Loving Katherine (10 page)

Her eyes closed.
I was almost his wife for real Almost…if I hadn’t. .
She silently cursed her own fears,
cursed the memory of Evan Gardner, revulsion rising within her as she thought of his hated hands on her flesh.

But Roan is my husband. He has the right.
Her eyes opened, seeking his face, as if she could will away the grim expression he wore, visible in the faint light from the window. A small sound from her lips alerted him and he turned.

“Katherine.” He spoke her name once and came to where she lay, squatting next to her, reaching to straighten her clothing, smoothing back her hair as he tended her.

She watched him, felt his hands on her flesh and breathed deeply of a new scent that clung to him—musky and enticing, surrounding her.

His hands were gentle, lifting her until he could lie beside her once more. She was unyielding for a moment, unable to bend to his persuasion, her memory fresh and painful as she recalled his rough need of her.

He wanted her, she thought. The way a man wants a woman. But he stopped; he didn’t hurt her, not really. Her eyes closed and she allowed her body to unfurl, turning to face him.

Now he embraced her gently, holding himself at a careful distance, giving her the gift of his tenderness. His hands soothed her, and she softened against him, oblivious to the tears dampening her cheeks—aware only of the words of comfort he spent in her ear as he rocked her in the darkness.

“T
hat dratted farmer didn’t even care. He acted like I should be grateful to be getting his great galoot of a stallion’s services.” Not satisfied to ride fifty feet behind him, where she must shout to be heard, Katherine gave up, fuming in silence, and rode side by side with Roan.

“I don’t want to hear it, Katherine. I’ve just spent two hours mending a stall door.” It was a statement guaranteed to rile her, he knew. He turned in the saddle to glare his frustration, feeling he had a perfect right, seeing as how she was smack-dab at the bottom of his problem. “I can see his point,” he said with exaggerated politeness. “He more than likely gets a fancy price for that animal’s talents.”

“Huh!” The sound was derisive, as was the scalding look he merited for his explanation. “I can’t see much talent in what he did. He scuffed up my filly’s right flank and probably got her in foal. And her with no choice in the matter.”

“Most mares don’t get asked for their permission before they’re bred,” he answered, turning his head to hide the grin that would not be denied. Katherine’s logic totally escaped him this morning. For the first time in their acquaintance, she was acting exactly like a woman, spouting off and carrying on as if she’d been sinned against in a mighty way.

“Well, I don’t expect she was real pleased, anyway,” Katherine said with elaborate patience. She pursed her
mouth as she pursued that thought, recalling the shrill scream of her filly. “It still should have been my choice to decide when she was ready to…” She drew in a deep breath and turned away. “Just forget it!”

“If she were out in the wild, runnin’ with a pack of horses, she’d already have dropped one foal at least, you know,” he said. “She’s plenty old enough, and besides, you got yourself a fine stud for her. Old Jed told me he paid a bundle for him. I’ll guarantee his bloodlines would match up pretty close to anything my father has in his barns.”

She considered a moment, recalling the stud, the pride and joy of their reluctant host of the night before. The stallion was enormous, heavy in the chest, with a thick neck and muscular hindquarters, taller even than her father’s stallion. If that horse was a man, he’d probably have every woman in the county after him, admiring his lines.

“Come on, Katherine,” Roan said finally, rightly deciding she’d stewed long enough. “You can’t do a blamed thing about it. Might as well wait and see what comes of it before you spend any more time havin’ fits.”

She wheeled away, waiting momentarily until the string of yearlings had passed her by, then pulled her mare into line behind the strangely docile filly.

“If we’re close to Cooneyville, why couldn’t we stay at a hotel tonight?” Katherine was sitting cross-legged near the fire, intent on the piece of rabbit she held, picking at the meat with two fingers.

“Will you quit your playin’ with that,” he growled. “Never saw a woman so fussy about her food.”

“It’s full of buckshot,” she sniped, dropping another bit of metal to the ground.

“Well, next time I’ll use a rifle.”

“Next time, I’ll clean the rabbit before it’s cooked,” she told him, stripping the last of the meat from the bone she
held. She eyed him measuringly. “You didn’t answer me, you know.”

He leaned back against the rock behind him, his feet stretched toward the fire. “We’re still a ways from town, Kate. We’ll stay right here till morning.”

