Mountain Wild (Harlequin Historical Series) (20 page)

Stubborn and beautiful as ever.

“How’s Boots?” she asked.

“As spoiled as his master by the looks of it.”

She smiled and he moved closer, drawn by the ease in her stance, the sparkling in her deep blue eyes.

“Did you enjoy your bath?”

“Yes. I must have been in that big tub for near an hour.”

Breathing deeply, he closed the last bit of distance between them. “I love the scent of your soap.” He lifted a sleek ebony lock from her shoulder and touched the damp hair to his lips. “It haunts me.”

She eased back, her expression startled.

“I can’t see a wildflower without thinking of you, and these hills are full of spring flowers.”

Her answering smile broke the last of his restraint. He leaned in and she rose up as though meeting his kiss was a natural response. Desire flared as she clung to him, kissing him with equal passion. He slid his hands down her back, pressing her against the solid proof of the fire building inside him. He rocked his hips and her breath caught.

“Another effect you have on me.”

“Nice to know all of you isn’t broken.” She kissed his neck.

He groaned against the pounding surge in his blood. He was sure he’d never been so familiar with any woman, and yet she surprised him at every turn. He’d sworn he wouldn’t chase another woman—and he wouldn’t. But he damn sure didn’t plan to make it easy for her to walk away from him. He lifted her into his arms and started for the stairs.

“Garret! Your shoulder!”

“You bes’ hold still until I get you up to bed.”

Maggie tightened her hold as he started up the stairs, afraid she’d jostle his injury. “Who says I’m ready for bed?”

“I do. I have a mind to love you, Magpie.”

Maggie’s heart skittered as he carried her into the darkened bedroom. He sat her on the soft mattress. Moonlight poured in the through the second-story window, painting a milky glow across the bed, illuminating the lace canopy. Instead of reaching for the lamp, he reached for her shirt, undoing the button beneath her collar. His longs fingers pulled the bottom from her waistband while his eyes looked deep into hers. His eyes were a shine of colorless glimmer, his hair a glow of white while his body was cast in shadow outlined by silvery moonlight.

“Any objections?” he asked.

Objections?
Anticipation sizzled beneath her skin, evaporating her breath. How she’d longed to be loved by him again. Realizing he waited for her response, she shook her head.

The warmth of his hands slid beneath her shirt and moved caressingly up her waist, stealing her thoughts as his gentle fingers found her breasts. He laid her back, every slow reveal of skin followed by the caress of his lips, his tongue, his teeth.

There was nothing hesitant in his lovemaking. He brought her shattering release again and again only to rebuild her passion until she was trembling, wild, frantic for their joining.

M
aggie sat up in a tangle of bed linens. Disoriented and blinded by sunlight, she blinked up at an ivory canopy and instantly knew where she was.

Garret’s bed.

“It’s just the men.” His sleepy voice came from the ripple of blankets beside her. It was voices in the yard that had woken her. Garret’s arm snaked out from the covers and hauled her back down into the warm softness.

His lips found her neck and she snuggled against him, wishing she could stay here beneath this canopy forever.

“Good morning,” he murmured against her skin.

“Mmm.” She stretched, loving the feel of his body pressed to hers.

Garret eased back and smiled down at her. “I told you passion was the best medicine.”

There’d been a few times last night when she knew his movement caused him a combination of pleasure and pain. She reached up, touching the cut near his eyebrow. The swelling was gone but his handsome face still bore a number of bruises.

“Am I healed?”

“A little more yellow today.” She brushed her lips over a bruise on his chest. “How do you feel?”

“You tell me.” He settled more firmly over her, hot and hard against her hip, the coarse hair of his chest tantalizing her sensitive breasts. “How do I feel?”

Maggie slid her arms around his strong back.
“Wonderful.”

“That’s a good start.” It felt more than wonderful to wake with her at his side, her skin pressed to his—it felt right. He kissed her neck and Maggie trembled beneath him. She tilted her head, giving him better access as he followed the curve to her shoulder. He eased farther down, one destination in mind.

A door slammed downstairs and Maggie shot up.

“Garret?” his sister’s voice called out.

Maggie’s wide gaze locked with his.

“My sister,” he whispered.

A blanket slapped him in the face as Maggie pushed him away and flew out of bed.

“Garret?” Skylar called again, this time from the base of the stairs.

Maggie clutched a pile of clothes to her bare chest, her eyes frantic.
“Do something!”
she whispered.

“I’ll be right down, sis,” he called out as he strode to the door. “Can you start some coffee?”

“Okay. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

He shut the door and turned to find Maggie hastily buttoning herself into his shirt. Her expression thunderous, she struggled to stuff the long shirttails into her buckskin britches.

“Stop smiling,” she snapped. “And put your clothes on.”

“I would, sweetheart,” he said, walking toward her, “but you’re wearing my shirt.”

She glanced down and her cheeks turned scarlet.

Garret grabbed her shirt up from the foot of the bed, tossed it over his shoulder and reached for the bottom of his. “Calm
down,” he said, kissing her forehead before lifting the ivory cotton away from her soft skin. Her arms covered her breasts as he pulled her shirt into place. She turned away from him to shove her arms into the sleeves and tuck in the bottom.

