Maureen McKade (29 page)

“You done a good job of it.”

Libby’s breathing slowed, and she kept a watchful eye on Matt—he had an idea. She wished she could read his mind. His coat was open and his ever-present holster lay against his thigh. If he could reach his gun before the outlaw shot him, he’d have a chance. But with the barrel against her temple, Matt wouldn’t try anything. He’d have to wait until the man moved his weapon.

“Jimmy was my only kin,” he said. “Now I got no one. You have any idea what that’s like?”

Matt nodded. “More’n I care to admit. You aren’t the only one to have lost family.”

Regret flickered across his granite features and Libby’s vision blurred. She recognized his pain and the realization he may not have time to amend his past.

The thief shifted and Libby sidled a glance at him. His nostrils flared and his face contorted with rage.

“But Jimmy’s dead because of you.”

He raised the gun and Libby reacted. She pushed out of her chair, her shoulder striking his arm. An explosion sounded close to her ear and he flung her aside like an old saddle. She collided with the wall, her head cracking against the wood. As darkness danced in her peripheral vision, she slumped to the floor. Vaguely aware that gunshots echoed in the close confines, Libby’s fear for Matt overwhelmed all other thoughts. She struggled to stand, but her legs refused to obey her command.

“Libby, are you all right?”

She focused on Matt’s familiar face and blinked. Was he real? Or had her heartsickening fear conjured him up? He eased her forward and she leaned against his solid, reassuring chest as he removed the nauseating gag.

“Matt?” Libby didn’t recognize her weak voice. He freed her hands and she touched Matt’s angular jaw. “Thank God you’re all right. I thought …”

Tenderly, he curved his large palm around her cheek and gazed down into her eyes. “I thought his first shot hit you.”

“And I thought he killed you.” Libby’s reserve crumpled, and she wrapped her arms around him. Burrowing her face into the crook of his neck, Libby trembled uncontrollably. She tightened her hold, afraid to release him and find she’d only imagined him. The scent of bay rum and wool surrounded her, and Matt’s secure embrace slowly dissipated her paralyzing panic.

“Shhh, everything will be all right,” Matt crooned softly.

His muscular body sent waves of awareness coursing through Libby’s veins. She tilted her head back, her gaze colliding with eyes the color of sunlit whiskey.

He brushed an auburn curl behind her ear. “I’m sorry, Libby. I almost got you killed.”

Did she tell him the situation could have easily been reversed? She shook her head and flattened her hand against his buttoned vest. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened, Matt.”

He trembled beneath her touch. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if he’d shot you.”

Desperation clouded his rugged features, and he crushed her to him. Capturing her lips with his, Matt branded her with a searing kiss. Libby clung to him. Exhilaration filled her and fed the banked fire within
her. Her blood thundered in her veins, obliterating everything but the feel of him. The taste of him. The sight of him. The need of him.

Heedlessly, she’d stumbled into the tender trap.

She loved him.

Chapter 15

M
att released her and drew a shaky breath. “I’ll clean this mess up.”

Libby shuddered. “Is he dead?”

“I think so.”

“We should make sure.”

Matt stood and pulled Libby to her feet. “I’ll check.”

She shook her head and smiled wanly. “I’m the daughter of a doctor. It won’t bother me.”

He studied her a moment and nodded. Taking her hand, he led her to the figure lying in front of the desk. Blood pooled beneath the outlaw’s head. Matt squatted down beside the outlaw’s still form.

Libby stared at the darkening stain. In her mind, the wood floor became marble and the rivulet scarlet.

Dear God, what if Harrison had been alive? She was a doctor, and she hadn’t even examined Harrison! Libby refused to consider the possibility. She’d struck him a powerful blow. She’d killed him accidentally, and she hoped he hadn’t suffered before dying.

Matt straightened stiffly. “He’s gone. Go back to your room and stay there. I’ll take care of him.”

Libby clung to Matt. “You’re coming back, aren’t you?”