He was not to be moved, she decided, and somehow it wasn’t worth the fuss. Tossing the bone into the fire, she stretched toward the spit, tearing another piece of meat from the small carcass hanging there. They’d pulled it from the fire to cool while the can of beans cooked over the flames, and Katherine had snatched the first morsels while Roan readied the coffeepot for brewing.

“Save me some,” he told her, watching as she relished the tender meat.

She slanted a long look in his direction. “You ate most of the food at noon.”

His shrug was accompanied by a superior look, one eyebrow quirked mockingly. “You turned it down, ma’am. Said you weren’t particularly fond of possum sausage.”

She swallowed the bite of rabbit she’d been chewing. “I still think you could have found something else for us to eat. Are you sure that’s all old Jed’s wife offered?”

“You ate most of your biscuits. Still wish you hadn’t thrown that good sausage away, though.” He sighed as he reached for the rabbit carcass. “Beggars can’t be choosers,” he quoted solemnly, tearing off a long strip of meat.

“Phooey on that nonsense. We’re a long way from being beggars. You paid him for the food and the night’s accommodations, such as they were.”

“Don’t forget, he threw in the stud fee,” Roan reminded her blandly, spitting a piece of buckshot to one side.

Her glare encompassed him, taking in the long, lean length stretching toward the fire, the dark silhouette of his head and shoulders against the twilight gloom. She refused to take the bait, and instead gritted her teeth against the words that begged to be spoken.

She’d have willingly paid a bundle to have somebody keep that stallion away from her mare and not have her bred, she thought sadly. Her eyes strayed once more to where Roan sat, engrossed in the can of beans he was eating.

“Want some?” he asked, holding the can in her direction.

She scooted closer and took the can from him, careful to touch only the cloth he’d wrapped it in. “I just knew you were going to eat them all,” she said, poking the spoon into the can and peering at the scattering of beans he’d left for her. Glaring at him, she lifted the spoonful to her mouth.

She ate steadily, snatching at a last piece of the rabbit as he slid the bony remnants from the spit. “How will we cross the river?” she asked, wiping her mouth on the towel.

“Flatboat,” he told her, rising to dispose of the remains of their meal. The bones went in the fire. The can he buried several yards from where they sat.

“Will it be large enough for all of us?” she asked, waving at the string of horses grazing beneath the trees.

“Some of those rafts are a pretty good size. But we’ll more’n likely have to go in two trips.” Tossing his blanket to the ground, he bent to straighten it. “Bring your blankets over here,” he told her, engrossed in his chore.

She considered his words, her eyes scanning the area they had chosen for a campsite. The trees behind them ran to the edge of the water, a swiftly flowing current determined to dump itself into the big river only a few miles away. It had gradually widened throughout the day, deepening into a small river stream as they followed near its banks. Beneath the trees it was dark, night having crept upon them while they ate, and she felt exposed suddenly, there beside the fire.

He glanced up at her, sensing her disquiet and electing to ignore it. “Let’s have that blanket over here, Katherine,” he told her bluntly. “You’re sleepin’ right next to me, just like always.” This might prove to be just a little bit sticky, he decided, recognizing the look on her face.

He stood and faced her across the glowing coals. “Look, honey. I’m not gonna jump on you or give you a bad time of it.”

She felt the flush creeping up from the open neckline of her shirt. Her cheeks tingled with the blood that pumped its way from her heart, the sound roaring in her ears as she dared a glance at him once more.

“Katherine, the worst that could have happened last night…” He paused and rubbed his fingers across the dark mustache riding above his upper lip, his eyes shadowed and dark. “Well, it didn’t happen, anyway,” he said finally. “And it won’t, not for a while yet. Not till you’re ready for it.” It was as close to a promise as he could get, he decided, hating the fact he’d felt obliged to make it. Damn, but she made it hard on him. His mouth twisted into a smile at the errant thought. “And that’s a fact,” he murmured beneath his breath.

“All right,” she conceded, rolling to her feet and heading for her saddle and the blankets tied on behind it.

“You need to go out in the bushes any more tonight?” he asked her bluntly, catching the blankets she tossed in his direction and spreading them next to his own.

