Outlaw's Bride (37 page)

“Why?”

She remained silent, her feet gliding with his in light easy steps and her head bowed. Clint leaned forward, intending to press his lips to her bare neck, but caught himself at the last moment. This wasn't Mattie's parlor.

“Why haven't you waltzed with him?” Clint pressed.

She took a deep shuddering breath and Clint instinctively tightened his hold on her.

“I swore I'd never waltz with a man again after my husband was killed.” She finally lifted her head to meet his gaze. “He promised he'd waltz with me until we were old and gray.” Her eyes glistened. “He lied.”

Clint's mind struggled to put sense to her words. “But you asked me to waltz that night.”

“It was for just one night and I knew that.” She paused, then added quietly, “At least that's what I believed.”

“No promises,” he whispered, his heart thundering in his chest.

She nodded, her dark hair tickling his nose. “If a promise isn't made, it can't be broken.”

That's why she understood his promise to his late wife so well, and that's why she hadn't asked him to stay with her. It wasn't because she didn't love him—of that he was certain.

His breath faltered and his heart threatened to leap from his chest. He suddenly knew what he had to do.

He tightened his arms around her. “I love you, Mattie St. Clair.”

M
attie stumbled and Clint's strong arms caught her, pulling her flush against his body. She could feel his arousal pressing into her belly, just as she had that night…. Her throat tightened and she searched for the courage to look into his face.

Her gaze latched on to his string tie and she valiantly moved her scrutiny upward, to his firm chin and angular jaw, his sensuous lips, his straight aquiline nose, and finally his startling green eyes.

The truth blazed from the depths of his soul—she could read it in those eyes that had captured her from the moment she'd met him. Clint Beaudry loved her.

The air was suddenly too hot, too heavy. “Outside,” she gasped.

His expression concerned, Clint took her arm and guided her through the crowd to a side door. The cool, fresh air stung her face and chased away the swirling nausea. She leaned against the building, tilting her head back to drink in deep draughts of the night air. Her dizziness receded, but she remained staring upward at the stars.

Now what? Clint loved her and she believed him. So why did her own declaration stick in her throat?

“Mattie,” Clint said quietly. “Are you all right?”

His warm breath fanned across her cooling cheek, but it was the concern in his voice that sent a shiver of desire through her. “I'm fine,” she replied. She finally lowered her gaze to meet his anxious features. “The air just got a little close in there.”

His creased brow smoothed and he smiled boyishly. “That probably wasn't the best place to tell you, but I knew I wouldn't get another chance.” He grew somber once more. “Do you love him, Mattie?”

His steady gaze unsettled her. If she told him the truth, she'd be breaking her word to Kevin. Startled, she realized that although Clint had said he loved her, he hadn't mentioned the vow that had taken him away from her.

“What about your wife's murderer?” she asked, keeping her voice steady as her insides trembled.

The flash of guilt across his face betrayed him. He had no intention of abandoning his quest. Tears burned, but she held them back. Though they loved one another, they couldn't be together until Clint had erased his debt.

Nothing had changed.

“I'm marrying him,” Mattie said. “I gave him
my
word.”

Clint clasped her upper arms as desperation clouded his eyes. “You don't love him. You love me.”

She wished she could lie and deny his words, but it didn't matter. He knew. “Love isn't enough this time.”

“The hell it isn't,” Clint said through thinned lips. “Marry me, Mattie.”

“When?”

“As soon as I track down Emily's killer, I'll come back and we'll have the biggest wedding Green Valley ever saw,” Clint said.

She wanted nothing more than to say yes, but there were too many obligations and uncertainties. Mainly the possibility of his death.

Mattie shook her head, misery clutching her heart with sharp talons. “I won't wait for a man who may never return, always wondering if you were dead or alive. I can't do that. Kevin is safe, dependable.”

“You sound like you're buying a damned horse,” Clint said disgustedly. He released her and held out his hands. “I'd be a good father to Andy, and a damned good husband to you. I promise I'll come back to you.”

“No,” she shouted, panic clawing up her throat. “Don't you dare make a promise you can't keep.”

He drew back, startled by her outburst. “What if I do everything in my power to stay alive and come back?”

Mattie shook her head, which had begun to pound. “Don't, Clint. It doesn't change anything.”

He studied her a long moment and Mattie wondered if he could see the wild flutter of her heart. “You promised Kevin you'd marry him,” he said softly. “And Mattie St. Clair would rather die than break a promise.”

That was only part of it, but Clint couldn't know the rest—the most important part. She'd given her word so her child could have a father and a name. “That's right.”

He shrugged tiredly, as if exhaustion abruptly took hold of him. Mattie had never seen him look so … so helpless, and she lifted a trembling hand to rest on his sleeve. Her body hummed with awareness. No man had ever made her feel so alive.

“I'm sorry, Clint. It's just that…” How did she explain something that had been with her since she'd been Andy's age? The fear and the betrayal…. “My parents promised they'd never leave me, then they died when I was eight years old and I was placed in the children's home. When I was sixteen, Jason St. Clair promised he'd waltz with me until we were old and gray, then he got himself killed.” Tears burned her eyes as unexpected rage surged through her veins and her hands fisted at her sides. “I am sick to death of people I love breaking their word. I won't make the same mistake with you.”

