Rosanne Bittner (11 page)

Maggie nervously drank her coffee, feeling groggy and disoriented. She had a vague memory of blurting out that she loved Sage. Had she really said that? Did he hear and remember?

The terror of an arrow in her leg and the fear Sage would die had got the better of her, but she knew deep inside that she meant what she’d said, even though it was too soon to be thinking such things, let alone saying them out loud. What in God’s name was Sage thinking right now?

She ached with indecision, then grabbed the laudanum and took a swallow, hoping it would numb the renewed pain in her leg. Maybe it would even give her more courage. By the time Sage finally returned, her coffee was gone, and she was uncomfortable sitting against the wall.

Sage said nothing as he plopped an armload of supplies on the floor and tossed her one of the extra shirts from her gear. He proceeded to put together an old rusted tripod perched near the fireplace, while Maggie quickly pulled on the shirt before he might glance her way again. She wondered if his gaze had lingered on her nakedness while she was passed out.

Sage set the tripod over the fire and hung a small pot from it, then took a wicked-looking knife from his back pocket and used it to slice open a can of beans.

Maggie watched silently, wary of the fact that Sage, in turn, was awfully quiet. He dumped the beans into the pot, then went back to the supplies and pried the lid off the small barrel that held bacon packed in lard. He used a large spoon to dig out some bacon and added it to the beans, lard and all.

“All this fat will help you keep warm and give you energy to heal,” he said casually, stirring the concoction until the lard melted into the beans. He knocked the residue off the spoon and set it on a flat stone beside the fireplace. “Want any more coffee?” he asked.

“No, thanks.”

Sage grabbed a towel from one of his saddlebags and used it to grasp the handle of the porcelain coffeepot he’d left near the base of the fire. He poured himself a cup of brew, then set the pot aside, pulled the one and only chair in the cabin closer, and sat down. He leaned back and let his long legs sprawl in front of the chair, almost to the point of touching Maggie’s feet. His dark eyes met her gaze.

Maggie would have given her right arm to be able to read his thoughts.

“You’re still a pretty fresh widow,” he spoke up.

Why on earth did he say that? Maggie felt confused, not sure how to reply. Men like Sage Lightfoot were damn hard to figure. She swallowed before answering. “Well, I guess I’m not the typical widow, seeing as how my marriage was arranged and didn’t have anything to do with love.” She dared to meet his gaze. “I think maybe you’re remembering something I said when I was hurt.” She took a deep breath. “I’ll say it out for you, Sage. I said I love you.” She looked away. “I expect that’s something a man like you doesn’t want to hear, what with you still upset over a bad marriage, and us not knowing each other all that long. I know you don’t have such feelings in return, but… well… I guess I pretty much meant it. If not for the pain, I wouldn’t have said it this soon… maybe not at all, but when I thought you might die, and me in all that pain… the words just came out. I didn’t mean to burden you with such feelings.”

Sage struck a match and lit his cigarette. “Burden me?”

Maggie shrugged. “Lord knows I’ve piled enough troubles on your shoulders without you wondering what to do about… you know… personal feelings.”

Sage studied her intently. “You’re a beautiful young woman, Maggie, and traveling together like we have, it’s hard not to care, but it’s also hard to know your real feelings when you become so dependant on each other.” He drank more coffee. “Sometimes that closeness can be mistaken for something else.”

Maggie nodded. “Yes, sir, I expect so, but maybe I could sort out my own feelings better if I knew more about you and your past. You keep refusing to talk about it.”

“Yeah, well, the truth can really hurt sometimes—and I’m talking about the teller, not the listener.”

Maggie saw sorrow in his eyes. “I just want to understand you.”

“For now, just understand this. I’m not real eager to get mixed up with any woman. When you’re stronger, I’ll explain more.”

Maggie frowned. “I’m sorry somebody hurt you so bad that you don’t ever want to care again. Seeing that beautiful house you must have built for the woman called Joanna makes it hard to understand why she would give all that up.”

He smoked quietly. “It wasn’t enough for her.” He got up and stirred the beans and bacon, then scooped some onto a tin plate and handed it to her with a spoon. “Eat. It will make you stronger.”

“Thank you.” Maggie took the plate and ate as much as she could handle, while an awkward silence hung in the air. God knew she dared not complicate things even more by telling Sage she was carrying.