He kissed her forehead softly. “I’ll be back.”

Libby stumbled into her small quarters and sank into a chair. She ached to have Matt’s steadying presence beside her.

She’d thought she loved Harrison during his romantic courtship, but the depth of her feelings for Matt showed her how shallow the emotion had been. Dear, strong, honest Matt had captured her soul, giving her life where desolation had resided.

He’d cured her just as she’d healed him.

Would she be capable of physically loving him? She stood and crossed the short distance to the stove. She poured warm water from the kettle into a tin basin. Using her cupped hands, she sluiced water over her warm cheeks.

What if she froze like she’d done in the cellar? What if she remained frigid, unable to make love because of Harrison’s legacy? She’d disappoint Matt, and he’d shoulder the blame for her lack of passion. But what if the memories didn’t haunt her? She’d already allowed Matt liberties she never believed herself capable of giving, and his touches had enflamed her, carrying her to the threshold of heaven.

Could she afford to take the chance?

Could she afford not to?

“I’m back.”

Matt announced his return and Libby hastily dried her face and finger-combed her tangled hair.

He paused in the doorway and his worried gaze scrutinized her. “Are you all right? You’re awfully pale.”

Libby smiled. “Now that you’re back, I’ll be fine. Why don’t you take off your hat and coat while I warm up supper?”

Matt hung his duster from a wooden peg beside Libby’s cloak and, after a moment’s hesitation, removed his Stetson. Libby placed the skillet of potatoes and ham on the hot stove.

“Who was he, Matt?” she asked.

Matt crossed the room and stood by Libby. “He and his brother were the ones who robbed the bank before Thanksgiving. This one’s horse print matched the one I’d trailed. I found the stolen money in the saddlebag.”

“Mr. Pinkney will be happy. I’m just glad it’s all over,” Libby said with a shudder. “If you don’t mind setting the table, there’s plates and cups in the cupboard and silverware in the drawer.”

Matt found the dishes and placed them on the rough wood surface.

Libby’s gaze swept over Matt, noting the breadth of his shoulders beneath the brown vest and collar-band shirt. His pants hugged his hips and thighs and Libby swallowed nervously. While he’d had pneumonia, she’d seen every inch of his glorious male body, but she’d studied it through clinical eyes. Now the thought of his nakedness brought liquid heat to the juncture of her thighs. She could barely stand to look at him without touching him.

“You keep staring at me like that and I won’t be held responsible for my actions,” Matt commented huskily.

Libby’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. Flustered, she returned her attention to the pan. The potatoes and ham had burned at the bottom of the skillet, and she groaned.

“I know how those charred potatoes feel,” Matt whispered close to her ear.

His breath fanned across her neck and sent wonderful tingles shimmying down her spine. He encircled her waist, pulling her against his chest snugly. Libby’s heartbeat tripped erratically.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Libby asked breathlessly.

“Ravenous.” He nibbled her earlobe.

Libby shivered under the sensual assault. “Supper’s ready.”

“Good.” He trailed a scorching path down her neck and ended the quest with a lingering kiss in the hollow of her collarbone.

His hard arousal pressed against her buttocks, and Libby closed her eyes at the intimate contact. Dizzy from Matt’s onslaught of her senses, Libby floundered in the rising tide of passion.

Matt drew back and he breathed heavily. “I suppose we’d better eat.”

Still caught in the web of desire, Libby wondered which appetite he referred to. She hungered for more of the wonderful sensations he conjured with his light caresses. He stepped away, and reality intruded.

“Yes, I suppose we should,” she said faintly.

Trancelike, Libby set the skillet on the table and sat in the chair Matt held for her. He lowered himself in the seat beside her and grimaced.

“What’s wrong?” Libby asked with concern.

Matt grinned self-consciously. “Nothing a dip in a freezing stream won’t cure.”