She blushed again.
I’ll never get used to his plain speaking,
she thought, nodding and turning from the fire to make her way through the trees.

“Don’t be long, Katherine, or I’ll come and find you.” The words stepped up her pace, and she hurried to find a likely spot.

His arm was heavy about her waist, and she felt every inch of it as it curled over her, his big hand nestling at her ribs. It was warm, like the rest of him, radiating the same pulsing heat as did his long body, wrapped about her back and touching her from head to toe. His breath blew in her ear as he muttered in an undertone, settling himself, his head resting on his saddlebag again.

“You might be more comfortable with me somewhere else,” she said as he shifted once more, lifting her, moving her to rest with his arm beneath her head.

“Damn right!” he muttered, already conscious of the pressure of her bottom against his private parts.

“I can scoot over,” she offered, wiggling herself from his grip as she sought to prove the sincerity of her offer.

“Lie still,” he growled, scooping her closer and stilling her protest.

She was silent, aware that his taciturn behavior had to do with the proximity of their bodies. In fact, unless she missed her guess, it was about the same problem he’d had last night. Roan Devereaux was needing a woman.

“Will you stop your damn wigglin’ around,” he grumbled against her ear, his hand easing its way up her rib cage so that the pressure of his wrist was a deliberate wedge beneath her breast.

“Roan?” Her whisper wavered in the stillness.

“I’m not givin’ you a bad time of it, Katherine,” he told her wearily. “Just tryin’ to find a little comfort for myself.”

She subsided, only too aware of the pressure he exerted, plumping her breast upward with a gentle urging.
Maybe he doesn’t realize what he’s doing,
she thought distractedly. And then his hand turned, slowly and with purpose as he cupped his palm, allowing the weight of her breast to fill it.

His grunt of satisfaction banished her hopeful thought and she stiffened within his embrace.

“Don’t wiggle,” he reminded her again. “I’m almost asleep here and you’re disturbin’ me.”

She had a choice, she decided. She could make a fuss or close her eyes.

She closed her eyes.

“S
o help me, Katherine, if I hear one more word about payin’ your own way—” Roan’s mouth snapped shut as he cut the flow of words he’d been spewing in her direction.

She gritted her teeth and her chin jutted forward with the movement. Pulling up short on the reins she held in her right hand, she wheeled her mare around and waited for the string of horses to pass her by before pulling in behind the gelding, bringing up the rear once more.

“They’re my horses, Roan Devereaux,” she muttered, nudging her mare into a quick trot to keep pace.

“You heard what I said, Katherine,” he called back gruffly. “Danged if you don’t always have to have the last word.”

She was quiet for a moment, biting back the words that begged to be spoken—and then gave up her silence as a lost cause. “I know you married me to look after me, Roan,” she began stiffly. “But when all’s said and done, I’m used to doing for myself, and I’d feel better about things if I wasn’t beholden to you.”

His sigh was deep. “We already talked about this. To start with, I couldn’t leave you back there alone. Things were kinda touchy, and I couldn’t face Charlie if I didn’t look after you for him.” He caught a quick glimpse of her expression
and closed his eyes. Damn, now she was feeling like a burden he was toting for her daddy.

“Look, honey. It started out that way, but truth to tell, it’s about time I found a wife and settled down anyway. Just think how pleased my folks are gonna be when I show up all married and respectable.” Never mind the fact he was half out of his mind with wanting to make a real wife out of the bride riding next to him.

“I’m sure they’re going to be really pleased when they find out you married a Yankee,” she said scathingly. “That ought to tie a knot in somebody’s tail.”

His grin was spontaneous. “Yeah, you’re right there,” he said, envisioning the look on LeRoy Devereaux’s face when Katherine spoke her howdys in that Illinois twang of hers.

“You didn’t mention you were ready to settle down, Roan. In fact, I had the idea this whole thing, the getting married part anyway, was kind of a convenience, so I wouldn’t be getting the cold shoulder, traveling around with a man and not married to him.”

“There’s several things we’ve kinda left hangin’. The idea of maybe stayin’ on at River Bend has entered my mind a time or two,” he told her casually. “You might really catch on to livin’ on a big spread like that. Hell, I’ll bet you’d even spruce up the place, once I get you into some decent outfits.”

