her porridge. She felt his gaze boring into her, but couldn’t bring herself to look at him.

“Loree, about last night—”

“I’d rather not discuss it.” She lost count of the number of spoonfuls of sugar and decided it didn’t matter. She’d just pour on sugar until she no longer saw the oats.

“I’ve got nothing to offer you, Loree.”

She snapped her gaze up to his. He’d removed his hat and put on a shirt. His black hair curled over his collar. She ached to run her fingers through it. “I don’t recall asking for anything.”

His eyes were somber. “You didn’t, but you deserve everything—everything a man would give a woman if he could.”

“You didn’t force me. I knew where the trail was leading, and I was willing to follow it.”

“I told you sometimes a man makes choices not knowing the cost. Did you know the cost?”

She lowered her gaze to the porridge. “No,” she admitted quietly. “But I’d pay it again.” Looking at him, she forced a tremulous smile. “Although I don’t know how I’m going to look Dewayne in the eye the next time he comes over after what he said yesterday.”

“You can’t look at a woman and know whether or not she’s shared herself with a man.”

Shared herself. She felt as though she’d given nothing and taken everything. “Sometimes you say things in such a way that I wonder if you’re a poet.”

He shook his head. “I have no gift with words. Last night served as evidence of that. I appreciate the coffee. I’d best get back to the barn.”

Watching him walk from house, she wondered how soon it would be before he walked out, never to return. She shoved her bowl of porridge aside, discontent rearing its ugly head. Suddenly greedy for memories that she could hoard away and bring out on the loneliest of nights, she scrambled from her chair and dashed outside, hurrying to the corral. His horse grazed nearby. A beautiful beast that belonged to a beautiful man.

She turned her attention to the barn. With a wistfulness she knew she had no business feeling, she watched Austin work. Last night she had received a sampling of what she
would
never have. She had not expected to yearn so intensely for that which she
could
not have.

“Get the kerosene!”

Loree snapped back to the present as Austin climbed lithely down from her barn.

“Fetch some old blankets, too,” he told her. “I’ll get some buckets of water.”

“That’s not very much to burn,” she said, studying the meager pile of ragged lumber.

“Thought it best to start small until we figure out what we can control.”

She fetched the kerosene and blankets as he’d instructed, returning to see him put the last bucket of water in place. He took the kerosene from her and doused the wood. Sweat glistened over his bronzed back, and she worried about his wound. It didn’t look nearly as angry as it had the day before, but it was certain to leave him with a jagged scar.

When he finished, he held up a match. “You want the honors?”

She nodded jerkily. He lifted his foot, struck the match on the bottom of his boot, and handed it to her. She got as close as she dared and tossed the match onto the kerosene drenched wood. She watched the flame grow and spread across the pyre. The wood crackled and blackened. Smoke rose toward the clouds. She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, feeling as though she was finally doing something to put the nightmare to rest.

The barn had been a cavernous reminder of how those she loved had died. She hated the rope most of all, but she’d never been able to bring herself to touch it.

“I want to burn the rope, too,” she whispered hoarsely never taking her gaze from the fiery red blaze.

He wrapped his arms around her, bringing her back against his chest. She welcomed the sturdiness of his embrace. He brushed his lips lightly across her temple. “It’s already burning.”

His words didn’t surprise her. Somehow, he seemed capable of anticipating her needs before she knew she had them. “My brother was so young. I wish he’d hanged me instead.”

Austin’s arms tightened around her. “Is that why you live here alone—to punish yourself for living when they died?”

She held her silence because he had the uncanny ability to understand far more than anyone else ever had.

Gently, he turned her within his arms, tucked his knuckle beneath her chin, and tilted her head back. “Loree, I’ve listened to you talking about your family. I know you loved them. For you to love them as much as you do, they had to love you in return. They wouldn’t want you living here alone.”

Gazing into his earnest eyes, she desperately wanted to explain everything—the fear, the fury, the hatred. Surely a man who had lived his life would understand, but if he didn’t understand, something far worse than living a life alone awaited her.

“I’m here because I want to be. I’m … content.” Or at least she had been until last night.

His gaze told her that he didn’t believe her. “I spent five years surrounded by men, but I was alone because there was no one I cared about, no one I trusted. You don’t have to live like that, Loree. Pack up your belongings and I’ll move you to Austin—”

She jerked away from him. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because that night still lives inside me! You don’t know what I did!”

“You survived.”

Tears burned her eyes. “If only it was that simple. I’m here because I deserve to be. Call it a punishment. Call it a life sentence. Call it whatever you want. I made my decision and I’m not leaving.” The tears rolled over onto her cheeks. “Despite what you thought, I knew
exactly
what you meant when you said a person makes decisions not knowing the cost—but regardless, once you act on the decision, you still have to pay the price.” Five years ago, the price had been her dreams.