It was growing dark outside, and Maggie heard the distant howl of a wolf somewhere in the hills. She thought she also detected a rumble of thunder. She finished most of her beans and set the plate aside, feeling uncomfortably exposed now that he knew she felt something more for him than a partnership formed out of a need for revenge. Anything more would bring a whole new perspective to their situation, yet she’d grown accustomed to his protection and strength, and from all she’d seen back at his ranch, this man truly could care if he’d let himself. He’d been so gentle with her after she was hurt, so respectful when he took her to the privy, so caring and patient. On top of that, his very physique was hard to ignore. He was boldly handsome, arms whipcord strong, a rugged jawline and dark, moody eyes. She swallowed for courage and decided to get a conversation going again. “In a way, you’re lucky, Sage, having loved a woman so much that it hurts to talk about her. I wouldn’t know what it’s like to be loved like that. I guess we’ve both had a hard life.”

He shook his head. “You aren’t part Indian. That doubles the hardship.”

Maggie shrugged. “I have to admit that when I first met you I was pretty sure you were part Indian, but it only bothered me because coming from Missouri—what did I know about Indians? I only knew the things I read a time or two in the papers… always bad stuff. I wondered if you might get mad at me and scalp me, or something. But when you took care of camp, and you kept your promise not to look when I washed in that stream… I knew you were good at heart.”

To Maggie’s surprise, he chuckled. “You thought I might scalp you?”

Lord, you’re handsome when you smile.
“Well, I do have red hair.”

He laughed harder. “Jesus, Maggie, you say the damnedest things sometimes.” He walked over and leaned down. “You’d better get some rest. We’ll be here two or three days, until we’re sure you don’t get an infection, and you’re able to ride. There’s plenty of time to talk about things and sort out feelings.”

Maggie reached up to hold on to his arms as he helped scoot her all the way to the floor again. He met her gaze, and for a moment, it was all there. Maggie could see he wanted her… but he’d been hurt like no good man ought to be hurt. She couldn’t resist wanting to comfort him… or resist her own sudden desire to know what it was like to
want
to be with a man. Acting on impulse, she caught his mouth with hers. His lips were full and soft and gentle, and for a brief moment, his own kiss became more demanding.

Suddenly, Sage pulled away. He reached over and positioned the only two pillows they’d brought under her head. “Go to sleep. The faster you heal, the sooner we can get going again.” He stood. “You’re walking dangerous territory, Maggie Tucker. If you weren’t injured and my side didn’t still ache, that kiss might have led to more than you bargained for.”

He picked up her plate and cup and set them on the table. “You aren’t playing fair, Maggie. Don’t take too much for granted when it comes to feeling safe around me.”

“You don’t scare me, Sage Lightfoot.”

“Oh?” He faced her, folding his arms. “You mentioned that day at the creek—that you began trusting me when I kept my promise not to look.”

“What about it?”

“For your information, I did take a peek.”

Her eyes widened. “You did not!”

“I’m a man, for God’s sake, Maggie. And I can tell you right now, my ability to be trusted has never been so sorely tested as it has been ever since that day. Right now, I’m a man who hasn’t been with a woman in a long time, so I need to know any desire I might have for you isn’t just because of that. You’re scared, and I’m all you have. So you need to know that it isn’t just those things making you think you love me. I am never going to let a woman use me again, like Joanna did.”

He dumped what was left of their beans back into the pot, then put a lid on it and took the pot from the fire. He set it and the coffeepot aside as he stirred the coals and added wood to the fire.

But
I
would
never
hurt
you
, Maggie wanted to answer. It struck her that if he knew about the baby she carried, he might think the only reason she was after him was so she could claim him as the father and save herself the shame. He’d feel used, and he already told her Joanna had used him too. “Will you tell me one thing, Sage?”

He faced her. “What’s that?”

“The letter from Joanna. It upset you real bad. What did she want?”

A flat, angry look came into his dark eyes. “To come back.” He snickered. “She claims she realized she still loves me, but that’s bullshit.” He took his jacket from a peg on the wall.

“Will you take her back?”

Sage opened the door. “Never!” He walked out and slammed the door.

So, there it is
, Maggie thought.
He
still
loves
her, all right.
Her heart had never pained her like this. For years she’d had a man she never wanted, and now, she wanted a man she couldn’t have.

Another day passed and Maggie spent most of it asleep from laudanum. Sage wanted her to sleep, not just because she needed to heal, but because he was angry with himself for doing so much talking earlier. He’d allowed their relationship to go from just a man and woman traveling together tracking outlaws to something too personal.

He swallowed more whiskey, thinking how blatantly open and honest Maggie was.

She loved him? Hell!