“I shouldn’t be in your bed.” She snatched up her boots. “I shouldn’t be in this house.”

Garret fastened his Levi’s. “I wouldn’t want any other woman in my bed or my house.”

She looked up from lacing her boot, her eyes a shimmer of moisture before she turned back to her task.

When he was dressed but for the boots he’d left at the back door, Maggie stood near the window. Fully clothed, her arms crossed over her chest, her turbulent gaze was on the rise of mountains in the distance. If she truly had wings, he knew she’d be shoving up the windowpane and taking flight. He moved in behind her and encircled her in his arms.

“Ready to meet my sister?”

A blush stained her cheeks as she looked up at him. “I’ll just wait here until she leaves.”

“There’s nothing inappropriate about you being here. I’m sure Tucker told her you stayed to look after me.”

“I’m not so far removed from proper society to know that spending the night in your bed goes way beyond inappropriate.”

“She doesn’t know that you’ve been in my bed.”

“But I do!”
She pulled away from him. “I’ll wait here.”

He wouldn’t have her hide up here, embarrassed and ashamed. “It would be rude to not come and say hello.”

“I
am
rude.”

“You can be, sweetheart, but we both know you’re twice as kind. I wouldn’t have you in my bed if you were some temporary fancy. I’d like to introduce you to Skylar.”

He took her hands in his and drew them to his lips. Maggie nearly winced. When he looked at her that way, her resolve turned to mush and she doubted she could refuse him anything.

“Come meet my sister. You’ll like her. I know you will.”

“Won’t matter if I like her or not,” she said, grasping at the remaining shreds of her temper.

“It matters to me. I’ll be the perfect gentleman, well…as close to a gentleman as this dusty cowpuncher can manage,” he said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. For the first time she sensed his easy grin was a mask.

Not since her father had she known such a gentle, considerate man, and her father had been the perfect gentleman.

Garret’s fingers laced with hers and Maggie didn’t resist as he led her from the room. Despite Garret’s confidence in his sister, she doubted any woman would be pleased by her brother entertaining the likes of Mad Mag.

As they neared the kitchen, the sounds of activity at the stove made Maggie’s stomach flop something awful. Her breath stalled as she spotted the tall woman setting coffee mugs on a tray. Even from the side-view, she could see that Garret’s sister was strikingly pretty, and nearly as tall as Garret. Her long blond hair had a yellow tinge that Garret’s lacked and was tied back at her nape with a white ribbon. A floppy hat hung from the chinstrap and rested on the back of her brown canvas coat. As they drew closer Maggie’s eyes widened at the full sight of her. Beneath her coat she wore denim britches.

“Morning, Skylar.”

Maggie hung back in the doorway as the woman turned. Skylar’s blue eyes widened with shock and horror at the sight of her brother, reminding Maggie of the blackened eyes and bruising she’d gotten used to seeing.

“Oh, Garret.”

“It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“I doubt that.”

His arm slid around Maggie’s shoulders and dragged her forward.

“Oh!” his sister said. “Hello.”

“Maggie, this is my sister, Skylar Morgan.”

Skylar’s smile was as bright as her brother’s.

“Good morning,” Maggie managed to say, while resisting the urge to ram her elbow into Garret’s bruised ribs for making her come downstairs.

“Skylar, this is
Margaret Grace.
”

His formal introduction took Maggie by surprise. The pride in his voice made her chest ache and her eyes burn.

“I’m so glad to finally meet you.” Skylar rushed forward and took her hand. “I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done.”

“I haven’t done much.”

“Nothing but save my life,” Garret said in a droll tone.

Skylar released her hand to inspect Garret’s bruised face, lifting his hair for a close view at the gash near his eyes. “You look like you’ve seen the underside of a stampede.”

“Honestly, sis, I’m on the mend.”

“Bruises tend to darken as they heal,” Maggie said, tucking her hands beneath her crossed arms while discreetly easing out of Garret’s embrace. “He was hardly recognizable a couple of nights ago.”

“And your shoulder?”

“Better every day.” He shifted his shoulder, but his eyes revealed the stiffness in the joint.

“We’ve brought Mr. Patterson,” Skylar said, a firmness seizing her expression.

“My attorney,” Garret said to Maggie.

“He and Tucker are taking care of the horses. He was anxious to come. I’m hoping he has some news you can use.”

“Will he know who attacked you?” Maggie asked.

“That’s what we’ll be discussing.” Garret hoped Skylar would bite her tongue if Tucker had filled her in on Strafford’s involvement. He preferred to take care of him without involving Maggie. “If you’re here, Cora must have had her baby.”

“A boy,” Skylar said.

“About time I got another nephew. Poor Josh has been on his own with eight little girls. What’d they name him?”

“Tucker James. They’re going to call him TJ so as not to confuse him with his proud uncle.”

Maggie watched their shared smiles, sensed the affection and joy shared between them and felt a sudden sting of tears. She tried to steel herself against the unexpected burst of emotion.

What’s wrong with me?
she silently scolded. She knew his family was important to him.
As they should be,
she told herself. Most brothers didn’t try to kill their sisters. And she doubted the men on this ranch would have stood idly by had he tried.