“Even if it costs you your life? Loree, your friend Dewayne was right. You didn’t know anything about me when you accepted my offer to chop your wood for a bowl of stew. I could have been intent on hurting you.”

“I took your weapons.”

He released a mirthless laugh. “You think that would have stopped me?”

“Digger would have stopped you.”

“You don’t have Digger anymore.”

She flinched at the reminder. He cursed harshly and reached for her. “Come here.”

She tried to resist, but he was insistent, drawing her into his arms and pressing her face against his chest. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, but I’m worried about you, Sugar. I don’t like the idea of you living out here alone.”

“I’ll be all right,” she assured him, even though she knew it wasn’t the absolute truth. After he left, she’d be lonelier than she’d ever been in her life.

He held her, his hands gliding up and down her back, comforting and strong, the silence broken only by the snap and crackle of the fire. It seemed an eternity passed before he finally spoke, and when he did, it was as though their argument had never taken place.

“I think we’ll be all right if we keep the fire small like this. I could go back to tearing down the barn, tossing the planks down, and you can feed them to the fire.”

Releasing her, he met her gaze. “Holler if things get out of hand.”

She nodded mutely, knowing that by working with him, she would hasten his departure. Knowing that every time she gazed into the deepest depths of a fire, she would see the blue of his eyes.

By nightfall Loree was exhausted, but she felt a measure of peace. Over half the barn was smoldering ashes.

She lay in her bed, curled beneath the covers, listening as Austin moved around in the front room. After supper, he’d dragged in the bathtub and helped her fill it with hot water. While he had tended to his horse and drenched the ashes once more, she had enjoyed the luxurious warmth of the water and pampered herself by using some French soap she’d hoarded away in her hope chest.

When she had dried off and thrown on a clean nightgown, she had opened the door to discover him sitting on the steps.

“Would you mind if I took a bath?” he’d asked quietly, and she could no more ignore that plea in his eyes imploring her to trust him than she could ignore the sun rising over the horizon.

So now he was bathing, and all she could think about was the water gliding over a chest that she had touched. She imagined him shaving, combing his hair, and slipping on his britches.

She wondered where he would bed down tonight, and continually asked herself where she wanted him to sleep. She heard several bumps followed by a scrape and knew that he was emptying the tub and taking it outside. She held her breath, waiting, listening, wondering.

The house grew silent. Rolling over, she pressed her face to the pillow in an effort to hide her disappointment. He had left her alone.

Austin walked around the house numerous times, searching for the ever elusive sleep. He knew from experience that it would be long after midnight before he’d find it.

Besides he needed to air out. Loree had used some fancy smelling bath salts, and although they smelled sweet on her, they reeked to high heaven on him. Lord, if his brothers caught a whiff of him now, he’d never hear the end of it.

That thought had him turning northwest, staring at a part of Texas that rested beyond his vision. He wondered what his brothers were doing. No doubt, whatever it was, they were doing it with their wives. He didn’t begrudge them the love they had in their lives, but he did envy that they had the joy of sleeping with a woman every night—simply sleeping with her.

He’d never slept with a woman through the night until last night. He’d found it incredibly comforting to listen to Loree’s soft even breathing once her tears had subsided.

He wished he’d never caused the tears. He looked at the silhouette of the remaining barn. At least he could repay her by taking away some of her painful memories—memories he wished she had never possessed.

With a deep sigh, he headed for the porch where he’d stored his gear earlier before he’d begun tearing down the barn. He thought about laying his pallet out beneath the stars, but prison had taught him to appreciate fine moments when they came along. And it had been a long time since he’d known anything finer than Loree Grant.

Loree heard the door open and held her breath. She’d long ago given up on Austin joining her and had extinguished the flame in the lamp. Now only pale moonlight spilled into the room. She listened to the soft tread of his bare feet growing nearer. She felt the bed dip beneath his weight.

He lay on top of the covers as he had last night. His arm came around her, firm and heavy. She felt his bare chest warming her back through her nightgown. He pressed his cheek against the top of her head. She heard what she thought was a quiet sigh of contentment followed by a soft snore.

For a man who claimed sleep didn’t come easily, he’d fallen asleep incredibly quickly. Contented, she closed her eyes and drifted into sleep.

Austin awoke near dawn. Sometime during the night, Loree had rolled over. Her cheek was pressed against his chest, her hand curled over his side. Her warm breath fanned over his skin. This morning her face wasn’t splotchy from crying and her nose wasn’t red. The temptation to awaken her with a kiss and make love to her was almost more than he could resist.