“Well, isn’t that kind of you,” she snapped. “Who said I was interested in new clothes anyway? I brought along a dress. I’ll have something to wear when we get there.”

He looked appalled. “One of those brown things you were draggin’ around in back home?”

“It’s black. And quite suitable for church, so I imagine I’ll look decent enough in it to meet your folks.”

“Katherine, Katherine.” His voice dwelled on her name lovingly, rolling each syllable with great care. “You’re just bound and determined to fuss at me today, aren’t you?” He shook his head mournfully. “Here I’m tryin’ to be good
company and make the ride easy for you, and you just snip and snap at me over the least little thing.”

She frowned, examining the words they’d exchanged, wondering if he was pulling the wool over her eyes or if she’d maybe misjudged his intentions. Probably both.

“I believe you could talk your way around a hanging judge,” she said finally, with a scathing glance at his pious expression. “You don’t fool me for a minute, Devereaux.”

They camped beside the river, beneath a grove of walnut trees. Katherine dropped a line in the water, into a deep spot just off the high bank, and within minutes caught a good-sized fish. “This is the plumb ugliest thing I’ve ever seen,” she told Roan as she carried it to the campsite.

“River cat. Might be ugly, but it sure is good eatin’.” He wiped the horses down with handfuls of long grass, finally stringing them out between the trees while he watched her. No other woman he’d met could so efficiently deal with killing and gutting a fish, he decided, watching as she prepared their supper.

The scent of frying fish rose into the evening, accompanied by the rich smell of boiling coffee, and Roan settled back against his saddle, feet stretched toward the fire. “I believe I’ll take you on as a cook, Mrs. Devereaux,” he told her with lazy approval, watching her deft movements as she worked.

She tossed him a look, her eyes narrowing as she considered him. “If you’re planning on eating any of my fish, I’d advise you to pitch in, Mr. Devereaux,” she told him. “We could use the rest of those biscuits I cooked this morning. They’re in your saddlebag.”

He reached behind him for the leather pouches he’d stashed behind his saddle. “Yes, ma’am,” he said meekly, undoing the fastenings and retrieving the wrapped biscuits. “Whatever you say, ma’am.” Locating the tin plates and
cups, he arranged them on a towel next to him, allotting two biscuits to each plate.

Katherine lifted the frying pan, its handle wrapped in a dish towel, and brought it, sizzling and steaming, to where he sat. She took up the fish with her fork, dividing it between their plates, and carried the hot pan away, leaving it to cool in the grass. The coffeepot was dealt with quickly, set aside to allow the grounds to settle, and then she joined him.

“I believe I could be a contented man with you waitin’ on me for the next few years,” he told her, biting gingerly into a crisp chunk of fish. “You’ve got a real talent for cookin’, Katherine.”

“I cut my teeth on campfire cooking,” she told him crisply. “My pa wasn’t much for doing women’s work, and Lawson…well…” She took a bite of fish and chewed carefully, pulling a bone from between her lips.

“Did you get along with your brother?” he asked with casual interest, his eyes carefully intent on her.

She shrugged and picked up a biscuit. “He looked after me when I was little. Used to boss me around a lot. But I didn’t mind. Once…” She paused and her look was bleak.

“He…what? What did he do, Katherine?”

She sat up straight, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand. “Let’s just say I found out the hard way not to be too friendly.”

“With men?”

“I was just a girl, Roan. Too young to know what men wanted from women and too independent to listen to Charlie when he told me to stay close.”

“Where were you then? On the trail?”

She shook her head. “No, we’d been living at a farm in Kentucky for a couple of months. Charlie was training horses, just like always, and I kept house in a one-room cabin, washing and cooking for him and Lawson. I used to watch Charlie work the horses every day, and one of the
cowhands was nice to me.” She looked at Roan and shrugged her shoulders in a telling gesture.

“He expected you to…”

“He caught me away from the cabin one night and started mauling me, pushed me down on the ground and told me he knew I’d been wanting some loving. He said he was just the man to make me happy.” A thin shiver of revulsion slid up her spine and she swallowed the bite of biscuit she’d been chewing.

“Did you get away?” he asked, forcing himself to remain still, forcing his anger under control as he watched her pick up her coffee and sip at the hot brew. His muscles tensed with the effort, and he opened his clenched fist to reach for his own cup, eyeing her over the rim as he drank.