Libby lowered her gaze. He wasn’t the only one who needed cooling off. She had no desire for food and used her fork to push the blackened supper about on her plate. Through lowered lashes, she noticed Matt didn’t do justice to his meal either.

Tension as thick as molasses seeped between them. She noticed Matt’s every movement. She imagined his calloused, gentle fingers tracing her face instead of holding a fork; his sensuous lips feeding on her breasts, instead of on well-done potatoes. The knowledge that she loved him only enhanced the yearning to be held within his secure arms.

“Did I ever tell you what I thought when I first saw you step off the stagecoach?” Matt asked softly.

Libby shook her head.

“I thought you had the prettiest eyes I’d ever seen. As green as new grass in the springtime.” He chuckled. “But you were so proper. I figured you must’ve
thought you landed in hell with the devil to greet you.”

“Not the devil. Only a cousin,” Libby teased.

He swept the back of his hand down her arm and Libby’s nipples hardened against the fabric of her chemise. “I still find it hard to believe a beautiful woman like you risked her reputation to care for someone like me.”

Libby clasped his forearm, and the heated skin beneath his linsey-woolsey shirt warmed her palm. “You shouldn’t. I never thought twice about the decision I made. You’re worth more than a hundred reputations.”

Matt’s eyes smoldered and he trailed his finger along her smooth jaw. “You always think of others before yourself. That’s one of the things I like about you.”

“Besides my green eyes?”

He smiled crookedly. “Your green eyes, your flaming hair, your stubborn independence, your compassion. I like everything about you.” He tipped her head up and kissed the slight dimple in the center of her chin. His expression sobered. “When I thought you’d been shot, all I could think of was that I’d never be able to see your beautiful face light up with a smile, or hold you in my arms. I don’t think I would’ve forgiven myself if you’d been killed because of me.”

“But I wasn’t,” Libby reminded firmly. “One of the first things I noticed about you is that you blame yourself for things beyond your control. You have broad shoulders, but you can’t take the responsibility of the whole world on them.”

“Not the world. Only you and Dylan.”

She blinked back unexpected tears at Matt’s words. She’d had no one to watch over her since her father and brother died. She cleared her throat before she could speak. “I’ll wash up the dishes, then we can get started on your lessons.”

She stood. Matt joined her, looping his arm around her waist. “I have a better idea. Why don’t I give the lessons tonight?”

Her stomach fluttered. “What kind of lessons?”

“Lessons like
n
as in nose.” He kissed the tip of hers.

A smile twitched Libby’s lips. “You’re a fast learner.”

She raised herself on her tiptoes and tickled his earlobe with her tongue.

“
H
for beautiful copper hair.” He untied the bow, and her curls tumbled down her back. He buried his hands in the flowing silk and gently tilted her face upward. “And
m
for sweet, tempting mouth.”

He brushed his lips across hers.

Libby sighed, drugged by the tender persuasiveness of Matt’s caress. Her entire universe centered on the magic Matt performed, turning her insides to thick syrup.

“And
c
for chest,” she said in a low, throaty voice. Using clumsy fingers, she unbuttoned his vest and swept an impatient hand inside his shirt.

Matt groaned and halted her exploration. “I’m only a man, Libby.”

She paused and looked up at him breathlessly. “I’ve never asked you to be more.”

“Yes you have. You want me to be a saint, but I can’t. I want you, Libby.” His beseeching gaze searched her eyes.

Unbearable yearning blossomed within Libby. She had never believed she could feel such quaking desire for a man, not after living with Harrison’s perversions. “Love me, Matt.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life,” she stated solemnly.

Matt reached past her and turned down the kerosene lamp, bathing the room in dim shadows. Removing
his holster, he draped the gun belt over a chair. Then he led her to the narrow bed, framed her face in his large hands, and slanted his mouth across hers.