His eyes widened at the same moment she realized she'd inadvertently told him she loved him. She pushed away from the wall to dash back into the hall, but Clint caught her shoulders. Realizing it was fruitless to try to escape, she stood motionless, staring down at his boots.

“Dammit, Mattie, you can't marry him if you love me,” he said.

His voice trembled and Mattie could feel the waves of frustration rolling off his powerful body. His fingers clutched her arms, holding her so close that the tips of her breasts brushed his shirt, a reminder of something else—something infinitely bittersweet.

She hated this inability to curb her body's reaction to him, the subtle shift of the air between them to something alive and vibrant. She would always have a part of him in the child she carried, but that, too, would be a poignant reminder of the gunslinger who had given her a taste of love—the true love her parents had shared.

Guilt preyed upon her conscience—and soul—as she desperately wished she could tell him of his child. But she had her own promise to keep, even it meant losing the only man she'd ever truly loved.

Raising her head, she met Clint's despairing eyes. Her resolve wavered, then steadied. “Kevin will be a good husband and I'll be able to work at his side, helping him with his practice. You have your own life.” She smiled, her lips quivering. “I'm only glad we had what time we did together. Remember”—she paused, her vision blurring—“no regrets.”

For a moment, Mattie thought he'd continue the fight, but then his eyes shuttered and he nodded in resignation. Releasing her, he took a step back.

He laughed bitterly. “When I first met you, I figured you for a woman who would demand a wedding for what we did. Instead,
I'm
the one trying to talk you into getting married. Who would've figured?”

Mattie flattened her hand on Clint's chest and she could feel the thudding of his heart beneath her palm. “You know I'm right,” she whispered.

He stared into her eyes intently, as if trying to memorize what lay within them. Then he wrapped his fingers around her wrist and lifted her hand from his chest to press his lips to the center of her palm. The soft brush of his mouth against her sensitive skin wobbled her knees.

Mattie's throat grew thick and tight as she struggled against a new onslaught of those damn tears. It was time to leave.

Without another word, Mattie spun around and plunged back into the dance hall, bumping into a body as she came through the doorway.

“I—I'm sorry.” Mattie glanced up to see Kevin's worried countenance.

“Are you all right?” he asked tenderly.

Unable to trust her voice, she nodded.

“Maybe I should take you home. You look pale,” he said.

“That's a good idea,” Mattie said too eagerly. “My stomach is queasy.”

Kevin gathered their coats, then helped Mattie into hers. After a whirl of good-nights, Kevin led her to his buggy and helped her up. She clasped her hands tightly in her lap as he climbed up on the other side.

Kevin slapped the reins lightly against the horse's rump, then glanced at Mattie. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Yes.” She couldn't manage more than a one-word answer.

“I noticed Beaudry was gone the same time you were.”

Indignation sparked her temper. “Why don't you just ask me straight out?”

“Ask what?”

“If I let Clint kiss me? If I told him about the baby?” The words came out sharp and cutting, and she wished she could retract them, but the evening had frayed her already tattered nerves.

Kevin stiffened beside her and his lips pressed together. He remained ominously silent.

Mattie's apology stuck in her throat. It wasn't that she wanted to hurt Kevin, but the unfairness of everything made being polite difficult.

The night was clear, the stars crisp, and the air rich with the tang of autumn. A perfect evening, except Mattie couldn't enjoy it. The
clop-clop
of the horse's hooves punctuated the pounding in her temples.

“I know you wouldn't do those things, Mattie,” Kevin finally said. He smiled, but it was oddly bleak. “You have integrity, more than even I had suspected.”

She blinked and turned to look at his profile, cast in the quarter moon's pale shadows. Something was bothering him. Was he having second thoughts about marrying her?

He guided the horse into Mattie's yard, pulled the hand brake, and tied the leather reins to it. “I want to thank you for a nice evening, Mattie.”

His awkward, formal tone didn't bode well.

“What's wrong?” she asked.

“I'll come by tomorrow and we'll talk.”

“But—”

“Tomorrow. We're both tired tonight.”

Kevin hopped down from the buggy, then assisted Mattie to the ground. He walked her to the porch and stopped in front of the door. “I had a good time tonight, Mattie.”

She swallowed hard. They'd only spent an hour together, then she'd disappeared with Clint. “I did, too.” Her palms dampened from the lie.

He leaned over and brushed a kiss across her forehead, like a father would do with a daughter, rather than a man would do with his fiancée. His lips were dry and stiff.

“Good night, Mattie.”

“Good night.”

She watched him leave, a heavy anvil across her chest. So much had happened tonight, more than she had hoped for, but more than she could ever realize. Her mind foggy, she entered the house and hung her coat on a hook. She half expected Herman and Andy to be playing checkers in the parlor.

Instead, she spotted a strange man sitting in a wing chair and her hand flew to her mouth. It took a second to recognize Pete Layton.