More whiskey, that’s what he needed. He’d drunk a little to kill the pain in his side, wanting to save the laudanum for Maggie. But the more he drank, the more he wanted Maggie Tucker. The last time a woman professed to love him it had ended in disaster. And everyone else he’d ever loved, or who he thought loved him, either abandoned him or was taken from him. Maggie still didn’t know the whole story—why it was so hard for him to trust anyone in this world.

Still, Maggie Tucker was different, wasn’t she? She wasn’t one to use a man. She wouldn’t know how if she tried. There was much about her to be admired.

He shifted in his bedroll, trying to get comfortable, but he couldn’t get his thoughts to fade. By the soft firelight, he watched Maggie sleep. He was glad the laudanum was working so well. It had torn at his guts to rip that arrow shaft out of her leg two days ago. Sometimes she reminded him of a little girl who just needed holding, but he knew damn well what holding her would lead to, because she
wasn’t
a little girl. The worst thing he could have done was to put his arms around her two nights ago at the cabin, let alone allow that kiss earlier. She was a lot of woman for such a small frame… and damned if she wasn’t pretty. He didn’t need to see her all gussied up to know that.

He’d seen her slender legs… bare. God, they were pretty. He wanted to feel them wrapped around his hips, wanted to show her what it was like to take on a man she really loved and wanted. He hated her father for working her like a horse and forcing her into a loveless marriage, and he hated her husband for treating her like his personal whore… and now, more than ever, he hated the men who’d abused her.

He had to admit it—at least to himself. He was falling in love with Maggie Tucker. He wanted to taste her lips again. Maggie was different. She and Joanna were like night and day—Joanna being the night. A man could be sure of someone like Maggie. He’d never need to wonder about ulterior motives or worry about how to keep her happy.

Yesterday a storm had passed them far to the north. Late this evening, another storm moved in, this one coming right over them now. There came a sudden popping flash of lightning, and a terrific boom of thunder immediately followed, so close that it literally shook the cabin. Maggie let out a short scream, startled from her sleep.

“Let me in!” she yelled. She sat up then, and Sage could see by the dim light of what was left of the fire that her eyes were wide. She looked confused and terrified. “Don’t leave me out here!”

Sage threw off his blanket and went to her, kneeling down near her. “Maggie? It’s me—Sage. What’s wrong?”

She looked at him, blinked. “Sage?” She glanced around the darkened room. “I guess I was dreaming. I heard the thunder—”

Another loud boom made her jump. Sage touched her arm. “It’s just a storm. They always seem closer in the mountains. What were you dreaming? You screamed something about letting you back inside.”

She put a hand to her hair, pushing a piece of it behind one ear. “I was remembering.” She grasped his hand. “Once when Pa beat me for burning his supper, he shoved me outside in a thunderstorm and tied me to the back of a wagon. He knew I hated storms. He told me I should think about how it felt to be hungry and cold. Maybe then I’d be more careful about burning his supper.” She met his gaze, and Sage saw an agonizing sorrow in her eyes. “Liquor did that to my pa—made him mean.” She looked away again. “I had to sit out alone in the rain all night.”

“Jesus.” Sage squeezed her hand.

Maggie shivered. “I was sure the lightning would strike me dead. It was a terrible storm, high wind and pounding rain. I was so scared.”

Reason told him not to, but Sage stretched out beside her, then pulled her into his arms. “You’re safe here, Maggie, and you need your rest. Go back to sleep. No one is going to turn you out in the storm.”

The rain came down in torrents then, pounding the old shingles of the cabin roof. Sage could hear it dripping inside where the roof had split, but things remained dry on their end. Maggie rested her head against his chest.

“The laudanum worked good, Sage. My leg doesn’t hurt much right now.”

“I’ll check it again in the morning. If it’s not red and swollen, we might have avoided an infection.”

They lay there quietly while the rain kept coming down. Another clap of thunder and flash of lightning caused Maggie to wrap her arms around Sage. “I want to tell you something, Sage. I hope you won’t think the worse of me for it.”

He leaned down to smell her hair. “What?”

“It doesn’t matter if you love me or not. I want to know what it feels like to take a man I really want.” She looked at him, her lips close. “Make love to me, Sage.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking. It’s the laudanum talking.”

“No. It’s me. I need to know what it’s supposed to be like. I need to forget the pain of what happened… before. Please, help.”

“Damn it, Maggie, I’ve been drinking. A drinking man doesn’t have any common sense.”