Libby shivered with delight. She wondered if her heart would be able to endure the heavenly pleasure of Matt’s caresses. He skimmed his palm down her side, pausing on the fullness of her breast. Libby gasped and new waves of passion inundated her. His feathery touch followed her waist and curved downward over her buttocks. He pulled her against his arousal, and Libby instinctively rotated her hips across the hard flesh.

Matt grasped her rounded derriere and clenched his teeth. “Stop.”

Libby stilled immediately. Had she made him angry? “Did I hurt you?”

Matt chuckled hoarsely. “In a manner of speaking. You keep doing that, and I’m afraid this evening will end much earlier than I want it to.”

He wasn’t mad. Yet Libby felt woefully inadequate at the pleasures she’d recently discovered between a man and a woman, and her cheeks burned with humiliation. “Tell me what to do. I don’t want to do anything wrong.”

“You’re doing just fine, darlin’. It’s me. I don’t want to disappoint you.”

He didn’t want to let her down! Her heart sang. “You could never do that, Matt.”

She wanted to confess her newfound love but felt the time wasn’t right. She slid her fingers through the curly mat on his chest and reveled in the joy of merely touching him.

He burrowed his hands beneath Libby’s hair and found the top button of her blouse. With trembling fingers, he unbuttoned the back of the shirtwaist and peeled the material forward. Libby withdrew her arms from the long sleeves, and the top hung from her waist. Matt weighed her breasts in his palms and
Libby shuddered. He lowered his head and laved her pebbled nipples, moistening the thin chemise covering her bosom.

Keeping her fullness cupped in his hands, he whispered in her ear, “Take off your clothes, Libby.”

Remove your clothes, Elizabeth.

Harrison’s commanding voice echoed in her mind, and she froze.

The heat of desire disappeared, replaced by the barrenness of winter. In her mind, her tyrant husband strolled around her, cruelly pinching a breast, then a buttock. He’d violated her womanhood with vicious fingers. She’d clamped her lips together and refused to cry out. He brought out the narrow leather belt and wielded the strap across her unprotected back until she could no longer stifle her sobs.

Libby pushed Matt away. “Oh God!”

She jerked her blouse on and awkwardly fastened a few of the buttons.

Confused, he stared into her haunted eyes. “You’re bound to be scared, but I swear, I’d never hurt you.”

Fear paled Libby’s face, and Matt wanted to comfort her. He reached for her, but she stepped back. His own raging needs had made him forget she was a virgin. He cared too much for her to force himself upon her. Matt wanted her first time to be a special gift from him.

“It’s all right, Libby. We can just sit on the bed and I’ll hold you. I’ll ask nothing else of you,” Matt soothed.

Her apprehension faded but didn’t disappear completely. “You promise?”

Matt nodded. “I promise.”

He lowered himself to the narrow bed and leaned against the wall. Libby eyed him nervously and perched on the edge of the straw mattress.

“I won’t bite,” he teased gently.

The words, meant to be lighthearted, only reminded
Libby again of the ugliness of her past experiences. Apprehensively, she eased back, but kept her spine ramrod straight. “I’m sorry, Matt. I thought I could go through with it.”

“I understand. It’s your first time and all.”

She glanced down at her clenched hands in her lap. “No—I was raped.”

Matt’s breath caught in his throat, and deadly rage filled him. “When?”

“Before I came to Deer Creek.”

He pondered her shocking confession, remembering the instances when she’d reacted violently to his touch. He hadn’t even considered the ugly possibility. He covered her fists with his hand. “I’m sorry. I wish you would’ve told me earlier.”

“It’s not something I like to talk about.”

He whispered a kiss across her knuckles. “I don’t blame you. While I was a Ranger, a woman came to me and told me she’d been assaulted by a man. I believed her, but nobody else did. Most folks figured the lady asked for it.”

Libby nodded. “That’s why I’ve never told anyone before. I truly believed I could forget about it.”

Matt wanted to find the man responsible for the shadows in her desolate eyes, and tear him apart limb by limb. He kept his voice steady. “It’s not that easy, is it?”