“How’s the rest of the wild bunch?”

Skylar handed him a cup of coffee, her gaze sympathetic. “Far better than their uncle. And missing him, as well.”

“Things have been…
hectic.
”

“Maggie?” Skylar said, holding out another cup of coffee.

Struggling with a tangle of nerves, her stomach roiled. “No, thank you. I should go check on Boots.”

The concern in Garret’s eyes told her she wasn’t hiding her distress.

“It was really nice meeting you, Mrs. Morgan,” she added, forcing a smile.

“Please, call me Skylar. I hope we’ll have a chance to visit more.” She picked up the tray of coffee and cups. “I’ll be waiting in the study.”

“I’ll be right there,” Garret told her, his gaze on Maggie. “Well?” he said when they were alone.

She didn’t know what he was expecting. “She’s nice.”

“So are you.” He pulled her close and the next thing Maggie knew she was clinging to him, kissing him with a passion he evoked in her so effortlessly. When he released her, it took a moment to catch her breath.

“
That
is exactly why I need to get going,” she said accusingly.

“I think you’ve got that backward, honey,” he said, looking rather smug and positively edible as he leaned against the table.

“I can’t stay, Garret.”

“Have I asked you to stay?”

The realization that he
hadn’t
felt like a blow.

“I know it hurts you to be here, and I wish to God it didn’t. You’re free to stay or leave, I’m not setting any trapdoors. I’d like you to at least stick around until I find out what my attorney’s found out. Can you do that?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” He kissed her lightly on the lips before turning away. “I’ll be back.”

Watching him walk from the kitchen, she felt drawn in a hundred different directions. She wanted Garret but she didn’t belong here. With Nathan in the area, she’d never be safe. She couldn’t lose another home, another person she loved.

Needing fresh air, she turned and hurried out the back door. Her gaze landed on the longhouse across the yard. She needed to look in on Boots. As she reached the steps of the bunkhouse Tucker’s voice carried through the open door.

“…threatened to frame him for rustling if he didn’t tell them where to find Maggie.”

Hair prickled on the back of Maggie’s neck. Garret hadn’t told her any such thing.

“Strafford’s man admitted to killing Duce, thinkin’ he was holding out on how to find Maggie.”

Nathan?
Shock and rage slammed through her. He’d attacked Garret because of
her—
and Garret hadn’t told her.

“Garret wants to keep it hush until he figures out an approach. He knows he can’t just ride in and shoot the mayor of Bitterroot Springs without earning a noose. I’m sure he’s tryin’ to figure out how to go after Strafford while keeping within the law and his woman safe. By what his attorney’s told me, Strafford has a knack for bending the law to his will.”

“If Strafford’s the one who got a hold on Garret’s cattle brand,” said Mitch, “Garret better act fast. If he’s charged with cattle rustling—”

Maggie took a sliding step back, her heart raging as she rushed to the house. She knew just how crafty her brother could be.

Garret should have told me.

He couldn’t ride in and shoot the mayor of Bitterroot Springs,
but she could.

“She’s a lot younger than I’d thought.” Skylar smiled over a cup of coffee as she eased back in the striped armchair in his study.

“Yeah.”

“And pretty,” she added.

Garret grinned, knowing he didn’t have to voice his agreement for his sister to see it.

“She’s created quite a stir on our ranch. Ten of our workers lined up this morning, willing to ride over with us.”

Garret tensed at the thought.

“I imagine most folks have never seen her up close. Chance’s hostile reaction likely cooled their interest. I imagine she’s not too comfortable being surrounded by curious onlookers.”

“No, she’s not.” With just the two of them in the house it was easy to forget all that it cost her to stay with him, the fear she’d set aside to help him. She’d worked hard to keep herself hidden away from everyone.

Footsteps sounded in the hall before Tucker walked into the study. Jim Patterson trailed behind him. The man’s slight build and tailored wool suit didn’t hint at the aggressive man he knew the investigative attorney to be. Garret had sought him out after reading a newspaper article on the man’s
success and belief in thoroughly investigating plaintiffs and clients.

He stood and offered his hand to both men in greeting. “Tuck. Patterson.”

“You look a world better than the last time I saw you,” said Tucker.

“That’s hard to believe,” said Patterson, his slender hand giving a firm shake.

“I feel a world better.”

“Shoulder functioning okay?” asked Tucker.

“It’s getting there, thanks to Maggie. Have a seat.” He motioned to the chairs Skylar had arranged around a low table holding the tray of coffee and mugs. “Patterson, Skylar tells me you’ve uncovered a good deal of information on Strafford.”

“I have indeed.” He sat across from him and removed his hat, revealing dark hair slicked back across his scalp. “I can’t say I’m surprised Nathan Strafford is involved in all this. Of all the new ranchers in the area his property has expanded with the most notable speed. I haven’t been able to connect him to Duce’s death, but nearly all of those titles passed ownership following some sort of violence on the seller’s end.” He opened the valise on his lap and pulled out a fat folder. “His father was a former senator of Connecticut before coming to Wyoming. It would seem his son shares his political ambitions.”