“I couldn’t get him off me, and he had one dirty hand over my mouth so I couldn’t yell,” she told him bluntly. Her lips quivered as she drew in a deep breath and her gaze rose to meet his. “Lawson pulled him off and told me to get. He must have pounded him pretty bad, ‘cause the next day the owner came out to talk with Pa, and we had to move on. He said I’d been enticing his men.”

“You didn’t believe him, did you, Katherine?”

“Well, I made sure no one else ever made the same mistake,” she said firmly. “I figured if I quit wearing pants and covered up my female parts, nobody’d ever accuse me of enticing their men again. After that, Lawson stayed pretty close when he wasn’t working the horses with my pa.”

“Where’d you go from there?” Roan asked quietly, his mind filled with the thought of the girl she’d been, of the life she’d lived.

She shook her head. “To another farm, another town. Pa had a hard time settling down anywhere. We stayed one place in Kentucky for almost two years, though. He trained horses and even had a lady friend, the cook for the family in the big house. I guess she was good reason to stick
around,” Katherine said with a small smile. “She was nice to me.”

The setting sun cast its glow in a final glorious display across the horizon and Roan got up from his position before the dying fire. “I’ll scout up some wood to keep the fire going. You better do your washin’ up before it gets full dark. I don’t want you out in the brush after that.”

She looked about their campsite, aware of his care in choosing it. They were beneath the trees, the open, grassy fields spreading before them, the river at their backs for protection. As far as she could see, only waving grasses and shadowed areas of brush met her eye.

“I’ll wash here,” she told him. “Bring me up some water from the river when you come back. I’ll heat it up a little in the coffeepot…take the chill off.”

His nod was answer enough, and she headed for a nearby cluster of bushes to tend to her needs before nightfall endowed her shelter with dark shadows. Talking about Ned Hastings had renewed old memories she’d buried long ago. Funny she should even remember his name, she thought with a shake of her head. She ought to be thankful, she supposed, for the lesson he’d taught her. The lesson Evan Gardner had reinforced only a week or so ago.

Men were hard and needy creatures, most of them bigger and heavier than she was. Most of them wanting just one thing from a woman…the part of her she was least likely wanting to give. She hurried to the spot she’d chosen, silently cursing the frustration of dealing with being a woman while wearing boy’s clothing.

It was past midnight when the silence was shattered by a raucous shout, and Katherine felt Roan’s big hand press her against the ground as he reached for his gun.

“I wouldn’t touch that piece if I was you, mister,” a voice called out from the darkness. “I got aim right at your woman’s head, and I want you to know I’m a crack shot.
Been practicin’ on watermelons. They blow up just about as pretty as a skull full of brains and bone.”

Roan cursed beneath his breath, aware of his negligence. He’d slept soundly, wrapped about Katherine’s warm body, sure they were secure in this place. Too late, he’d heard the arrival of the men surrounding them.

His hand rose into the air, empty. “Leave her be,” he said quietly. “We don’t have anything worth shootin’ us for. Just a string of horses, ‘bout as common as they come. Take ‘em if you’ve a mind to.”

Next to him, Katherine inhaled sharply and he nudged her with his knee, pressing against her thigh firmly.

“Well, I reckon you’ve got more than horses. Let’s take a look at those saddlebags of yours,” one of the men said, stepping closer. He was a dark shadow on the other side of the fire and Roan sat up warily, his eyes on the gun aimed in his direction.

He stood and bent to pick up his saddlebags, tossing them across the fire to where their assailant stood. And then Katherine struggled to her feet.

“Get down,” he told her roughly, pushing at her shoulder to force her to the ground.

But it was too late; Katherine’s face was illuminated by the firelight.

“Will you look at that!” another voice called from the darkness. “I’ll take the woman. Ya’ll can have the horses and whatever else you find.”

A taller, shadowed figure moved into view. Hat pulled low, a full beard revealing only dark, piercing eyes over a flattened nose, he rose menacingly from the night astride a huge horse that blended into the darkness.

“The woman’s mine,” he said in a cold voice, devoid of inflection. “Tie them both up, and let’s get on out of here. If he gives you a hard time of it, shoot them both.”