“I don’t care.” Maggie reached up to meet his mouth.

He returned the gesture with a hungry, yet tender kiss. “God, Maggie,” he groaned, moving his lips to her neck. “Don’t ask me to stop.”

“I won’t. I’ve never felt like this,” she said in a near whisper.

“I don’t want to wake up ugly memories for you.”

Maggie could barely comprehend this wonderful yearning for a man. She wanted every part of him, to feel his strong hands move over her body… under the shirt he’d given her to wear… over her breasts. “Touch me, Sage.” She took his hand and put it against her breast. She wanted to feel his hard, heated body move on top of her like he was doing now. She relished his deep kisses… arched up to him when he pushed the shirt open and leaned down to taste her breasts.

“Sage…” she whispered. This was nothing like it had been with James, who’d always been quick and demanding… no gentleness to his touch, no concern for what she might want or enjoy.

She breathed deeply as Sage moved down to kiss her belly, groaned when he pulled off her drawers and did something magical with his fingers that sent her into a relaxed ecstasy far beyond anything the laudanum could do. Rain continued to pound the roof, and thunder rolled in the distant mountains. By the dim firelight she could see intense desire in Sage’s dark eyes when he came back to meet her mouth in an invading kiss. The way he touched her made her forget any remaining inhibitions… forget everything that had come before.

Now she was the one taking pleasure. She moved her hands over Sage’s hard muscles, pulled his shirt open so she could feel his chest. A wonderful sensation of wild need engulfed her then, a pulsating, desperate want for this man. She lay in a near daze of desire as she waited for Sage to remove his clothes, felt no pain in her thigh as he moved between her legs.

“Maggie, are you sure about this?” he asked.

Never before had she actually wanted to touch a man’s nakedness, but she wanted to touch Sage Lightfoot. She moved her hands over his chest, down to his hips. She gently grasped his hardened shaft. “I’m sure,” she whispered.

She guided him into her, and he responded with a slow, deep invasion that sent her reeling. It was like he actually wanted her to enjoy it. He filled her to near painful glory, making her cry out with sheer ecstasy. She raised her hips rhythmically to meet his every thrust, drinking in his glorious masculinity when he grasped her hips and got to his knees, lifting her to him.

Maggie thought how he could have forced this on her whenever he wanted during all the time they’d been alone together. He could have used the excuse that she’d been used by other men already, that it shouldn’t matter if a man took her again for his own pleasure, but in Sage’s dark eyes she saw only respect. He understood.

She’d never known a man like this… never actually wanted to lie completely naked and let a man look at her as he mated with her. But she wanted Sage to look at her, to enjoy her just like she was enjoying his own nakedness… enjoying the feel of him inside her.

She felt his life spill into her then. How she wished now that it was Sage Lightfoot’s life in her belly.

She pushed back the thought. She couldn’t worry right now about how she was going to tell him about the baby. She only wanted to enjoy this moment of surrender, this moment of sheer pleasure.

Sage relaxed and pulled away then. He kissed her again before rising and walking over to stoke the fire and add wood to it. Neither spoke. Still naked, Sage grabbed his own blankets and pillow and brought them over beside Maggie. He arranged them and laid down next to her, pulling the blankets over both of them and letting Maggie nestle against his chest.

“You smell good,” she told him. “You have a natural good, manly scent. James never smelled good like you do. You smell like leather and the outdoors and strength.”

Sage grinned. “Strength has a smell?”

“Yes, it does. It’s the kind of scent that makes a woman feel safe.”

Sage caressed her hair. “If you say so. Are you okay?”

She kissed his chest. “I’m wonderful. I’ve never felt like that. Thank you, Sage.”

He sighed. “You’re thanking me? I think it should be the other way around. I’ve wanted you since before we left.”

But
do
you
love
me?
He hadn’t said that yet, but she’d promised he shouldn’t feel obligated. She could only hope he’d learn to love her as much as she knew for certain she loved him, but Sage was Sage… not a man to let on… and the fact remained there was still another woman in his heart, whether he wanted to admit it or not. Right now, she hated that woman.

“I want to do it again, Sage.”

“You need your rest—and I’m afraid I’ll hurt your leg.”

“I told you I’m fine.”

“Neither of us is thinking straight right now.”

“I am perfectly aware of the needy, confused condition we’re in.”

Sage moved on top of her again. “You’re some woman, Maggie Tucker.”

“And you’re some man.”

Sage met her mouth, his kisses full and tender and delicious. She opened herself to him… and took him twice more before they finally slept.